#i will draw her in a different outfit just to prove that she is gorgeous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ggomos-maribat · 8 months

Text

7 | in which Marinette gets a new career: making Lex Luthor's life an absolute hell

Part 7 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Sometimes, Bruce gave Marinette additional work that was stipulated nowhere in their contract.

Scratch that, he gave her a lot of work that wasn't part of the contract. Marinette wouldn't complain, obviously, since she was paid extra but occasionally, the additional chores became troublesome.

Nonetheless, there was also extra work that she absolutely enjoyed doing. The type of work that she would've done even if she wasn't compensated. Hell, she'd pay Bruce just to accomplish the task. One such assignment was set for the WE gala.

That night, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the director, and her boss was the star of the show.

She was clad in a modest dress for the big night: gray, calf-length, minimal accessories, pointed heels. The most important part of her outfit, however, was the earpiece discreetly disguised with her hairpin, which put her in a direct line with Bruce.

She peered through the glass windows of the venue, seeing the gala in its grandeur. Fashionably late. That's what they called it. It worked when one wanted to draw attention, because with nearly everyone already present, a metaphorical spotlight would drop down from the sky.

She pressed a button on her earpiece, tucking her tablet close to her chest. "All ready to go, Mr. Wayne."

And of course, since he was Bruce Wayne, he delivered. Heads turned and skirts swished as he made his splendid entrance, just at the right level of 'fashionably late', Brucie-style. He grinned his shiniest grin and immediately greeted the elite guests of the gala he hosted.

Marinette slipped into the threshold herself. "May I remind you not to act too drunk tonight, you're too old for that and it's just going to look sleazy."

"Of course, Marinette, thank you." He replied just as stealthily. "I trust you'll take care of the rest?"

Her lip curled upwards. "Oh, I intend to."

She took her position near the grand staircase, halfway blending in with the shadows. That amount of stealth would rival Alfred's or even Cassandra's. She just had to play another face in the crowd, someone barely noteworthy.

Then, she'll enjoy the show from her earpiece.

Target spotted. There was Lex Luthor in all his Mr. Clean glory, hanging out with other guests dressed fancily by the banquet table. At first, Marinette was quite surprised he accepted the invitation to a Wayne gala. But then she thought that Luthor would probably push his pride aside just to keep up appearances.

But it was amusing to see that a few of the people crowded around him left to flock to Bruce Wayne.

Her gaze turned towards her boss. He was dressed a bit differently than his usual gala outfit: a flashy golden suit with black markings on the fabric. They commissioned the design from M.D.C., but lent the production to WE's clothing department. Seeing the suit play its role proved that it truly helped Bruce steal the show.

Marinette waited until Luthor was closer to the table. Then she headed straight to it, swiping a mini fruit tart for herself to cover up the nimbleness of her fingers. Poor clueless Luthor, she thought when she successfully retreated back to the staircase.

The effects didn't take too long to see. As soon as Luthor moved to walk with the person he was chatting with, the tablecloth followed him, and so did the rest of the plates, utensils, bowls, and the gorgeous wine tower. The crash was like music to Marinettte's ears as heads turned and Luthor stared gobsmacked at the mess he'd accidentally caused.

The mess he undeniably caused, since the part of the tablecloth was still pinched between his belt and slacks.

The silence was deliciously deafening.

Until one jovial voice cut through.

"Lexie!" Bruce gently pushed past the group swarming around him. "Are you alright?"

Luthor's mouth opened. And closed again. Opened. Closed. "I didn't—how did . . ."

"My my, have you drunk too much wine?" Bruce's gaze swept over the ruined table which the staff were trying to clean up. "You've got to be a little careful, Lex."

Whispers rampaged within the crowd.

Luthor, seemingly trying to hold onto his composure, forced out a laugh. "That's funny, I barely drank tonight."

Bruce nodded sympathetically. "They say your tolerance does go down with old age. If you're feeling dizzy, you can rest upstairs—"

"No!" Luthor suddenly yelled. But immediately after, he cleared his throat and said in a softer tone, "No, thank you. Bruce. I'm feeling okay. I apologize for the mess I caused; I'll make sure to compensate for everything."

Marinette was nearly proud of the faux but extremely convincing smile that Bruce put on. "Very well. How about I help you get a new suit? It seems that some of the wine has stained yours."

***

Tim wasn't in the gala (he was both extremely sleep-deprived and unwilling to go), so Marinette took the liberty of sharing a video of Luthor's incident to him, which he would probably be sending to the family group chat. She conversed with the young CEO for a while, receiving praises on her skills as she waited for her target to come back.

It didn't take long for Luthor to return, all cleaned up like nothing happened. Although there were considerably fewer people who wanted to be near him. It was funny, to Marinette, how Luthor seemed to avoid the table as well.

Unfortunately for you, that doesn't make you safe. Unbeknownst to the general public, the gala venue was extremely dynamic since it was designed to cater almost any event. There were panels and advanced machinery controlling parts of the area, including the elevated stage that doubled as a gallery for the charity's exhibit.

The one who had guest access to the control was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She just had to be patient. Luthor moved around a lot, likely because he didn't want to be caught off guard. He had stepped up onto the stage following an exec who was proud to show the gallery. At the time they came down, Marinette pressed a button on her tablet to make the steps move.

With a smack, Luthor's face met the polished floor.

Dramatic gasps echoed around. Faces of concern, some of indifference, others mocking. Like the hero he was, Bruce rushed to Luthor's side to offer a helping hand.

Luthor looked just about to slap his hand away, but he accepted it with a firm grip instead with an overly forced grin.

"Maybe you should lie down after all, Lexie," Bruce pouted. "You can't even walk straight."

The other man laughed a little too loudly. "No need to make it a big deal. It was just an accident."

Bruce clapped him on the back. "No need to be shy around me, hm? Tell me when you need to get some rest."

Whoa, that blood vessel is ready to pop on his head, Marinette observed when Luthor broke away from Bruce and stalked towards the drinks table near her in irritation. He poured out a drink for himself—

"Lexie, why did you run off? You should stay with me, you might cause another accident!" Bruce cried out.

Luthor whirled around. "That—that's a tempting offer, but I shouldn't trouble you," he said through gritted teeth.

"You look really red. I think you should step away from the wine . . ."

"I barely had a sip!"

Luthor turned back around to pick up his glass but it was gone. Meanwhile, Marinette brought the glass to her lips, savoring the expensive wine. She unintentionally locked eyes with Luthor, who looked like he realized who stole his drink. No one will ever believe you if you try to tell them, Marinette inwardly said. Giving him her most feral smile, she downed the drink in one go.

"That!" Luthor jabbed a finger in her direction. "Bruce! Isn't that your assistant?! She's the one causing trouble for me the whole night!"

"My assistant? Lexie, you must be seeing things! I gave her the night off—why would I need my assistant at a gala?"

At the moment Luthor forced him to look, Marinette had already slipped away somewhere else as if she'd vanished.

***

To other people who didn't know of Bruce's alter ego, it would be a mystery why he never had bodyguards with him. But to those in the know (exempli gratia, Marinette) it made sense, since Bruce had to slip in and out in times of emergencies and can defend himself pretty well. Marinette also had prior knowledge that Bruce sometimes let himself be captured to comply with the act. This kind of situation was one Marinette never wished to witness.

They were heading to a hotel for an investor and partnership meeting. Only Marinette, Bruce and the driver were in the limousine when the vehicle grinded to a halt. Peering towards the driver's seat, Marinette saw that the driver had slumped on top of the wheel.

"What the . . ."

The door was pulled open, and masked men armed with guns started pointing at them and telling them to get down. A couple pulled Bruce out of the limo, throwing him down on the pavement to be restrained.

"A kidnapping!" Airheaded 'Brucie' was on display, almost marveling at the situation they were in. "Haven't had those in a while. Careful now, don't be rough with my assistant."

Marinette stared at her boss in disbelief.

Is he . . . is he serious right now?!

Bruce was barely fighting back. No, he didn't fight back at all. You could've taken them all out and told me to keep quiet! Are we seriously doing this right now?! Are you secretly a masochist? Kwamis, we are going to be late for that meeting!

Marinette shut her mouth as she was also pulled out. The men were about to throw a gagged and bound Bruce into their (totally not suspicious) white van. We can't afford to miss this event, it's important for WE!

First, she disarmed them, kicking and knocking off the guns in their hands. One by one they fought back at her but she broke bones and pulled muscles flawlessly, not letting them land a single hit on her. Finally, she rounded them up in a neat circle with their own ropes and zip ties before dabbing the sweat on her forehead. Some of the men were unconscious, some were just disoriented.

Bruce was gawking at her. "Was that in your resumé?"

Marinette put her hands on her hips. "I didn't think it was relevant for the position. I took martial arts lessons in case . . . you know . . . I needed to kick an akuma's ass back in Paris."

"Oh."

"What were you even thinking, Mr. Wayne?" She glowered. "I know you also had self defense lessons—you could've fought back!"

"But—"

"Don't tell me you did it on purpose!"

Bruce quickly avoided her gaze. "I know how to stall the kidnappers until the vigilantes arrive for rescue."

"So you just sit still and do nothing?" Marinette scolded. "Mr. Wayne, who will sign my paychecks if something happens to you?"

"I'm used to it."

She gave him an unimpressed look. We're going to be late for the meeting anyway. Not to mention I'd have to get him a new suit and send his current one for drycleaning.

"Fine. You pride yourself now as a professional captive?" She smiled humorlessly. "Give me one good reason not to sacrifice you to these kidnappers right now."

"Wait, no—"

Marinette didn't even wait. She ushered her boss into the kidnappers' van and practically skipped towards the astounded masked men to free them. Albeit confused and still disoriented, the kidnappers took Bruce away and Marinette bade them goodbye while waving.

***

Of course, Marinette wasn't going to just leave Bruce like that. She still had her paycheck to worry about after all. After calling an ambulance for the driver, she drove the limousine herself and raced through the streets of Gotham, following Bruce's location through her tablet.

She arrived in a typical warehouse near the docks, as expected from amateur kidnappers. It was getting dark, but she allowed herself to enjoy the sunset for a little while. From her guesses, the rest of the family members would've already been alerted of his situation, so she took her place beside the building's door.

Lo and behold, it was Batman who arrived. Dick-Batman.

"Wait," she said when he passed by her.

. . . And she pretended not to notice him leaping back in shock.

"Huh?" Dick-Batman sputtered out. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous—"

"Don't rescue him yet."

"What? Why?"

Marinette examined her fingernails casually. "He's enjoying playing damsel in distress right now while learning a very important lesson. Give it around five to ten minutes."

"Uhh, okay?"

Dick-Batman just leaned on the wall beside her in an awkward stance, trying to inconspicuously talk through his comms.

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale

@agentxx92

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

276 notes · View notes

planetkiimchi · 1 year

Text

pinterest worthy | l.mh / h.hj

summary — Hyunjin and Minho are two different types of beautiful, and their significant others are perfectly alright with that.

pairing: Hyunjin x nb!oc, Minho x fem!oc

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing anything kpop-related so far! it’s not really a fic, but i wanted to write something for my bias and bias wrecker <3

Hyunjin is Pinterest worthy.

He reminds Jae of faeries with their paper-thin wings, flitting around like butterflies do among flowers. He is a different kind of beautiful, with his long hair framing his face and the way he rolls his eyes when he’s dancing to God’s Menu.

Hyunjin walks like he’s a model posing for pictures, long legs captured perfectly as he strides across the airport. His side profile is prime for photographs, hair covering half his face, all half-smiles and hooded eyes.

When he’s gaming, Hyunjin leans forward, biting his lip in concentration, one leg crossed over the other and ears plugged.

Hyunjin is Pinterest worthy, Jae thinks. In Stray Kids, among the rowdy group of (surprisingly introverted) idols, Hyunjin and Felix are the most photogenic. Hyunjin has a face shape that attracts people’s attention, a smile to die for, and eyes that betray his emotions.

Hyunjin is like a faerie, unlike Felix’s angelic smile, because mischief lies in those eyes and on the tip of his tongue, as Jae has seen when Minho threatens to stuff toilet paper in his mouth. His art is beautiful, his beauty alluring, and attention-drawing.

Hyunjin and Jae look stunning in any and all candids captured of them, almost like they have a sixth sense for hidden cameras. Their perfect posture and newsworthy love is often commented upon, praise dropping from people’s lips.

Hyunjin’s pretty face fills Jae’s gallery at times, pictures they take of him while he’s eating, or pictures of him sleeping, sent to them by the members. Some are from news articles, the ones that they realised were better than anything they could have taken themself.

Hyunjin’s just photogenic that way. It doesn’t stop at Hyunjin—he has a feed that’s filled with nice photos of himself and Jae, all the pictures cohesive, aesthetic, and enviable.

Jae learns to live with it. They dress up to leave the house, almost regal in the way they hold themself. It begins to be a habit to linger a little too long by doorways in hopes of people catching a glimpse of their outfit, to watch the way they lift their foot to adjust their shoe, subtly letting their hair fall over their eyes.

And so, the Pinterest worthy that Jae once thought Hyunjin was, becomes the way their relationship is.

a different take

Minho’s aversion to photographs has always puzzled Leo. She thinks he’s the most handsome person she knows, and when he sits in a corner, face set in his resting bitch expression, she thinks about how lucky she is to be his significant other.

Minho cocks his head like a cat when he’s confused and rolls his eyes when he’s tired. He walks like he’s got places to be, strides long and assured, confident just like his dancing.

Minho leans on everything from the couch to the wall to his palm when he’s gaming, and takes his gaming very seriously. He hates to be interrupted, unless it’s for his cats, Leo, or dance.

He has a beauty that can’t be captured on camera, so Minho and Leo look like cryptids in most, if not all of their photos, sometimes even the ones that they are posing for.

It’s not that Minho isn’t beautiful. Minho literally fits the Korean beauty standard, almost to the letter, with a sharp nose and sleek jawline, smallish eyes and full lips. Even the arch of his eyebrows and his cheekbones look absolutely gorgeous in real life. It’s just that when Minho laughs, his eyes pull into a line, and every single moment of his laughter is blurry in photos.

Leo has tried multiple times to capture Minho’s beauty, going from camera to phone to photo booths, but all her experiments continue to prove that Minho isn’t photogenic, and his unglams fills her gallery at times, until she clears them all.

Minho’s just not photogenic that way.

His love for Leo is similar, in that they never go for Instagram-able experiences, preferring to get dirty than to take nice pictures, preferring to be active than to pose for a good shot. They have plenty of inside jokes from their hangouts, but their memory is the only thing they take away—and maybe two or three photos.

Minho isn’t the most outwardly affectionate either, though he kisses Leo back when she kisses him first, and rests his arm on her thigh, slapping her butt when it’s in reach.

It’s nothing glamorous, nothing that would get them into the tabloids, simply because it’s so uninteresting, and nobody would want to see photos of Minho gaming while Leo sips coffee from her mug and reads.

Minho’s not being Pinterest worthy, but Leo’s okay with that—after all, neither is she.

#kpop #stray kids #drabbles #lee know #hyunjin #kpop fics #🪁 — my works

3 notes · View notes

flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

okay i’m still obsessed with your idea of nesta and tarquin together!! would you mind giving us a little more on that, like how would they first interact, what would nesta think of him, all of that? thank you so much!!!! 💚💚

I would love to!!!

The important thing to remember about the Tarquin Draft is that is has the same main story as Daylight: Nesta in Day, Nesta the Library, Helion’s grumpy best, best truest friend ride or die companion.

So Nesta doesn’t actually meet Tarquin again until she’s halfway to okay. It’s plotwise timeline closest to where she is in the most recent chapter- feeling at home in her body, really hitting her stride as Librarian, gaining a reputation as just an absolutely formidable force who helps anyone who asks.

There’s been correspondence between the Library and Summer- Nesta, acting as a go-between for Kallias- but remember, no one uses her name.

So it’s a big surprise when the Librarian arrives in Summer, pulls down her black and gold hood and...there is Feyre Archeron’s face, like a nightmare. Except not- wearier, sharper, older, devastation and salvation like the sunrise after a storm at sea- Nesta, who laughs in Cresseida’s face when the Princess of Adriata calls her a Night Court spy.

Nesta: wouldn’t that require belonging to the Night Court? Try my baby sister, if you’d like to yell about idiotic plans. Where are the books that keep eating people?

Cresseida is so wary, but Nesta, of course, isn’t actually going to leave before handling the cursed trove some Summer sailors pulled from the sea. She’s the Librarian.

Tarquin just...doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want to be proved inexperienced, that he can’t act for his people’s good by a beautiful woman again. But Nesta aggressively wants to help, and ultimately, he lets her.

And Nesta acts nothing like Feyre.

She takes off that cloak of office (listen, I’m picturing like, the coolest wide-legged, sleeveless white linen jumpsuit that has EVER existed, chic but functional), puts on a sunhat that she...magicked into her hand? and stomps into the shallows. Starts pulling sailors souls out of the treasure and hauling them to shore.

It’s terrifyingly efficient. And listen, Tarquin doesn’t give a shit about rank, so he, after some very blushy surprise because no, he did not know he had a competency kink and Nesta Archeron has tiny adorable little freckles on her shoulders- gets in the waves to help.

Nesta doesn’t even look at him.

What she does is save the lives of twelve of his men, pick up the faintly hissing, utterly cursed chest of books that started all this, and ask Cresseida is there’s a room where she can work.

So they take her to the palace.

The beautiful ambassadors rooms, windows and silk and the sound of water.

It becomes clear that the curse is in fact, just a curse, but one that can only be broken under the full moon, which is two weeks away. So Nesta stays, being the only person who can keep that magic from spreading. The only payment she wants is to take the books back when she goes which leaves Tarquin, arms full of the traditional gift of pearls, VERY embarrassed.

But he gets over it. Tarquin is genuinely chill- he has baggage from the weight of his responsibility, of being fooled by the Night Court- but he’s also so, so young. Kind. Curious. He doesn’t want to judge Nesta on the actions of people related to her, and once she proves herself, he doesn’t.

And meanwhile Nesta is like, cool. Cool, cool, cool- I can’t sleep while I’m here, I can’t winnow home and sleep because the Library can’t suppress a curse from hundreds of miles away, I’m not going to steal the books like a fucking thief in the night like Feyre-

So Nesta does a lot of exploring.

Tarquin comes into the harbor one morning, pink still streaking the sky. He’d been up in predawn doing Manly Boating Things with his navy- he walks through the harbor, lets the sounds his happy people sooth the rush of magic that still surprises him- to shape the sea, to cease the waves, to bend the world, to call the tide- and goes looking for breakfast.

Instead, he finds Nesta.

In line a line waiting for fresh bread and pastries, in another insanely attractive white outfit, looking at the sky. She’s alone- he’d given her guards, servants, knew damn well Cresseida was watching her- holding a basket, drinking coffee with her free hand.

So Tarquin joins her.

It cannot be overstated how genuinely charmed they both are with how normal it is. No death and war between them. No magic drawing them together. No real history- Nesta isn’t Feyre in the slightest- just a man with salt drying in his hair and a beautiful grin, asking if he can buy Nesta breakfast.

Just Nesta, and the only High Lord she’s ever met besides Helion who isn’t aggressive. As she says, Nesta has as many problems with High Fae men as they tend to her- the siren song of power, challenge called to challenge by her very primordial being.

And listen, Tarquin is a huge, very physical dude. Summer faeries are touchy, in a friendly way. But he also, like Helion, is smart enough to pick up on how screamingly uncomfortable men make Nesta. He doesn’t know why, and noticing it made him feel a little sick- but he’s careful. Kind, funny Tarquin, whose managed in knowing her just a few days to figure out how to approach her without triggering her.

So Nesta says yes. Nesta probably says something snarky as hell about his High Lordly hospitality.

And Tarquin laughs- genuinely, beautiful.

He’s still laughing when they get to humble little window, and Nesta goes still.

Tarquin clocks it- handles what they’re doing, gets Nesta out of the line of people without unnecessarily touching her. He sort of thinks she’s having a panic attack?- finds a nice quiet bench under a tree. He’s also pretty sure he’s making it worse just by being present, but he’s not going to leave her alone like this- so Tarquin just like, sits on the ground.

Which startles Nesta. She looks up- he doesn’t know her well enough to know what’s going on, so he’s extremely confused when Nesta goes: why is she here?

Tarquin: ???

Nesta: the HUMAN

There’s part of Nesta thinking the worst possible scenarios- what her past and the Night court taught her.

But Tarquin just like, blinks? Sets down the pastry bag on the bench for Nesta and is says well, she was shipwrecked. A whole passenger ship from the continent last summer- she was going to the North, to start a new business. But she liked it here, and decided to stay.

Nesta: that human woman, owns a business? Here.

Tarquin, who’s starting to get what is happening here: Yes. She’s a Summer Court citizen.

Nesta eats a pastry. Nesta, face wry, eventually hands a pastry to Tarquin, who’d seemingly decided she needed them more than he did. Tarquin wolfs it down in three bites, just enough time for Nesta to grumpily confess: I’ve never seen a free human, above the Wall.

Tarquin, haltingly, shyly is like: well, I want it to be different. We all share the same world. Acting like we’re not all the same is how Hybern almost took over-

By the end of the sentence he’d managed to look up. That was the voice a High Lord, a man who had power and would use it.

So they have this truce, a spark of very real, pretty damned charmed interest. They walk back to the Palace across the whole city, talking.

The next day Nesta is deep in working Librarianing while she’s there- and Tarquin just pops up. Draws as little attention to himself as possible to be like, here. I noticed your hat blew away yesterday? So I brought you a new one. And some coffee. Do you like it cold? Don’t let me get in the way, what you’re doing is important.

What he means by important: incredible.

It had taken him ages to find her, because Nesta is apparently spending her spare time- does she sleep??- winnowing all over his territory, solving any problems anyone asks of her, bringing books to schools. Talking to regional leaders about what their educational needs are. Chatting with sea monsters so the fishermen understand they’ll be totally safe, so long as they always throw back in that one kind of crab that the baby krackens exclusively eat.

And look, it is a coping strategy. Nesta CANNOT rest by the sound of the sea- but she’d also realized this kingdom her sister had fucked with had been hit so, so hard by Amarantha, and then the war. That she can help, so she will.

But she just kind of stops. Tarquin left as quickly as he came she’s just there like- coffee. hat. BEAUTIFUL RESPECTFUL MAN. It’s not the vibe of her and Helion. It’s flirty but not...pressing? It’s nothing like how any faerie man (see: Cassian) who wanted her has ever, ever treated her and it’s just...so, nice.

He’s nice. Gorgeous. Easy to be around, which Does Not Happen to Nesta ever.

Nesta breaks the curse and leaves.

Keeps her promise to the schools, visits to sit on the shore and talk to sea monster babies, so much more prodigious now that they have enough food.

Tarquin thinks she’s amazing, and he starts writing to her. For real Lordship reasons, but also just to see what she’ll say- he wants to know how humans live. How his cities could integrate them. Can they use magic? Will they, if it’s available to them?

Tarquin finds someone- witty, beautiful, so intriguing- who believes in the value of his most difficult dreams. Nesta finds someone who looks at the most fraught, hurt parts of her- humanity lost, a terrible human life, that she still, even now, asks herself sometimes if she can belong, and treats those things as important and integral.

And they fall in love.

It’s a story about a lot of things- Nesta, who drowned to become, learning the whole seas of world will still for her, protect her. Tarquin who does revolutionize his kingdom, and spend centuries counting Nesta’s freckles as they peel and disappear.

Love of choice. Nesta, in the sun, being adored. Tarquin, who so many people think is foolish, a reckless dreamer, defended by the most loyal person on earth.

There’s small details i love so much it makes me want to go to the extremely troublesome work of writing them their own story- Nesta inviting the mermaids from the Night Court waters to live in a place no on is afraid of them. Tarquin who is both sort of a golden retriever but ALSO a proud, petty bitch when tried, draping Nesta head to toe in rubies for inter-court events.

With Tarquin the story really embraces the idea of eternity- of possibility. They’re young, they’re equals in this eternal life. There’s so many years ahead of them, so many things they can do: they have time to go slow, to make changes, to learn each other inside and out as they become the people they want to be.

157 notes · View notes

a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 3 years

Text

So I rewatched Raya.

And I was really trying to watch it without a skeptical lens. I wanted to be able to act like the oblivious kids in that theater and just enjoy the movie. But I just couldn't. I've mentioned it before it's a gorgeous movie but there are so many things wrong with it that just bug me. And I’ve mentioned before the changes that could be made to fix it and the main one being just completely scrapping the movie and starting from scratch with a tv show. And because I’m on spring break and I have nothing to do (also I’m a perfectionist and I tend to hyper-fixate on things that I know have easy solutions) I broke down how I would make it better in two different categories. The first one being kind of baseline stuff like animation and character designs and other stuff I had small problems with and the second being plot.

Section One:

Okay so I know we all hate Sisu’s design. As someone who grew up with Naga carvings and paintings all around my house seeing this Elsa fursona was like a slap to the face. Like I know I really shouldn’t expect more from Disney but I did. I mentioned in this post that I would have loved to see a longer series even if it meant the animation quality went down. And I feel like Neeith_ on TikTok did a great job of drawing what Sisu could have looked like which only disappointed me more. Caldatelier on Twitter also pointed out the many flaws with Raya’s outfit design which fully proved to me that Disney did little to no research and chose style points over historical accuracy. I also felt like the designs of the main characters were very unremarkable and before you’re like “that the whole point it’s supposed to be normal people saving the world” I don't mean that I mean it feels like they took previous designs and just made them Asian. Like my sister and I were talking about it and she said the baby just reminded her of the boss baby and Tong reminded her of one of the twins from rapunzel with a little more depth. This is also kind of a small thing but it kind of bugged me that they were all the same skin tone if not lighter. SEA is incredibly diverse and if they weren’t going to represent all of the cultures in full then they could at least shown their features. I feel like the food should have been more important. I know I mentioned it in my last post but food is an incredibly important part of our culture. It’s not a placeholder or a set-piece to make a scene look more aesthetically pleasing. It’s a way for us to bond and show each other we care it’s a way we show genuine love and appreciation. And when you have a main character who is emotionally stunted it felt like food was a perfect way for her to show her love and they blew it. Like can you imagine Raya and her dad getting into huge fights and then bringing each other food as an apology sitting in front of that window not needing to say a word because they simply get each other? Can you imagine Raya visiting Namaari and stocking up on foods that she knows Namaari loves but also hasn’t been able to eat for a while? We could have had genuinely heartwarming scenes centered around food but instead, we got set pieces and props. And one more thing that stuck with me was the voice acting this movie should have been a change for SEA voice actors to really put their names out there and be a part of a really big Disney project but as always out voiced were overshadowed by someone lighter.

Section Two:

(I’m going to warn you this is gonna be really long because I’m essentially rewriting the entire plot because as I said before I’m a perfectionist)

I feel like the first ep should be dedicated to the backstory and the lore

How were the Druuns made how where they defeated

I feel like it would have been interesting to see them fighting over the gem

But I think it would have been really interesting to see from the get-go how Sisu wasn’t the one who made the gem

So instead of having this big reveal alongside Raya, we would know that her hope of finding this all powerful Naga is hopeless because the story was a lie

Another thing I think another person who should have had more screentime was Raya’s dad

I think it would have been interesting to know his backstory and get some questions answered like “why does he have so much faith in the other rulers to help him on his journey to make Kumandra a thing?” “When did he become the protector of the gem?” “And how many attempts of stealing the gem has he thwarted”

Also as much as I love him I feel like his personality incredibly unrealistic because all SEA men I’ve met have been really emotionally stunted

Idk it’s just a small thing that made me go “eh he talks to his daughter. What kind of magic world is this?”

I would have liked to see Raya’s various attempts at becoming a protector of the gem

I think it would have been a really good way to show how resilient she is from a very young age

And when she finally succeeds the audience could have celebrated with her like a small “yes she finally got it and all her hard work finally paid off” moment

I feel like we should have gotten more Raya and Namaari moments right from the start

Like how they meet is basically the same but Raya doesn’t trust her with the gem’s location an hour after meeting her

It's a trust that both of them fought for in their own way

Like you get to see them bond over their mutual understanding of “well the worlds fucked”

So when Namaari finally stabs Raya in the back when she betrays her for the first time it hurts when she says the throwaway line about them being friends in another world in burns Raya

Because she thought they were friends and she genuinely trusted Namaari

Which would have really justified her distrust in the world

And again I feel like we should have seen that 6 year period of Raya trying to find Sisu

We would get to experience the frustration of building up the hope of finally finding her just to have it knocked down when she’s not there

It could also do two more things

Raya making genuine connections with people

And Raya and Namaari’s strange alliance forming

Now for the first one, I feel like it would have been really cool for Raya to be introduced to the different lands

And yeah sure I feel like it would make her feel like kind of a tourist but I feel like it would be really interesting to see her go through culture shock

Because she really thought she knew these places but boom they’re completely different from what she was told

And while she’s making her way around she learns about the different lands and the people inhabiting them and also their culture

We could have seen Raya make genuine connections outside of the main cast

And if you’re feeling a little masochistic we could see her lose those people because of the druune or simply because they died

But the main point is we would be able to see her become less and less selfish

Now back to Raya and Namaari’s alliance/romance later on

I mentioned in my other post that when Raya trusted Namaari to put the gem back together it felt very flat very fake

So I feel like it would be cool for the series to be split into two parts the first part being from Raya’s perspective and the second part being Namaari’s

I also feel like Namaari would have to be a constant in Raya’s journey

And what I mean by that is like she’s there every other episode either trying to stop Raya or she’s trying to save her from life or death situations

And later on down the line, we find out the main reason why she kept helping Raya (in her own way) was that she didn’t want to see her get seriously hurt

But anyway that’s mostly backstory and now we’re in the present tense

And like I said before we know that Sisu wasn’t the one who made the gem so we know that Raya’s quest is pointless

But because we’ve seen her various attempts at becoming the protector of the gem and the six years of looking for Sisu we know she’s too stubborn to give up just yet

So she and Sisu head out to find the other gem pieces

Now with context, her and Namaari’s standoff has more tension because for the first time in years Namaari doesn’t know the motives behind Raya’s actions

I don’t really have many ideas for Sisu other than she starts to trust people less and less

Like she’s still really innocent for the most part but there’s a small part of her a really small part that’s kind of lost faith in humanity

And after this, we meet Boun

I feel like we should have known more about Boun considering the fact he’s the first side characters we met

But it’s very clear they gave no thought to his character I’m sure they just wrote down “funny kid who lost his family”

This is such a shame because he could have been so much more than just “Raya’s funny younger brother”

Like he could have been this selfless kid who hands out food to the orphans around and offering his ship to homeless people during the night

Next with the baby and the monkeys, there’s really not much you can do with them unless you seriously age them up

Like at the very least have Noi be a grade-schooler who can express more emotions than mad and hungry

Like she can still be the baby of the group while taking care of herself and expressing her emotions a great example of this is Polly from amphibia (which is a great show with a SEA main character you should check it out)

With Tong, I have two words: Survivors Guilt which is something Raya would be able to relate to in fact they all would

I feel like Tong’s entire character arc would be him realizing that he can’t save everyone

Which yeah sure would seem pretty contradictory with the ending being them literally saving everybody but I have a fix for that too

And finally, we get to Namaari who is selfless to a fault

Giving me very much typical Disney princess she gives up food to kids who seem particularly hungry

She’s usually the one who tells the stories to the kids but her mom was taking over that day

She helps her people in any way she can and honestly, she’s wearing herself a little thin

Because while she’s doing all that she’s also saving Raya & co from their own mistakes

Giving me very much burning the candle at both ends

So you see all these characters bonding over the course of at least a year

Making and losing more allies along the way

And because Namaari has been helping them they trust her… for the most part

But there have been times when she trips them up and makes their end goal all the more difficult

And because they haven’t known her as long as Raya has each character has at least one moment when they look up at the sky and scream in frustration “What is this binturi’s deal!”

But anyway they finally get to fang and Raya is more open to the idea of just talking to Namaari because she trusts her not because Sisu told her to but because she’s seen Namaari do good

And Namaari is even more reluctant to take the gem pieces by force because she has a decent relationship with Raya like yeah sure they’re not best friends but they’re in a good place

And shocker shocker she’s maybe just maybe head over heels in love with the princess of heart

But her mother gives her an ultimatum and that is “either you take it from her or I will”

Because here’s the thing, Queen Virana isn't a moron the exact opposite in fact and she knows her daughter has been going easy on Raya these past six years

She also knows that she could squash Raya under her shoe if she damn well pleased and Namaari knows this too

So when Namaari gets her necklace back she doesn’t even hesitate to take her crossbow when she leaves

The meet up goes basically the same except its more Raya talking Namaari down than Sisu

And while they’re having their little heart to heart Sisu notices Namaari’s finger twitch and she goes to jump in front of Raya

And Namaari was shaken by the sudden movement and fires and kills Sisu

I feel like this would make Raya furious for two reasons one she killed her best friend and two she deep down trusted Namaari to do the right thing

So when the fight goes down instead of the whole “I don't care if you trust me because Sisu did” it would be “I trusted you and you murdered her”

And when the dust settles Raya realizes that this battle doesn’t matter because fighting Namaari isn’t going to bring Sisu and she’s also sick and tired of hurting the people she loves

And she decides to help people instead not because Sisu would want her to but because its the right thing to do

Which is cliche sure but its better than the scene they gave us which really wasn’t faithful to her character arc of not caring for people who aren't close to her

And I feel like Namaari joining her makes more sense with my context if anything else

And here’s how I would fix this scene even with them fighting the Druune off to the best of their abilities there are still falling buildings and the gem can’t really save people from that

So they lose some people not because of the Druune but because death happens even when the heroes are fighting their hardest

And because I feel like this would just affirm Tong’s character arc because there are people dying under these buildings he knows it’ll take too long to save them and its not time they have

So he leaves them behind prioritizing the people he knows he can save

Anyway, after a long battle scene, they finally end up underground

And it goes basically the same except it doesn’t take Raya as long to convince them

And instead of Raya’s reasoning of “Sisu told us to” it's more “all this fighting isn't going to bring Sisu back” and “I know she’s done something terrible and you can be mad at her after this but for now trust her”

So when they all make their sacrifices it’s less “I’m doing this for Raya” and more “I’m doing this because deep down I know you’ll do the right thing”

And Namaari does do the right thing obviously

Sisu comes back and it's all “yay we saved the world!” but it doesn’t really end there

Because I hate the “lifetime” ending of “even though we all went through incredibly traumatic events we’re all fine months later” no they’re running around for months and years fixing their mess

And while this is happening Raya and Namaari is mending their relationship they’ve apologized for all the terrible things they’ve done to each other

And when they’re fixing their world they’re helping each other become the best versions of themselves

That’s when they really fall in love

Like don't get me wrong they loved each other when all the bad shit was going down but there was too much bad blood them to really process it and talk it out

But that’s exactly what they do when it’s all over they talk it out for hours

In fact, they both said its the most they’ve heard the other speak

They both agree they’re in the best place to start a relationship and so they do

#disney raya #raya #namaari #rayaari #raya and the last dragon #did I just basically write the rough draft for a tv show in the span of 4 hours #yes yes I did

43 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Sharp Dressed Man

Summary: Mun-Yeong hadn’t expected him to show up, especially not looking like that. Gang-tae learns about the power of a man in a suit.

Note: Back again with more smut to soothe our souls, this weekend has been an emotional roller coaster. I bring to you SUITSMUT! I intended for this to be naughty, light and cute but after this weekend I need...more. I need lovemaking and devotion and declarations, balm for my heart. I tried to add some of the things you asked for, but I really just followed my heart with this one. Writing is therapy for me, and this show has made me need therapy more than ever. Anyway onto the smut, and yes I will continue to name these fics after songs. This one really fits perfectly, if you don’t know it look up ZZ Top “Sharp Dressed Man”.

Not kissing him was not an option, not with the way he was looking right now; when she’d been picking out his outfit for the portrait she couldn’t help but imagine him in this suit, dapper and gorgeous. He even made his dull thoroughly washed t-shirts and jeans look fashionable, the clothes doing nothing to negate the beautiful man inside them. Therefore, she knew the power he would wield in a suit. It was comparable to handing Excalibur to King Arthur, too much strength for one man to possess.

Her assumptions had been sound, just like ants were drawn to sweets women were drawn to her Gang-Tae. He had walked around the library, completely unaware of the attention he was garnering. Coquettish giggles falling from hungry lips whenever he strolled by, girls congregating in circles to steal him away from her, her blood boiled from the thought, but then he looked over those broad strapping shoulders with a smile just for her. His entire face gleaming like a land-bound sun. Her jealousy simmered down,minutely, scratching under her skin with the need to announce that he was hers, she had fought long and hard for him.

So the kiss was inevitable. When the clouds were grey, it would rain and when you watered plants they would grow, when he was looking that delectable she had to put a small claim on him, taste those lips and feel his skin underneath her own, appease her insatiable craving for him.

With a firm tug she pulls him in seductively, his tie woven tightly around her fingers, silken under her touch, as she maneuvers it to bring their lips together. His breath hitches as the tie minutely tightens around his neck, forcing him into a soft flush of lips. The kiss is just a quick peck, as innocent as their first, lacking the hunger and desperation of their second, but the love they all hold remains constant. She knows now that, that is what this is.

Love.

Has never experienced it before, has scoffed at it her whole life, knowing that someone like her simply wasn’t worthy of such an emotion, life had handed her the shorter stick a long ago and as the years went by it dwindled away further.

Until he came and breathed it back into her bones, him, Sang-Tae and Mang-Tae, they were a family now, he had confirmed that while holding her hand, unaware that with it he was also holding her heart. That too, was inevitable. Her loving him.

“What was that for?” He draws back from the unexpected kiss with a vivid splash of red across his cheeks.

“I was sealing our promise, everyone knows you seal a promise with a kiss.” She replies, nonchalantly, pointedly not releasing his tie, savoring the closeness between their bodies.

He raises a thick eyebrow before replying with a possessive gleam in his eye, “Really? I’ve never sealed a promise like that, how many people have you sealed promises with like that?”

His smile is tight, as he awaits her reply, she laughs at his small show of jealousy, he is much better at hiding his own but like her it always simmer right below the surface of his skin.

“I don’t make promises with anyone else.” She answers honestly, watching his eyes soften at her reply, the memory fresh in their mind, I’ll keep it because it’s a promise I made with you. Promises are worthless because people always break them but with him it’s different, he is always the outlier in every equation.

Switching the topic, her eyes harden as she peers into his soul, “I meant what I said, don’t wear this outside anymore. I decided to compromise, you can wear it around the house.” She levels with a gracious smile.

“Oh? You compromised? I thought you said it didn’t look good. Do you like how it looks now?”

The smirk on his full pink lips-made pinker by her own lipstick- is irritatingly handsome on his face.

With a roll of her eyes she retorts, “You don’t look...terrible. But it’s only acceptable to wear it in the house. I told you the caregiver uniform is more your style. Leave the fashion to me.” Her voice is clipped and matter-of-fact, reigning in her jealousy at the memory of all the eyes that had followed him today, she should have gotten a bag to cover his face too. That suit enhanced every inch of his body, and annoyingly she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

His eyes track her face, searching with a knowing look, damn him. “I can never wear a suit again? What about our wedding? Will I not wear a suit there either?”

Her heartbeat jolts like she’s been struck my lighting, he continues on as if he has thrown her thoughts asunder, “What will I wear to that? My caregiver uniform?” His voice is teasing, as he pulls his tie from her limp hand, with capable hands he secures it around his neck once more before sauntering to the couch.

Her voice is almost inaudible to her own ears when she finds the courage to reply, “Our wedding?” She feels as weightless as she did with his hand interwoven with hers, declaring that they were now a family with an unbreakable bond. Offhandedly offering her the one thing she has never had and always desired.

“How can you be a dutiful wife without a wedding? The mistress and wife are now best friends, right? You are also no longer the mistress. You’re one of us.”

He opens his legs, stance wide and inviting, the material of his dress pants stretch tight across the wide expanse of his thighs. Suit coat opened to reveal the gleaming white shirt under that hugs the muscled curves of his body. Her own cheeks are burning too now, she drags in a breath of stagnant air, gulping to clear the tightness in her throat.

With a broad sweep of his hands, he grabs her arm dragging her closer to him, until she tumbles like a rag doll onto the couch, pressed close to his thigh with little room to move.

His hand reaches up to cup her hand, she fights the urge to nuzzle into his soft hold, “You look beautiful, like an angel.” He eyes her short white dress, she is a picture of innocence, proving that you shouldn’t believe everything you see.

His own baritone voice is soft and delicate as a feather, as if anything louder will burst this bubble they are encapsulated in.

“Do you think of us...doing that? Getting married?” The hope that drips from each syllable is thick and heavy, she feels incredibly vulnerable, the armor around her body not enough to protect her from him.

He stares at her, a long quiet pause, his eyes glossy and expressive, “I think about.....forever.” He tenderly answers, words hanging heavy in the space between them.

She clutches the smooth lapel of his suit, needing support, her body feeling like it could fly away right now and be lost in the wind.

Suddenly she can’t help but to imagine it, him handsome as ever waiting for her at the end of an aisle with wet eyes tracking her movement, his suit perfect as it is now, Sang-Tae by his side, as they are bound together forever. The second kiss is inevitable as well.

Her arms are too weak from the vision, but with a small tug of his suit, he’s moving and meeting her at her end of the couch, his hands curl around the small of her waist, gentle as if she is something fragile to be cherished.

Their lips grow closer like opposite ends of a magnet, their lips meet again in a peck, before she tugs harder and he spills onto her body, consuming her mouth with his. His tongue pries her mouth open, licking at the seams until she gives him access. She moans into the kiss as he hovers over her, strong arms pressing into the arm of the chair as to not crush her. He turns her head maneuvering her to press deeper, his tongue lapping at her, moving with certainty now, gone is his usual cloak of shyness. She falls back onto the couch and gasps as he slides into position above her, his legs knocking her own open to make space for him.

His warm hands caress the side of her head, as he draws back from the languid kiss, eyes as dark and searing as coal. With a careless but captivating flex of his shoulders, he shrugs off his coat and it rustles to the ground. If possible, he is even more gorgeous now in just the dress shirt and pants.

She strokes her hand down his chest, relishing the warmth underneath oozing out at their close proximity. His stare is intense as he gazes at her touching him, then he lowers his head consuming her once again, this kiss more smoldering than the last. His hands caress and soothe across her body unhurriedly, indulgent, finding purchase on naked legs, smoothing up and down the soft skin.

With blunt nails, she scratches down his back, his shirt soft beneath her nails, his back muscles barely concealed by the material, large and prominent under her touch. He groans at the sensation, breathing into her open mouth, before sucking her tongue into his mouth, their tongues wrestle playfully, in no rush as they have all the time in the world. Forever.

A loud thump from upstairs knocks them from their reprieve, as they swiftly pull away from each other, her eyes on his face as he looks at the stairs, she sighs knowing how this usually goes. He loses himself in the moment with her, kisses her until she can’t feel her legs but once he is reminded of reality he is gone, fleeing like a thief in the night.

The sudden loss of his body heat confirms her presumption, she begins to stand up reluctantly, before his voice imbibes her movement. “Hold on.” Confusion colors her eyes until he falls to his knees, one arm sliding under the bend of her knees and the other around her back. In one fluent move, he lifts with her sequestered in his arms, she grabs his shoulders instinctively. She looks up at him in wonder, as smitten as when he rode in the rain to rescue her.

When she glances at his face, his eyes penetrate her own, like staring directly at the sun she turns away, shyly placing her head on his chest, feeling soft and defenseless. Her body jostles at his first step, clutching on tighter as he ascends the stairs, long strides as he climbs the stairs with her in his arms. Her additional weight not hindering his motion in the slightest. With a flushed cheeks she observes as he walks to her door, bypassing his own door. He gently places her on her feet, but only for a moment as soon as he opens the door, he delicately lifts her once again. Kicking the door shut with a soft bang.

The clicks of his dress shoes piercing on her wooden floors, they mirror the drumming of her own booming heartbeat. He is the only one capable of making her swoon in this manner, she will never get used to the feeling.

He places her on bed, simply gazing at her, before reaching behind her and tugging her hair loose from her ponytail, fingers carding through her thick lustrous hair. Her reaction is instant, a deep long moan pours from her lips, pins of pleasure rushing through her scalp. “So beautiful.” He whispers thickly, the words stuck in his throat, like molasses.

“You too.”

He smiles at her response, his hands rubbing her head as he sits beside her and he is too far away, her hands yearn to be on him, with eager fingers she draws him onto the bed with her, he comes easily, wrapping her up in his powerful arms, absorbing her small figure. He hums as he continues to stroke her head, the vibrations running through her body, her skin tingles in response.

“You know. don’t you?”

His gentle touch almost distracts her from his sudden questions, shaking the fuzziness from her head she gazes into his eyes, “Know what?”

With a composed smile he replies, “That I love you.”

Her mind goes blank, white noise as her brain tries to catch up with the words he just uttered to her casually on a Tuesday evening, the sun shines through her window, leaves falling from trees, as the world keeps spinning, but not her world, that is frozen.

She didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Love. Had anyone ever loved her before? She can’t recall, the last two people to utter those words to her were gone now. Their love hadn’t felt like this, he hadn’t screamed it as he demanded her obedience in return. He had simply offered it again, like the choice was hers, she could have it if she wanted. She’d never wanted like this before.

The tears fall uncontrollably from her eyes, she whimpers as he brushes them away, lovingly, his own eyes swelling up with unshed tears. “Don’t cry.” He begs as he kisses her again, pouring all the love he has for her into her, it overflows.

She tastes the saltiness of her own tears, as their mouths move sensuously, his hand firm on her face as he kisses her again and again, swallowing her moans ravenously, before she feels his hand on her back, he grips the zipper of her dress and waits patiently. Her nod is immediate and then she feels the cool air, her skin pebbling with goosebumps, as he carefully undresses her. He slides the dress off her shoulders, watching as it cascades to her lap. Her white bra gleaming on her flushed pink skin, he looks intently at the newly revealed skin, before coming back to her face. His lips curve into a smile before he whispers, “Why are you blushing?”

She doesn’t deign his imposition with an answer, too inflamed to play this particular game. Boldly stripping the dress off her body, lifting long lithe legs before tossing the material on the ground.

Gang-tae’s mouth falls open as his eyes devour her, crawling up her milky thighs, halting at the white lace that covers where she is dripping, resuming over the small valleys of her heaving breasts before landing squarely on her face.

His slightly calloused hands fondle her lush skin as she presses into his electric touch, she squirms on the bed, wetness seeping through the thin material of her panties, his eyes snap down to the juncture between her legs, avidly observing as she grinds into the air, silently begging for release.

Brushing the downy skin of her flat belly, he reaches the white lace, eyes locking on hers as she nods, lifting off the bed to help him, with a deep breath he pulls the offending item from her quivering body. Her nerves rise as he stares at her, eyes unmoving as he drinks in her, she feels herself moisten as he hovers over her still fully clothed, suit crumpled from their actions. The only deviation the hard erection protruding out from the space between his legs.

He moves to remove his shirt and she impishly snatches his hand, with a raspy voice she commands, “No. Leave it on.”

His eyes widen, as he releases the button in his hand, his face slack until a small smile splits it open, “Another place I can wear the suit?”

She blushes, nodding, he slides down the bed until his head is level with her groin, his intention clear as he grabs her legs and pries them open putting her on display for the first time. His hard gasps brushing across her wet folds, as he swipes across the hot skin, fingers gliding easily with how aroused she is. A moan escapes her lips, as he caresses her clit before slipping a long finger into her tight opening, setting a languid pace that drives her mad. Her juices are soaking his fingers, trickling down until they soak the cuff of his shirt. At the sight, he begins to thrust faster, fucking into her as she groans and twists on his fingers, loud cries reverberating off the walls.

In a sudden, his fingers are gone and she feels miserably empty, she opens her lips to yell, whine, shout, demand more, before she feels something smooth being shoved into her mouth severing her ability to complain. With a surprised look she meets his eyes, his neck is empty now, no more silk tie wrapped around his throat, it is now drenched in her saliva, stuffed in her mouth.

“You need to be quiet, or we’ll have to stop.” He whispers with a roguish grin, eyes taking in the vision she makes, lain across the bed bare to his eyes with only her bra and his tie as a gag in her open mouth.

His fingers are back with a vengeance, ramming into her as she screams around the tie impeding her cries, she meets his every thrust, desperate for him, lightheaded from the tie obstructing her airway and the immense pleasure roaring through her body.

Desperately, ripping her bra from her own heated body, her breasts jostling at his brutal pace as he devastates her, then she watches him lower his head, intently watching his own fingers surging into her, he draws his fingers away once more only to replace them with his tongue. Drinking the sweet nectar like a dying man, his tongue lapping at her pussy in wide strokes. Before he stiffens the appendage and thrusts into her, her body curves violently off the bed, her back bending at the sensation.

She thanks god for the tie in her mouth, knowing her scream would have been piercing without the gag. The sound of his zipper lowering is deafening in the room with only her muffled pants breaking the silence. Then there are wet sounds beneath her, lifting her head she glances down at him, to see his hard cock jutting from the opening in his pants as he thrusts into his own hands. His head red and angry with arousal, clear fluid seeping out and aiding his hands glide up and down the large shaft.

Almost too sinful a picture, it’s burned in her retina.

He simultaneously unravels them both, his tongue and hands moving in harmony, his strokes becoming uneven and she knows the meaning. Adrenaline gushes through her veins as she grabs his head pulling it away from her molten center, he looks up at her with glossy lips, tongue swiping across to catch the excess. Her inner walls clench at the sight. Too fucking sexy for his own good, even more dangerous now that he knows his effect.

She drags him up her naked body, rubbing against his suited body until their bodies are aligned. The heat from his cock is scorching, with a sinuous roll of her hips rubs herself on him, shuddering at the pleasure and his raucous gasp, his hips move compulsively, thrusting through her wetness as they grind on each other. He leans forward, kissing her around the tie in her mouth, licking at her stretched mouth, before nipping at her bottom lip drawing into his own mouth.

Their hips are harmonious as they thrust into each other, sensation raking their bodies, before its all together too much and not enough.

With a tilt of his hips and one fluid move, he glides into her, the juices leaking from her smoothing his journey, until he is pressed flush against her, still. His arms clench in their position next to her head as the pleasure nearly undoes him and his tight control. She lays still, her own reckoning suspending her movement, his cock fills her completely, her walls forced open to accept his girth. She takes as deep a breath as she can around the gag, white spots dancing behind her eyes.

She reaches up to stroke his hair, impatiently grinding up into him, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows sluggishly, before he glides out almost completely, just the tip remaining inside and thunderously drives back into her, his hands on her hips preventing her from moving. He plunges into her, crashing against her clit with every thrust, her moans lost around the tie in her mouth. While he buries his own groans into her hair, working her over with long, deep movements. His crisp shirt scratching against her hard nipples and her skin burning on the satin of his dress pants, sweltering beneath him as he wrecks her.

His voice scraping past his lips he whispers, “I want this forever, want you forever. I’ll never leave you.”

She thrashes on the bed, his movements and words overstimulating her body, as she hammers herself onto Gang-tae’s cock, smacks filling the air as the scent of their lovemaking permeates the room. Collecting her wrists into his huge hand, he pulls them over her head, her body stretched tight, as he pummels her into her, mouth falling to suck in her bouncing nipple. His teeth gnawing at the peaks, the pain quickly morphing to pleasure. His powerful hips drive deeper, losing rhythm as he closes in, now pistoning in her wetness, she latches onto his shoulder, their eyes unfocused as the end draws near.

Her walls clench and unclench as she shakes apart on the bed, pleasure knocking all the air from her lungs, she gasps for air around the tie, Gang-tae drags the soaked material from her mouth, making her lightheaded from the influx of oxygen, before he steals her breath again with a final punishing drive of his hips that spirals him over the edge of bliss.

His cum is sweltering as he empties into her quivering pussy, the excess dripping out and onto the bed. A thick stream landing on his pants, stark white against the jet black.

With a huff he falls onto her, crushing her underneath him, she savors the closeness, heart hammering against her chest, still recovering from the euphoric moment. Before finally, pushing at him with weak hands, with a deep sigh he rolls over onto the bed.

“If that’s the outcome, I’m never going to stop wearing suits.”

She slaps at his chest too boneless to reprimand him, he dodges her hand, instead grabbing it to pull her in, she softens as he cuddles her close. After a few peaceful moments of silence she finds the courage she didn’t have earlier.

“I do too, you know?” For once she is the coward, the words caught in her throat. She feels all her love for him flowing through her body, she just can’t... say it. Yet.

But he smiles in understanding, they have forever for her to gain her courage.

Gang-tae enters the room he shares with his older brother, hair still wet from his shower, Mun-Yeong’s scent still lingering on his skin. His cheeks pinken in memory of what they just did, only a few feet from his unaware brother. The moonlight against her skin had been criminal, he’d never seen anyone that beautiful, he still couldn't believe he was allowed to have this dream. His suit sits crumpled in the bathroom hamper, cum stains mocking him as Mun-yeong gets her wish, he can no longer wear that particular suit. Far too embarrassed to bring that to the cleaners, he will just have to get more suits.

Joining Sang-tae on the bed, he smiles at the television, his brother’s voice melting with the characters as he recites the lines by heart.

He is unprepared when Sang-tae turns to look at him, searching his face as he always does before speaking, “Why is your face so red?”

Stuttering out a response, he answers, “I just took a hot shower it’s probably from that.” But that answer doesn’t halt his brother’s interrogation, “No, your face is red and your pupils are dilated. You look like that when you’re shy. Are you feeling shy, did you do something to make you feel shy?”

His face heats up further at the inquiry, all the intimate images flashing through his mind instantly, “No!”

His brothers looks unconvinced as he raises his eyebrows. Damn.

“Um.. yes a little. I guess.” He finally answers honestly.

Before Sang-tae knocks his breath away, “Where you and Mun-yeong wrestling? I went to get water and I heard noises in the room. You were groaning and panting, it sounded like you were wrestling.”

If he could jump out the window and survive, he would. Embarrassment stings his skin as his brother continues, unaware of the damage he is doing.

“You shouldn’t wrestle, if you two fight I’ll scold you. Be nice to each other and get along, don’t wrestle anymore and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed if she beat you, she’s a vicious fighter. I remember.” He states, turning back to the television.

With that his brother is immersed back into the adventures of Ko Dil-Gang, no longer interested in him as the familiar lines fall from his lips again.

Groaning he throws himself on the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow him.

He is a good person, he doesn’t deserve this.

#its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #its okay to not be okay fic #multiple uses of ties #suit smut as promised #i do all my writing at night #had to throw in some lovey doveyness with the smut #after today I needed it #for the corpse gang #perv gang #I will edit later just wanted to get it out

198 notes · View notes

seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 4 years

Text

Until Forever - Sirius Black

Chapter 11. Friends.

After that particular talk she had with Minerva, she felt lighter, as if the weight she was carrying on had been lifted from her chest, freeing her from the invisible tyrant. She had finally found someone she could be honest – she hated lying, even white lies put her in a hard position. She was slowly learning how to be at ease when things falling apart and that she had to start over; how to trust those new beginnings once more, how to trust in the rebirth of things and people, including herself; that with every new beginning, she found another lost piece of herself, and with every new adventure, she fell in love with something she would never have thought she’d love. They were scary and confusing but they were also spectacular and extraordinary. Running away was not always the solution. Slowly, but steadily enough, she was learning how to let new people in – how to reawaken her faith in people and their ability to love and their ability to open her heart again. And while she was dreading it, she was hoping that people could see all the different sides of her and still stay. She was never big on trusting herself but she had to; she had to find the ability to trust all those tough experiences that left scars inside her heart or stitches inside her brain, all of that contributed to who she had grown to be. She had to finally understand that things didn’t always fall apart to give an ending, but sometimes they fell apart to present a new beginning. Couple of days passed her by, as she decided to do nothing at all but take of herself, occasionally talking about her secret with her professor and giving in to the pleasure of the beauty world. She was a 2020’s girl and could not, would not, compromise that for the makeup trends of the 70s and 80s. She hated the bold colors that were used without blending – the big hair and the extreme statements. She was a girl of her time, and that time wasn’t this one. Her things were cut-creases and winged eyeliner, matte foundation and contouring, perfectly shaped eyebrows and soft lips. She had to ask her professor for a couple of favors, but Minerva was more than happy to oblige, remembering her young years as well. She had spent the last days, happily alone – of course she was thinking about everything. Her old life, however, seemed too far away from her now. Like a distant dream. She knew that it was more than just a possibility to never live in her time again, and even though that saddened her, she found herself relieved – she had formed attachments despite her initial thoughts of being distant and alone. Yup, that went well.

The 29th day of December had arrived and she was still contemplating whether or not to go to the party. Thanks to Minerva, who was even more excited than she was, she had now a gorgeous dress and high heels but her gut feeling told her that maybe, she just wanted to go so she could see him. With another girl. And in the process, hurt Remus again. While all that time, she should be investigating everyone and everything so she could find a way to change the story and the outcomes. Oh, well, she was twenty-two, after all. She was one of the very few Gryffindors who had stayed and she had the common room to herself most of the time – just like now; she was enjoying silence with a bottle of sparkling wine. She was ecstatic for not having to buy more bottles but simply conjuring more delicious wine – magic was helpful. Unknown to her, she was being stared at. She had stars behind each eyelid and a galaxy in her soul that drew people to her endless heart, like the pull of a black hole, she was made of earth and fire, of wishes cast on shooting stars. She was a brand-new solar system, unlike the ones he had known so far, with constellations ever changing. No one could memorize her skies and he thought the thing for all of her previous relationships to do was bring her down to size. He could see, they had tried to shrunk the universe within her, told her that her vast expanse was wrong, that she should make her life much smaller, if she wanted to belong. But she had denied them that privilege over her and he was amazed by her strength. He threw himself to the couch and she yelp in surprise. He was the last person she expected to see there. He was enjoying her loss of words very much, trying at the same time to convince himself that his visit was purely out of friendly interest. “What can I say? I felt bad for leaving you alone” he exclaimed rather provocatively. She sneered and arched her eyebrow. That was how they were playing at. “Don’t. I was having fun” she answered truthfully, pointing at her drink. He knew he was supposed to follow her hand but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was a vision of heartache and blooded marches that hadn’t even started yet; a battlefield of blossomed roses about to sacrifice themselves to the Gods so that their love would survive. “What kind of a friend would I be then, huh? Speaking of, I didn’t know your birthday was a month ago. But guess who did… ouch” he said and even though it was a mockery, he did sound hurt, or rather jealous. She thought about the word he had used – friend. He wasn’t. Even though she so desperately wanted him to be, he wasn’t. “He asked, you didn’t” she fired as soft as a bullet hitting the petals of a rose. Raising her glass to a toast she never proposed, she saluted him and he knew she was in a mood, alright. “Careful there, you were almost being sweet” he provoked her further. She simply turned her entire body towards him, taking notice of everything, his outfit, his hair, his eyes. He could wear a rag and he would still look incredible. Of course, the leather jacket and the black biker boots were making her imagination run wild. She forgot what she wanted to say to him – probably something sarcastic – and instead offered wine, face masks and her room. Bold move – and a risk he accepted. Sirius was a dilemma; a broken crown wanting to reclaim the throne; a shuttered mirror trying to depict life as it once was. She thought how childish he had been described in the books – but she kept forgetting that all of that was supposed to be parts of a book. He felt real, next to her, with a green tissue mask on his face, pretending to be a zombie and drinking wine. He was just a young adult and he had every right in the world to enjoy his life as much as possible – she wanted him to have those moments, for later he would lose all hope. “What is this? I love it!” he proclaimed his love to the bottle of wine he had also claimed for himself only. She tried not to laugh because she, herself, had a tissue mask on her face but it proved to be impossible. “It’s called Moscato d’Asti – and it’s my favorite” she told him as she laid on her bed, closing her eyes, not wanting to meet his. Next thing she knew, he was right beside her, his hand grazing her thigh. She swallowed hard and shot up – straight to the bathroom. Removing the mask and washing her face with cold water, she did a breathing exercise to calm her nerves but her stomach had been replaced by a knot. She looked at the mirror, a reflection she didn’t recognize. Taking a deep breath, she went out finding Sirius pacing back and forth. It would have been a rather serious scene but he still had his mask on, something he realized and looked down embarrassed. After a moment or two in the bathroom, recollecting himself, he exited with a fake smile that made her guts twist, so she blurted out the first thing that came into her mind. “I met your brother. Nice guy” she commented honestly but his cringed. Arching her eyebrow, and raising her hands up, she surrendered. He sat down next to her, eyeing her and wanting nothing more than to tell her the whole truth. “I will answer any question you have but let me give you your birthday present” he gave in once his eyes met hers. He was lying to everyone when he was pretending to be her friend – he wasn’t. Before she could register what was happening, Sirius had an entire tattoo kit to play with. Her mouth hung open, not even close to believing the scene unfolding. ��No, no, no, no. First off, you’re drunk. Then I don’t trust you with a needle to draw something permanent on me and no!” she summed up quickly but he wasn’t listening. “I know what I am doing. Trust me” he informed her rather nonchalant. They did have a deal… She bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Fine. She had an excuse now, for revealing her tattoos to him. He hadn’t asked her too but she wanted. “Okay. But you have to see my other tattoos first” she carefully told him, watching hi prepare the equipment; his head shot up in the words. He had never thought she would show him her story – because each tattoo was a part of her story. She had never been good at hiding her feelings… and here she was, swallowing her emotions, mutilating her own self for someone else’s sake. She saw the broken pieces in his eyes and wished she could tell him that he would heal in four months, or two weeks, or by next Monday if he really tried. But she couldn’t and that costed her. For if there was anything, she had learned about moving forward, about letting go, about becoming the person she wanted to become — it was that it happened in the quietest moments. Growth crept into her, it burrowed and it stretched, it cracked her open from the inside, and one day she woke up and she had to open her eyes. Maybe he would need more time or better suited people around him. Slowly, she revealed each of her tattoos to him. She removed the spell concealing them and let him explore her. He was tracing his fingertips on her skin. He had seen the lotus flower and remembered her explanation. Her left ring finger was delicately decorated with a small rose. His hands traveled to the inner part of her forearm just below her right elbow, caressing the bracelet of the phases of the moon and the sunflower that reminded him of the sunflowers Van Gogh used to paint. Her shirt was loose enough for him to push the strips off of her shoulder to reveal the Arabic quote she had tattooed on her left collarbone. Before he could stop himself, he was fondling her inked skin – his hand was too close to her neck – he could see her pulse quicken, he felt her breath on his mouth. He knew she had more tattoos but stopped before leaning too close. “I didn’t run away to leave my brother behind. I was thrown out and I am haunted by the ghost of him. I know I have screwed up but they were right about one thing. I don’t believe that I deserve love – I couldn’t give it when I had to” he confessed, gathering his tools to create a birthday present for her that would last. She didn’t dare to move, looking at him as if any moment now, he would vanish. He carefully took her left hand and cleaned the inner part of her forearm just below her elbow with pure alcohol. With an eye contact to seal their deal, he begun drawing. It hurt but it was a sweet burning sensation that she didn’t really mind. “It’s a lie to think that you don’t deserve love if you aren’t able to love yourself. You deserve it. You deserve companionship and care and relationships that feel good and spaces where you’re cherished and valued. Even if you have days where you want to crawl out of your skin and disappear. Even if there are moments when you feel inadequate and unlovable. You don’t have to be alone just because you’re battling your own darkness. Carrying that weight doesn’t make you defective or too much or unworthy of love and belonging. It makes you human. It makes you someone who’s internalized judgments that were never yours to carry. It makes you someone who’s survived a lifetime of trauma and loss and pain. Someone resilient and inconceivably brave. Someone courageous enough to connect, despite the lies in your head. And there’s no shame in that. So please, don’t withdraw or close yourself off. Self-hatred doesn’t get unlearned through isolation. It’s unlearned through love. Through connection and care. Through having relationships and gathering evidence that you can be imperfect and struggling and still be valued. That you can hurt and be at war with your head and still be wanted. I know it’s hard to trust, but you belong. And no matter how much darkness you’re carrying, you deserve to love and be loved” she told him while he was still focused on the piece, he wanted her to have. His hair falling elegantly on his face, eyes silver as mercury dancing across her skin. ‘There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in’ it read as the quote was mingling with the swirling blues and yellows of the Starry night. It was a bracelet as well but it made her teary – her favorite painting with some of the most meaningful words she had read. He wrapped it and sealed it close but she already knew how to take care of new tattoos. When his eyes met hers, the entire world seized to exist. It was just them and nothing could intervene. She didn’t stop herself from hugging him and thanking him – a whisper that made him melt inside her embrace. “There is a Japanese word; kinsukuroi. It’s the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken. I find it strangely reassuring” he tenderly told her and she felt a blissful breeze of refreshing air calming down her lungs. “If you want to see the other tattoos, you can. It’s just that…” she trailed of and cautiously grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it off. She knew it was too much – she could have just described them to him. But she knew it was a risk she was willing to take because the moment would never be perfect, the circumstances would only worsen and her heart would only break even more. He took a sharp breath in but didn’t stop her; quite the opposite really. He found himself helping her out of her shirt with shaky hands. His touch burned her but she could only look at him and see a future – it scared her. His eyes stayed on hers but slowly they roamed her upper body and suddenly they fell on the canis major constellation, tattooed right in the middle of her chest – underneath her bra. There was a small blue bird in the left side of her rib-cage, probably the one from Bukowski’s poem. He wasn’t able to do anything but stare at her and explore her body. She softly nudged her hair out of the way and his eyes traveled to her neck once again. It was the most intimate thing he had ever done. She twisted her torso so he could see her back – a pair of antlers resting close to her hairline and the planetary system running down her spine. Not just any tattoo. It was almost identical to his. “How is this possible? The moon, the canis major, the antlers, the planets? How?” he asked disoriented, not knowing which tattoo to look at because if he looked at her face, he would kiss her, crush her in his arms. She shrugged and put her shirt back on. He knew those tattoos were done at least a year ago – she didn’t know them. “Maybe not in your reality. But is was in mine” she airily told him, leaving him with questions to which he did know the answer. The girl in front of him hadn’t simply fallen from the sky to his embrace. She had fallen through time. He was too close, his breath on her mouth, her hands on his arm, tracing the patterns of his tattoos. She closed her eyes, not wanting to collide. Not now. Not yet. But she couldn’t say no all at once. She placed a small peck on his cheek and thanked him again. “Care for a cigarette?” she mouthed too close to his lips. No, he didn’t. He cared about her. All the right ways – and all the wrong ones. He was hers in a way he never belonged to anyone ever before. A little. A lot. Passionately. Not all.

___ Taglist: @nadinissavage @mycobrakai1972

52 notes · View notes

chiseler · 4 years

Text

Glad Rags: Fashion and the Great Depression

Some years ago, in a breathtaking lapse of taste, The New Yorker published a fashion spread that aped iconic photographs of Dust Bowl migrants. I was as appalled as the next right-thinking person by the pouting models in $400 distressed cardigans pretending to thumb rides along desert highways. But if the charge is infatuation with the aesthetics of the Great Depression, I am guilty, guilty, guilty. Throw me in the clink—just so long as it resembles the hoosegow that Barbara Stanwyck saunters around in Ladies They Talk About (1932).

Why was everything, from automats to automobiles, from nightclubs to radios, from skyscrapers to bus stations, from cocktail shakers to the battered hats on homeless men, so elegant in the thirties? Why did bums back then look better than bankers today? Why are the movies and music, the clothes and every aspect of design from typefaces to elevator panels, so intoxicatingly stylish?

The easy answer is that art deco glamour was a form of escapism, a consolation to the down-and-out, and an expression of irrational optimism. Cruise ships, trains, office towers, mechanized restaurants: art deco was all about speed and modernity, the thrill of zooming into the future. (Then why does deco still look modern and alluring, while the space-age design of the sixties just looks dated and silly?) If cynicism was society’s ballast during the Depression, style was the kite-string tugging upward, the flag that kept flying.

It’s not the swells in their glad rags that I admire most, or even the bootleggers in silk shirts, but the wardrobes of working girls. Take the plain, slinky black dress that Stanwyck, as an ambitious office worker in Baby Face, accessorizes with a series of different detachable white collars and cuffs. Those starched cuffs and collars—chic, yet as humble as table-napkins—are perfect, almost poignant symbols of Stanwyck’s determination to better herself with the small means at her disposal. In Golddiggers of 1933, out-of-work chorus girls draw lots for the privilege of wearing a gorgeous, borrowed outfit to an audition. The little hats that hug one side of the head, the soft dresses molded to the hips, the scarf collars and pleated hems, create a look that collapses the two meanings of “smart.” Neither frivolous nor utilitarian, it’s a neat, streamlined look that is still seductive; it signals quiet confidence and also wit, the sort of wisecracking verbal self-defense these girls mastered.

Movies like Baby Face tell their stories largely through their heroines’ clothes and belongings: they climb from cotton frocks to furs, from paper matchbooks to jeweled cigarette cases. (Clothing is no less crucial to the gangster’s rise; tailored shirts and luxurious overcoats are almost the point of his law-breaking.) Like Stanwyck in Baby Face, Joan Blondell in Blondie Johnson starts out in the drab, shapeless clothes of the down-trodden. Alight with anger after her mother dies, denied aid by a sanctimonious government official, she vows to get hold of dough, “and plenty of it.” Next we see her, she’s wearing a snazzy velvet suit that fits like a glove and conning suckers out of ten dollar bills by pretending to be a damsel in distress. She’s willing to bat her eyelashes and exploit her curves, but it’s really her brain she uses to get ahead, rising to become the head of a criminal “corporation,” and fiercely defending her virtue, even while clad in diaphanous pajamas. In Hold Your Man, Clark Gable calls attention to the warmth of the room, trying to talk Jean Harlow into doffing her coat. She complies, but when he suggests she remove her hat as well, she quips, “I’m pretty cool about the head.”

It’s this sense of wit and sass that’s often missing from latter-day reconstructions of the thirties, making people in period pieces appear overly formal. Current actors, looking embalmed in handsome clothes and make-up, fail to capture the way Cagney in his pin-striped suits was always poised on the balls of his feet, ready to crack into a tap dance; or the stunning bodily freedom with which women wore their thin, fluid, backless gowns, somehow never looking unduly exposed. Carole Lombard in shiny satin wide-legged lounging-pajamas and high heels furiously riding an exercise bicycle: there is the deco spirit in a nutshell. I sometimes wonder if it was the sheer delight of wearing such flattering clothes that gave women in thirties movies their unequaled zing.

Their sleek clothes don’t hide the female form the way dresses of the 1920’s did with their dropped waists and bosom-flattening bands. Neither do they exaggerate it with structured undergarments like those abandoned after the first world war and re-introduced after the second. It takes little insight to observe that the times when fashion has been most extreme in its devotion to the hourglass figure have been repressive eras for women, and periods when their clothes were more androgynous have been times when women made strides toward equality. In the early thirties, however, fashions were feminine without being cartoonishly so; they simply revealed the way women really look. The ideal of beauty was slender but not boyishly skinny, effortlessly athletic without gym-workout muscles.

Thirties dames look sexy on their own terms, not trussed up for male consumption like women of the fifties in their waist-cinching girdles, teetering stilettos and torpedo bras (often filled out with falsies on actresses of the fifties.) Many women in the early thirties wore very little under their clothes, as pre-Code movies prove with their obligatory lingerie shots. One almost feels sorry for pre-Code men faced with gals like Blondell, who in Blonde Crazy allows Cagney to inspect her flimsy underwear but repels his every advance with a slap that sends his head snapping back against his spine.

It is surely no coincidence that the interwar period was perhaps the only time when fashion was dominated, or at least heavily influenced, by women designers. Chanel borrowed from men’s tailoring to make women’s clothes simple, comfortable and sporty, without making them mannish. Madeleine Vionnet pioneered the bias cut, constructing garments so the grain of the fabric ran diagonally across the body, creating that smooth, clinging drape that defines feminine style of the thirties. Stanwyck’s lithe, bold stride wouldn’t be the same without the skirts that show off her beautiful hips and just enough of her killer gams. The jazzy, diagonally-striped ensemble that Claudette Colbert wears in It Happened One Night—something she has apparently purchased with the proceeds from pawning her wrist-watch—is the sartorial equivalent of her cocked eyebrow and throaty, sarcastic delivery.

These are Hollywood movies, of course, in which actresses often wore dresses so tight they couldn’t sit down between shots. But there’s plenty of documentary evidence that ordinary women, while they made have had less perfect figures, had just as much stylistic sass. Inept, small-time criminals Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow might never have become folk heroes if police hadn’t found a roll of undeveloped film in their hideout in Joplin, Missouri in 1932, and if the pictures hadn’t shown Bonnie wearing a snug beret, a skirt and sweater as jazzy as Colbert’s, and standing with her high-heeled foot hiked saucily on the bumper of a Ford V-8.

Or consider the stout matron in Walker Evans’s 1935 photograph of a New Orleans barbershop, sporting a blouse with sizzling concentric stripes, a jaunty black tie and a black hat with a rakish white feather. Men were no slouches either. Evans’s 1936 pictures of street scenes in the “negro quarter” of Vicksburg, Mississippi feature men lounging idly in shirtsleeves, unbuttoned vests and felt hats, each one a fashion plate. Lined up in a row in the wood-frame buildings behind them are hand-painted signs for the Savoy Barber Shop, the New Deal Barber Shop, and the Brother In Law Barber Shop. These men may not have jobs, but at least they have well-trimmed hair.

One can always ask, was there really such an epidemic of elegance in the thirties, or did photographers just seek out images of dignity? In the same way, one can look at the photographs of Robert Frank or the documentary footage of Los Angeles in The Savage Eye (1960) and wonder if there was really an epidemic of ugliness and vulgarity in the late fifties and early sixties, or whether artists just emphasized it. But the question is moot: either way, the images reveal how Americans—or at least their professional observers—saw themselves. Struggling against deprivation and anxiety, they were proud, stoic and stripped to their lean, essential spirit. Prosperous and secure, they were hapless victims of an aesthetic crash. A movie like Murder by Contract (1958), about a hit man killing time in L.A., staying in suffocatingly tacky motel rooms, seems to be the portrait of a man sleepwalking through a society where taste has flatlined.

Fifties style was artlessly boastful; its ideals were plastic mannequins of happiness, innocence and surfeit. This is why when it failed it failed so hideously: the old, the poor, the ugly, the lonely look caught in a pitiless glare, all their shortcomings exposed. The beehive hair, bouffant skirts, school-girl necklines and cat’s-eye glasses made young women look stodgy and matronly, and older women look grotesquely girlish. In the thirties, haute couture expressed sublime hauteur, but it was based on aesthetic principles so sound that even when they trickled down to the cheapest knock-offs and most threadbare hand-me-downs, they still looked good. And so we come to the paradox of men in breadlines, women in migrant camps, whose je-ne-sais-quoi can inspire fashion spreads.

I am haunted by a bit of archival footage from the superb documentary Riding the Rails (1997), which shows a group of teenage hobos gathered on an open flat-car. Their elegance is unforgettable. It’s partly that their ragged clothes are so well-cut—in those days before baggy, one-size-fits-nobody garments—and partly that they’re worn with such an air. One boy wears an overcoat that’s too big for him and a handkerchief knotted on his head; he looks like a Napoleonic soldier retreating from Moscow. Men today who affect newsboy caps tend to wear them as though they were balancing a plate on their heads, but these boys wear their soft caps pulled down low over one eye, making them look at once tough and shy. They also seem, like everyone Dorothea Lange photographed, to stand and move with uncommon, easy grace: idle, but charged with contained energy. Their faces are wary, reticent and disillusioned. In another archival clip, boys sitting around a fire in a hobo jungle respond to a reporter who asks them why they are on the road. “Out here for my health,” one deadpans. “Just riding,” another tersely shrugs.

These are the real-life versions of the characters played by Frankie Darro and the Warners juveniles in Wild Boys of the Road (1933). Several things about that film are startling. One is how the kids dress and act like grown-ups (at a school dance, they wear evening clothes and circle the floor to “The Shadow Waltz”), as opposed to today, when grown-ups dress and act like kids. Another is how quickly and completely two middle-class boys turn into outcasts, panhandlers, embittered scavengers living in a garbage dump. But most startling of all is the way stoicism and dignity are taken for granted, the universal determination not be a burden or feel sorry for oneself. The elderly interviewees in Riding the Rails are candid, matter-of-fact, wry and compassionate. There is more to elegance than dressing well, than being tasteful or—that overused and inelegant word—“classy.” There is an intangible quality, a kind of mental and moral grace. Elegance has spine, but it’s not rigid; it bends but doesn’t break. It is understated; it is reserved. It knows the virtue of holding something back—some strength, some anger, some sense of irony—because there is more than one rainy day.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#The Chiseler #Imogen Sara Smith #Fashion #Great Depression

12 notes · View notes

coyotesongwriting · 4 years

Text

When It Rains, It Pours - Ch 7

Avengers - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Chapter 7 - When Worlds Collide

Story Summary: Things are going great between you and Bucky, until one day they aren’t. He dumps you, not knowing that what you’d wanted to talk to him about was the positive pregnancy test you held behind your back.

Chapter Summary: It’s time to face the past. What will you find?

Author’s Note: Thank you guys for reading this! All mistakes are my own!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know!): @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark @samsgoddess @redfoxwritesstuff @iheartsebastianstan @alexakeyloveloki @fookingmuffins @yasnooshka24 @redfoxwritesstuff @amazon-belle @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @kinkywitchy @superwonderwholock @redhairedfeistynerd @paranoiadestroyah @cool-kids-cant-be-dead @sarcastic-and-cool

Previous Chapter

Sif whirled to face Bucky, and realization dawned on her face. In the last year, you’d told her everything about what had happened and who Bucky was to you. She was the only one you confided in about how much you missed him, and what you wouldn’t give for him to be a part of your daughter’s life.

“I’ll give you some space” she smiled softly at you, her voice dropping as she continued, “And I’ll make sure Aspen’s okay.”

“Tell Thor I’m not mad” you sighed. This day had been coming for a while, you couldn’t ask him to hide it forever. You owed him for keeping it as long as he had honestly. Your eyes never left Bucky, he hadn’t moved from the door.

Sif brushed past him on her way out, and it seemed to break his spell. You watched anxiously as he approached, and your arms itched to cover yourself. It was always warm in the indoor arena so you’d taken to training in a sports bra and booty shorts since they didn’t restrict your movement. It had taken yourself a while to become comfortable in your skin after having Aspen, and you’d been nervous about showing off your stretch marks. However, all it had taken was the Warriors Three complimenting you on your new battle scars as they called them to make you decide to own them.

He stopped a few feet from you, studying every little thing about you, and you reached your hand up to brush a lock of hair out of your face. You could see new scars on him, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well in months. Minutes passed as you waited for him to talk, but he made no move to break the silence.

Finally, you caved first. “Either we need to talk or I need to get back to training, your choice Barnes.”

When he still didn’t speak, you grabbed a dulled practice sword off the wall and tossed it to him before grabbing one for yourself. You’d become fascinated with them during your stay, and with the help of Sif and the Warriors Three, it hadn’t taken you long to realize you were a natural with it. Nowadays it was always the first weapon you reached for. For your last birthday, Thor and Loki had commissioned a gorgeous sword made just for you, and it was your most prized possession.

You began to stretch and go through your usual warm-up routine. Bucky had begun to do the same and you watched out of the corner of your eye. You’d always found him attractive, and that hadn’t changed even after the time apart.

As you got into position to start, you wished you were wearing anything else. Sure, this outfit was great for the heat and unrestricted movement but it wasn’t exactly protective. While the practice swords were dulled, the scar on your upper left arm proved that they could still leave their mark. When Bucky copied your position, the fight began.

You began to circle him, holding your sword out in front of you. If your opponent had been any of the Warriors Three, you’d have been laughing and showing off with them by now. This fight felt different, serious. You had something to prove, and you were going to win.

Bucky matched your steps as you two slowly circled, and you realized once again you’d have to be the first to move. You quickly swung your blade towards his chest, and the fight began. He blocked you easily, and your eyes narrowed as you went on the offensive. Your attacks flew at him, and he blocked you every time.

Twisting your fingers, you began to summon a small force field as you would have if you were fighting any of the others. You quickly shook your head though, determined to win this fight fair and square, no dirty tricks, no powers. You could do this, you had to do this. After a few minutes of him fending off your attacks, you realized he wasn’t fighting back, not really.

“Damn it. Fight me!” he was too distracted by your voice that he missed his block, and you were able to land a blow on his arm.

A thin trace of red began to leak through his shirt, and it seemed to snap him out of it. Finally, you were getting the fight you deserved as he came after you. The clash of steel echoed through the arena and a grim smile found its way onto your face. For the first time, Bucky was in your element. You were in charge here, and you’d make sure he knew it.

The fight dragged on longer than it should have, and you could see him beginning to tire. Apparently, being a super-soldier didn’t prevent sleep deprivation from getting to him and it was giving you the upper hand. You feigned right but swung left and Bucky was too slow to stop you, allowing you to send the blade flying from his grasp.

Quickly, you swung your sword, placing the tip at his throat, and winning the fight. Your breathing was heavy as you stared down the practice sword at him, and waited for him to yield.

“I’m so sorry, doll” his voice was soft, pleading.

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just apologize, Bucky!” your voice broke as you said his name, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

You dropped your sword to your side and began to walk away. Before you’d even made it two steps though, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you tight against his chest. For a long moment, you didn’t move, his arms wrapped securely around you. The familiar smell of him was what broke you in the end, and you grabbed him tight as your tears began to fall.

~~~~~~

Lady Sif found Thor, Loki, and Aspen all waiting in your quarters. As she entered, they both glanced quickly at the door, relaxing when they saw it wasn’t you. Loki was distracting Aspen, using his magic to make her toys float around her and she was clapping happily. Thor looked like a nervous wreck, and Lady Sif took a seat next to him.

“I told her I’d come check on Aspen” she explained before turning to Thor, “She asked me to pass a message to you though.”

“How mad is she?” he hated the idea that you’d be furious with him, but he had to believe he’d made the right choice.

Sif rested her hand on his arm, “She specifically asked me to tell you that she’s not mad, Thor.”

His eyes flew to hers, “Truly? She’s not angry?”

Sif smiled back at him, “I swear. She’s not mad you, just relax. The two of them have needed to talk this out for much too long.”

Loki flinched slightly at her words and muttered an apology before slipping out of the room, leaving them to care for Aspen.

~~~~~~

When your tears finally subsided, you forced yourself to step back out of Bucky’s arms. For a moment, you weren’t sure he was going to let you go but eventually, his hold loosened. You picked up his training sword and returned them both to the rack before turning to face him again.

This time you didn’t have to wait long for him to speak, “Doll, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why? So you’d convince yourself to stay so we could get married? I was going to tell you that night, but instead, you surprised me and told me you didn’t love me. Why the hell would I want to tell you I was pregnant after that?”

“Because I love you, doll! I would have stayed, I would have fought for you, for us. You have to know I’d never have left you if I had known.”

“That’s the problem, Bucky. The truth is you weren’t in love with me. The fact that you’re only saying it now that you know about Aspen proves I made the right choice. You’d have felt obligated to stay, and we deserve better. Besides, you’d only have resented us.”

“That’s not fair, [Y/N] and you know it.” his voice was like gravel, and he reached to grab your hands, but you pulled away before he could.

“Bucky. You told me, to my face, on our anniversary, that you couldn’t keep pretending to love me. The only explanation you’d give me? That all you had left was darkness. That’s what I know.”

“Please don’t shut me out. Please, doll. Let me make it up to you. I love you, and I need you” you could hear the earnestness in his voice but all you remembered was the chill in his voice that night.

“Then tell me why you ended it. Tell me what went wrong, and let’s be adults here. Talk to me, Bucky” your voice was soft, and you prayed that he’d tell you, maybe the two of you could fix it after all.

Bucky didn’t speak, and you let the moment draw out before you nodded once to yourself. You’d suspected that would be his answer, but it killed you inside to know that he wouldn’t just tell you the truth, not even now.

You paused to take a breath before speaking, “Bucky, if you want to be a part of Aspen’s life, I won’t begrudge you that. It’s probably good for her to know her father. It’s going to be on my terms though. We’re not living together. Aspen will be living with me, and we’ll go visit you. I’m not sending her to visit you without me, at least not until she’s older.”

“Don’t you trust me, Doll?” his voice broke.

You longed to grab him and never let him go, but life was no longer just about you. It killed you inside that it had come to this, that you were on different sides now. You had no choice though, Aspen came first now, and she always would.

"No, Bucky, I don't."

Next Chapter ->

Find this story on AO3

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier x Reader #Winter Soldier #Marvel's The Avengers #marvels the avengers #marvel the avengers #Marvel #The Avengers #Avengers #Lady Sif

91 notes · View notes

angelicthor · 5 years

Text

billion dollar man - part 3

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

You woke the next morning still in a state of disbelief, laying in bed as the events of the previous night replayed in your mind. Your thoughts of Tony were abruptly halted by the knock on your door and you remembered that you were having a delivery today with your outfit choices for the evening. Padding over to the door you were shocked to see not a delivery man but Wanda, your neighbour and best friend standing in front of you with her hand on her hip and her eyebrow arched at you, clearly annoyed about something.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She questioned instantly, only leaving you more confused as to what the hell she was talking about. Before you could open your mouth to respond she shoved her phone into your hands, storming past you and into your apartment.

Looking down at the phone, you saw that the app loaded was Babble Babe, more specifically the article from last night; the picture of you and Tony centred on the screen. How Wanda had figured out it was you from your back alone was beyond you but you knew she wouldn’t be happy – Wanda was there for everything after your messy split from your ex, consoling you when you seemed inconsolable to everyone else and you knew she was protective of you, you hadn’t factored in her response to you ‘dating’ Tony, the world’s most notorious womanizer, and with the pointed look she was giving you, you started to wish you had.

You knew better than to lie to Wanda, if she knew it was you then you just had to tell her the truth, the woman was like a mind reader, absolutely nothing got past her. It was honestly freaky sometimes how she could read people, no secret was safe around Wanda Maximoff. With a dejected sigh, you turned to her: “How the hell could you tell it was me?”

“Oh please, I’d recognise that ass anywhere! Plus, that’s the dress you wore for my birthday two months ago and I know for a fact you only wear it on special occasions, so I ask again: What the hell are you doing?”

You quirked a brow at your friend, eyes widening before you shook your head, deciding to ignore the fact that she could apparently pick your ass out of every other in New York and jump right to placating her growing annoyance. “Ok will you please calm down; it was just a date Wan.”

“A date? With Tony Stark?” She questioned incredulously, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive manner. You knew you were going to have to tell her the truth or she’d march down to Tony’s apartment herself to get the answers she wanted. The woman was persistent, you’d give her that.

“Just, promise me you won’t freak out ok? Just listen to everything I have to say before you start telling me how stupid this is and swear on your life not to tell anyone.”

Wanda’s defensive demeanour shifted lightly at your words, concern shining in her eyes as he nodded, not entirely sure what you were going to tell her. Walking past her you made your way over to the draw in your kitchen that had all your final notice bills in, the multitude of letters stacked neatly and tied together with an elastic band. Wanda took the bills from your hand, eyes widening as she flicked through them and saw just how bad your financial situation really was.

“Oh Y/N, I knew it was getting tough but I had no idea it was this bad,” Wanda’s expression changed to one of sympathy, hand resting on your arm as a sign of comfort, “But I still don’t understand what dating Tony has to do with this.”

“Well, see we’re not really dating. It’s an act, one that I’m getting paid good money for, he just needs to prove himself to his company’s chair board to be stable and a ‘relationship’ is one of the ways to do it.”

“So, he’s paying you to play make believe with him?” Wanda still had her doubts in all of this and it was understandable, the more you told her the more ridiculous it sounded.

“Pretty much, I promise I’m not actually dating Tony Stark. There are absolutely no romantic feelings involved in this Wanda, we’re just going to be friends if anything.”

She definitely doesn’t need to know about the sex part of the arrangement, she’s struggling to accept this as it is.

You could see her pondering over everything you had told her, the gears turning in her head as she created a thousand and one ways this entire situation could go before she finally relented with a sigh; “Alright, alright. I promise my lips are sealed, just be careful ok?”

You let out a chuckle at her constant worry, pulling her in for a hug at her support, “I promise Wan, it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with Tony freakin’ Stark for God’s sake.”

The two of you dropped the discussion on your new means of earning money for the time being, deciding instead to have breakfast together before Wanda had to go to work at the floristry she owned in Brooklyn.

You were just sipping at the fresh cup of coffee you had made for yourself when another knock sounded at your door, only this time it wasn’t Wanda. A multitude of delivery men stood at your door carrying various boxes, bags, and dresses all in covers to protect them, every single thing they held had a designer name strapped across it that you could never even dream to afford and you stood staring at the men before you with your mouth agape, unable to comprehend just why Tony had got you so much.

“Miss Y/LN?” the voice of one of the delivery men snapped you out of your stupor and you nodded your head in conformation, “Where do you want us to put the bags Miss?”

Where indeed, they had more clothes on in their hands than you had in your wardrobe, you had no idea where you were going to store all of this. “Just, uh - the bedroom I guess?”

You lead them through your small apartment into your cramped bedroom and they placed everything Tony had gotten you on the floor and your bed, every surface seemingly covered in the poky room. Thanking the men as they left, you want back to your room to stare at the numerous bags and boxes that littered it, feeling like a child on Christmas morning opening their presents as you made your way through each one.

Tony really had bought you everything you could possibly need for tonight; Tiffany bags filled with stunning jewellery, Chanel bags brimming with make-up, Versace perfume that smelt heavenly, a selection of Louboutin boxes that held gorgeous shoes all in your size that fit perfectly, Tony had even had deliveries from Romanoff’s Delights with the most luxurious lingerie you had ever seen – how he knew your sizes was beyond you.

Rifling through the box of silken bras you found a note at the bottom: ‘Couldn’t help but think how good you’d look in these, Kitten. Feel free to wear them tonight, I’ll see you at 7:30. T x’

You couldn’t stop the amused smile spreading across your face at the note, shaking your head as a chuckle escaped you. You retrieved the card Tony gave you from your bedside table, punching the number into your phone and sending him a quick text.

�� - How the hell do you know my bra size?

You didn’t have to wait long before your phone was lighting up with Tony’s response.

- I have my ways, Sugar. Do you like them?

You couldn’t help but smirk as you wrote out your response, only able to imagine his reaction.

- They’re cute but I normally prefer lace.

You could have sworn his reply was even faster this time and you could picture his shit eating grin as you read over his words.

- Lace huh? Kinky. I’ll have to remember that.

You put the phone down, moving to the dresses that were spread out over your bed, your amazement at the beautiful garments growing as you revealed each breath-taking design from the covers they were in. Each one fit you like a glove, accentuating some part of you and making you look better then you ever have before. These dresses were made to be worn by actual women, the lavish fabric cut and sown to adapt to the curves of the female body, unlike the cheap fabric that made up your other clothes that were designed to only look good on coat hangers.

You tried each dress on, admiring your reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of your room and trying to decide which one you should wear tonight, not actually knowing anything about the event you would be going to. In the end, you decided to play it safe, choosing to stay classic and refined in the black number Tony had bought you; the material was unbelievably soft against your skin, the off-shoulder cut and fishtail trail giving you an effortless sense of elegance.

Once you finished playing dress-up, you put the other dresses in your closet, keeping them in their covers to protect the designer clothing. You tried to organise everything else Tony had bought you, as difficult a task as it was, you simply didn’t have much room to spare. Storing the smaller things like cosmetics and other luxury toiletries was easy, keeping them in your make-up bags and in the space available on your small, shabby vanity under the window but you had to keep the numerous shoes he had bought you in their boxes, stacking them in the corner of your room in an impressive tower.

You busied yourself tidying the apartment until it was time for you to get ready, heading towards your cramped bathroom with your new toiletries in hand. You filled the tub with water, examining the new bath oils Tony had provided you with, the regal styled bottle of Floris looking nearly too good to use and left you wondering just how much Tony had spent on you already. The soft scents of lime blossom and lily filled the room as the oil mixed with the running water and when your bath was just perfect your turned off the taps, stepping into the bath and easing into the warm water.

You relaxed in the tub until the water went cold, the oils making your skin feel soft under your fingers and you couldn’t wait to test out everything else Tony had bought for you. You dried yourself off and styled your hair, moving to do your make-up before slipping on your underwear; you took a moment to admire yourself glammed up in nothing but your luxury lingerie, hands roaming down your sides and over the material of your panties, noticing how similar your skin felt to the expensive silk and smiling at your reflection.

You slipped the dress on, smoothing the material down your body as it clung to you like a second skin, matching it with a pair of the Louboutin’s gifted to you before you took the necklace from the Tiffany’s box, clasping it around your neck and admiring the way the pearls alternated by diamonds wrapped around your throat. Your reflection was nearly unrecognisable, you were certain you had never seen as much money in your life like you were wearing at the current moment, you only hoped it would be enough to impress Tony because it was definitely an improvement to waiting tables.

Your phone pinged on your bedside table and you read the text from Tony, telling you that he was a few minutes out from your apartment. Gathering the Yves Saint Lauren clutch bag that completed the outfit and shoving your phone and other necessities into it, you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before heading out the door, grateful to not run into Wanda on your way out and sparing yourself her concerned looks.

By the time you got downstairs to the entrance of your building, Happy was waiting by the door, giving you a small smile and nod of his head as greeting before leading you over to the car and opening the door for you, to which you thanked him before gracefully sliding into the backseat of the pricey car that you noticed was different to the one that brought you home the night before. Tony was already seated in the back, sipping on a glass a scotch from the mini bar to the side of him, his eyebrow raised as his gaze swept over you, his tongue poking out the lick at the amber liquid that stained his bottom lip.

“Well Gorgeous, money definitely suits you, that’s for sure.” Tony reached for the glass of bubbling champagne already poured, handing you the flute as his eyes continued to roam your body. “How are you feeling?”

You took a sip of the sparkling liquid, feeling it fizz on your tongue as you savoured the taste, “A little nervous but nothing I can’t handle. Do you think we’ll be convincing enough?”

Leaning back and resting his head against the back of his seat, Tony let his eyes slip closed as a chuckle escaped his lips, “Sweetheart, all I have to do to make this look convincing to the world is go in there and make it look like I want nothing more than to take you home – and with the way you look right now that isn’t going to be a challenge in the slightest.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, unable to fight the smile playing at his lips as you heard the underlying compliment under everything he was saying: you look nice. You couldn’t help but admire just how good Tony looked in a suit; waistcoat visible from between his open jacket, the crisp white shirt a contrast to the all-black ensemble, the burgundy tie the only colour evident. The white strip of his handkerchief was barely peeking over his breast-pocket and you couldn’t deny how classy the man looked.

You both made idle chitchat as the car made its way towards the hotel and it struck you how easy you found it to talk to Tony, there was no awkward silences or forced conversations you could simply be around him. Maybe it was due to all the messages you exchanged before you released just who ‘iron man’ was or maybe it was just the fact that Tony was just someone who you could be around, you didn’t know nor did you dwell on the issue – it was a good sign that this arrangement would work and that’s all you needed to know.

Happy finally pulled up outside of the Plaza and the flashing of cameras could be seen even through the tinted glass of the car windows and a sudden wave of anxiety struck you; you had no idea how to act in these sort of formal events and you didn’t want to discredit Tony, not only that but you would effectively be meeting so many people who came from such a different background to you, what if they could see right through the fine clothes and jewellery and looked down on you?

Sensing your abrupt apprehension, Tony took your hand in his, thumb rubbing calming circles into the skin on the back, intense gaze willing you to look up at him; “Hey, it’ll be fine, ok? Don’t worry about it, just stick by my side and we’ll be golden.”

Your eyes met his, finding nothing but sincerity in his stare as your teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you had, nodding your head in agreement. You didn’t miss the way Tony’s eyes followed the notion, his eyes becoming heavily lidded as his tongue peeked out to swipe over his lips before a smirk spread across them. The sight gave you a boost of confidence and your lips curled in a cheeky grin which only grew as Tony chuckled, muttering ‘trouble’ under his breath and lacing his fingers through yours.

The door to the car opened, Happy standing by waiting for you and Tony to exit and shutting the door behind you. The bright flashes from the photographers where blinding and the shouts from multiple reporters asking Tony a million and one questions about who you were and what was happening with Stark Industries was deafening. Pulling you closer to him by your waist, Tony whispered in your ear to just smile and ignore them, the both of you making your way to the front of the building and being escorted inside by a member of staff.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind you and the relentless questions were muted. Tony’s hand didn’t move from your waist as you were lead through the hotel and towards the charity dinner that was being held in the terrace room and you couldn’t find a single part of you that cared, if anything Tony’s signs of attraction towards you were welcome – you couldn’t deny you found the man alluring and you were most definitely looking forward to the afterparty he had planned for the both of you.

The room the charity ball was being held in was stunning, easily one of the most luxurious places you had the fortune of seeing, the room practically glowing golden under the lights of the chandeliers. There were tables dotted around the room, most already occupied, and in the centre, there was a dancefloor that already had a few patrons twirling elegantly on it. As Tony led you to what you assumed were your assigned seats, you couldn’t help but take in the beauty around you, the intricate architecture of the room was breath-taking and the people that filled it matched seamlessly; men dressed in perfectly styled suits, practically oozing class and style and the women were decorated in fine dresses, appearing to be dipped in the most precious jewels that sparkled under the low-light of the room.

Even with all the money Tony had spent on this outfit alone you still couldn’t help feeling out of place, as if they could see through the charade you were trying so desperately to put on: Tony could put you in the most expensive dresses in the world, it still wouldn’t change the fact that this wasn’t the company and lifestyle you were accustomed to.

Tony stopped in front of a table that already had a few taken seats, cocking an eyebrow at the group until they stopped talking and turned to you both; the gorgeous red-head’s eyes travelled over you and you couldn’t help but feel she was going to eat you alive, her expression unwavering as she picked you apart. The two men seated beside her seemed much more welcoming and you couldn’t help but think that you’d seen them before; a tall blonde with kind eyes and a trusting smile and his brunette friend with piercing blue eyes and a cheeky grin that made you melt a little inside.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my date. Y/N, this is Steve, Bucky, and Nat,” Tony introduced you to everyone as he pulled out your chair for, making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N,” the blond – Steve – said, pulling your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your eyes widened at the gesture, you didn’t even think anyone in the 21st century did that anymore.

Before you could take your hand back, it was already firmly clasped in Bucky’s; “A great pleasure Dollface, you look spectacular.” Bucky pulled your hand to his mouth, steel-blue eyes locked on yours as he pressed a kiss to the skin and you felt your face heat up at the action.

“Alright Barnes hands to yourself, this is my date unless you forgot.” Tony shot Bucky a look, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, a silent demand for Bucky to keep his charms to himself.

Barnes? Wait, as in James?

Your eyes flittered between Steve and Bucky before you put the pieces in place: “Wait, wait, wait; you’re James Barnes and Steve Rogers? As in Barnes and Rogers Attorneys? You guys are the best lawyers out there!”

Although you were slightly embarrassed by your fangirlish outburst nothing you had said wasn’t true. Barnes and Rogers were the best of the best and their clientele list only proved that fact – they were even the designated attorneys for Stark Industries if you remembered correctly. Steve and Bucky’s eyebrows both shot up at your exclamation, not expecting to be recognised by one of Tony Starks dates.

“Uh, yeah that’s us. You’ve heard of our work?” Steve was still in shock, not knowing how to handle the sudden attention on him whereas Bucky seemed to be basking in it.

“Of course. I used some of your work as case studies at law school, it’s very impressive stuff.”

This caught all three’s attention; Steve still looking adorably shocked, Bucky leaning forward in his chair and even Nat – who had been pretty adamant on ignoring your presence up until now – arched a brow at you, a look of confusion washing over her features as her eyes darted over to Tony, trying to get a read on him.

“You’re a lawyer?” Bucky asked and you were sure that if his eyebrows got any higher they would be forever lost in his hairline.

You fumbled slightly at this question, were you technically a lawyer if you weren’t employed? More importantly, what exactly were you supposed to tell them?

“Uh y-yes. I’m just taking some time to myself before I jump into the field; I feel like I’ve spent every day of my life studying, I just want some time away before I dedicate myself to the job.” You glanced at Tony who was sipping on the champagne flute in his hands, he offered you a small nod and a smirk and you knew you were on the right track. You relaxed slightly at that, reaching forward for your own glass as you smiled at the people before you.

“So where exactly did you two meet?” You nearly choked on your drink at Natasha’s question but quickly saved yourself from sputtering like a fool.

“Yeah Stark,” Bucky gasped dramatically, clutching his hand to his chest in mock theatrics, “Have you been seeing other lawyers behind our backs? I thought what we had was special!”

You felt Tony stiffen beside you and panic began to set in, the two of you had gone over nearly everything - apart from a story to explain how the hell the two of you had met. Natasha squinted her eyes at you both and you could practically hear the gears whirring in Tony’s head to try and come up with something, anything!

Thinking fast you came up with a something simple and easy to remember in case you were asked again and hoped it would work, you knew the longer you stayed in silence the stranger It looked. “Tony bumped into me on the street one day and I dropped my coffee, he insisted he buy me a new one and we got talking and it led to him asking me on a date.”

You could see the tension leave Tony’s body as you gave the three of them a plausible explanation, his hand coming to rest on your thigh and giving it a squeeze that said what he currently couldn’t voice – thank you. Steve and Bucky seemed to buy it straight away but Natasha still seemed cautious, turning towards Tony and asking him directly, you wouldn’t be able to save him this time. “You brought her to this boring-ass charity event as a first date? This thing is going to drag on for hours.”

“I didn’t bring her here as a first date; our first date was last night,” Tony seemed to have regained his confidence after that little stumble and was currently the perfect picture of relaxation against his friends ruthless questioning; he was reclined against the back of the chair, his arm draped over the back of yours as he swirled his drink around his glass with the other.

His words, however, had all three sets of eyes staring at you both in complete astonishment. Tony had managed to stun Steve so much that his glass had stopped moving towards his lips, frozen in mid-air as he tried to process Tony’s words.

Bucky was the first to break out of whatever spell he was under, shaking his head and letting out a disbelieving chuckle; “I’m sorry – did you just say this was your second date?”

“Yep,” Tony popped the ‘p’, completely unfazed by his friends whereas you were more than confused at their response.

“Huh, I guess pigs really do fly. Tony Stark is on a second date,” Steve muttered under his breath before taking a big drink from his glass.

“You guys should really get used to seeing her face around here cause there’s going to be more dates too.” You turned to face Tony at his words and he offered you a sly smirk to which you could only respond with a shy smile.

The three of them decided to drop the subject, instead asking you about your life – Bucky and Steve particularly interested in your education. The evening seemed to be going smoothly but you still couldn’t shake the idea that Natasha did not like you one bit and you couldn’t help but be intimidated by her.

A few others joined the table, taking the attention of Bucky and Steve off you and you decided to try and forge a steadier footing with Nat, especially if you were going to be spending more time around Tony’s friends. Tony watched with a curious look as you moved to sit next to Nat, taking a shaky breath to steady your nerves, “So what do you do Nat?”

The red-head rolled her eyes at you, opening her mouth to speak but only being cut off by one of the newer guests at the table, Norman Osborn. “Natasha owns Romanoff’s delights, sexiest lingerie there is – I sure as hell won’t go near a bitch that isn’t in it,” Osborn chuckled, the sound as repulsive as its origins and you could see Nat’s jaw tick as her fists clenched on her lap.

Before she had a chance to retort, your temper got the best of you, your head snapping towards Osborn as your glare burned holes in his head; “I believe I asked Natasha. I suggest you keep your unwanted opinions to yourself,” The man began to snort indignantly as you spoke, seemingly offended at being called out by you, “I just hope to god you provide the girls you fuck with blindfolds cause they sure as hell need them to sleep with you.”

Osborn left in a flurry of mumbled curses, face bright red with mortification at being so publicly humiliated. As he retreated you suddenly became aware of what exactly you said, face burning hot in horror as you felt the stares of four sets of eyes on you, looking around the table you could see the same look of complete and utter shock mirrored on each face and you truly thought that it was all over for you.

That was until Bucky burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face with his mirth, Steve shaking his head as laughter escaped him too. Tony actually looked proud of you, his head tilting back as if he was appraising you, happy with the choice he had made. And Nat? Nat, for the first time since you had walked over to the table, was smiling at you, her green eyes shining with humour and her gaze once again swept over you – only this time it didn’t feel nearly as threatening, more like she was seeing you for the first time.

“Oh god, that was hilarious! Did you see his face?” Bucky had barley recovered from his uproar, eyes wiping away the stray tears.

“This one’s feisty Stark, you so sure you can handle her?” Steve joked, sending a wink your way as he smacked Bucky on the back, trying to calm his friend down.

Tony pressed a kiss to your temple, easing your building nerves as he gave you a reassuring smile, eyes not leaving yours as he answered Steve: “Nope, but I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

After your little outburst, Natasha’s attitude towards you completely changed, her hostility completely vanished and she welcomed you into her little group of friends, enthusiastically telling you about her work, gushing over her fiancé and her upcoming wedding and asking you questions about your own life. This time, however, she held a genuine interest and curiosity rather than probing for information to try and get a read on you. You found yourself relaxing around her and actual started enjoying her company – especially when she started telling you the most hilarious stories about Tony and the ridiculous situations he somehow got himself into.

You couldn’t help the raucous laughter that escaped when Nat told you about the time Tony had to run through a hotel with nothing but a napkin to cover his dignity to avoid paparazzi after a failed one-night stand, tears streaming down your cheeks at Nat’s recall of the memorable event and the red-head had to fan herself to try and keep composure, much to Tony’s chagrin but he was pleased you seemed to be mixing well with his friends, it was a promising sign.

Nat tried to stifle her giggles as she spotted a familiar figure make his way through the crowds, the smile that spread across her face the brightest you had seen on her all night and she practically glowed as she locked eyes with the man who you could only assume was the fiancé she had told you about. The man’s eyes that were focused on Nat as if she was the only person in the room, the burgundy suit he wore standing out amongst the sea of black and navy he was parting, and you noted how beautiful a couple they made.

“Hey beautiful, sorry I’m late traffic was crazy,” He ducked down, pressing a kiss to Nat’s ruby painted lips which she eagerly responded to.

Breaking away from the kiss, Nat introduced you to her fiancé, “Sam this is Y/N – Tony’s date. Y/N, this is my fiancé, Sam Wilson.”

Sam cast you a bright smile, enthusiastically taking your hand in his and shaking it; “Nice to meet you Y/N, thanks for keeping my girl company whilst I was held up.”

“It was no problem, she’s good fun to be around,” You and Nat shared a smile, something which caused Sam to raise an eyebrow to and he turned to Bucky and Steve quizzically.

“Ok, what’d I miss?”

Such a simple question spouted another round of laughs from the boys and you could only look bashful in response: “We’ll explain later, you want a drink?”

The boys and Nat left towards to the bar leaving you and Tony alone for the first time that night, his arm circled your shoulder pulling you into his chest as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?” He murmured into the sensitive skin of your neck before kissing it, teeth nipping it lightly, lips curling into a smirk as he heard you gasp, your hand shooting down to clutch at his thigh.

“Honestly? It’s going great, your friends are really nice,” You hummed as Tony’s beard scratched the column of your throat and it took everything within you to stop yourself from outright moaning at the sensation, “Do you think that little, uh, outburst is going to bother people?”

Tony’s chuckle tickled your skin and you couldn’t help squirming in his hold before he raised his head from where it was buried in your shoulder, turning you to softly kiss your lips as his hand sought out your own, entwining your fingers together and giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, that was the funniest thing that’s ever happened at one of these things and it sure as hell hasn’t put anyone off you, ‘specially not me. I told you; you’re trouble of the best possible kind. It’s refreshing, for all of us really.”

Not knowing what else to say, you opted to kiss him instead; your lips caressing his, eyes fluttering shut as his hand cupped your neck, tongues tangling in a languid dance, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh as your own hand buried itself in his thick hair. Your first kiss with Tony Stark and my god could you get used to the feeling of those lips on yours. The man had a talented tongue.

You had nearly forgotten you were in a very public place with a very noticeable figure and you definitely had forgotten that this was only your second date with said figure. You had no idea why you were so comfortable around Tony so early on: maybe it was his charms, maybe it was the fact that you knew it wasn’t exactly real, merely beneficial for both parties, either way, it didn’t matter.

The sound of someone shouting ‘Stark!’ pulled you out of your thoughts and you detached yourself from Tony, chest slightly heaving and a flush painting your cheeks as you noticed just how lost in the moment you were. Tony cleared his throat, swiping his hands through his hair to fix his tousled tresses and you knew he was as dazed as you, causing a swell of pride to grow inside you – it takes a lot to be able to fluster a playboy.

You both turned to the source of the shouts and you watched as Tony leapt from his seat, a grin on his face as you embraced the man in front of him in a strong hug, “Rhodes, God it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were back, where’s Carol? How is everything?”

“It’s good to be back Tony, Carol’s flying back in a couple days; I came early to make sure everything was set. Everything’s going great man, business is good, life’s good. I can’t complain about a thing – who’s your friend?”

The man, Rhodes, was clearly a good friend of Tony’s – he was practically flying out of his chair to great him and Rhodes only responded with equal enthusiasm.

Tony turned to you, offering you a hand and helping you out of your seat, wrapping an arm around your waist as he made introductions; “Rhodey, this is Y/N Y/LN, my date. Y/N, this is James Rhodes, my best friend and former trouble-seeking companion, before he became boring of course.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes at Tony good-naturedly and turned to you with a smile, speaking to you but aiming his words at Tony, “And by ‘becoming boring’ he means settling down, something he should be doing by now – it’s nice to meet you Y/N, good luck with this one, alright?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the playful banter between the two of them, it was clear that they were good friends with the way that they dug into each other, something only people who are extremely comfortable with each other do.

You spent some time talking with Rhodey, learning more about his life and becoming increasingly impressed the more you heard about him; Rhodey used to be a Colonel in the US Airforce – which is where he met Tony in his weapons manufacturing days but since then had left to start his own business, using his expertise of aircraft to start his own airplane manufacturing company with his wife Carol Danvers, which was doing quite well in his own modest opinion.

Rhodey and Tony seemed thrilled to be back together again and Rhodey was only more than willing to tell you of all the ridiculous stunts Tony had pulled; between the stories Rhodey was telling you and what Nat had said you were beginning to wonder how he ever had time to actually invent anything for Stark Industries.

You and Tony spent some more time with Rhodey, his arm not once leaving your waist before another man caught Tony’s attention, this time Tony’s reaction was void of any excitement and he actually seemed nervous. Both you and Rhodey caught the shift in Tony’s demeanour and Rhodey decided to make his exit, telling you it was nice meeting you but he had yet to make his rounds around the room, patting Tony’s arm as he moved past him.

Studying Tony’s face, you noticed how his brow furrowed ever so slightly, his lips drawn tight in a grimace as he studied the older man laughing in a group a few tables away. His attention was solely on him and all traces of happiness he had at seeing his best friend again had vanished. You rested your head on his shoulder, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, your hand cradling his face and diverting his attention back to you. “You ok?” you whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear and draw attention to yourselves.

Tony blinked down at you as if he was coming out of a trance, offering you a forced smile that wasn’t fooling you for a second, “I’m fine it’s just - see the guy in with the beard and cigar?” You nodded your head, eyes drifting over to the man that had seized Tony’s attention, “That’s Obadiah Stane, he was one of dad’s business partners, he’s pretty much the only family I have left now. He’s trying his best to help me keep the company but, well, with my track record of recklessness there’s only so much he can do.”

It was obvious how much this all meant to Tony and you vowed to yourself to help him keep his company in any way you could; you’d keep up the charade of the loved-up couple as long as you needed to, “Hey, that’s why I’m here right? It’ll all be ok, the board will vote in your favour, it’s your company. You’re Tony fucking Stark, what would they do without you?”

Tony pulled you into him, his arms encasing your waist in a tight hug as he shot you a crooked smirk, “I just don’t want to let him down.” The words were so faint you may have missed them if you hadn’t been pressed flat against his chest. Your heart nearly broke at the vulnerability Tony was showing you right now, you knew for certain this wasn’t a common occurrence for him - Tony Stark wasn’t a man that easily trusted - but he already had to put a lot of faith in you just to suggest this relationship.

Not having the words to reassure him, you pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss which he eagerly responded to before breaking away, resting his forehead against yours, “You know, you’re really good at that.”

Giggling, you shook your head at him, “Come on, let’s go say hello.”

Obadiah Stane was a strange man, there was just something about him that you didn’t trust. Whereas Nat didn’t instantly take to you, she was at least obvious about it, Obadiah on the other hand hid his disdain for you, although not that well. You could see the flash of contempt as his eyes roamed over you as Tony introduced you before he schooled his features into an overbearing grin. He was too enthusiastic with his greeting, his grin not faltering for a moment and you knew it was all fake, the man didn’t like you at all and you didn’t know why for the life of you. You would have thought you would have been over the moon at the prospect of Tony showing signs of stability like the board wanted. Apparently not.

You remained silent throughout their conversation and Obadiah made no attempt to even try and talk to you. He and Tony mainly talked business but you could feel the stress rolling off Tony in waves, his body rigid under your hands and you knew he found Obadiah petrifying, there was a seriousness between them that was none-existent with Tony’s other friends. Their talk was brief before Obadiah was moving on, rubbing elbows with other rich businessmen who had little cares other than the absurd amounts of money they had.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Tony led you to the dancefloor, twirling you into his arms before swaying elegantly across the room, the music from the band creating the perfect ambiance for the night. One hand was rested on his shoulder and the other was firmly clasped in his, his hand on your waist pulling you close to his body as you mirrored every step he made, your faces barely a breaths width apart; it was oddly intimate, no words exchanged between the two of you as you simply enjoyed the feeling of being pressed against each other.

You could still hear the gears turning in Tony’s head, his anxiety obvious after his encounter with Obadiah but you didn’t want to talk about him, not trusting him and not wanting to put those feelings on Tony, he was already weighed down with so much. So, you did what you thought was right, you distracted Tony the best way you knew; humour.

These kinds of places were always full of snooty woman and patronising men and you took advantage of this, casting your eyes around the dancefloor for victims of your game, finding suitable couples and telling Tony your playful thoughts about them much to his amusement.

“See the guy that looks like the fat controller from Thomas the Tank engine dancing with Cruella De Vil?” You cast your eyes the couple stiffly dancing not too far from you, smirking to yourself as Tony subtly turned to see them.

His eyes found them and a cheeky grin spread across his face, biting down on his lower lip to try and stifle the chortle your comparison had brought out of him, not looking away from the short, round man and the tall, thin, woman draped in furs who were rigid in their movements across the dancefloor, heads held obnoxiously high as if they were too good for the present company, “What about them?”

“Bet they have sex as stiffly as they dance; I’m talking full on robotics in the bedroom, it’s not the bed that squeaks its Mr. Roboto and I guarantee her face doesn’t change from that bored as fuck expression the entire time.”

Tony could barely contain his boisterous laughter and you had to bury your face in his chest to muffle the sound of your own giggles, your body shaking with your laughter and you peeked up to see tears forming in the corners of his eyes, face turning red as he tried not to cause a scene.

“You’re unreal, you know that right?” Tony asked.

“Oh I’m very real Mr. Stark, I’m just unlike anyone you’ve ever met before,” You purred into his ear, lips grazing the shell with every words you spoke, the sultry tone of your voice causing Tony’s eyes to dilate with desire.

“Oh Gorgeous, I am really starting to see that,” Tony licked his lips as his eyes glided over yours, desperate to lean forward and close the small gap between you, “Do you want a drink?”

You nodded your head as Tony led you away from the dancefloor and towards the table where Nat, Sam, Steve, and Bucky were all situated, laughing amongst themselves whilst he went to the bar. They welcomed you back, all animosity that Nat previously held for you gone as if it was never there and she even gestured to the seat next to her for you to sit in as Tony got you your drinks. You were quickly pulled into the conversation they were having, Nat and Sam telling everyone about the engagement party they were planning, hands entwined the entire time, looking at each other as if they were the most incredible thing they had ever seen; it was obvious they were head over heels in love with each other.

Tony returned with your drinks, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he sat down next to you, the action not going unnoticed by the others who were still very stumped as to what exactly was going on with Tony; this was not typical Tony Stark behaviour, that was for sure. Nevertheless, no one mentioned it and the conversation continued, laughs being shared amongst everyone and you felt yourself relaxing amongst your new company; they were good people and you were enjoying yourself which is far more than you thought would happen tonight.

The night went on until you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Nat jumping out of her seat to accompany you, her sudden excitement to head to the bathroom with you confused you but you let it slide – maybe she just wanted to make amends for how she treated you earlier.

Once you were finished, you excited the stall to find Nat checking the others to make sure that you two were actually alone in the room before she turned to you, arms crossed against her chest as a sly smirk curled her lips, “It’s been bugging me all night – you and Tony. But I think I finally have it figured out.”

You tried to fight the rising fear in you, there was no way she could possibly know the truth, right? You hadn’t once mentioned the situation between you and Tony, how the hell could she actual see it after one night? Dear God, how obvious had you been? You attempted to school your features into a look of confusion but you knew your eyes were wide, giving you the look of a dear caught in headlights.

“What do you mean? We’re just dating Nat,” You cursed yourself for the way your voice broke at the end but Natasha Romanoff was an frightening woman, there was no avoiding that fact, especially when she appeared to be aiming her efforts at you.

“But it’s not just dating, is it? You’ve got a special arrangement going on; I couldn’t figure it out at first, you’re not one of Stark’s typical dates – you know how to use a knife and fork for starters and you could actually hold a conversation about something other than nailcare – but I still couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on between you. Then it hit me, when he took you over to Obadiah, you’ve got a very specific purpose for him. You’re the girl that’s going to make Tony Stark look domesticated, tamed from his wild playboy days and seem capable enough to run his own business that is being threatened to be taken away from him. But you’re smart and he wouldn’t be able to string you along without you realising, which means you’re in on it too, and getting something out of it.”

“You’re not choosing to spend some time away from the job you worked so long to get, are you? You can’t actually find one, it’s a tough world and sometimes life just doesn’t work the way you want. Just tell me something though; how the hell did Tony Stark find his sugar baby?”

You were going to be sick. Physically sick.

No one was supposed to know and not even one night into this relationship you’d already been called out. There was no way you could deny it, Nat had everything figured out and you could only stand there gapping at her, struggling to form the words needed to explain yourself.

With a sigh, you ducked your head, trying to avoid Nat’s smug smile as she watched you try to worm your way out of the situation. “Online – there was a website I signed up for and we started talking,” You relented, words tinged with dejection.

Oh god, was she going to tell everyone?

“My god, there is literally a website for everything these days – that’s sure as hell not how I did it.”

Your head snapped up at her words. ‘Not how she did it’? Surely that didn’t mean what you thought it did.

“I- you- What?” You stammered out in the most inelegant fashion, chastising yourself in your head for sounding like a bumbling idiot.

Before Nat had a chance to answer you, the door to the bathroom opened and two giggling, clearly intoxicated girls tried to enter. Emphasis on tried.

Nat’s head snapped in their direction, barking “Out!” at them and watching them immediately turn on their heel and head towards another restroom in the hotel. Even you jumped at the severity of her voice but when she turned back to you she held nothing but humour in her expression.

“Of course, how did you think I met Sam?” She stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe she thought everyone was as perceptive as she apparently was.

“Wait, so, you were Sam’s... sugar baby?” You were uncertain in your asking, praying to every God there was that you hadn’t somehow misread this whole situation and were making a complete fool of yourself.

Nat’s melodic laughter caught you off guard and you panicked thinking you really had got this whole thing wrong. “Oh no sweetness, I wasn’t the sugar baby – he was.”

Noticing your slack jaw, Natasha explained herself further, “I didn’t want to date but everyone else expected it of me – commitment wasn’t my forte and I had some severe trust issues – but I still had to come to these god-forsaken things and listen to people’s judgements of me. Appearances mean a lot in this world and the pressure was starting to get to me, and then I met Sam. He had just lost his job as an accountant and, well, you can’t live in New York for free. So, I propositioned him, I pay him a hefty salary to follow me everywhere and anywhere I needed him too. The whole world would think he was my boyfriend, getting every gossip monger out there off my back, and Sam wouldn’t be homeless. It was a win-win.”

“So, the engagement?”

“Oh no, that’s all real. God, I wouldn’t go as far as to fake a marriage. I guess one day it just wasn’t acting anymore, I genuinely loved him, he just became my person, you know? The one person you turn to for everything; all the good times and the bad, your shoulder to cry on and your body to hug in happiness. And I, unknowingly, became that for him. I knew the original deal wouldn’t work anymore now that I loved him, so I let him go, got him a job as an accountant at a good company and honestly, I never expected to see him again. But if Sam’s good at one thing, it’s his ability to always be able to surprise me. I let him go, but he was still always there for me. I guess that’s when the real thing began and now we’re here, ready to be together for the rest of our lives.”

By the time Nat had finished, she had a wistful smile on her face from remembering all the things she had shared with Sam and you couldn’t stop your own smile from lighting up your face as you heard the red-head gush about her fiancé.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about me and Tony, right Nat?” You were still unsure what Nat was going to do and you wrung your hands together as you awaited her answer.

“God no! I would never do that, I swear,” She moved towards you, placing her hands on your shoulders, “I just wanted you to know that I know what you’re going through, trust me when I say that this isn’t always going to be easy but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

You heaved a sigh of relief, thanking the woman in front of you that had only known you for a few hours and yet was still showing you so much kindness. You’re first impression of her was wrong, that was for sure.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I’m kinda glad to have you around, it’s a very testosterone filled environment and to say you make things interesting is an understatement,” Nat shot you a wink, clearly referring to your slight confrontation earlier.

You and Nat didn’t realise how long you had been in the restroom, time becoming lost to you both as Nat told you about the time her and Sam got a little reckless at a charity auction and had to walk out in front of everyone completely dishevelled as they were bidding off Jane Fonda’s leotard. Hearing about how Nat’s panties were clearly sticking out of Sam’s back pocket as they made their way down the centre aisle of the auction had you clutching your stomach in hysterics, Nat’s laughter just as boisterous.

“Worth it though, that boy has the finest ass, that’s for sure,” Nat quipped, causing another round of laughter from the pair of you.

It was only when a knock sounded on the door and you both turned to see Tony peeking his head into the room, his brow raised as he watched you and Nat laughing together, “Uh, Romanoff? Do you maybe think I can take my date back? You guys have been in here forever.”

“Gee, I don’t know Stark. I might want to keep her,” Nat hopped off the basin countertop she was sitting on, linking her arm through yours and walking towards the door where Tony stood, utterly perplexed at what he was seeing.

Nat stopped in front of Stark, detaching her arm from yours and leaving you with Tony, walking back to the table and Sam but not before calling over her shoulder, “I like this one, Stark. You better keep her around.”

You were certain you could have knocked Tony down with a feather with how stunned his was and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, he looked awfully adorable when he was baffled like this.

“Ok, were you eating her out in there or something?”

The seriousness of his absurd question caused you to choke on your, “What on God’s earth are you talking about Tony?”

“How the hell did you get Natasha Romanoff to like you after one night? It took her years to warm up to me!”

“I’m just a very likeable person Mr. Stark, I thought you knew that by now,” You grabbed Tony’s hand and starting walking backwards, pulling him along with you, “But if you want, I can show you how likeable I can be later.”

Shaking his head, Tony quickly closed the space between you, his arms snaking around your hips and pulling you flush to him, crashing his lips on yours in a breath-taking kiss, tongue dancing with yours before pulling away, nipping at your bottom lip as he did and a slight moan escaped you at the action.

“Believe me Gorgeous, I know just how likeable you are. Now come on,” Tony began walking through the crowds and towards the exit to which you furrowed your brows.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ve wanted to head straight to my apartment and skip this whole thing ever since I saw you tonight, we’re going back to mine - it’s time for your second interview Sugar, and something tells me you aren’t about to disappoint.”

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark series #angelicthorwrites

515 notes · View notes

i-lost-my-heart-in-republic-city · 4 years

Note

answer all the questions in that ask thing, or go through it and just answer all the ones u rlly rlly want to

Sorry this took so long, but you asked for all of them and Iam very emotional.

1. What episode of Steven Universe got you hooked on the show?

I started watching shortly after Jailbreak came out so I’m not sure if I can pinpoint exactly where I got hooked, but I think it was around Coach Steven of Mirror Gem/Ocean Gem when it really got me. Although, I will say when Sworn to the Sword came out, that’s really when I knew this was it for me.

2. Are you the type to watch episodes as they air, or do you just get your fill of Steven Universe online?

I tried to live watch episode premieres as much as I could, or watch them the day they were posted online by CN. I really tried to make an event out of them, and I’m glad I did.

3. What’s your favorite quote out of the entire show?

It’s really hard to pick just one. Maybe “You have to be honest about how bad it feels, so that you can move on.” - Connie in Mindful Education. Really feeling that one right now.

4.In what ways has Steven Universe inspired you?

I really feel like it has inspired me to live. I havestruggled with depression and anxiety since a young age, so it can be hard todo that. Steven Universe gave me something to look forward to, made the world abetter place. When I was hurting it provided me with comfort and happiness. Thereisn’t another show out there that’s like it for me.

5. Has Steven Universe actually taught you lessons?

Yes, oh god yes. It has helped me to be more honest withmyself and with others. I don’t think I would’ve come out to my family if itweren’t for this show. Over the years, it has really helped me to learn to letgo of shame, and guilt, and self-hatred I had carried around for so long. I wouldn’tbe the person I am today without this show.

6. Favorite character design and why?

I really liked Garnet’s wedding outfit, mixing both the gownand tux. I’m a big Garnet/Rupphire stan and it was just great to see them embracethe queerness of the whole situation, and that it was love, something to becelebrated.

7. Has the show ever gotten an intense emotional reactionout of you? (ex - crying, fear, anger)

I’m crying right now about it, does that answer yourquestion?

8. Do you associate any songs with any characters in StevenUniverse?

I associate Can’t Hold Me by Emily King with Stevonnie becauseit was used in that episode, and I love Stevonnie.

9. Gush about your all-time favorite episode real quick.Just go on a long, rambling tangent about how much you love it. Do it. We’relistening.

For the series proper, it’s Reunited. I love that episode somuch and it makes me cry every time I watch it. Growing up I fell into the ‘notlike other girls’ phase because I was not interested in love and romance likeall my friends seemed to be, and I had no desire to go on dates with guys. Irealize now that I rejected these things because they didn’t fit me. I didn’t wantto be with a guy, and never saw myself in any of the traditional media. Ireally am a bit of a hopeless romantic though. Now that I am more confident inmyself, and understand my feelings better, I’ve really gotten to enjoy thispart of myself.

Ruby and Sapphire are the first couple I really got to experiencethis with, seeing them being cute and together and in love, and the wedding isthe accumulation of all of that. Getting to see these two women in love witheach other celebrate that love as the beautiful thing it truly is means theworld to me. After years of watching this show and growing with it, this episodewas the moment were I finally let go of all my self-hatred for being queer. I justknew in my soul that every hateful thing I had heard or been told about beingqueer was wrong, and that this was the truth, love was the truth. It wasn’tsomething instantaneous, it was something I had been working towards for years,but this episode marked the turning point for me.

10. Gush about your all-time favorite SU character realquick. Just go on a long, rambling tangent about how much you love them. Do it.We’re listening.

I already gushed about Ruby/Sapphire/Garnet a little, solets do Pearl. I just love how even after all she’s been through, she is stillsuch an independent spirit. I know her whole past with Pink/Rose wascomplicated but she still isn’t here to let anyone tell her what to do. She’ssmart, and creative, and resourceful, and goofy and she knows these things butshe also has a lot of self-doubt and seeks validation from others. I relate.But she worked through those things and is in a better state now. Even thoughshe still hurts and is still dealing with the trauma, she is so much better.

I also really relate to how she feels about loving someoneand them not feeling the same way/it not working out. As much as I love Rubyand Sapphire’s relationship, I also think I need Pearl. She defined herself forso long by her relationship but she is her own amazing person. Growing up, Isaw many messages about not letting a relationship with a boy define you. Butwhat about a relationship with a girl? I think there can be so much pressure toprove that you’re really gay by always being in that kind of relationship. ThatI’m not truly queer because of my lack of experiences with women. But that isn’ttrue. Being queer is a part of who I am and that doesn’t change just because Iam or am not in a relationship. My feelings can still be an important part ofme without having to define me by my relationship status, just like Pearl.

11. What fusions do you want to see in the show, and whowould you like them to be voiced by?

I would probably most like to see a fusion of Steven andLapis. Her only experience with fusion was her toxic relationship with Jasper.So I would really like her to have a positive experience with fusion, based ofthe friendship and love she and Steven have for each other. I have no idea whowould voice them though.

12. Which episode do you think has the best aesthetics?

I mean Steven’s fusion dance in Change Your Mind isabsolutely gorgeous. James Baxter ain’t a legend for nothing, and I’m gladRebecca held on to that favor from him. Just everything, Connie’s little walkback, the way White Diamonds eyes open, its all wonderful.

13. List any headcanons you have about any characters.

Pearl is in a happy polyamorous relationship with Bismuth,Volleyball, and Amethyst.

14. Favorite arc out of the show? Why?

The Wedding Arc for reasons I’ve already talked about above,but also Diamond Days because it was everything the whole series was buildingtowards. Just the whole message about how systems hurt people who are deemed ‘different’but that there is hope for a better future with compassion and love, and notbeing afraid to share your feelings is something I really needed.

15. Have you ever made any jokes based on the show? Whichones were the funniest?

So many. One of my most popular was this post from way backwhen in early 2016.

Want a joke for the final? Maybe the real treasure insideRose’s chest was the friends we made along the way.

16. Most misleading episode summary of all time?

I know people freaked out about Rocknaldo because cartoonnetwork promoted it by advertising the appearance of a new gem. I mean, youcould argue technically it was true because Ronaldo made a gemsona, but that isdefinitely not what people took it to mean. I wasn’t really buying it though,cause the title was Rocknaldo. People hate on that episode and I think it’sbecause of the false advertising. It’s really funny though and has one of thebest jokes. “Rock people. They’re putting fluoride in the water supply- Whatthe-They hate men?!”

17. Has Steven Universe inspired any creative ideas ofyours?

I rewrote sleeping beauty but with lesbians because of thisshow. Does that count?

18. If you are a fanartist, which SU character is theeasiest for you to draw?

Not a fanartist, but Amethyst is the easiest for me to drawbecause she’s basically just circles.

19. If you are a fanartist, which SU character is thehardest for you to draw?

Maybe White Diamond, because she’s so detailed. Also, I strugglewith Pearl’s nose lol.

20. If you are a fanfic writer, which SU character is theeasiest for you to write?

Not really a fanfic writer, but Ruby and Sapphire maybebecause I’m gushy like that.

21. If you are a fanfic writer, which SU character is thehardest for you to write?

Jasper. I have a complicated relationship with her, but Iloved her in Future.

22. Have ever practiced voice acting using SU characters? Ifso, which character can you do the most successful impression of?

I don’t practice voice acting, but I do mimic lines from theshow. I think I sound most like White Diamond, hoo boy.

23. Have you ever sang along to SU songs? Which one is theeasiest for you to sing along to?

All the time, in the car, in the shower, around my house. Myfavorite is Here Comes a Thought, because it just helps me so much with myanxiety. The Tale of Steven and Let Us Adore You are definitely in the sweetspot of my vocal range though.

24. Have you ever imagined any of the human characters asgems?

Not really, I’ve more so imagined the gems as humans.

25. Are you big on AUs? Have you created anyyourself?

I like human gem AUs and college AUs.

#Steven Universe #Steven Universe Future #Pearl #Ruby and Sapphire #su spoilers #Reunited #Change Your Mind #teakayblog #this some person shit for me to me talking about tho #for real

14 notes · View notes

reel-hannibal · 5 years

Text

Reel Hannibal 2019 Masterlist

Happy Hanniween, Fannibals! Thanks so much to everyone who participated despite the unexpected hiccups - we really appreciated your patience <3

And now, on this perfect Hannibal holiday, here is the masterlist of all the wonderful entries for Reel Hannibal 2019!

Title: all fools in love Creator: @slowestdive Inspired by: Pride and Prejudice Summary: A Pride & Prejudice AU featuring Will as Elizabeth, Hannibal as Mr. Darcy, and really just an excuse to draw these two being utterly in love with each other in period outfits Art: HERE

Title: The Real Husbands of Sarmatia Creator: Tigerprawn Inspired by: The Real Housewives of [...] Summary: Previously on The Real Husbands of Sarmartia: Galahad, 29 “Tristan?” Galahad makes a point of rolling his eyes for the camera. “I mean, okay, he’s good at his job. I’ll give him that. But why does he spend the whole day in those short shorts? Okay, so it gets hot around here. But then why doesn’t he get a haircut if it’s so hot? Well, I guess it is hot and he’s out by the pool… getting wet. With the pool water.”Galahad’s phone bleeps. “Wait…” He frowns at his phone. “What the fuck is goat yoga?”::Close up of goats bleating:: Fic and Banner: HERE

Title: Spacedust Creator: @victorineb Inspired by: Stardust Summary: Adam has wished for two things in his entire life: to marry Beth, and to visit the stars. When he and Beth see a falling star one night, he sees a chance to have both at once, and promises to find the star and bring it back to his beloved so that she will see that he's worthy of her hand. The star, though, has different plans... A Spacedogs/Stardust AU, in which stars can talk, men can fly, and true love can be found in the strangest of places. Fic and Banner: HERE

Title: Underground Lights Creator: @fhimechan Inspired by: Hercules Summary: Once upon a time, Will traded his soul for Alana's life. Luckily, Chilton wants to save (and marry) him. An Hercules AU where Will is Meg, Hannibal is Hades, Chilton is Hercules and True Love always wins. Fic: HERE

Title: Sweet dreams Creator: @acheforhim-fic Inspired by: Black Mirror Summary: Tortured by nightmares, Will Graham gets a Nocturnal Companion – an AI who will share and moderate his dreams, and hopefully grant him some relief. (You already know whose digital clone the AI matches him with.) Fic: HERE

Title: Cannibal’s Labyrinth Creator: @whispers-in-the-chrysalis Inspired by: Pan’s Labyrinth Art: HERE

Title: Unsinkable Creator: @cinnamaldeide Inspired by: Titanic Summary: Detective Graham is tasked to shed some light on a serie of suspicious disappearances of both first and second class passengers happening aboard the Titanic. When Will finds out that head chef Hannibal Lecter is the culprit, the ocean liner proves to be not unsinkable after all. Aesthetic Moodboard: HERE

Title: Ultimate EliasChicken and HanniHorse Creator: @insanelyartful Inspired by: Ultimate Chicken Horse Summary: Featuring Grigg as Bunny, Elias as Chicken, Cliff as Elephant, d’Artagnan as Squirrel, Adam Raki as Raccoon, Hannibal as Horse, Will as Sheep, Nigel as Iguana, and Aiden Galvin as Monkey. Art: HERE

Title: Once Upon A Cannibal Creator: @thesilverqueenlady Inspired by: Once Upon A Time Summary: Will Graham is settling down to have a nice, quiet little birthday to himself when a girl knocks on his front door. "Hi!" she says. "My name is Abigail, and I'm your daughter." Fic: HERE

Title: Will Graham And The Seven Dogs Creator: @stratumgermanitivum Inspired by: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves Summary: Once upon a time, there had been a prince. Of course, that was quite a few years back, now, and very few people remembered him. As the years passed, King Chilton grew more and more frustrated with the boy, and the boy with him. And so it was that on the eve of the boy’s eighteenth birthday, Chilton drew up an order to have him committed - for his own good, of course - trapped in the dungeon under Chilton’s exclusive care until his mind was healed. Or until Chilton had no more use for his talents. However, when the castle guards came for the boy, they found the room empty, the window open. Long live King Chilton. Fic: HERE

Title: The Mummy Creator: @ishxallxgood Inspired by: The Mummy Summary: Adam Raki is a librarian, and he's damn proud. He has been obsessed with Ancient Egypt and the Legend of Imhannitep and his consort Anck-Will-Namun since he was a child. When his sister comes across a priceless artifact, Adam cannot resist the pull of Hamunaptra to uncover the secrets plaguing his dreams since he was a child. Fic: HERE

Title: Nakama Creators: @fragile-teacup and @beatricenius Inspired by: Emma Summary: Hannibal Lecter is handsome, clever, rich, Omegan... and quite oblivious to the fact that he is hopelessly in love with his brusque Alpha mentor, Will. Will Graham has always looked out for Hannibal, occasionally despairing of his young protégé's spoiled nature but valuing his companionship just the same. They are the best of friends. But when Hannibal finds himself in the grip of a late first heat, both men are forced to confront feelings which neither are prepared for... Nakama, a Regency A/B/O romance based on Emma by Jane Austen. Fic and Art: HERE

Title: The Game Begins Creators: @insanelyartful Inspired by: Dead by Daylight Summary: While for everyone else, the world seems to be ending; for four very different beings, everything is only beginning. For Will, well, at least social niceties aren't his top priority anymore. For Hannibal, it has opened up a whole new realm of possibilities. And though Nigel wishes it were the end, it's not the end for him quite yet. Then there's Aiden, who sooooo shouldn't be dealing with this during the apocalypse. Fic: HERE

Again, all of our thanks and appreciation to everyone who participated in the 2019 Reel Hannibal! We were thrilled to see so many gorgeous AUs and we hope that everyone had as much fun as we did.

If you haven’t checked out these amazing Reels, please do so and shower these Fannibals in cookies, comments, and kudos, because they really deserve them.

See you next year in April for Reel Hannibal 2020!!!

You can also check out: Reel Hannibal on AO3 | Reel Hannibal on Twitter | Reel Hannibal 2018 Masterlist

#reel hannibal #reel hannibal 2019 #reel hannibal masterlist #hannibal

50 notes · View notes

harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Change of Pace - 8 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language, NSFW

wc: 11.3k

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

Maya knocks her knees together rhythmically, watching her white topsheet catch the ray of sunshine coming in from her window and release it again.

Her window is open. She can smell the sea. And when she closes her eyes she can hear it.

She swears that’s more valuable than any hour of the expensive therapy she’s had in 12 years.

When she wakes up in the morning in her bedroom in the house she bought herself in her happiest place, she gets to feel proud. She hasn’t felt true pride like this in a long time, not since she first started working in finance and felt like she had made a smart, adult choice that would support her and create a good, solid life.

She looks at it now and wonders how she got there, how she managed to convince herself that words like “solid” and “adult” would ever be enough to describe the life she really wanted.

So yeah, Maya’s proud. She’s proud she sacked up and left. She’s proud that she hasn’t gone running back, especially with all the emotional tumult she’s caused herself with this whole unexpected Shawn situation. It would’ve been like her, once, to shut this down and go running back to Manhattan where she could control everything and not hurt anyone.

Not anyone but herself, at least.

But hurting herself is not what she’s doing anymore. She still doesn’t really know what she’s doing in Avila other than surfing and painting and sleeping. Maybe that’s what she’ll do with her life now, forever. Maybe that’ll be enough. Maybe she’ll need something else.

The point is she doesn’t know. She can’t know now. She can’t control it, so she must embrace it. Embracing Avila means more than just enjoying its beaches and the occasional farmers market. It means learning what Avila can really give her, can really make her.

Maya’s ready for her Avila makeover.

Maya frowns at the eyeliner pencil between her fingers. Was it always this clumpy? When the hell did she buy this?

When did she last wear eyeliner?

She lifts her eyebrows and sighs. She can’t honestly remember.

She swallows and puts it down, shaking a hand through her hair and adjusting her loose-fitting sheer button-up. She unbuttons one button at the chest, then buttons it back again. She makes a face. She’s never thought this hard about her appearance around Shawn in her life. She knows he doesn’t care. So what the fuck is she doing?

She just… she really likes to stun him. For him to stare at her with that slow-growing smile like he’s thinking about how fucking lucky he is. He hasn’t looked at her that way since the night they were together. She thinks she’d like him to look at her like that again.

Breakfast felt like a turning point, but she can’t explain exactly how. Since she got home that afternoon, she’s been a churning, overflowing cauldron of artistic output. She wakes up, surfs, draws or paints all afternoon and surfs again at night. And it feels fucking great.

Feeling great has been unfamiliar to Maya for so long. She’s gonna chase it. And right now, the feeling’s got her seeking out Shawn.

She feels good about the decision to ditch the eyeliner when she walks through the front door of his shop, signaled by the little ding of his bell. She wants to feel like herself around him. Just… a vibrant, sexy version.

Sawdust overwhelms his senses as he lies on his back beneath his piano. He glides sandpaper along the not-quite-perfect edges of the underlying framework. He doesn’t mind the extra time it takes with the paper, because he can’t get the finesse, the perfection with the electric sander at this angle.

He hums along to the new John Mayer album playing over the speakers as he brushes dust from his work goggles, before reaching for a particularly tricky edge whose perfection has been evading him.

The sandpaper falls on his face when the door to the shop opens, the little bell chiming over Mayer’s voice. Shawn blows at the paper until it slides off his face and lands on the floor.

“Be right there! Picking up or dropping off?” he calls as he rolls himself out from under the piano. He stands up and keeps his back to the door so he can brush himself off before greeting a client.

He shouldn’t wear black to work anymore. It does nothing to hide sawdust.

He gets himself as clean as he possibly can with dirty hands and a kind of clean rag, then turns to the doorway to the front of the shop.

“Oh—“ fuck.

Maya. He blinks at her, then looks down at himself, then back to her. He swallows; there’s absolutely nothing he can do about the fact that she looks gorgeous and he looks like he spilled coke all over himself like a desperate drug addict.

“Hey— hi. Hi,” he walks out of the back, into the doorway as wipes his hands on his rag again, “I didn’t know you were stopping by. Did I know? Shit, I haven’t looked at my phone all morning.”

The shop is empty. She gazes around at his instruments, each one of them holding a piece of him. It makes her indescribably happy and comfortable to be surrounded by them like this. She doesn’t even mind the smell of lacquer and sawdust. It’s as personal to her as her acrylic paints and turpentine.

He comes hustling out of the back room before she can answer his question. She beams at him, at the sweat matting his curls to his forehead and the sawdust that covers him. He looks like she’s knocked him out of an intense focus. Maybe she should feel a little guilty, but god, he looks so cute.

She lifts her hand from the back pocket of her little shorts and waves delicately, tilting her head like she’s flirting with him. The idea is funny to her, flirting with Shawn. Like he doesn’t know all her tricks. She bites her glossy lower lip and walks up to the counter. She props her elbows up and doesn’t regret leaving that one button undone.

“No, I was feeling spontaneous. I’d hug you, but you kind of smell like power tools,” she jokes, blinking up at him, hoping he touches her anyway.

She’s… different. Good different, he thinks. Confident different, like maybe she doesn’t feel like a total stranger around him anymore. She’s more familiar, he guesses. He smiles, throws his rag over his shoulder as he steps down from the doorway of the workshop and up to the counter.

Shawn leans down on his elbows and smiles at her, shrugging a little.

“This is how I always smell now, unfortunately.”

He wets his lower lip and lets himself study her. She did herself up a bit, for Maya standards. He knows when she puts thought into a look. His heart stutters. Why would she put effort into an outfit if she wasn’t trying to impress him or, you know, woo him or something?

That familiar feeling of hope flares in his chest. He bites his lip as he looks down at her.

“So, suddenly interested in picking up an instrument, Lu?” he asks with a teasing smirk and a tilt of his head.

Shawn mirrors her position over the counter. He’s a little overwhelming so close up like this -- Maya’s out of practice. Her breath catches in her chest. She decides not to tell him that she thinks the workshop smell thing is actually really sexy in a very classically masculine way. But she thinks it. Boy, does she think it.

Maya giggles and looks around the shop, nodding at the walls. “Mhmm, came in for a private lesson.”

… What? Where the fuck did that come from?

She floors him. The last time Shawn saw her, he practically broke her heart. But she’s here now, blinking up at him with her pretty brown eyes and— and flirting with him.

She didn’t even flirt with him before they had sex the other week. This is different. He’s not complaining.

“I charge double for walk-ins, sugar,” he murmurs with a wink.

Maya nearly melts into the counter when he winks at her and lowers his voice into that register that always made her knees weak. God, she’d walk into fucking fire for him.

Before she can let herself panic over that comment, she squares her shoulders and smirks at him instead.

“Want to show me what you’ve been working on back there?”

Oh yeah, his work. He told her to come over to see his work. He supposes he’d convinced himself she wasn’t going to.

He likes when she proves him wrong.

He raises his brows, then looks over his shoulder into the back, where the piano waits for him to stop fucking around.

“Yeah, totally,” he says with a grin as he looks back at her, “There are a few things back there, actually.”

“C’mon,” he says as he walks to the end of the counter and holds his hand out for her.

She takes his hand eagerly, giggling as she walks around the counter like she’s being naughty and going where she’s not allowed. She squeezes his hand, a silent additional greeting, an extra little “hey, I missed you.”

As he guides her into the back room, she sees nothing but the piano at first. It’s enormous, of course, so it catches her eye, but it’s more than that. It’s so sleek and elegant, even unfinished. Maya gasps through a grin, dropping his hand to circle it, admiring from every angle.

She examines his piano like she would a Botticelli at the Met. His heart clatters against his ribs as she watches her admire his work, like it’s really something exceptional and not like, a pretty basic piano considering it’s his first.

He’s clever though, so maybe it’s a little more unique than that. Maybe he sells himself short, too.

It really is magnificent. It’s beautiful, masculine somehow, poised and welcoming. It’s like if Shawn were an instrument, he’d be this piano. The thought makes her smile wider.

She turns away from him to place her hands on top, to feel its solid weight. “It’s extraordinary.”

He smiles and leans back against the desk behind him, still focused on her.

“Careful,” he murmurs, “I still need to sand it down up there.”

It’s actually pretty smooth but. He’s picky. And you really shouldn’t touch it with bare hands until it’s lacquered and dried anyway. Splinters fucking suck, so it’s too risky.

“But, you know, thank you. I guess it’s not bad for a first try.”

He glances down at the ground and smiles to himself, the tips of his ears turning pink. He’s always liked impressing her, always felt warm and bright from her praise. He preens for her. He’s easy.

Even after all these years, she’s still Maya Lu, junior art star and charismatic orientation leader and someone he just wants to know, so he trips over himself to impress her, to get her to be proud of him. To notice him.

He shoves a hand into his hair and tugs.

Maya lifts her hands and wiggles her fingers playfully to prove she hasn’t gotten any splinters. She turns to face him with a soft smile.

“I totally get it, you know. I see you everywhere in here. It makes so much sense to me that this is what you do. I mean, beyond being meticulous or whatever, you’ve always loved everything about music. So I get wanting to be so deep in it that you build it from the ground up like this. It’s… so you.”

She bites her lip and clasps her hands behind her back, walking back toward the other pieces in his work studio. The harp catches her eye. She touches it gently, admiring its curves and angles. She grins at the idea of him sitting down to play it. She thinks that would be a sight to see. A shiver shoots down her spine. She covers it by turning on her heel to face him again.

“I hope you still write music, though.”

She talks about him like she’s read a diary he doesn’t keep. She knows his facade and can see right through it, into the depths of who he really is, or whatever.

She’s held his heart in her hand and because of that, she can see him from the inside out.

It doesn’t scare him. It gives him a reason to keep hoping for the future he could have with her.

“I—“ Only about you. “I do, yeah, but not as often. I just don’t have the time, you know?”

It’s not really a lie, it’s just not the entire truth. He doesn’t have time, but he also doesn’t have ideas unless he’s thinking about her, in one way or another. Even if he doesn’t write a love song, Maya’s still the inspiration that guides his words and melodies.

It’s so cliche, that she’s his muse or whatever. He’s kind of disgusted with himself. That’s probably (definitely) why he pretends he doesn’t write very much.

He flirts with the idea of telling her, though. Like one desperate appeal to her emotions to convince her to stay in Avila forever and learn how to love him again.

He digs his fingernails into his palms to cool himself down. He’s always too willing to jump the gun with her, and today he doesn’t want to ruin this good thing that seems to be happening.

“I like to write little tunes for the different pieces I fix up, though. Like that harp. I’m not much of a harpist, but it’s fun to fuck around.”

He’s babbling like an idiot. He hopes she comes to shut him up before he says something totally incriminating.

Maya nods, watching him realize how much she still knows about him. After all, he’s still Shawn and she’s still Maya, even after everything. She imagines there’s plenty she doesn’t know about him but the fundamental things that make him who he is? Yeah, she still gets those.

“I’ve been… painting a lot,” she says carefully. It’s not something she needs to be wary of telling him, really, but she hasn’t told anyone that she’s dived back into her art. She hasn’t talked about art in so long. It’s like her mouth has trouble fitting around the words, or like she’s trying to speak a language she hasn’t spoken in many years.

Maya speaks like she’s telling him a secret. He smiles, wetting his lips before he murmurs, “That’s good.”

She deserves to paint. To do something for herself and not for her career or money. Painting, surfing, falling back in love with him. You know. That kind of thing.

He only hates himself a little for thinking it.

She takes little steps closer to him almost unconsciously, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathes. It’s meditative.

“I actually bought watercolors the other day. I haven’t worked in watercolors since I was about 15. It’s wonderful. It’s so… light.”

She wiggles her nose and chuckles to herself. “You and your harp and me and my watercolors. I guess some things never change.”

He chews on his lip, considering. “Yeah, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any watercolor pieces of yours. And you’ve never seen me play the harp.”

She reaches out and taps his arm playfully but it sets her ablaze.

She’s such a dork. He grins at her, ignoring the way his stomach flips as she draws closer to him. He keeps himself steady, cool enough to catch her wrist in one hand before she can pull away from him.

He pouts. “Ouch, Lu.”

Maya feels like the way she’s creeping toward him seems maybe a little too much like a handler approaching a wild animal. He doesn’t scurry away from her though. He stays put.

He reaches out for her. Her heart breaks into a sprint.

Maya takes another step forward. He smells like sweat and sawdust. His eyes are curious and a little sleepy. And he feels like home.

Maya steps forward again. She’s right up against him now. She holds his gaze as she lowers her lips to the spot on his bicep that she tapped, kissing it gently.

“There,” she murmurs, “All better?”

Maya has always been a little too good at teasing him. He presses his fingers into her pulse as she presses her lips to his arm. He mashes his own lips together as he watches her.

“I guess,” he says, glancing down at his arm, then back to her. “Though I don’t think that’s standard medical protocol.”

He was not about to say something disgusting like, but that’s not the only spot that hurts. Even though he really wanted to. Like, what an easy opening. Maybe he should’ve said it. Maybe that’s what she’s angling for. He’s not used to this flirty version of Maya anymore, hasn’t seen her in 12 years and now she’s here in full force, like she never left.

Carefully, he lifts her hand until it’s resting on his shoulder. He drops her wrist in favor of curling his hand around her waist instead.

“But I won’t tell anyone,” he finishes with a smirk.

Shawn is warm and responsive. He holds her around the waist and brings her up against him gently, carefully, because neither of them is too sure how far to push this right now. It feels like they’re on a precipice again. One good gust of wind could knock them both over.

But he’s teasing her back and she missed it so much. So maybe this time she’ll be the breeze.

Maya lifts her other arm to curl them both around his shoulders. She doesn’t care that he’s covered in work dust and has some paint under his nails. She always wants him. She wants him even more now after being in his sacred space getting a special introduction to how he spends his time.

Maya comes up onto her toes and brushes her nose against his. “Our secret, then?”

It’s a little pathetic, how easy it is for Maya to drive Shawn crazy. To make goosebumps prickle his skin and his heart throb in his chest. She knows how to play him better than he does any instrument.

His eyes close, fingers curling tighter into her waist. He purrs, “I love keeping secrets with you, sugar.”

He brings his free hand to her neck, cupping her just beneath her ear and tilting her head back with a firm press of his thumb to her jaw.

“M’gonna kiss you now,” he breathes, before doing exactly that.

It’s a delicate, teasing brush of his lips against hers as he slides his thigh forward, pressing between hers.

When he holds her like this, when he kisses her like this, it feels like their world is their secret.

This kiss isn’t like the ones from the other night, frantic and a little neurotic because neither of them knew really what the other was thinking. This kiss feels more like the ones from Maya’s memory, the ones that came with years of experience. It’s not the first kiss, it’s the millionth and it feels so good.

She gives in easily, practically melts against him as she grips his thigh with hers. He hums into her mouth, tongue licking carefully at her lower lip.

Maya tilts her head, holding him where he is. She slots her mouth against his so she can suck on his lower lip, soft at first, getting firmer as they breathe together and she snuggles a little closer against his leg.

She’s in little denim cutoffs. The feel of his jeans pressed up against her bare legs is tantalizing. She squeezes her thighs around his, smiling into his mouth before she pulls away slightly.

He’s getting into it when she pulls away. His breath catches in his throat and he almost chases after her.

She looks up at him, smoothing the curls down against his neck.

She tilts her head and whispers, “You bring all the girls back here, Mendes?”

He chuckles, leaning in to nip at the angle of her jaw, just beneath her ear. “Oh yeah, Lu. This is the hottest hook up spot in Avila. I thought you knew,” he smirks, nosing carefully at her earlobe.

Maya chuckles but it doesn’t quite cover the shiver she feels at his sexy teasing. She holds on a little tighter around his shoulders, very sure that he’ll hold her up if her knees give.

That does remind her, though, that she hasn’t been on her knees for him. She misses that.

His tongue snakes out to lick her soft skin, slowly at first, before he gets worked up and starts pressing open-mouthed kisses behind her ear.

Maya aids him by sweeping hair off her shoulder. She mewls at the feverish press of his mouth to her skin. As a 21-year-old, she’d have begged him to leave a mark. Now she’s more interested in letting him do what he wants when he wants. She thinks of it as a way they can get to know each other again. She knows he liked it when she got bossy before, though. That part of her isn’t lost.

Maya closes her eyes and leans into him when he catches a certain spot on her neck that makes goosebumps break out over her whole body. She inhales sharply, right in his ear, and hums.

She strokes a hand down his back and back up, rucking his shirt up with her fingers. His skin is soft and sizzling warm all over. She grins, knowing he’s hot for her.

He focuses on tasting as much as of her skin as he can get to, has to use his mouth for something other than babbling her praise or telling her how much he loves her.

Tiny explosions sting his skin in the wake of her wandering hands. Her soft, panting breaths in his ear have his cock twitching in his jeans.

He rocks his thigh up against her, gripping her hip tightly so he can pull her down onto his firm quad. His lips find their way back to her ear and he catches her earlobe with his teeth, giving her a little tug.

“Lu,” he coos after he kisses the shell of her ear, “What do you want, sugar?”

They’re grinding hard where they stand like the horny kids they still are at heart. Maya can feel herself already a little wet in her panties for him as he drags her along the thick, muscled length of his thigh. He feels so fucking good.

She hangs on him, lets him spoil her with every touch, every nip, every kiss. When he asks her what she wants, she’s almost too overwhelmed to answer. She groans and looks around the room. There’s a couch against a wall that looks welcoming. Maya drags her fingernails down his spine and nods at it.

“I want you to go sit. I want you to let me spoil you a little,” she murmurs, turning her head to plant a kiss on his cheek as she releases him.

Waiting for him to obey, she starts tugging at the buttons of her shirt.

He’s imagined something incredibly similar to this happening to him time and time again. It’s one of his go-to shower fantasies. He should probably be a bit ashamed of that.

He pants as he looks down at her, hand dropping to the desk once more. He grips the edge, has to get his bearings first so he doesn’t trip over himself.

“What did I do to get so lucky?” he asks with a raise of his brow as he finally pushes off of desk and drops down on the couch, sinking into the plush leather while he drapes his arms along the back.

His dick aches in anticipation, and he spreads his thighs in an attempt to calm himself down as he looks up at her.

Maya wets her lips, reaching the last button on her shirt. She tugs it out where it’s tucked into the front of her shorts and lets it fall open over a sweet, sheer lace bralette. She drops it off her shoulders, wasn’t really planning to give him a little show, but, while she’s here…

Maya turns away from him and slips her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, thumbing around her hips teasingly. She glances at him over her shoulder and inhales slowly, tugging at her zipper. She pulls them down slowly, wriggling out of the tight fabric, turning back around to show off her little matching panties. She’s putting her cards on the table -- Maya didn’t often bother to match her bra and underwear. She’s showing him that she put in some effort in the vain hope that this was where it might lead.

She planned this. Maya fucking planned this. He knows because her panties match the pretty bralette she’s wearing and she only ever wore matching lingerie when she had a plan. He squeezes his eyes shut and groans a little. He’s not complaining. She makes good plans.

She takes a couple steps forward and kneels between his legs. His cock is already getting hard in his jeans, she can see it beginning to strain against the fabric. Maya runs her hands, fingers spread wide and hungry, up and down his quadriceps from hip to knee, digging her thumbs in to massage the muscles. She looks up at Shawn, blinking innocently.

He opens his eyes again quickly, not keen on missing anything, and sees her dropping down to her knees.

“Shit,” he breathes as she presses her small hands into his thighs, fingers scratching over his muscles. His cock twitches and his legs part just a bit more as he rolls his hips forward. His head tips back and he pushes a hand into his hair, trying to find some way to ground himself.

Maya watches his body react without his mind’s permission, canting his hips up because he knows what he’s getting from her and knows how good she can give it. She’s flooded with power and pride, imagining no one’s ever made him feel this way. Maybe she’s wrong, maybe she’s not the best he’s ever had, maybe her ego only gets this swollen when he’s looking at her like that between his knees but she wants to believe it.

He’s that for her, anyway.

“Sweetheart,” she rasps, “You miss my mouth?”

A rough laugh rumbles his chest as he shakes his head. “God, baby. You know I did.”

I missed everything about you.

He manages to choke on the sentiment instead of admitting it. He moves past it, babbles on with, “Missed your pretty lips and hot tongue. Missed how good you always are.”

His lips loosen, praising the attributes of her mouth. She hums in agreement, flushing a little as she reaches for the button of his jeans. She pulls on them, biting her lip as she watches him rake a shaky hand through his gorgeous curls.

She wastes no time, taking his boxer briefs down with his pants in the same motion. She wets her lips at the sight of his cock stiff and pink and nearly ready for her. She sits forward, resting her chin on his thigh and blinking up at him sweetly. She takes his cock in her hand and strokes him slowly, light pressure, because she loves driving him crazy and she’s damn good at it.

“What else did you miss?”

She loves watching him run his mouth when he’s getting worked up like this. She wants to see what kind of picture he can paint for her.

“Ah-- ah, shit,” he growls when she digs her chin into his thigh and wraps her perfect hand around his cock.

Missed the way you looked at me when you told me you loved me.

He can’t fucking say that, or anything remotely like it. His hips twitch and he closes his eyes, breathes in slowly through his nose to calm himself down. After a moment, he’s able to look at her, sees the glint in her eye and the sweet little smirk on her lips as she slowly works his shaft.

“Missed how you suck my cock, Lu. Missed how you moan around me, how you rub your thighs together as you get wet with my dick on your tongue. Missed watching you touch your clit while you suck at me like a popsicle.”

He’s panting by the end of it, his lips wet and swollen as he fucks his cock up into her fist. He’s got no shame with her, can’t bother acting like they don’t know each other like this, inside and out. Maya’s well aware of what this coy little act of hers does to him. He doesn’t mind that she uses it against him.

“Love how wet you get while sucking my cock, sugar,” he growls, pushing both hands into his hair and tipping his head back, watching her from beneath his thick lashes.

Maya’s enchanted. He’s so fucking sexy. He’s always sexy, he was sexy when she bumped into him on the beach today, he was sexy when she walked in to see him covered in sawdust, he was sexy when he was blushing at her artwork 15 years ago.

But when his lips are wet around the filth he’s moaning about loving how turned on she gets by getting him off, he’s so sexy she doesn’t know what to fucking do with herself.

Maya’s head feels heavy. She tilts it so her cheek is resting on his bare thigh, tightening her grip on his cock as he starts to fuck up into it. She knows it’s not nearly enough for him, she knows it’s not at all the best she can do to drive him insane, but the best is yet to come.

“Mmm, can’t help it,” she sighs, turning her face to leave a biting kiss on the inside of his thigh. She sits forward and forces his hips down with a press of her hand, watching his head fall back. She stares up at him, licking a hot, thick stripe up the underside of his cock. She follows it up with sweet little kitten licks around his swollen head, scooting forward on her knees.

“Getting you hard gets me so fucking wet,” she confesses, but he already knows. She hums again, dipping her head to drop the tip of his dick into her mouth, swirling her tongue around slowly.

“God, Maya,” he grunts when she gets her tongue on him. Her confession is something he’s aware of, but hearing her say it sparks lightning in his veins. She’s so gorgeous like this, settled comfortably in his lap with her mouth on his cock. She’s always prettiest when she’s the most comfortable around him.

“That’s it, sugar,” he practically slurs as her hot little tongue circles the head of his cock. He tugs his hair as he focuses on her mouth, watching her plump lips stretch around him, just barely covering his tip as she teases him the best way she knows how.

Maya’s lashes flutter at the sound of his voice, hot and smooth like syrup as he purrs at her. It makes her moan around his cock as it throbs against her tongue.

The sounds her mouth makes around his dick are so obscene -- wet, slurping pops as she sucks at him like she might never get the chance again.

“S’this why you came over here, Lulu? Missed sucking my cock like this?” he coos, but his voice is rough, fucked from her lips and her hands and the smell of sea salt in her pretty brown hair.

“Missed getting your thighs all wet with my dick in your mouth, didn’t you?” he asks, so he doesn’t ask her something like, Did you miss the way I used to make love to you when you couldn’t sleep at night?

Now is not the fucking time.

She blinks up at him and takes him back further down her throat, starting to bob her head as he speaks. She groans again, nodding, pausing on an upward pass of his shaft to kiss the tip of his dick and take a breath.

“Yeah,” she pants, “Wanted you in my mouth so bad. Miss how good it feels having you down my throat. You haven’t even touched me and my pussy is soaked.”

She’s a lot filthier than she used to be. All those years of his dirty mouth must’ve rubbed off on her. It’s incredibly fucking sexy, mostly because it’s so goddamn honest.

He believes she means every word. She’s not just trying to be sexy, and that’s the sexiest part.

He drops a hand from his hair to reach for hers, cupping the back of her hair as she sinks her mouth further down the length of his cock. She’s warm and velvety around him, and absolutely fucking incredible. He throbs between her lips.

With another gentle kiss on his twitching head, she grips him firmly, stroking while she holds his gaze and dips her hand down the front of her panties. When she pulls it back out, he can see she wasn’t fucking around. She’s so wet.

She grins and dives back in, using the hand that was stroking him to reach down and cup his balls, squeezing and rolling them between her fingers.

“Oh, fuck, sugar, oh my fucking god,” he growls when she shows him her sticky wet fingers then plays with his balls.

“That’s so sexy, baby, Jesus Christ. Gonna let me taste you? You taste so fucking good.”

Maya thrives on this, on hearing how completely wrecked he sounds when she really starts going to work on him. Truthfully, she was nervous -- she hadn’t had her mouth on a man in a really long time. Shawn’s eager whimpering and words of praise tell her for certain she hasn’t lost her touch.

His hand in her hair has her pumping him a little faster in and out of her mouth, meeting where her gag reflex resists him with little groaning purrs from the back of her throat.

She slides back up his cock again, tonguing at his slit. She reaches up and offers him her fingers to suck on, knowing what he wants.

She shivers, pulling off his shaft and kissing down the beating vein on his cock to press teasing kisses all over his balls. She wants to make him lose his goddamn mind. After all, it’s what he deserves.

“Suck on my fingers, baby,” she encourages, breath rough and hot on his thighs.

It’s a little pathetic, how he scrambles for her fingers. He wraps his hand around her wrist and tugs her to his mouth, licking her fingers carefully before sucking them past his lips. He groans around her, pulling her fingers from his mouth with a pop before kisses her fingertips.

Maya could watch him lose his mind like this for her forever. He holds her wrist steady so he can savor the sweetness on her fingers and it reminds her just how desperate he can get for her. He could never get enough of the taste of her. But she was similarly affected -- she used to drag blow jobs out until he was begging, pleading to come, it was too much to take, but she liked pushing his limits.

Her lips on his balls have his cock aching, leaking for her, dripping down his shaft and onto his abdomen. He squeezes her wrist and drops his head back, hips fucking up, cock grinding against nothing.

“Shit-- shit, Maya, my god. You’re-- fuck, you’re so sexy. So good-- so fucking good at this, so good to me, Christ,” he hisses, nipping at her fingertips again before looking down at her, his eyes glassy.

He wants to tell her he loves her so badly. His heart is hammering against his ribs and the feeling of it warms through his entire body as his hips rock back and forth on the couch. He feels like he’s vibrating with need, but he’ll never be satisfied until he can tell her how he really feels.

He nibbles at her fingers and mutters hopelessly like he’ll never have it so good again in his life. It makes her stomach swirl. She’s so eager to get him off now. She wants to make it unforgettable.

“Sugar, Maya, I’m-- ah, fuck, I missed you,” he rasps, holding on just enough to choose his words wisely.

I missed you.

He’s been saying it since they started making out. Hell, he said it the last time they fucked. It just… it sounded different this time, like he was trying to say something else. Maya pulls away from him to look up, past his heaving, panting chest and his swollen lips to his big brown eyes. She closes her eyes, turns her face into his thigh and slowly, affectionately noses at the soft hair there. With one last little kiss, the only thing she can give him in return, she sits up and takes his cock down her throat, bobbing her head quickly, soaking his dick.

Maya squirms, moaning around him hot and hard in her mouth. She reaches down between her thighs and rubs her clit quickly with the pad of her middle finger, swallowing him down as far as she can, ready to make him fall apart.

“Holy fuck,” he chokes out, curling forward over her head as she takes his cock deep into her mouth and sucks at him like her life fucking depends on it. He pushes his hands into her hair to hold on, not to guide or direct her, but to steady himself as she completely overwhelms him.

He looks down at her and realizes her hand is between her thighs, sure her fingers are flicking her clit like she always loves to do as she tries to carry him to the edge.

He wants to come in her mouth, but he also wants so much more. He’s feeling crazed for it, maybe overly emotional and nostalgic, but he wants to come with her. He wants to make her come all over his cock before he finally lets go himself. He wants her to know how he feels without having to say it.

“Baby, baby--” he growls, tugging at her hair, grinding his hips into the couch. “Maya, sugar, I’m-- you got me so fucking close, but I don’t-- I wanna feel your pussy, sweetie. Please.”

Shawn wants more.

Before Shawn, no guy had ever refused the opportunity to come in her mouth. He was the first to show interest in getting her off with him. It seems he hasn’t lost the desire.

She’s sure he’s practically dangling on the edge of an orgasm, so the willpower it takes to reel it in and do what he can to get her there with him is pretty stunning. Maya whimpers, overwhelmed by his desire for her, and sits back on her heels, running a hand through her hair.

“Ok,” she murmurs, clearing her throat, “Yeah, baby. Wanna feel you inside me. Always.”

The “always” was maybe a little much but her brain is fried. She stands, giggles as she nearly tips over on shaky legs, and ditches her soaking wet lace panties.

She stands before him flushed and needy as she slips out of her sticky panties. He can see the wetness dripping down her thighs as she crawls onto the couch, legs spreading so she can straddle his lap.

He’s breathless, staring at her with his hands tangled in his own hair. He lets her take him how she wants, touch him how she wants, use him however she wants.

He’s hers.

Shawn watches her from the couch. She does what she can not to leap on him, instead lowering herself into his lap and sitting forward until his cock is pressed against her pussy and she can roll her hips to grind against him.

“Oh fuck,” she whines, scrunching up her nose, tightening her grip on his shoulders.

Shawn doesn’t know how he went twelve years without this. Without her. She fits perfectly against him, curves perfectly into the lines and divots of his body, so well sometimes that he can’t remember where he ends and she begins. He’s really so fucked that he thinks about her in cliches and he doesn’t even care.

Finally, she slides forward; her pussy is hot and slick over his cock as his hips jerk up in response to the sweet sensation.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, dropping one hand to her thigh as he looks her up and down, from her slick pussy dripping on his shaft to the smooth curve of her belly, to her hard nipples that strain against the pretty fabric of her bra.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, his voice more awestruck than sex-fucked in this moment, as he gazes at her resting atop him like she belongs there and nowhere else.

How does he not tell her he loves her? How can he not? She should know, she deserves to know. He can’t just keep doing this with her and pretending like it doesn’t mean the world to him.

He pushes himself away from the back of the couch and presses his chest to hers, cupping her throat with his hands and gliding his thumbs along her jaw. He presses his forehead to hers and looks her in the eye, searching for something, though he’s not sure what.

“Maya,” he breathes, nudging her nose as he grinds his cock up against her, brushing the head over her swollen, sensitive clit. “Missed how good you feel like this, sugar.”

Maya sobs a breath when he lurches forward and presses up against her chest, holding her face in his hands. She wants to close her eyes so badly, it’s too much having him so close and staring at her like this like he’s considering not ever letting her go again. But the way he’s holding her, pressing his nose against hers gently while he finds an angle that will make her gasp (which he does easily), it makes her hold his gaze.

Her breathing is ragged. She’s half a heartbeat away from tears. How can he treat her this way, after everything? It’s not to be denied now, not at all. There’s still something very real here between them that neither of them is doing a good job ignoring. And Maya’s not running from it.

Maya lifts her fingers into Shawn’s hair, surrendering. She tips her head onto his shoulder, takes a slow, deep breath with her hips still rocking into his and wraps her arms around him.

“Take me, Shawn. Please.”

“I got you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers as he wraps his arms around her waist and reaches up the length of her spine to cup her shoulder blades and rock her down against his cock. “Lu, I got you, I’ll take care of you.”

He kisses her again to shut himself up, then rolls his hips forward, smoothly sliding his length along her slit and nudging over her clit before pressing up against her tight entrance. He rocks again, pushing his tip shallowly into her pussy, her velvet walls immediately clenching perfectly around him.

He swallows her up into his chest with the way he curls his arms around her. Maya’s never felt so safe, ever. The kiss keeps both their stupid mouths occupied, which she’s so grateful for. But when he slips inside her, hard and thick and everything she’s wanted, she groans, loud and unabashed into his mouth.

“Fuck, sugar,” he purrs, sucking at her lower lip, giving her a little nibble. He then mouths along the sharp angle of her jaw until he reaches her ear, giving her earlobe a kiss.

“So fucking wet for me. Can’t believe how wet you get, can’t believe how fucking good you feel,” he mutters in her ear, voice rough with need. “Feels perfect, Maya, you know that. Don’t you, sweetheart? You know you feel so perfect on my cock.”

He emphasizes his words with a flick of his hips that slides him deeper into her slick, welcoming cunt.

“Oh my god, oh Shawn,” she gasps between his sweet lips as he starts to break away for her jaw, mumbling to her quietly like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. It makes a sharp shiver tear down her spine so she squirms hard in his arms.

His hips flick up. Her head falls back, her mouth drops open in a silent scream as her hips start to rock of their own volition.

“Never been so good, never been so fucking good with you,” she chants, shaking her head, “It was always perfect but, fuck, it’s never been this good, baby, you’re so good with me. It’s perfect, baby. It’s perfect.”

Her words are repetitive, a stream of consciousness of the hot, torrid thoughts in her head. She scrunches her fingers in his hair and tugs to show her urgency because words simply aren’t enough at this point. Plus, if she opens her mouth now, she just knows a poorly-timed I love you will come tumbling out.

She’s right, it’s never been this good. He’s never felt so desperate for her before, so determined to use his body to show her the depth of his feelings for her because they’re too much to vocalize. He whines against her ear as she praises him, praises them both.

“Just wanna make you feel this good as much as I can,” he admits on a choked off breath, his fingers digging into her shoulder blades as his hips stutter beneath her soft, slick thighs.

God, everything he says right now feels like an atom bomb. But he’s giving it to her so good she really can’t stop and think too hard about it. She can’t really think at all.

Shawn wisely silences himself against her neck, at least temporarily, busying himself with marking his former territory. She’s far from stopping him. If she can walk around with his love bites on her body for a few days, she’ll welcome it. They’re like a badge of honor.

He rocks his cock deeper and deeper into her sweet pussy, licking and sucking along the column of her throat, down to her clavicle then back up to her ear, nipping at the sensitive shell of cartilage.

Her tits bounce as he thrusts hard into her. She clings to him, fingers sinking into his neck and his hair to keep herself from smacking into him as their bodies take over control. There’s nothing gentle or meticulous about it the way Shawn sometimes is with her. That’s equally as wonderful, of course. But this, this raw need for her that controls the flicking of his hips and has him so deep inside her that her toes curl, this is so fucking good.

“Jesus, sugar,” he pants, hips snapping harder and harder as he bounces her in his lap, working her on his dick. “Fucking-- love it, love having you on my cock, baby.”

He bites down on her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut after a close fucking call that he can only blame on the ambiance of the sunset shining through the windows and panting the room in golden amber light.

Maya doesn’t notice him fumble over his words, instead gasping and twitching when he bites at her bronzed shoulder like he doesn’t trust his mouth. She cradles the back of his head and whines, the pain and pleasure setting something off inside her.

“Baby, I’m gonna come. Gonna come soon. Wanna touch my clit for me?” she whispers, tonguing at the shell of his ear in time with the roll of her hips.

Something snaps inside of him when she purrs in his ear, asks him to help make her come with his fingers. He growls and wraps a thick, sturdy arm around her waist so he can lift her from his lap and settle her down onto the couch instead.

Maya mewls in his ear when he lifts her and repositions her on the couch. She lets him take over her hands — as much as she likes to hold him, she knows she’s taken care of right now.

They stay connected as he shifts around, knees on the couch, thighs pressed against the back of hers as he reaches for her wrists and pins them above her head so she’s arched beneath him, pretty tits straining against her bra.

Shawn starts moving again, making sure this orgasm is going to overwhelm her to the point of total, unadulterated bliss.

Her sensitive nipples arch against his chest and drag against the fabric of her bralette. Her feet are planted on either side of his legs so she can give as good as she gets, but the rhythm of her hips is starting to fail as she gets closer and closer.

“M’gonna make you come so good, sugar,” he pants, keeping her wrists pinned with one hand while the other ventures down her body, fingertips tripping over her skin until he reaches the wet, hot apex of her thighs.

He snaps his hips once, twice, thrice, changing the angle each time until the head of his cock finally brushes her g-spot, just as he slips his middle finger between her pink folds and flicks at her swollen clit. He presses down on the stiff little nub before slowly working her in tight circles, the rhythm of his finger slower than the snapping cadence of his hips as he stretches her pretty pussy with his cock.

He knows exactly what she needs like he always has. He tilts his hips to rut against her g-spot with every stroke. His finger swirls tight but tantalizingly slow against her swollen, twitching clit.

He kisses along her throat until his lips meet her chin. He moves to her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his teeth. He gives her a little nip before pressing their foreheads together. “C’mon, Lu, come all over me. Feels-- fuck, fuck-- feels so fucking good when you come on my cock.”

She can’t keep the air in her lungs. She’s panting and writhing beneath him, thrashing like a desperate caged animal. Until he settles his forehead against hers and whispers.

Maya goes rigid, crying out into his mouth, arching extraordinarily as she soaks his thick cock. Her body holds him in as it riots, orgasm reaching up through her until she’s rolling, slow and tortured, like she’s clinging to every piece of her release.

He’s not sure how he manages to make it through her rippling, overwhelming orgasm without completely falling apart himself. He kisses her through it, rolling his hips faster as he picks up speed with his finger on her twitching clit.

It’s hard to keep up with her thrashing, but he tightens his grip on her wrists and lets himself settle more of his weight atop her. She’s fucking dripping all over him, soaking his dick and his lower abdomen, along with his thighs.

He pulls back when she starts to come down, slowing his hips as his cock throbs inside of her spamming cunt. He watches her chest heave as he clenches his jaw, forcing himself still as he pants along with her.

It’s one of the longer orgasms she’s ever had. When it begins to fade, Maya blinks her wet eyes open and stares at him, so in love he must just see it all over her face. She coos and kisses his swollen lower lip.

“Your turn, honey. Come inside me. Wanna feel you so deep, baby.”

His eyes flutter shut when she kisses him, purring with a loving clenching of her pussy. He groans into her mouth, his snapping tightly, just once, before he lets himself kiss her properly.

“Gonna give you what you want, Lu, gonna—“ he cuts himself off with a moan, dropping his head down to her shoulder as he fucks her faster, hips rabbiting down and slapping her thighs.

He goes quick and shallow, can’t help but focus the head of his cock over her g-spot with every frantic stroke, the angle ingrained in his muscle memory.

Maya’s heart rate has just started to normalize when he starts stroking hard again. But she can’t help but get worked up again -- she anticipates his orgasm as much as her own, if not more.

Maya holds on, wrapping her legs around his hips as he slams them into her. With each quick thrust, he bumps up against her sensitive spot that has her grunting and squirming.

“May— Maya, shit,” he bites at her collarbone to shut himself up as his balls tighten and he finally lets go. He groans into her skin, coming deep inside of her as his hips come to a clenched stop against her wet thighs.

He sinks his teeth into her clavicle when he buries himself and comes hard, letting go inside her. She groans, low and deep, at the dual sensations. She slides a hand up to cradle the back of his head, letting him rest against her chest while he comes down. She strokes his hair and lets her clenched legs slide off until she’s limp and wholly satisfied beneath him.

“That was… god, Jesus Christ,” Maya sighs, running her pointed toes down the back of his leg as she tries to remember how to talk.

Shawn’s a little out of his head. He’s pretty sure he’s never come so hard in his life. His face is buried in her neck as he finally begins to relax, legs and hips unclenching as he collapses on top of her, settling between her thighs.

Maya’s eyes are closed as he noses at her, strokes her fiery, goosebumped skin and recovers from a truly epic orgasm. She relishes the weight of him against her, so familiar and comforting like he’s her favorite giant blanket. She scooches around beneath him until they’re both comfortable and tucked up against each other.

His chest is heaving, pressing into hers while they breathe together, basking in the warm afterglow. Shawn carefully releases Maya’s wrists and glides his fingers down the length of her body until he reaches her waist. He mouths slowly at her throat when he finally gets his breathing under control.

He doesn’t trust himself to speak yet, though, still shaken from the heat of his orgasm. He rubs the tips of his nose across her skin and paws at her sides with his needy, wandering hands.

She’s not doing much better than he is.

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever known,” he pants into the soft skin of her neck when he decides he just can’t keep quiet. He’s lame and hyperbolic and probably too much, but an orgasm is a hell of a drug. And Maya is a hell of a woman.

His words have her eyes snapping open. She clenches her jaw and blinks quickly, trying not to gasp for breath but she’s having trouble oxygenating her brain.

After a moment or two, she speaks.

“You really always have been too good to me,” she murmurs, turning her face so her nose brushes up against his sweaty curls.

Maya’s overwhelmed. Part of her wants to spill her guts, tell him all the lovely things she’s been thinking for so long, tell him all the ways she’s missed him. The other part knows it’s not the time. Not now, not even when he’s said something so unbelievable.

He smiles into her skin. She says it like she doesn’t believe him, like he’s just nice to be nice. But he would never say something like that just to be sweet. He nudges her jaw with his nose, kisses her just beneath her chin.

“No,” he hums, kissing along her jaw lazily, “No, I’m just trying to give you what you deserve. Even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

It’s strikingly honest, but it’s true. She deserves the fucking world, and she doesn’t seem to know it.

Maya exhales sharply. She’s still getting used to this idea that he doesn’t hate her breathing guts. She’s also getting used to not hating her own breathing guts. So him laying it on this thick for no other reason than because he truly believes what he’s saying?

It’s a lot.

He breathes out after a moment, letting his head drop onto her chest.

“I know you think-- maybe you think I’m a glutton for punishment and you probably think I should hate you or something, but. I don’t. I never did. I was--” he lets out a gruff laugh, “I was fucking pissed, for a while. But I--” I always loved you, “I could never hate you. And I could never not think the sun shines out of your ass, because it does. You have, like, the best, shiniest ass.”

He rests his chin on her sternum and looks up at her, biting his lip through a sheepish smile.

He snuggles up to her chest and continues talking. She listens carefully, smirking at his comment about her ass. He props his chin up between her breasts. She plays with the curls on his forehead, twirling them around her slender fingers.

“Shawn Mendes, I think only you have a big enough heart not to hate me after what I did. I hated me. I think I’ve only recently stopped hating me. I think you’ve been part of that.”

“I don’t think you should hate yourself at all,” Shawn murmurs. He wants to kiss her, but if he kisses her, he’ll definitely blow it. He’s getting too close to ‘I love you’ with ‘I could never hate you’ as it is. Instead, he presses a gentle peck to her chest before looking back up at her.

She’s quiet for a moment or two before booping his nose with the tip of her finger. “You know, at some point, not now but maybe soon, we should talk about what it is we’re doing here.”

He wrinkles his nose, then closes his eyes at her suggestion. He only hates her a little bit for being the adult.

We’re falling in love again, right?

That’s what he wants them to be doing, even if it’s rash. Realistically, he knows that it can’t be what they’re doing. They haven’t seen each other in so long, and she has a job and a life and a completely different city to get back to. But she’s keeping the house here, so it’s not like she’ll be disappearing all over again. He could do long distance for a little, if need be, and they could learn how to love each other again.

He can’t say anything like that.

She continues toying with, bouncing the curls against his forehead like she’s a cat and he’s her ball of yarn. When he closes his eyes to think, Maya stretches back, folding an arm under her head, letting herself get even more comfortable with him. She ignores the idea that maybe that’s dangerous.

Instead, he blinks his eyes open and smiles crookedly at her. “We’re helping you relax after being so uptight in New York, obviously.”

It’s such a cop out. It’s cowardice, and he hates himself for it.

She chuckles at his answer to her question and strokes a hand through his hair from crown to neck, scratching him gently with her nails.

“You’re doing an excellent job of that,” she purrs, “I haven’t come this hard in… uhm, years.”

He closes his eyes and sighs, brushes one more sweet kiss to her chest. “We’re doing whatever you want to do, Lulu. I’m just-- I’m here. For you. However you need me.”

He kisses her chest again. She swallows sharply, her lie on her mind. He still thinks she’s leaving. He thinks at worst, she’ll be a temporary dalliance and will leave him alone again to live his life unburdened by her.

He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. She hasn’t let him.

She takes a deep breath, trying to free herself from the creeping guilt and gloom. She can be mature later.

Shawn loves the comfort of settling his whole weight atop her while she plays with his hair, even though it’s sweaty and like, pretty full of sawdust. He likes the familiarity of this, the comfort and warmth. He likes how she loves cradling him between her thighs, even long after they’ve both come down from their peaks.

He starts spreading kisses along the length of her sternum, down between the valley of her breasts then back up again, nipping at the soft fabric of her bralette every now and then.

“I hope you weren’t expecting any customers,” she murmurs, glancing around his work studio with a lifted eyebrow. She totally derailed his process.

He laughs, looking up at her, then around at the shop, now dark under the sparse light of dusk. He shakes his head as he looks back down at her.

“Nah,” he says with a shrug, “Most foot traffic actually happens in the morning, or right after lunch. By the end of the day it’s usually just me, obsessing over some project I don’t have to actually finish for like… weeks.”

Maya’s trying not to let herself fantasize about the idea of getting used to this. But she can see it so clearly -- installing a board rack outside. Walking up after a session to squeeze out her hair before she walks inside because he gets pissy about the saltwater on his fine hardwood floors. Riding him on the couch while the sun sets.

Yeah. Ok. The fantasy took hold. Too late.

He blinks down at her, then carefully pushes himself up onto one arm, lifting his hips from hers so he can slip out of her. He reaches down for his briefs and pulls them back up before he wiggles in between her and the back of the couch.

He pulls her into his chest, so her back his flush against his front, then reaches for the blanket over the arm of the couch and wraps them up.

Maya grunts gently when he slips out of her but he doesn’t go far, wrapping them up in a blanket on the couch. She’s so comfortable she’s a little worried about passing out right here up against him. He probably wouldn’t even mind. He’d probably be happy.

She wants to make him happy.

Maya snuggles in, tucks herself so the proportions of her body fit neatly into his. Spooning has never truly felt like spooning with anyone else, not when she fits so perfectly into him. She always rolled her eyes at the puzzle piece metaphor people like to use, but now she gets it.

She doesn’t try to wiggle away or excuse herself by pulling her panties on. She lets him move her, then cuddles back against him like a satisfied cat who wants to bask in his body heat. It’s his favorite feeling.

He sighs, presses a kiss to the back of her shoulder. “Better,” he murmurs. “Sometimes I sleep here. Like, if I lose track of time and don’t feel like walking home. This couch is really comfy.”

He’s babbling, now, like if he finds more shit to say, the longer she’ll stay.

Maya closes her eyes. “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping here all by yourself on this couch. It’s not even that comfy. Stop doing that,” she scolds with a smile.

He so busy plodding kisses along her shoulder and towards the back of her neck, that he doesn’t really care she’s fussing. He smiles into her hair as he noses the base of her scalp.

“It’s either alone here or alone at the apartment. Not much difference, Lu,” he says with a thoughtful hum. One of his hands finds her leg under the blanket, and his fingers slowly tease the curving slope of her thigh until he reaches her knee. He trails back up, then, stroking her skin until he reaches the ripple of stretch marks that bloom at her hip. He loves them. He’s familiar with each one, has spent hours tracing their path as they wrap around her body with his fingertips.

Maya lets him spoil her, dropping kisses all over her shoulders, sore from hunching over a canvas and paddling out to catch waves. She sighs at his words and goes to speak.

But his hand is so distracting.

God, his hands are so huge and yet so graceful. She just basks in the feeling of his touch after starving herself of it for so long. She hums and tries to remind herself what she was going to say to him next, before he started caressing her hip like he loves her stretch marks as much as he loves the rest of her.

“Will admit, though,” he murmurs, taking a calm breath through his nose as he presses his lips to the top of her head, his cheek cradled by his own bicep, “This couch is exponentially comfier when I have you here with me.”

He disgusts himself, sometimes. But he can’t help it. Maya brings it out in him.

Maya opens her eyes and lifts a hand to cup his jaw from behind her, stroking along the cut of it with her thumb.

“You know what I bet is comfier than this couch with me? Your bed with me,” she points out, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Shawn presses his jaw into her hand, like a dog nudging into a pet. His brows raise as he pushing himself up onto his elbow, looking down at her. She’s really on a roll with awesome ideas today. He grins.

“I dunno, Lemon,” he says, lips quirking, “You kinda steal the sheets. And sometimes you kick me when you have that soccer dream from when you were in third grade.”

He’ll take any chance he can get to remind her he knows her, knows the small details and close-kept secrets whispered between them in the dark as well as he knows the back of his hand or the chords to Back to Black by Amy Winehouse.

He drops his nose to her shoulder, kisses her gently.

“Do you really want to?” he murmurs, his voice gruff as he breathes into her skin and keeps his eyes closed. It’s a question bathed in doubt, but he can’t help it. This is the first time since she’s been in Avila where she seems truly receptive to folding herself into his life. He doesn’t want that to go away.

He’s teasing her but she can pretty much tell by the cadence of his voice that he’s stalling, a little bit in disbelief, maybe even a little nervous about letting her in that far. Or maybe he’s nervous that if he does she’ll run again.

She’s so fucking tired of running.

Maya carefully turns over and does a 180 to face him on her other side. She slings a leg over his and scooches up the couch so her face is level with his.

“If I can deal with you clinging to me like a leech in the middle of the night and talking in your sleep like a weirdo, you can deal with my occasional light kicking and hogging of sheets.”

She swings an arm around his neck and flattens her lips against his with a smile for a brief, loud kiss.

“Take me home, Mendes.”

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @desire-to-live @jillian-nd @shawnwyr @curlsofshawn @graysonmendes @tnhmblive @meltingicequeen

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes au #sub!shawn #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes rpf #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes one shot

150 notes · View notes

natashacoco · 5 years

Text

Good Intentions

Florian Munteanu x Plus Size Black Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, blood, medical/treating scrapes, mention of sex, some triggering of verbal abuse (fat shaming).

Prompts: Plus Size Reader are on their anniversary and reflect how they almost didn’t end up together. Reader has been hurt in the past and Florian tries his best to prove to her he’s not like the others.

Inspiration: Good Intentions by Rini

The sound of laughter fills the air as you and your boyfriend made your way to your private villa that he had rented for your anniversary, both of you drunk on wine and chocolate from your dinner. You were dressed in your favorite little black dress and heels and Flo was dressed in a white shirt and blue jacket and matching pants. He had purposefully left a few buttons undone and you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how gorgeous he looked tonight.

“I have another surprise for you Iubirea mea” Flo whispers in your ear, a mischievous glint in his eye, his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him as he leads you through the door.

“Is that so?” You asked, raising an arched eyebrow in his direction.

“Yes prinţesă, and I know that the both of us will enjoy this” Flo answers as he rounds the two of you to the balcony. You gasp as you see that the once empty tub and canopy overlay overlooking the ocean is filled with your favorite flowers, candlelight dancing off the surrounding areas against the setting sun.

“Oh my god Flo, it’s beautiful” you whisper in shock. Flo moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck.

“I’m glad that I can still surprise you prinţesă” he laughs, swaying the both of you gently. “Let’s get undressed and get in, the water should be perfect” he urges, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bathroom.

Once there, grabs a makeup wipe from your makeup bag on the counter and begins to gently wipe off your makeup. Once he’s satisfied that it’s all off, Flo kneels before you, grabbing the back of one of your knees to remove your heel and then repeats it on the other side. His hands travel up the outside of your legs until he reaches under your dress and pulls your panties down slowly, torturously and tosses them aside just like your heels. His green eyes appear darker darker as you stare into them as he straightens up, his large body vibrating with sexual energy. “Have I ever told you how much I love you in this dress?” He asks as you turn around, sweeping your braids to the side and helping you to pin them up. He pulls down the zipper of your dress, kissing the back of your neck as your dress pools around your feet.

You look at the reflection of you and Flo in the mirror and avert your gaze, not fully satisfied with what you see. It was always something, an unexpected breakout, be it your weight, your hair when NOTHING you did seemed to work, how that cute outfit you tried on in the store suddenly didn’t look like it at home, the days that you didn’t love your body the way that you should.

“Y/N look at me” Flo commands, stepping closer to you, lightly brushing his knuckles on your arms. You turn around slowly, wrapping your arms around your body.

“No dragă, don’t ever cover yourself when you’re with me, you’re beautiful” he says, moving your arms aside and unabashedly looking at your unclothed body. When you try to object, Flo places a finger under your chin and brings your eyes to his. “Dragă, do you really believe that I feel any differently about your body than you do mine? I kiss and caress your body day and night, I try and keep myself buried inside your body as much as I can, practically chaining you to my bed, and you still have doubts that I don’t love your body?” he questions, “If I didn’t feel the way I do about you, do you really think either one of us would have allowed us to be here now Y/N?” He asks, bringing your hand to his growing erection.

Your face grows warm, his words empowering you and coaxing you out of your previous mood as you shake your head in agreement as you run your other hand under his shirt. As long as you’ve known Florian, he always knew what to say to help boost your confidence, even the days when you were already at an all time high. Like he did to you, you remove your hands and begin to undress Flo with the same care he did for you. When the both of you are naked, both hands framing your face as he bends his head and captures your mouth with his, further cementing what he said earlier. He takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to the bath, getting in first, his large body sprawled out in the tub as you climb in after his, settling in between his legs.

You rest your head on Flo’s broadened shoulder, sighing in content at the combo of the water and laying in his embrace. You look out into the distance, the sun beginning to set, hues of pink, orange, red, blue and purple painting the sky.

“About what you said earlier, you know that this relationship is just as much of a shock to me as it is to you” you say, nuzzling even more in his embrace.

“I know Y/N, I know” he replies, drawing lazy circles on your back. “The both of us haven’t had the best of luck in our past relationships and both of us weary of ruining something that we both hold really dear. Dolph told me to be cautious of who I let in my life, but I’m glad that you’re in it.”

You nod your head in agreement, remembering how the two of you met.

You had been invited to a house party by your friend Jackie whom you were visiting. The next day the two of you would be road tripping it to your hometown in time for your 10-year high school reunion, just like your favorite movie Romy and Michele's High School Reunion. Jackie was dressed stunning as always and heads turned as soon as you two walked through the door. Scanning the room, Jackie located one of her local friends who had been invited by a friend of a friend. The house was located in the exclusive Hollywood Hills and at 11 PM, the party was in full swing with some of Hollywood’s most glamorous. Being the big girl amongst the other women in the room made you look down at your simple yet stylish little black dress and curse yourself for thinking the dress would’ve been enough. At least your heels had given you a bit of confidence, not that your stiff drink you were already planning on getting wouldn’t hinder it.

After introductions, you and Jackie made your way to the open bar located outside to get drinks with promises to return. After placing your order, you casually scan your eyes around the beautiful garden scenery. An animalistic feeling like you were being watched, you had slowly turned around to a group of men laughing and even some outright giggling at something one of them had said, you too far away to catch what was said. It was hard to miss him, a giant among the men was staring at you, so much so that you immediately felt uncomfortable.

Grabbing your drinks, you and Jackie had made your way back inside. A little while later, a group of men, all attractive in their own way, walked up to your friend and the other women and immediately began a conversation with them. Being more of the outsider, you stayed a little to the side. When a topic came up you had tried to join the conversation but your efforts were rebutted as one of the men looked in your direction and gave you a once over. Heat flushed your cheeks as you realized what he was doing, and it only cemented as he turned his frame slightly so that you were further out of the circle.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t you dare cry Y/N you repeated to yourself as you quickly finished off your drink. This situation happened more times than you’d like to remember, a man ignoring you as he chatted up some of your thinner friends. Playgrounds, school dances, even the shopping trips usually ended with you being ignored as your friends were being hit on and flirted with. In some rare occasions, the guys would even tell you that they had a friend who would be interested in you, only for said friend to say another would be more interested. You were told that you were pretty for a “Big Girl” like it was supposed to make you feel any different about how you were being treated. Time and time again your confidence was shaken as you came to realize what they were doing.

As you grew older you gained your confidence back, that once insecure girl slowly being shown they were worthy of love too. That didn’t mean that there weren’t those occasional times when you didn’t feel the pangs of hurt like you were feeling then. Empty glass in hand, you tried to get Jackie’s attention from one of the men to let her know you were getting another round, when she failed to notice your movements, you made it outside when you took a sharp turn and a tray of glasses being held by the wait staff fell on your legs, glasses breaking. People rushed over to you asking if you were okay when the large man you noticed earlier stood in front of you. After pushing hands away and telling the crowd you were alright you tried to subtly get yo without cutting yourself.

“You okay?” He had asked, his somewhat thick accent accompanied with a concerned look on his face.

You were shocked, noticing a twinge of pain at your knee and favorite pair of tights ripped as well as the behemoth that was crouched in front of you, his eyes saying so much even though he hadn’t said much.

“Uh, yeah...I think so...it’s just a scrape” you had answered, not sure how to respond.

“It’s my fault, I suddenly stopped and wasn’t expecting anybody behind me,” he explained, grabbing both hands and pulling you upright, your short stature evident against his tallness, even in your heels. “I didn’t see that the waiter had to swerve in order not to hit me but got you instead.''

“Trust me, it happens more times to me than you think, I’m really clumsy and uncoordinated.” You said, a sharp pain shooting up your knee as you took a step.

“Let me at least get you something to help bandage you up, I feel really guilty” he replied, pointing out that your knee was still bleeding. Before you could protest, he grabbed one of your hands and led you inside the party and up the stairs, you limping as you tried to keep up with him and trying to get your eyes on Jackie. He walked straight to the master bedroom and once inside he motioned for you to continue to the bathroom. Reaching inside the medicine cabinet, he grabbed a first aid kit and walked over to you.

After introductions, you’d learned that Flo was in town with some friends from Germany because of a new movie project but couldn’t say much due to contracts. It was one of the many interesting things you learned about him as he opened up the kit.

“You might want to sit, this might sting and I’d hate for you to fall over again because of me” he suggested, a boyish grin on his face as he crouched down to your eye level.

You realized that your tights were pretty much a goner, and after asking him to look away and making sure the coast was clear, you carefully took off your tights and threw them away in a nearby bin. Sitting down on the edge of the toilet, you carefully gave him your leg, his cologne invading your senses. His large hands warmed your skin everywhere they touched, carefully bringing your leg closer for him to inspect. You tried to get your breathing under control as his skin touched yours. After looking you over he told you that it looked like a minor scrape and no stitches were needed nor a trip to the hospital.

As he wiped around your wound, spraying antibacterial spray that earned a hiss from you and practically yanked your leg away, his hands thrown up in worry. Once the pain subsided, he carefully placed your favorite color band aid from the selection delicately on the large scrape. After what feels like a few minutes and a thousand heartbeats later, he again helps you up and steadies you as you sway on your feet.

“Thanks for the help, I should get going” you tell him, trying not to let his nearness get to you.

“Let me buy you dinner, it’s the least I could do” he objects, clearly taken aback at you wanting to leave.

“That’s not necessary, I really need to get going.” You say, already walking towards the direction of the bedroom. He caught up to you easily, staying by your side and as you made your way down the stairs.

“You didn’t even want to be my friend in the first place” Florian says, reaching out to touch the scar on your knee from your first meeting.

“Bullshit” you counter, “I was just in a little bit of pain. Besides, you didn’t have to buy me food just because your brick wall of a self caused that tray to fall.”

“Sure you were Y/N, nothing to do with the fact that you were running away from me” he said matter of factly.

“First off, a bitch does not run, she power walks gracefully. Two, if I remember right I was barely even doing that thanks to whom?” Eyebrows raised in question as your head turned up to him.

“You got me there Iubirea mea, and you can’t tell me any differently. You were scared that I was only in it to get at your friends” he replied.

You had made it back to the group when Jackie saw you, you tried not to wince at how sore your knee was. Pulling you to the side, she apologized as you recounted the incident, introducing and thanking Flo for his help. Turning back to the group, your friend laughed at a joke that had just been shared.

“How do you know Jackie?” Flo had asked. Your heart felt like it had stopped as you looked up at him, this question asked countless times as men braced themselves to interrogate you with questions before hitting on your friends.

“We’ve known each other since we were 16. We met at a youth conference in Washington D.C., we were roommates. By some insane cosmic blessing, my moms job was transferred to her state and we ended up going to the same high school” you told him. Never once during your story did his eyes leave yours, his attention never once wavering from yours. You were a little taken aback, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or how he seemed to be invested in everything you said. You were so used to others looking at your friends as they formulated their next Mack daddy move with their new info on how to proceed next.

Throughout the rest of the night, Flo never left your side as he asked question after question about you and your life, laughing as you told him your intended road trip for your high school reunion, laughing that unfortunately you weren’t the inventor of Post-Its and didn’t have the dance moves like Romy and Michele. He told you about life back in Munich, his parents and Romanian roots and his two “brothers” Sandro and Masias who were with him tonight at the party.

Jackie came up to the two of you, letting you know that the two of you had to leave, both of you needing to get on the road early to make it to the reunion on time. Saying your goodbyes, you turned to leave before Flo stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N, can I…” he began, and you knew that this moment would come eventually, your practiced smile on your face as you turned back towards him, coming to the conclusion that if he was indeed into your friend you’d have to let her decide on what she wanted to do. His cheeks were a little red as one hand reached up to stroke his growing beard tentatively. “Is it okay if I can have your number? I really enjoyed talking to you and I’d love to continue, if that’s okay?” He had asked.

You had to stop yourself from giving him your bewildered bitch stare that you were known for when something you weren’t expecting came up.

“Why?” You croaked out, feeling like a toad had crawled in your throat. Although a bigger woman, you had dated here and there through the years, some of them only in the early texting and talking stages, and some whom you considered friends. For those who had made it to the dating stage, none of them really made you feel like a queen you knew yourself to be and be treated. Of course there was the one relationship, the one that made you insecure in some ways when you least suspected it. Nitpicking yourself, not wanting to look at yourself in the mirror because of what was reflected back, wearing your comfy “ugly” clothes because they were your armor. Crying yourself to sleep when heated words were thrown around, intentional or not.

“Because you’re one of the only people here that I’ve met that I actually want to talk to besides my brothers. In my line of work, it can be hard to know what people’s intentions are, if they want to use you because of who you are, what you are, what you can do for them, or who knows what” he answered, his head dipped down and eyes looking back and forth.

In that moment, Jackie brought you your coat and mentioned that the car was ready. You turned to Flo and rattled off your number and practically sprinted off out the door in the hopes that he wouldn’t actually text you.

A few days later you had gotten a text from him asking about the reunion. Of course, your inner anxiety won out, the little voice in your head telling you that it wasn’t a good idea, that it was nothing but a joke, insecurity after insecurity infiltrating your mind and causing it to fester. He kept texting you, asking if he had done something wrong until he called you but you let it go to voicemail. After listening to his message you decided that he wasn’t going to give up. You called him a little while later and hoped the phone would go to voicemail, but it didn’t, you stammering as you rambled off why you hadn’t messaged him back and that it would be better off if you didn’t communicate before hanging up. He had called, texted and FaceTimed countless times, each one met with a denial.

When you didn’t respond, Florian yet again attempted FaceTime you and in your attempt to end the call you accidentally accepted it. He had demanded to know why you were ghosting him, you hugging yourself as you try not to let tears roll down your face in explanation. Although thousands of miles apart, even then Flo was supportive in being there for you. From that moment on, the two of you would talk constantly, anything and everything spoken during late night calls that ended in early mornings.

“You have to see where I was coming from Flo, from past experiences and such, it was hard for me to think that you wanted to be my friend”. You snap back in defense.

“Dragă, I get it, like I told you the night we met, I wanted to keep getting to know you, even after how long we’ve known one another, from friends to lovers, I still want to keep getting to know you. I want you to feel safe opening up to me, to feel like you can tell me anything on your time when you’re ready. I've never wanted anything more than to make you feel respected, loved and cherished. I’ve always had the best intentions when it comes to us, always.” He says.

He cups one of his hands and dips it into the water, bringing it up and letting the water slide down your back. He repeats the motion, blowing a cool stream of air on your skin. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you look up at him, cheeks flushed from the water and the contrast of the cold air.

You move to straddle his hips, water sloshing as you adjust to the new position. You grab his cheeks with both of your hands, gently running your thumbs across them as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Thank you for that Flo, for being there when I needed you, and for so, so much more that I can’t even begin to convey into words right now” you say, shutting your eyes as emotions swept through you.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t turn away. I know exactly what you mean Iubirea mea, if words can’t express how much, let me show you” he states, motioning for you to stand up. When the two of you are out of the tub, you yelp as he picks you up unexpectedly, your arms wrapping around his neck. He leads you to the bedroom, placing you in the middle, his body atop you as he spends the next several hours worshiping yours with his, imprinting and leaving no doubt in your mind how much he loves you, mind, body, heart and soul.

#florian munteanu #florian big nasty munteanu #big nasty #good intentions #rini #florian muntean x plus size black reader #florian munteanu x black reader #one shot #my writing

151 notes · View notes

saltybaltic · 5 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - CAT WALK

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: Being friends with Natasha isn’t always easy, especially when you’re supposed to be helping her pick an outfit and you’re struggling to keep your mind out of the gutter.

Warnings: Language, smut

Words: 5061

Okay so this is request number one that I have waiting and it was from @therecanonlybethree . I’m trying to do these asks in the order that I received them in the interest of fairness so please be patient if you’ve sent in a request, I promise I’ll get to it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, in all honesty I think it’s total trash but I’m super struggling with a block at the minute so I’m not at all surprised it sucks. I have four other requests waiting after this but don’t hesitate to send in more, I love having stuff to work on. Let me know what you think of this, for the record you are all thirsty, thirsty little sinners and I love it. Enjoy!

Masterlist now in bio!

Looking up from the book in your hands, you watched the woman who had burst into your bedroom with all of her usual respect for your privacy, dumping an assortment of shopping bags onto the mattress beside you and letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh my god, I’m so stressed.” she huffed out, collapsing into the chair by your desk and looking across at you.

“Please come right in.” you muttered dryly, turning your attention back to what you were reading

Natasha blew out another exasperated breath, “I’ve been shopping all day for something to wear to this damn conference on Thursday and I literally hate everything I’ve bought.”

“So why buy it then?” you asked, not sounding in the least bit interested in her problem.

“Hey, will you ...” she reached forward, snatching the book out of your hands and throwing it to one side causing you to look up and scowl, “I need your help.”

Narrowing your eyes at her, you gave the red head an unimpressed look, “With what exactly?”

“I need you to tell me what to wear.”

“Nat, you know how to dress yourself, you know how good you look, you’re more than aware what suits you and what doesn’t. You really don’t need my help.”

It was likely that you sounded like a pretty bad friend but there was no denying that what you were saying was true; Natasha certainly wasn’t low on self confidence and you couldn’t think of a single time when you had seen her look anything short of gorgeous.

“Yes but this is completely different, this is a massively important conference, they already all hate me up there and I need to make a good impression.”

You shrugged indifferently, reaching forward to grab your book again, “Just wear something tight and low cut, I’m sure that’ll win them over.”

Slamming her hand down on top of the book before you could reach it, Natasha threw it to the other side of the room, “Flashing a bit of cleavage is not going to cut it this time.”

“Would work on me.” You muttered, smiling at her playfully, “Never could say no to a pretty girl in a nice dress.”

“Yes well you,” she paused as she got to her feet and pushed the side of your head teasingly, “Have a one track mind.”

You grinned back at her, “I like hot women, is that a crime?”

“No.” She started, picking up one of the bags and tipping it upside down so the contents landed on the mattress, “But refusing to help your best friend is so ... you’re going to let me try on these clothes and you’re going to tell me which ones look best.”

“Do I have to?” You groaned, throwing yourself back onto the mattress in dramatic fashion with your limbs spread out like a star fish.

Picking up the room separator in the corner, she pulled it open so that it would stand, balancing her first outfit over the top of it, “Yes.”

You watched her curiously as she picked up the rest of the bags and put them where she clearly planned to get changed, “It’s not like you to be so modest, what’s with the blinds?”

“I don’t want you to see the clothes until they’re all on ... don’t worry, I’m still not modest.” As if to prove her point she unfastened the first few buttons of her shirt, spreading it open to reveal her cleavage as she leaned forward with a shake of her chest in your direction.

You snorted out a laugh at the action, “Yeah yeah I get it, come on let’s get this over with.”

Natasha didn’t say anything and simply offered a smirk, undoing the rest of the buttons as she stepped behind the screen and pulled off the rest of her clothing, “Okay so this dress ... I’m not really sure about. It’s black so naturally it’s amazing but I don’t know whether it’s a bit too ... I dunno, revealing.”

Muttering a generic reply, your mind started to drift in a matter of seconds as you lay sprawled on the mattress, not even marginally paying attention to whatever else Natasha was saying. This wasn’t the first time she had insisted on you helping her pick something to wear, the mere notion of her requiring your assistance in the fashion department completely ludicrous to you as you knew virtually nothing about what looked good on a person. The idea of trying on outfit after outfit was the most boring way you could think of to spend an afternoon and it was difficult for you to pretend to care when Natasha asked for you to pass judgement on her clothing.

“So what do you think?”

Your attention drifted back to the task at hand, propping yourself up on your elbows so that you could see the other woman better and tilting your head to the side as you scanned her up and down, “You look nice.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Nice? I’m going for just the right balance of sexy and professional ... does this do it?”

“You know better than me Nat.” You sighed, sitting a little further up and studying her more closely, “I mean you look good ... really good, that dress is incredible but I dunno if it’s very professional ... I see a lot of skin.”

Gesturing at you with her hand, she gave you a half smile, “See that’s what I wanted, thank you. Get the zip for me.”

“Now you’re making me get up?” You huffed out an annoyed breath as you sat up on your knees, shuffling to the edge of the mattress and beckoning her towards you until she stood at the foot of the bed with her back to you, “I was having a nice relaxing afternoon before you came in here hassling me.”

“Oh please, you were sat on your ass doing nothing as always.” Teased Natasha, stepping back behind the blind once you had pulled the zip down and rifling around in one of the bags for another outfit. “You need to get out more.”

“I get out plenty I will have you know.”

Even though you couldn’t see her, you could hear the grin on Natasha’s lips, “You need to get laid so you can stop checking me out all the time.”

“Fuck you.”

Peaking her head around the side of the wooden screen, Natasha gave you a smirk, “I knew that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re seriously too much sometimes.” you muttered, trying not to smile at her behaviour as she disappeared again and continued pulling on clothes. “Plus it’s not exactly easy to meet people given our job and such ... the whole thing is way too hard to explain.”

“So don’t explain.” suggested Natasha, finishing pulling on a suit jacket as she stepped back into view and ran her hands over her clothing to straighten it out before looking up at you expectantly, “Well?”

Scrunching up your nose in concentration, you skimmed your eyes over the other woman, taking in what she was wearing and trying to come to what you hoped was a helpful suggestion, “The dress was better.”

“But this is a suit, it’s way more smart and professional.”

“Yeah and it kind of looks like you’ve dressed yourself up in a power suit so that you can go in there and swing your dick around like you usually do and they’re not exactly going to like that are they Natasha?”

She rubbed at her face in frustration, “Okay well what if I wore a skirt and heels instead of the trousers?”

“I guess.”

Popping open the button on the front of her trousers, Natasha pulled a face at you before turning back to grab what she needed from her shopping bags, “You are borderline useless, you know that?”

“Wow, and I love you too.”

She didn’t take long to change into the skirt, slipping a pair of heels onto her feet as she hopped into view before standing up straight and presenting herself to you again, “Okay, how about now?”

Looking across at your friend this time, you had a noticeably different reaction to how she was dressed. The red shirt underneath her jacket had the first few buttons unfastened, showing just the right amount of cleavage to draw attention but not too much that it would be considered poor taste. The jacket she had on over the top fit her shape perfectly, accentuating her curves and showing off her figure. The same could be said for tight, black skirt that she had paired it with, cutting off just above the knee and allowing you to enjoy the sight of her toned legs. You had to remind yourself that it was your friend you were looking at and somehow managed to kick your brain into gear, swallowing hard and clearing your throat as you nodded your head encouragingly.

“Much better.” You internally cringed at how hoarse your voice sounded and you could have sworn that a flash of amusement flickered across Natasha’s face for the briefest second.

“You’re sure?” she asked, turning on the spot and doing an over the top twirl so that you could see the whole thing. You had to literally will your eyes not to drop to her ass as she span around, trying to ignore the hammering of your heart in your chest and mentally chiding yourself for even entertaining the idea of looking at Natasha in such a way. “I was leaning towards the trousers just because I don’t want it to be like ... too sexy secretary, you know?”

Wetting your lips in a bid to get some moisture into your mouth, you prayed your voice would come out even, “No you ... erm ... you look good.”

“So you don’t? Think this is too sexy?”

If you didn’t know any better you would have sworn she was trying to kill you by means of inappropriate arousal as she turned again, this time hiking the skirt up a little further as she studied herself in the full length mirror on your wall.

“Is there really such a thing as too sexy?” You attempted, not really wanting to answer her question and hoping you could just dodge it with one of your own.

“You tell me.” she said, shooting you a grin over her shoulder before removing the jacket and throwing it back towards the bags, “Although I think the dumb look on your face says enough.”

You were relieved that she turned her head again after her statement so she couldn’t see the furious blush that was now rising up your neck, feeling suitably embarrassed that she had called you out on what must have been quite obvious gawking. Raking your fingers through your hair, you cleared your throat awkwardly as she disappeared again, “I don’t look dumb.”

Natasha laughed from behind the blinds, “Maybe dumb isn’t the right word.”

“You’re getting a little full of yourself.”

She peered around the blinds, a taunting smile still very much glued to her face, “Well you can hardly blame me, being stared at like a piece of meat can be a bit of an ego stroke.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were practically drooling.” joked Natasha, immensely enjoying teasing you as she vanished from view and startled digging around in another bag, “Now there’s one more thing I bought.”

Flopping backwards on the bed again you let out an over the top groan, “No, we were done, we picked one.”

“Stop being a baby, I just want your opinion on one more thing. Try to keep your tongue in this time.”

“Oh shut up I’m only human, you know you’re hot.”

Natasha chuckled, “See, I told you that you need to get laid.”

“I know, I know ... it’s just hard to get out there and meet someone nice and normal.” you grumbled, sitting up on the bed again and toying with a loose thread on the edge of the duvet, “It’s either bat shit crazy women who lose their head over the idea of sleeping with one of The Avengers, or women who run in the opposite direction because they’re completely terrified of me. I don’t actually know which is worse.”

Natasha laughed again, “Yeah I know what you mean .. there are alternative options though.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah I mean, there are women who don’t find you terribly awe-inspiring or terrifying.”

Letting out a long sigh, you shook your head gently, “Well maybe you should let me know where I can find one of these mysterious women.”

“They’re everywhere if you look properly.” answered Natasha, pausing for a few moments before trying to get your attention again, “So, what do you think of this?”

As she spoke again, you looked up from the blanket you were idly playing with and you were fairly certain your jaw hit the floor and your heart stopped. The sound that left your lips was nothing short of embarrassing, some sort of unintelligible mix between a whimper and a strangled cry as you tried to get your mind to process the sight in front of you.

“Do you like it?”

The answer to her question was obvious: what wasn’t to like? But it surprised you just how much you liked it when you knew for a fact you shouldn’t. Natasha had stripped herself of the suit she had previously been wearing, however the heels remained. The only thing covering her body was the lingerie set that she stood in, breasts practically spilling out of the black lace and thighs wrapped with garter straps. You felt like you were burning up just looking at her, unable to drag your eyes away or form any kind of words. Your mouth bobbed open and closed a few times as you attempted to come up with some response for her but it was futile. She took a small step forward, your eyes drawn to the action and watching as one of her heels sank into the carpet.

“I’m going to take your none answer as a yes.” stated Natasha, taking another step forward so she was now just in front of you at the foot of the bed. She placed one hand on her hips and used the other to press under your chin and tilt you head up to look at her, “Want more?”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you finally regained the ability to speak, albeit it not by much, “More?”

She knelt down slightly, placing her hands on the mattress either side of you to box you in as she set her face in front of yours, “I mean ... you don’t just have to stare you know.”

“But ...” you fought with all of your will power to keep your eyes level with hers, “This is ... we’re just friends.”

“True.” agreed Natasha, lifting one hand from the mattress and running her index finger lightly along the underside of your jaw, “Is that all you want though?”

“I ... errr ... I ... well I never really ... thought about it.” you wanted to punch yourself for how pathetic you sounded.

The grin that traced it’s way over Natasha’s lips was almost terrifyingly intimidating, “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay ...”

“Because we’ve been friends a long time now and I don’t think we’ve ever just been friends have we? I know that the way you look at me sometimes isn’t exactly friendly ... and I can certainly say the same for myself.”

At her words, you finally seemed to regain to ability to get yourself together, having had enough of nonsensical yammering and actually attempting to hold a conversation, “That’s a bold assumption to make.”

“If you don’t like what you see, I can always put some clothes on and we can both go back to pretending this isn’t what we want and just being friends.”

“Or ...”

Her grin broadened, leaning a little further forward so her face was barely an inch from your own, her arms still trapping you in place, “Or we could have sex, your call.”

You probably should have hesitated. This was such a line to cross after all of your time knowing Natasha and there was certainly no going back from it. Things had arguably already gone too far the second she modelled her finest lingerie for you but anything more was definitely a step further than it would be possible to recover from. However there was no denying how your body had reacted to her. You couldn’t even attempt to hide how impossibly turned on the sight of Natasha in her underwear had made you. There was nothing in this world that could have made you tear your eyes away from her and it seemed that it had caused all rational thought to go out of the window because instead of putting a stop to what was happening, for some reason you decided to escalate it, sitting up properly on the edge of the bed and placing your hands on her waist to tug her towards you.

The force of your action caused her to stumble slightly and she placed her hands on your shoulders to keep her balance, allowing you to pull her closer. She separated her legs to step either side of where you were perched, moving forward just a little until she was able to settle on your lap, arms still wrapped around your body. She breathed out a laugh at the urgency of what you had done, one hand travelling up the back of your neck and into your hair, “I assume you’re voting in favour of plan B then.”

“What was plan B again?”

Obviously deciding a demonstration would be more effective than a vocal response, Natasha tightened her fingers on the back of your head and pulled your face towards her so she could press your lips together. She held onto your body tighter, pushing down into your lap and sliding her body closer as her tongue slipped into your mouth, a satisfied moan vibrating against your lips. You had been just a little concerned that kissing Natasha would be weird or there would be a lack of chemistry given how long the two of you had been friends but as she sucked your tongue into her mouth and a wave of arousal swept over your body, you quickly realised that you needn’t have worried.

The kiss became heated in no time at all, her fingers lost in your hair as your hands moved to her thighs, running slowly up and over the garter straps and settling on her hips. Gripping her waist tight you pulled her body into you and Natasha released a groan of approval into your mouth as your stomach pressed satisfactorily in between her legs.

She broke the kiss to push out a heavy breath and you instinctively attached your lips to her jaw instead, working your way to her neck and down her throat as she whimpered at each kiss and nibble to her flesh. Her fingers tightened in your hair, holding you against her as she began to rock her hips against your body, moving almost impatiently in your lap the more worked up she became.

Moving one hand to cup the side of your face, Natasha tilted your head slightly so her lips were closer to your ear, biting down on your lobe as she lowered her voice, “Touch me.”

You ran your hands a little further up her body, moving slowly over her rib cage as you leaned back, finally separating your lips from her skin so that you could look back at her. The dark shade of green staring back at you nearly took your breath away, her lips pinker and cheeks more flushed than usual. Her chest was rising and falling fast as she tried to get her breathing in check and you were certain that you had never seen someone look so completely stunning and captivating in your life.

Dancing your fingertips over her ribs you watched her squirm slightly under your touch and felt the goosebumps rising, “What do you want Nat?”

At first she didn’t say anything, resting her forehead against yours as she moved to take one of your hands in her own, lowering it from her sides until it was between her legs. You didn’t need her to guide you any further and as you reached forward just the small distance required and grazed your fingers over the lace of her panties, her breathing hitched and her eyes fluttered closed before nodding her head hurriedly in approval, “I want you inside of me.”

Her request made your stomach flip and conjured a strong twinge of arousal. You were conflicted between being so impossibly turned on by the minimal clothing she was sporting and wanting to enjoy it some more, or instead tearing the entire ensemble from her body so that you could see even more of her. Impatience won in the end, crashing your lips against hers once again as you moved your hand further down, thumb brushing firmly over her clit through her underwear on the way and earning you a twitch of her body and a whimper into your mouth. The kiss had slowed slightly but it was no less intense, her tongue brushing firmly over your own or occasionally biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to stifle another moan.

It surprised you how quickly and how thoughtlessly you had become lost in her. You couldn’t remember ever having as much desire for someone as you did for the woman currently straddling your lap and for some reason it didn’t seem to matter at all that she had simply been your best friend just a little while ago and this was new and unexplored territory. Every noise she released was like music to your ears and every new inch of her flesh you explored only made you hungry for more. You wanted to turn her into a writhing, moaning mess and have her calling out in pleasure and you had every intention of getting what you wanted.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you slipped her panties to one side, running a finger along the length of her pussy. She arched her back into the contact, her lips breaking from yours with the force of the movement as she dug her fingernails into your shoulder blades in anticipation of what would be next. You almost groaned out in appreciation at how wet she was already, the feeling of her arousal coating your fingers something you were sure you could never get enough of.

Natasha tore her lips away from yours to once again settle them by your ear, this time sucking the lobe into her mouth as you glided your finger over her again, dipping slightly lower so you could brush over her clit. The heavy sigh she released against your wet skin caused a tingle that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end. Natasha’s hips jerked against you as you grazed her clit again, the contact tortuously light and she was visibly desperate for more.

She whimpered against the side of your neck, sinking her teeth into your skin as you circled over her clit more firmly, “Yes, more ... please.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at her request. It wasn’t often Natasha would ask for something from someone else, much less that she would sound so frantically desperate for it. It was rare you had the upper hand and you couldn’t help the feeling of satisfaction it gave you that you had the power to give or deny her what she wanted. Deciding to relish the moment for just a fraction longer, you raised your other hand to her face, gripping her chin and tilting her face up to look at you as you pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, “How badly do you want it?”

Huffing out a breath, an almost pained expression formed on Natasha’s face at your question, unable to stop the impulsive rock of her hips against your hand in a bid for more of your touch, “Don’t be a tease.”

“Answer my question.”

As you circled your fingers over her again and added more pressure, Natasha released what sounded like a growl and you could see that she was reluctant to admit to just how much she wanted you, “Are you really going to make me beg for it?”

You grinned back at her, never ceasing the lazy movement of your fingers, “That sounds fun.”

“You know I’ll get you back for this.” breathed out Natasha, still moving her hips impatiently in time with your hand in a futile attempt for more friction where she wanted it.

“Mhmmm, I’m sure you will.” you answered quietly, fingers dipping down a fraction further and circling teasingly around her entrance, “Now tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.”

A frustrated whine rumbled in the back of her throat and she leaned forward so she was able to snag your lower lip between her teeth, biting down harder than before as she gripped your face roughly in her hands and looked back at you, “Put your fingers inside of me, and fuck me hard ... please, I’m begging you, I need you.”

Her words were needy and heavy with lust and combined with the frantic look in her eyes they caused a prickly heat of arousal to sweep over your body that made it impossible for you to deny her any longer. In one swift motion you pushed two fingers inside of her, the moan of pleasure that sounded in the room sending a shiver down your spine. Her hands slipped around your neck and she gripped a fistful of your hair as she threw her head back and pushed her body into you. Building up a pace with your fingers you used your other hand to reach up and pull down one of the cups of her bra, leaning forward so that you could take her nipple into your mouth.

She practically purred in approval, holding your head against her as you swirled your tongue over the hardened peak and grazed your teeth over it earning you another moan as she arched her chest further into you. With each curl of your fingers you felt her tighten around you, hips working faster in time with you as she started to chase her release. Desperate pants for breath and loud moans of encouragement were all that could be heard as you curled your digits again, this time stretching your thumb upwards to press against her clit causing Natasha to throw her head back and grip onto you tighter.

Tearing your mouth away from her chest, you looked up at the woman currently unravelling in your lap and the sight of her alone could have made you come yourself. In all the time you had known Natasha you had always thought she was beautiful but in the throes of passion she was something else all together.

Leaning up so that you could reach, you pressed a sloppy kiss to the underside of her chin as you pumped your fingers into her harder, curling them again and hitting that sweet spot inside of her that pushed her ever closer to the edge.

“Oh fuck that feels good.” she sighed out, words just about coherent in between heavy breaths, “God don’t stop, I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”

Every word that left her lips was exactly what you wanted to hear and more, and combined with the heavy breaths and frantic moans you were sure you would never hear anything quite so incredible for the rest of your life. You could feel her beginning to clamp around your fingers, her legs tightening either side of your thighs and a noticeable tremble to her body. It was obvious she was close and you wanted nothing more than to feel her cry out in satisfaction and come around your fingers.

“You are so fucking sexy right now.” you praised, reaching up and pinching her nipple hard between your thumb and forefinger, “I wanna see you come for me ... that’s it.”

Your encouragement seemed the only thing she needed to tip her over the edge as with a final curl of your fingers and a firm press of your thumb against her clit, she arched her back further into you as she clamped her legs around you and her body shuddered as her orgasm washed over her. Natasha dropped her head to your shoulder, balling your shirt into her fists as a loud moan of your name sounded throughout the room. You were positive that you would never feel something so good for the rest of your life as she slowed the movement of her hips, riding out her orgasm as she came down from her high.

Lifting her head from your shoulder after a few moments, Natasha pulled you towards her and crashed her lips into yours, arms wrapping around your neck and holding your body to her own as she kissed you urgently. She released a soft sigh as you removed your hand from her panties so that you could snake your arms around her waist, running your hands eagerly over her skin.

When she finally broke the kiss, there was a wide grin plastered on her face, brushing her nose over your own before pushing you forcefully in the chest so you toppled back against the mattress. She removed herself from your lap, rising to her feet before kicking her heels carelessly across the room, “Clothes off, now.”

You returned the smile as she stepped back towards the edge of the mattress and you started to work on the buttons of your shirt.

“And I wouldn’t look so happy about it either.” stated Natasha flatly as she reached behind her back to snap open her bra, “You can be sure I’m about to have my revenge.”

Swallowing nervously, the smile didn’t falter from your face despite her threat. If there was one thing you were fairly certain of, it was that you were definitely going to enjoy Natasha’s idea of revenge.

2K notes · View notes