#who knows. i just didn't want to try to draw eyes or a complicated costume lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abimess · 2 years

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Forbidden - Part 1

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Main Masterlist | Be notified of my stories

Summary: Meeting the perfect woman at a party has three complications: 1) you're married; 2) she's your student; 3) she’s too good to let go.

Word count: 7.648 || Pronouns: she/her

Warnings: (a lot of) smut [18+ only!], alcohol

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

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You got to the party a few minutes before the time you scheduled with Tony, and the place was already crowded. The loud music pounding on the speakers and the smell of alcohol and smoke did nothing to encourage you to enter that hell of a place. But you remember your brother’s convincing - or rather, annoying - arguments, and you sigh softly, putting your hands in the pants pockets of your red suit as you walk in.

“You need to have some fun, man, you look like you were hit by a car.” The man had said the other day, laughing softly, and you left out the fact that you’ve been quite unable to sleep or eat properly as you told him you were just busy with work. The argument was of no use, of course, since Tony insisted it was just another reason to celebrate, since you finally got the job you wanted for so long.

Xavier Institute is the most respected art college in the country and one of the best in the world. Working there has been a dream of yours since you graduated, and Tony, who has known you forever and kept track of all your efforts, insisted that you celebrate the realization of this dream together.

But you looked for the man everywhere and found no sign of him. You think about going home, but you've already gone through all the work of getting here and the effort of coming up with a costume. So you sigh softly, and make your way to the bar to get yourself something to drink, checking your phone to see if you got any text from your brother but finding no notifications at all.

As you wait for your drink by the bar, you try to fit as comfortably as possible into the cluster of people around the counter, and the pair beside you catches your attention. The first one that draws your attention is the girl. She wears a set of tight-fitting dark red clothes - pants and a long-sleeved blouse - with several black details and runes drawn on them, covered by a half-skirt of the same color. Her dark hair is covered with an orange dye made not to last long, and the wavy locks are held by some sort of crown that goes all the way down to her cheekbones, accentuating them. And she's absolutely breathtaking.

As for the other person, it’s a guy dressed up in a lazy attempt at a Michael Myers costume, with a faded gray jumpsuit, a generic white mask, and his hair thrown back with exorbitant amounts of gel. The boy holds a plastic knife in one hand, using the other to lean on the bar counter, approaching the girl as he talks on and on. It's not hard to deduce from her body language that he's bothering her, and her annoyed expression behind the tight smile lets you know he's been doing it for quite some time.

“I think everyone liked you better when you didn't talk.” Your comment takes not only the two strangers by surprise, but also yourself. Maybe what they say is true, maybe dressing up as something or someone you’re not really changes you - or rather, makes you feel comfortable enough to be who you really are. In any case, you keep your posture unfazed, playing with your glass between your fingers.

“And who are you anyway?” The Michael Myers dude asks, his tone as annoyed as his stance. “Just someone who can read the room.” You answer calmly as you shrug your shoulders, signing to the girl in between you and him as you say, “she's clearly bothered by your presence, buddy, so why don’t you just leave the girl alone?”

The man turns his mask-covered face to the girl then, but she just keeps her eyes forward, the small smirk at the corner of her lips being the only indication that she’s listening to the conversation. So he grumbles disgruntledly, stomping away like a spoiled child.

“Thanks for that.” Says the girl when the boy is away, turning her body slightly to face you. “Not needed but appreciated.” She adds with a raised eyebrow, to make sure you know she’s no damsel in distress, and you smile, nodding slightly. “Oh, trust me, he was bothering me too.” You say as you take a sip of your drink, watching her look at you in a mixture of curiosity and confusion as the citric drink slides down your throat. “I was trying to build up the courage to talk to you when he showed up.”

“Is that so?” The girl asks in an amused tone, her smirk growing as she leans her elbow on the counter, her hand supporting the side of her face as she eyes you intently. “Yeah…” You confirm, admiring the black nail polish on her neatly done fingernails. “It's been a while since I've done the whole flirting thing, especially with a woman as beautiful as you.” You risk it and the girl scrunches her nose before she says, humorously, “a bit rusty.”

“Very rusty.” You add with a grimace, making the girl giggle as you take a long sip of your drink. “I’m sorry.” You grumble as you shake your head, a bit embarrassed, and miss the way the stranger smiles sweetly at you. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Her comment makes you look back at her again, and your eyes fall to her lips as she bites them in a smile.

“I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself with an easy smile, offering her your hand. “Wanda.” She tells as she holds your hand with her smooth one, and you let out a hum of satisfaction at the beautiful name. “Oh, Princess Wanda, daughter of the founder of Kraków, Poland.”

“I didn’t know that.” Wanda says with an amused smile, taking a sip of her drink, holding her glass with her featherlike fingers that were previously on yours. “I know a thing or two.” You comment with a playful shrug, making her giggle softly. “It’s a pretty name. You’re from Poland?”

“Sokovia.” She corrects you, and you click your tongue, grimacing slightly at your own mistake. “Close.” You murmur behind the rim of your glass, and Wanda watches you intently, taking a sip of her drink. “Very smart for a devil.” She jokes about your costume - red suit and dark makeup -, and you let out a short laugh before shaking your head. “Oh no, I’m not a devil. Too overrated. I’m just a demon.”

“What kind of demon?” Wanda asks with a raised eyebrow, and you smirk as you shrug your shoulders. “I guess you’ll have to find out.” Your comment makes her smirk back at you, taking her glass to her red lips and finishing it in one sip, and you waste no time in offering, “can I buy you a drink, Wanda?”

“Only if you’ll dance with me after it.” Her answer is quick and provoking, and you smile with satisfaction as you agree. “Deal.”

And then you buy yourselves another round of drinks, and you keep the conversation going with such an ease that surprises the two of you. As the talk goes on, you realize Wanda is smart and funny and the more time you spend with her, the closer you want to get to her. She doesn’t seem bothered by your approaches in the slightest, smirking at all the excuses you find to touch her body.

When the new set of drinks is finished, she grabs you by the hand to take you to the dance floor, so energetically commenting on how she loves the song that’s currently playing, and you giggle softly as you intertwine your fingers with hers. Wanda doesn’t let go of your hand once you get there. In fact, she uses it to pull you even closer to her.

You’re not much of a dancer, honestly, but you let the alcohol in your system move your body to the rhythm of the music. Wanda is not shy about pressing her body on yours, fitting her ass on your front as she dances to the music. So you let your hands roam her body boldly, feeling your skin tingle with every sound you draw from her.

At some point she turns to you again, her face so close to yours that your noses are brushing, and her pupils are so dilated you can barely see the green of her eyes anymore. So you allow the adrenaline and lust to take over you, and you press your lips to hers firmly, your hands on the sides of her face to pull her close. Wanda whimpers in surprise, holding the front of your shirt tightly as she matches the kiss just as eagerly, pulling you closer.

With your hand on the back of her neck, you take the other to her waist, deepening the kiss and sliding your tongue against hers with intent. The girl moans helplessly against your mouth, feeling her knees buckle as you dominate her with such ease, her hands moving to your shoulders looking for some kind of support.

When air is needed, you move your kisses to her jaw and neck, sucking on her skin and smoothing it with your tongue. Wanda shudders with every touch, moving one of her hands to your hair, gripping it tightly to encourage you to keep going, her whimpers and sighs against your ear almost muffled by the loud music.

Pushing your body forwards, you move together until her back hits the nearest wall, your torso pressed to hers even closer now. Moving your face up again, your mouth meets hers again in a kiss so hungry that Wanda’s head spins, her entire body surrendering to you as she kisses you back.

With one hand firmly on her waist, you take the other to her thigh, pulling her leg up to your hip and setting your thigh in between hers. The girl whimpers against your lips at the sudden pressure, her hips jerking down to press her center even further to yours, one of her hands on your neck as the other holds your arm for stability.

Wanda keeps moving her hips against you, looking for some friction to help her ease the aching in her core. To assist her, you tense up the muscle in your thigh, sucking her tongue as she moans against your mouth. Her warmth against your leg grows to the point of almost burning your leg underneath your suit, and you would’ve taken her for yourself right then and there if at that moment someone hadn't bumped into you, reminding you that you were in the middle of a party surrounded by hundreds of people.

You slow down the kiss, both of your hands on her waist as you pull your leg away. Wanda whimpers slightly, displeased by the lack, so you smile softly as you move your face away from her. The smile falters, however, when you open your eyes again and see her lips puffy from kissing so hard, and her eyes locked on yours with such desire that it’s hard to remember why you ever stopped in the first place.

“My apartment is close by.” She comments as she moves closer, keeping her lips so close to yours that they brush as she speaks. “Lead the way.” You request as you move your hands down and squeeze her ass harshly, pressing her further against you. Wanda grunts at the delicious pain, taking your lower lip between her teeth and pulling it harshly, to the point of stinging. You hiss softly, but before you could kiss her again, she’s pulling away, and holding your hand to guide you out of the crowded party.

The air outside is as cold as it can be for that time of the night, but both your bodies are so warm you barely notice it. As Wanda asks for a lift on an app on her phone, you’re busy giving her a hard time, fitting your body behind hers and moving her hair to the side so you can have free access to her neck. The girl complains about not being able to focus, but you just keep kissing her skin underneath her ear, smiling as you hear her sigh.

With the ride on its way, Wanda teases you back by pushing her ass against your center, smirking as she feels you groaning against her skin. In response, you spin her by the waist, and kiss her lips with such intent that soon her legs are giving in again. You keep your mouth on hers until the car arrives, and the two of you get in the backseat with puffy lips and messy clothes.

Wanda can’t wait for the car to arrive to give wet kisses and nibbles on your neck, and you can’t wait for her to open the front door to press her body against yours, your teeth on her earlobe and your hands on her hips. But as soon as all that is done, her mouth is back on yours, devouring each other as if that was the last meal you would ever have.

You press her against the door as soon as you’re inside the apartment, your leg back in between hers as your mouth finds her once more. Wanda sighs against your lips, moving her fingers to the front of your body, unbuttoning your shirt before she’s even taken off your suit jacket. But as soon as she’s done, she pushes it all at once down your shoulders, and you let your garments slide to the ground as you move your kisses to her jaw.

With your hands back on hers, you pull her up by the thighs, her legs wrapping around your waist at the same instant. Moving your fingers down to the sides of her body, you loosen the claps that kept her skirt secured around her hips, letting the item fall to the ground as you hold her tight, walking with her around the apartment.

Wanda tries to guide you as best as she can with your mouth on her neck and her hands on your bare back. But the two of you manage to get to her bedroom - some bumping into furniture and stopping against walls later -, and you lay her on the mattress as soon as you get there.

Her pants are what you take off first, and Wanda moves her feet to get free of her boots before the piece of clothing reaches her ankles. On your knees facing her, your mouth water at the sight of her bare legs, a red underwear covering her center. You take your time kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs, hearing her sigh as you approach her core, her legs pulling apart instinctively.

But before you reach your destination, Wanda places her fingers under your chin, pulling you up so she can kiss you again. With your hands on her hips, you pull her closer, kissing her hungrily as your fingers venture underneath her blouse, pulling the fabric as your hands slide up her back.

The girl moves her face away from yours so she can get rid of the garment, tossing it somewhere on the floor along with the rest of the clothes. It's hard to take your eyes off her breasts covered by nothing but a red lace bra, and Wanda bites her lower lip in a smile as she watches your hungry gaze on her, moving her hands to the front of your pants.

Her fingers work on your belt with such ease that you only realize what she’s done when she throws the item on the bedroom floor, her hands returning to your pants to unbutton them. As you stand up again to get rid of your pants, Wanda lies down, leaning on her elbows, and the sight makes the knot below your belly grow tighter.

As you lie on top of her, your body fitting into hers perfectly, Wanda takes her hands to your back, her legs wrapping around your waist as her fingertips slide against your skin. You barely have time to kiss her again, because soon the woman is pulling your sports top up, and you have to move away to pass it through your head.

Not wanting to be left behind, you move your lips to her jaw, your fingers finding the clasp of her bra and undoing it with one move. Wanda’s hands let go of you as she takes the item off, and you’re unable to resist the temptation to pull away to look at her, gasping softly at the sight of her naked torso underneath you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Wanda’s cheeks get rosier underneath her heavy makeup, smiling softly as she pulls you down again to slide her tongue on yours. Holding her by the waist, you fit your knee in between her legs, making her moan against your mouth, instantly starting to move her hips against you in search of some friction.

Deciding you’ve been too long without tasting more of her, you move your kisses down, leaving purple marks on every piece of skin you can find, her whimpers filling the room as you make each one of them. Wanda’s back arches against yours as your lips wrap around her nipple, licking and sucking until it stiffens inside your mouth.

Her hands move to your hair, gripping it and keeping you exactly where she wants you to be. Pressing your leg harder against her, you take your mouth to her other breast, giving it equal attention, smirking as you feel her wetness growing on your bare thigh. It doesn’t take long for her to grow impatient, pushing your head down, and it takes even less for you to obey, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her stomach.

When you reach her lower part, you hold her legs open for you, your eyes locked on hers as you lean down, watching her biting her lips harshly in anticipation as you kiss her center covered by the thin red fabric, her taste and scent making you roll your eyes as you grunt in satisfaction. The vibration makes Wanda whimper lowly, closing her eyes for a second, and you’re sure you’ve never seen a sight as beautiful as this one.

Wrapping your fingers around her panties, you pull them down until it slides down her legs, and make your way back up to her center as you place soft kisses along her inner thighs. Wanda’s breath hitches as you bite her skin tightly, and a loud moan rips out of her throat as you sink your face into her, your tongue savoring her pussy hungrily and collecting her juices.

As you suck her clit expertly, Wanda’s hand takes a hold of your hair, keeping your mouth exactly where she wants it to be, as the other one grips the sheets tightly. You slide your tongue along her folds, her sweet taste making your palate tingle, your core throbbing.

“Oh, yeah- fuck, don’t stop.” She lets out in between moans and whimpers, the grip on your head getting tighter as you sink your tongue inside her, your nose brushing against her clit making her see stars behind her closed eyelids. You had no intention of stopping anyways, eating her out as if your life depends on it, devouring her with everything you have.

You hold her thighs open for you as her body begins to shake, her orgasm approaching her as her moans become louder. You keep your movements steady, guiding her through her high as her back arches, her cum dripping down your chin as she thrusts her hips forwards.

Her hand makes a bit of pressure against your head, asking you to stop. But even then you don’t pull away, licking her clean, her juices running down your throat and making you feel complete. “Y/n, please-ah.” She hisses at the overstimulation, but you slide the tip of your tongue on her clit lightly.

It doesn't take long for Wanda to be ready for another, her hips jerking against you as her hand tightens on your hair again. This time, you wrap your tongue around her clit, thrusting two fingers inside her without warning, making her scream at the delicious intrusion, her walls pounding against your digits.

“Oh, fuck, so good. I’m gonna-” Her second orgasm gets to her much faster, and before the words even come out she’s squirming against your touch, her walls clenching around your fingers and her cum dripping onto the sheets. “P-please, it’s too much.” She begs in a whiny voice, her hand weekly trying to pull you away from her throbbing pussy.

But this time you obey, slowly making your way back up to her, your mouth kissing her body as she tries to regain the rhythm of her breathing. You kiss her as soon as you reach her, your tongue sliding sensually against hers and making her shudder, a low moan escaping her as she tastes herself in your mouth.

When air is needed, you move your lips to her neck. But they don’t stay there for long, because soon Wanda is placing her hands on your shoulders, and reversing your positions on the bed. “It’s my turn now.” She says huskily against your lips, and you smirk as she kisses you again, far from being opposed to it.

As she fits more comfortably on top of you, her core fits perfectly against your own, a moan leaving your lips as you grab her waist on reflex. Wanda smirks against your mouth, moving her hip experimentally and shuddering when you whimper for more, trapping your lip in between her teeth.

She pulls away from you just to remove your underwear - at this point completely soaked -, and soon is back to her original position, pressing her pussy against yours, ripping moans from the both of you in the process. Your whole body warms up as she starts to rub against you, your juices mixing with hers and providing the perfect friction.

You hold her hips to help her guide her movements, her legs growing shaky as she starts to move faster. The scene as a whole takes you to cloud nine, Wanda’s breasts bouncing as she rubs herself against you, her mouth half-open as she moans, her eyes ajar. You wanted to get up and take one of her rosy nipples inside your mouth, but her hands on your stomach keep you in place, her nails digging into your skin.

She reaches her high a second after you do, your moans filling the room as your cums mix together. When she can’t take it anymore, Wanda collapses against you, her face hidden in the crook of your neck as her arm wraps around your middle, her breathing completely out of rhythm. You run your hands down her back soothingly, and not long after she’s lifting her head again, and kissing you slowly enough to send a chill down your spine.

A smirk makes its way to her lips as your hand squeezes her ass, and you take no time in reversing your positions again, desperate to taste her once more.

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You wake up to an empty bed, but the frown only remains on your face until you find a folded towel on the end of the mattress, along with a set of clothes and a note that says “meet me in the kitchen when you’re done xoxo.” With a groan, you stand up, but instead of the clothes Wanda saved for you, you collect your own - now placed in a pile on the chair in front of Wanda's desk.

Before going to the bathroom, a set of picture frames catches your attention. In one of them, you see Wanda and a boy about her age, his hair platinum, sitting on what seems to be a long grassy field. On another, you see her with the same boy, accompanied by an older man, the three of them sitting on a brown couch. The last picture of the three makes you laugh through your nose as you see Wanda and two other girls making funny faces for the photo at what looks like a New Year's Eve party.

You imagine those are her family and friends, and you can’t help but smile at her in all of them, enamored with her beauty in absolutely all those settings. But you shake your head to keep the thoughts and the sleep away, holding your clothes against your body as you move to her bathroom.

Some minutes later, you’re back in your suit and entering the kitchen, smiling at Wanda’s figure with her back at you, stirring something on the stove, her body covered by only a long sweater. Her damp hair is now in its natural brown, like the ones you'd seen in the photographs in her room. And as all the other times you’ve seen her until now, breathtaking.

“Morning.” You say as you wrap your hands around her waist, kissing her shoulder. “Morning.” Wanda says back with an easy smile that fades away when she spins on her heels to face you. “You’re not wearing the clothes I sorted for you.” Her eyes go down on your figure for half a second, figuring you're already leaving, and you have to hold back a smile at her disappointed frown.

“I can’t stay for long, I'm waiting for the moving truck to deliver this morning.” You explain, apologetically, and Wanda nods slowly in understanding. “Will you have breakfast with me at least?” The brunette asks with puppy dog eyes, and you’d have been unable to say no to her anyways. “Of course.” The grin she offers you is blinding before she leans forward, and you let out a giggle as you kiss her back.

You help her set the table and finish the food she was making before you eat together, the entire process surrounded by light conversation or just some comfortable silence. You exchange smiles every time your eyes meet, and Wanda tries to stop herself from creating so many expectations with this stranger she met at a party.

She knows she shouldn’t. This was most likely just a one-night stand, as it was supposed to be. But there was something about you that she wanted to know more of, to keep closer. Anyhow, she’d obviously not tell you any of that, keeping on with the casual conversation until the breakfast ends.

“You don’t have to-” She starts when she sees you washing the dishes, but you pull a dismissive face. “It’s okay, I still have some time.” You assure her with your hands already covered in soap, smiling when she still looks uncertain, “I insist.” She smiles in gratitude, kissing your lips softly before moving around the kitchen to put everything back in its place.

“Thank you.” The brunette says when everything is done, wrapping her arms around your shoulders after you’ve wiped your hands on the dishcloth. “No problem.” You assure before kissing her softly, feeling her smile against your lips. The kiss soon grows deeper, your tongue meeting hers as you press her against the kitchen counter.

“I thought you had to leave.” Wanda teases as you move your mouth to her neck, biting her lip tightly when you bite her sensitive skin over the mark you’ve made last night. “I do but you’re so fucking irresistible.” You groan against her skin, feeling her neck vibrating as she chuckles.

Before the brunette can even process, you’re already on your knees, sinking your face in between her legs in kissing her center covered by a new piece of underwear. “Y/n, what-” Her question is cut short by a moan as you move the fabric to the side, sliding your tongue along her folds, already soaked from you kissing her like that a moment ago.

“Oh, fuck.” Wanda’s hands find the marble for support as you eat her out, her knuckles getting whiter as her legs grow weaker. But you hold her up, a leg over your shoulder, as you suck her clit, tasting her on your tongue. Soon one of the brunette’s hands leaves the counter to grip your hair tightly, making you groan against her pussy.

The vibration is enough to send her over the edge, spilling her juices on your mouth as her moans escape her throat, the sounds muffled to you by her thighs squeezing your head. When she’s sure she can’t take it anymore, Wanda pushes your head lightly, her stomach twisting with desire as she watches you come back to your feet, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, a smirk on your lips.

“Let me return the favor.” She requests with her lips brushing against yours, her hands on the collar of your blouse. “Hmm maybe some other time, I really gotta go now.” You say with your hands on her waist, but Wanda is already moving her lips down to your jaw, taking your earlobe in between her teeth and making you shudder. “Fuck, you’re not helping.”

“I have no intention of helping.” She chuckles mischievously against your neck, and you have to muster all your strength to pull away. “I have to go.” You insist, and the only thing bringing comfort to Wanda now is that you sound as disappointed about it as she is. So she nods in understanding, and offers to walk you to the door.

“I left my phone number on your nightstand.” You let her know when you’re already on the other side of the door, holding back a smile when you see her sketching an eager one. “I’ll call you.” The brunette promises as she leans against the open door, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling this time. “I’ll be waiting.”

Wanda lets out a giggle at your response, so cute that you can’t stop yourself from moving closer to her again and kissing her hard. The brunette laughs softly against your mouth as she matches the kiss, but before she’d like, you’re pulling away again and saying goodbye for good this time. And Wanda watches you walk away until you disappear into the elevator.

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"And this is your office." Says the redhead as she walks you into the hugest room you've ever worked in, and you try not to feel so small there. "You'll get used to the space, honestly, some of us even manage to fill them with crap." She jokes as she sees your wide-eyed expression, and you let out a laugh as you nod in understanding.

After the weekend of the party, it was all about going back to the real world. Moving to Westview was exhausting and with every little thing that went wrong, you found yourself thinking maybe you should've left part of your belongings in New York. Your entire family still lives there anyways, it's not like you wouldn't have someone to keep an eye on your stuff for you. Besides, settling into a new job was always a challenge and the amount of bureaucracy got your head pounding every time.

Luckily for you, Tony - who had come to spend a few days in Westview to help you out with your moving - was by your side to give you support and the company you needed, even if he kept teasing you about your secret one-night stand.

"We don't have to talk about it, Tony, please, just let this go." You grumbled when the arguments about him abandoning you - because he was too busy sleeping with the cop that had stopped him that night - didn't work anymore, and your brother chuckled to himself before helping you empty yet another box.

And speaking of the brunette, it's been four days and Wanda hasn't called or texted. It's fine, you think to yourself. Maybe it's better that way. You already had too many things going on in your life, you could run away from trouble. At least that's what you repeated in your head every time you checked your phone and saw nothing.

"It's great. Thank you, Professor Romanoff." You say with a polite smile towards the redhead, who offers you a playful one in return. "Oh, please, there's no need for formalities, Natalia is just fine." She comments, waving her hands, and you let out a somewhat embarrassed giggle before telling her she could do the same.

After that, you and the Russian Professor chat some more, and she only leaves many minutes later - not before assuring you a few times that you could come to her if you needed anything, which made you smile with slightly rosy cheeks. And, finally alone, you busy yourself putting your new office together.

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Wanda saved your number on her phone the very moment she found the paper laying on her nightstand - smiling a silly smile as she saw the signature “from your daemon” under it.

But she only has the guts to text you on Friday, after some annoying insistence from her best friends, Kate and Yelena. She apologized for taking so long, but didn't explain the reason for the delay was that she was panicking too hard when she asked if you'd like to do something on Saturday - because Yelena had been too energetic on how she should ask you out at once.

And although you said you were happy she texted, you apologized for not being able to see her that Saturday, since you were still busy with the moving and adjusting to your new job. Still, you asked her out for the other weekend, and even though the brunette was upset she wouldn't get to see you as soon as she expected, she agreed to the date with a smiling emoji.

But it's still Tuesday and Wanda would have to wait another four days to see you again. At least classes were distracting enough, she thought to herself as she walked through the university corridors, listening to a story Yelena was telling about one of the times she went to visit her parents on their farm that was making Kate’s eyes water from laughing so hard.

"Oh my god, she's here." The brunette cuts her friend off as soon as they walk into the classroom, her eyes widening as she sees the one she least expected to see, you. With your face in profile to the door, checking some papers on your desk and wearing a blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up and beige pants, with prescription glasses on your face that Wanda didn't even know you needed. And you looked even more charming than you did that night at the party.

"Where?" Kate and Yelena ask at the same time - at this point they don’t even have to ask since all Wanda talks about these days is you-, their eyes running with curiosity among the few students that were already in the classroom. But Wanda just tapped Kate’s arm - who was closest to her -, unable to say or do anything other than that. Not long after, the two girls follow the glazed eyes of their friend towards the desk in the front of the room. "The Professor?!"

"Shut up!" The brunette finally moves, holding Yelena’s arm for her to speak quieter, and the blonde makes an apologetic grimace before taking her eyes to you again. "My God, how old is she?" Kate asks with amusement and furrowed brows, and Wanda crosses her arms in front of her body, moving her feet so she’s with her back turned to you. "She's not much older than us." The brunette answers, but noticing her friends still have their eyes on you, she sighs impatiently. “And stop staring!”

"Go talk to her." Yelena suggests when she looks back at Wanda - not before exchanging an amused glance with Kate. "Are you kidding me? I can't just go there and talk to her!" The brunette argues matter-of-factly, but the blonde has an equally disbelieving expression as she answers. "Are you kidding me? A few nights ago she had her mouth on yo-"

"Yelena!" Wanda talks over her friend with cheeks on fire, looking around to see if any of her classmates - or worse, you - had heard the conversation. But everyone seems busy enough with their own interaction and activities to pay attention to what she and her friends were talking about, so the brunette sighs tiredly, ignoring the other two girls’ laughter to say, "Come on, let's sit down."

Wanda can’t help but glance at you as they look for a place to sit, her heart stopping for a second every time you make the tiniest movement and she thinks your eyes will finally meet hers. But they never do, and the brunette is left to wonder what you would do if you spotted her in the middle of the room. Would you be shocked to see her as much as she was? Would you care? Would you wave at her? Ignore her completely?

"What's her name again?" Kate asks when they’re all finally seated - not on the first rolls but also not so far in the back -, waking Wanda up from her thoughts. “Did you really not memorize it after Wanda talked about her a thousand times?” Yelena hits back with humor, but the brunette just ignores her friends with her cheeks slightly warm, busing herself with taking her stuff out of her bag. "Y/n."

"Last name?" Kate asks again, typing something on her phone. And this time Wanda freezes for a heartbeat of a second, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I don't know."

"Dude, you took her to our place and you don't even know her full name?" Yelena asks with raised eyebrows, earning from Wanda an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders. "Brave." The brunette jokes with a snort and Kate is not late to retort, "I think the word you're looking for is horny."

"Good afternoon, class." You’re speaking before Wanda can tell her friends to fuck off, and the brunette’s attention is immediately completely on the front of the class. "I'm Y/n Stark and I'll be your professor on the History of Arts." You introduce yourself as your eyes scan the room, trying to memorize the students' faces, until they finally rest on her.

Wanda holds her breath as your face changes to something she interprets as astonishment. But soon there’s a small, discreet smile on your lips that fades away as you go back to looking around. A smile that belongs only to her, she thinks, and the redness goes back to her cheeks as she looks down, missing the way Yelena and Kate exchanged knowing glances from their seats.

"I know that Professor Frigga had already structured the semester with you before her retirement, but I will show you some changes that I intend to make. But, before we get there, any questions?" You go back to talking, looking around for any raised hands. Wanda has, indeed, a lot of questions. Not a single one she can make right now, however, so she keeps her arm down, her eyes locked on your figure.

"Uh, Wands…" Kate calls out lowly enough for only her to be able to hear, her eyes on her phone. The brunette turns her face to her friend discreetly, frowning as she sees the weird expression she makes. "Professor Stark?" A boy she doesn’t know speaks before she can, and her eyes are drawn back to the front of the room with curiosity.

"Yes, Mr…?" You ask, dragging out your last word for the boy to complete. "Mr. Morales." The boy says, lowering his hand as you nod your head in understanding, encouraging him to continue. "Is it true you're married to Carol Danvers?" The question triggers several murmurs around the classroom - now nearly full -, but Wanda can barely listen to anything, her face going pale as she stares at you.

You’re married? No, you can’t be married. That’s impossible. Not after that night at that party. Not after all the things you’ve done together-

"Uh, yes.” Your voice speaks louder than the thoughts inside her head, and Wanda can’t help but let out a disbelieving gasp. Your eyes meet hers for half a second as you speak, but the brunette turns her face away immediately, locking them on the empty page of her opened notebook. “Yes, it's true, Mr. Morales, but I think it's best if we let personal matters aside during our classes, yes?" You end the discussion - which doesn’t help much with the muttering and whispering -, before turning to the board. "So, as I was saying…"

You go on with the class, but Wanda is unable to pay attention to a single thing, her head and heart competing to see who races faster. How could you do that to her? You never said a thing, you weren’t even wearing a ring. Did you have a ring? She’s sure you weren’t wearing any. But you run your fingers through your hair now, and the golden piece shines under the strong lights of the room, making her stomach turn. She still couldn’t believe it.

"Who's Carol Danvers?" The question escapes her mouth before she can hold it back, shifting her hurt gaze between her friends. "How the hell you don't know who Carol Danvers is?" Yelena speaks first, her eyebrows raised in disbelief, but the brunette ignores her completely as she watches Kate googling something on her phone. "She's the Captain of the U.S. Football League."

"The best player of the season." Yelena adds with excitement that soon turns to embarrassment as Wanda glares at her. "Sorry." The blonde mumbles with her arms crossed, but the brunette says no more, leaning to her side when Kate shows her her phone. There, Wanda can see a few pictures of the two of you, both at events and in paparazzi photos. And you look happy, smiling and holding hands, sharing hugs in some of them. When a specific picture of the two of you kissing, the brunette looks away, letting out a long sigh as her eyes return to you.

She wasn’t sure how exactly she was feeling about it all. But as the minutes dragged by, her hurt was being replaced by anger, until the point her jaw was locked so tightly her teeth could crack at any moment now, her arms tightly crossed and, if looks could kill, you’d be lying dead on the floor. And she’s sure you noticed, because you only dared to look at her a few times, soon looking away until your eyes never found hers again.

When the class came to an end, Wanda was the first to stand up, striding to your desk with her hand holding the strap of her bag. Yelena and Kate exchange worried - and somewhat curious - glances, but they decide to give their friend the moment she needs with you, so they walk to the door along with the rest of the students, glancing at their friend as she makes her way to you.

“Professor Stark, can I speak to you for a second?” Wanda’s voice sounds by your side as you put your belongings back in your messenger bag, and your stomach sinks for a moment, your heart beating faster. But you don’t look up at her, taking your eyes to your wristwatch instead. “I’m sorry, Miss Maximoff, but I have another class in ten minutes and-”

“Y/n.” The brunette interrupts you through gritted teeth, her eyes burning the side of your face. So you sigh softly in surrender, finally looking up at her. She looks as beautiful as she does in your memory, the marks on her neck that she’s failed to cover up completely making your insides turn conflictingly. But she looks so hurt you can’t stare at her for too long, averting your gaze to the door before bringing it back to her again.

“Yes?” You ask in a low voice, the silence growing between you as the students leave the room and Wanda tries to figure out what to say next. “You lied to me.” That’s what she decides on, her eyes watering with hurt. “Technically, I never said I wasn’t married.” You say in a failed attempt to lighten the mood, earning yourself a disbelieving laugh.

“You used me.” She stresses the word, hurt dripping down her tone as she sniffles back her angry tears. “I trusted you. I thought…” Her voice dies down as she lets out another laugh completely devoid of humor, looking away from you. “You thought what?” You ask with a bit of expectation that shouldn’t even be there in the first place, your brows furrowed.

“Never mind, it’s stupid.” That’s her answer as she turns her back on you, making her way to the door. “Wanda, wait.” You call out as you pick up the pace, placing yourself in front of her to stop her from leaving. And although she does, she looks down at the ground, and you feel your mouth going dry, your heart pounding in your ears. “It doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.”

“What, you wanna fuck me when you’re too bored of fucking your wife?” The brunette hits back angrily, taking a defiant step toward you. You take a step back, shaking your head eagerly. “It’s not-”

“Fuck you, professor.” Wanda interrupts you with her teeth gritted and her eyes watery. She sidesteps you, her shoulder slamming into yours roughly. And this time, when she makes her way to the door, you don’t stop her.

Part 2

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff au

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aphrodites-law · 4 years

Text

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (10/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]

The play wasn't horrible by any stretch of the imagination. It was the most fun Clarke had had in a long time. She laughed so hard at parts that tears sprung to her eyes and her cheeks started to hurt by the end of it. The 1920s décor and costumes were stunning, the performances captivating, and the story the perfect balance between humor and social commentary. Even Lexa, who already knew the jokes and twists, still laughed loudly.

Clarke took as much joy from the sound as she did the play. When the curtain fell for the last time and the lights fully came on, she looked over at Lexa and found herself captivated. Lexa was still clapping for her cousin’s success, her face beaming with pride, and Clarke couldn’t really explain why it made her adore this woman so much more.

"Are you hungry?" Lexa asked her.

Clarke nodded mutely, unsure what to do with the intensity of her feelings. She let Lexa take her hand and lead her out of the theater, where the crowd spilled out of the great glass doors.

Cocoa Street was the longest street in Costial, cutting through the city in a curving fashion. Clarke's favorite part was the food trucks; rows of them on both sides with their own specialties and flair. You could very well order duck à l'orange with mashed pumpkin at one truck and a burger with fries at the next one. The Italian ice cream truck was between the rival crab cake trucks and the Noodle Brothers were right next to the Pizza Sisters. There were lines wherever you went, sometimes even street performers to soften the blow of the waiting time. It was absurd and it was wonderful.

They ate Chicago-style hot dogs and curly fries, slowly walking down the street as they laughed about the play. Lincoln had relied on alternate history to weave the visions into his tale, using them for comedic effect in the more dramatic beats. A secondary character had one in the middle of a monologue, suddenly passing out while a crowd rushed over to him. The visions were reenacted with tricks of light and masked characters, reminiscent of interpretive dances.

"Okay, I have to ask," Clarke brought up while they meandered down the street. "The castle on the hill - that's the Polis Hotel, right?"

Lexa nodded. "Lincoln has a complicated relationship with his heritage, to say the least. He's keenly aware growing up in a luxury hotel was a great privilege, but it also messed with his head. He basically shared a home with thousands of strangers for eighteen years."

"I'd always admired Polis from afar, but I can't imagine growing up there. Don't get me wrong, that was one hell of a party, but-"

"It's not a place for a kid," Lexa finished, in agreement.

Clarke ate the last bite of her chocolate waffle and threw the paper in the trash. “You must be pretty familiar with it.”

Lexa glanced at her and smiled. "The cat and I go back."

"Right. That night was a bit intense, even for you."

Lexa let out a laugh, looking away with a hum. "You know, you make me sound quite strange."

Clarke bumped her shoulder. "You pinned me against the staircase - you are strange."

"I didn't… pin you," Lexa replied with a huff. "I was drunk, high off an excellent game of poker… and I saw you. And I needed to be close to you."

Clarke stopped them in the street, grateful they'd left the busy part. "And the Gazette?"

“What about it?”

"You offered me a side job. Just like that."

"Oh," Lexa remembered. "I genuinely thought you'd be good at it. Still do. Your style would be perfect."

That was surprising, but Clarke wasn't convinced. "It wasn't because of your vision?"

"It was a way to talk to you, yes, but I meant it. I know the visions were… well, the reason for this, that they nudged us together, but I'd noticed you drawing before."

They walked a bit further before Clarke took a small breath. "I, uh, may have looked at the pages in older prints."

Lexa glanced at her. "And?"

"It could be fun. I'm just not sure-" Clarke scrunched her nose. "I'm just so rusty. Art is what I got into college for, but then I took up business classes and… I don't know, it just felt so much easier. Don't get me wrong, managing the café kicks my ass every day, but I like the challenges. With drawings, paintings, whatever… it feels like putting your heart on the line each time. And nine times out of ten, your heart ends up getting trampled."

Lexa took her hand to stop her. "I would never suggest you do something that makes you uncomfortable. If it's truly just a hobby to you, a way to pass the time, you should keep it that way."

It wasn't like Clarke hadn't considered it. Drawing, sketching; it came as naturally as breathing. She'd done it since she could hold a pencil and she still did it whenever the world became too loud. It was an escape; a different way of thinking. Her own little world. Illustrating short stories could be a welcome breath of fresh air. A way for her brain to snap away from bills, calls, deliveries, and the hundreds of post-its in her tiny office.

"And for the record," Lexa added as she stepped closer, her voice impossibly soft, "I would very much stand in the way of whoever or whatever would try to trample you."

Clarke grinned, very much aware that, not so long ago, these were not words she could have ever imagined Lexa Woods telling her.

* * *

As she had the last time, Lexa insisted that she walk Clarke back to her apartment. After a night full of laughs, great food, and Lexa's hand in hers, Clarke still didn't have her fill and so didn't tease Lexa too much for also wanting to enjoy every last second. When they made it to her door, Clarke turned around and leaned against it. Tonight couldn't end here.

"By the way, you were wrong earlier. My vision isn't the reason for this." Clarke waited a beat before playing her last hand: "It's not the vision I thought about that night after the rooftop."

Lexa's mouth parted open and she glanced at Clarke's lips.

"I was going to," Clarke continued, "but it didn't hold a candle to how you made me feel when you grabbed my hand."

Lexa swallowed when Clarke reached for her jacket to tug her closer. "How did I make you feel?"

Clarke pulled her in until their foreheads touched. "Warm. Dizzy."

"Dizzy on a rooftop? That's a safety hazard."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you trying to make me laugh?"

"They're not mutually exclusive."

They broke into laughter anyway. Lexa leaned in to kiss her, only to stop just as their lips brushed.

"You never told me about your vision," Lexa pointed out. "Not… not exactly."

Clarke smiled, smug. "Oh you want details, hm?"

"I'm a journalist. A thorough account would be nice, yes."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her before crushing their lips together, unbelievably pleased when Lexa moaned and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Shut up, journo," Clarke husked between kisses.

Lexa kissed her with little restraint then, moving until Clarke was pressed against the door. Each one of Lexa's kisses felt like something special; like finally she'd shed her old fears. Clarke didn't even want to think of not being close to Lexa right now. The night couldn't end - not like this. She pulled back and gazed at Lexa, trying to catch her breath.

This close, Clarke could commit to memory every detail of her face. She'd always thought she got a good look at Lexa at the café, even with the counter between them, but it was nothing compared to this. Lexa's lips were full and at their most tempting when slightly parted, betraying her own desire. Her eyes were hooded now, longing, and Clarke had little doubt hers reflected the same want. She threw caution to the wind:

"Come inside?"

Lexa hesitated, visibly torn.

"We don't have to do anything. I have a nice wine we can try. Some of Gus's tartlets left over. We can even sit with the box between us. I just… I don't want tonight to be over yet."

* * *

It was not what she'd had in mind. She swore it. Nevertheless, when Clarke found herself straddling Lexa on her living room couch with the box of tartlets discarded on the floor (the tartlets well finished by then), she couldn't remember why the hell not.

Maybe the air had already been too charged by the time she wiped her thumb over Lexa's lip to catch a crumb there, and maybe Clarke had liked playing with fire, but now she was well on her way to being burned. Lexa's hands palmed her ass while they kissed, but it was the boldest she allowed herself to be and Clarke was quickly reaching her breaking point.

"Touch me," she pleaded between kisses.

Lexa let out a choked moan when Clarke reached for her hand and guided it to her breasts. She paused, looking up. The green in her eyes had darkened, especially in the dim light, and she breathed deeply.

"Clarke…"

"I know, I know, just - something. Anything." Clarke leaned her forehead against Lexa's. "I feel like a fucking teenager."

Lexa let out a small laugh before kissing her sweetly, slowly. It had the soothing effect she had intended, and before Clarke realized it, Lexa had lied her down on her back. She hovered over her, then looked down at her cleavage and pressed her lips against the exposed skin.

"Is that better?" She asked.

"Close…"

Lexa let out a hum against her skin, pressing another kiss lower. Clarke brushed her fingers in Lexa's thick hair, digging just slightly in her scalp, surprised when Lexa let out a small moan and then froze with wide eyes, like Clarke had just found her secret.

"Oh," Clarke breathed out, her smile widening. She repeated the gesture, pressing her fingers just a bit harder.

Lexa immediately grabbed her hands and pinned them down on each side of Clarke's head.

"Don't do that," she warned her, breathless.

Clarke smirked. "I think I will."

"It was just a reflex," Lexa blushed. "It's been a while."

Clarke couldn't help but laugh, happiness bubbling in her chest at how comfortable she felt with Lexa's body slotted between her legs. "Well, I'm very happy to find out whatever draws out those sounds from you."

Lexa seemed to realize just how close they were, locked together with their fingers entwined. And just like the rooftop when she'd suddenly grabbed her hand, her expression changed. Confident. Eager.

She sat back, eyes trailing down Clarke's body before she let go of her hands to touch her thighs.

"You like control, don't you, Clarke?" She asked. She ran her hands up her thighs, caressing them slowly. "But not now."

Clarke nearly lost her breath, not expecting the way Lexa had shifted so quickly from embarrassed to self-assured. She watched as Lexa drank her in, from her bunched up dress to the fast rise and fall of her chest.

"Touch yourself," Lexa told her, and then leaned down to brush her lips against hers. "The way you did after the rooftop."

"Lexa-"

"I want to watch you."

Clarke nodded, her hand trailing down her own body to the bottom of her dress. Lexa watched as she reached beneath the fabric, eager to follow her command. She slid her hand beneath her tights, beneath her underwear, moaning at the relief when she finally touched herself. She knew Lexa could feel her heat; knew they were both reaching a point of no return. It had started when Lexa had kissed her at the start of their date, but Lexa's hands on her ass while they'd kissed had awakened her completely.

Lexa briefly glanced between their bodies, groaning when she saw Clarke's hand moving.

"Is this how you did it?" She asked. "Two fingers?"

Clarke let out an obscene moan, too far gone to care. "Three," she whimpered.

Lexa's jaw clenched, but her control was remarkable. "Did you imagine it on the rooftop? Me inside you against that wall?"

Clarke's eyes squeezed shut as she bit down on her lip. "Yes. Fuck."

She swiped her fingers over her clit, but the angle and her tights restricted most of her movements. She was fairly certain Lexa knew it. Lexa leaned down again, kissing her neck.

"How did I fuck you?" She asked by her ear, one hand reaching up to lightly brush against her breast.

Clarke panted, fighting the unbearable need to penetrate herself. She needed release, and fast, but a part of her was too stubborn to give in just yet.

"You pressed me against the wall," she revealed, burying her face in Lexa's neck. With her free hand, she dug her nails in Lexa's ass, feeling a thrill when Lexa bucked against her. "And then- I… I needed more. I needed you deeper."

"So I turned you around," Lexa guessed, squeezing her nipple over the fabric of her dress.

"I- oh, fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about you inside me; how well you'd fill me," Clarke said, her middle finger trembling from the angle, desperate to inch inside herself.

"Jesus, Clarke," Lexa breathed out in the space between her neck and shoulder. Her lips felt like heaven against her skin. Clarke couldn't get enough.

"Clarke," Lexa repeated, raising her head. "Look at me." It was softer then, more of a plea.

Clarke opened her eyes and felt her movements slow down. It was like experiencing déjà-vu, except of course that was impossible. They'd never done this. But she suddenly realized it had all started here. She'd had her vision on this very couch and here she was - not fulfilling it, exactly, but close. Yet what she'd seen and even felt had never been like this. It had been purely physical - an erotic thrill in her otherwise predictable life. But she hadn't felt her heart beating out of her chest. She'd had a sense it was more intimate than what she was used to, but hadn't been able to quite grasp what that meant. She knew now. Their intensity wasn't so much physical as it was emotional.

She felt safe with Lexa. They still had so much to learn about each other, but she felt safe. And Clarke had never realized the importance of it. Lexa had trusted her with her pain and her heart - that wasn't something Clarke took lightly. It was a feeling not even her vision could have conveyed.

"Fuck, wait, wait, stop," she abruptly panted, pulling her hand out of her underwear.

Lexa backed away immediately, but Clarke sat up to stop her from moving off the couch.

"Lexa, I… I want to be with you," she said, as if remembering her vision had suddenly clarified everything. "When you're ready, I want to be with you completely."

"I want that too." Lexa still seemed confused, or maybe surprised Clarke had done the equivalent of dunking ice cold water atop her own head.

“Right. And - this is fun. I-” Clarke’s eyes briefly closed as she bit her lip. “Fuck I really want to get off-”

Lexa smiled.

“-but not like this.” Clarke reached out to cup her cheeks. “Not without you.” She kissed Lexa briefly, barely a brush of lips, and watched as her eyes followed her every move so tenderly. “Not if I don’t get to touch you too.”

"Clarke…"

Clarke shook her head, kissing her way down Lexa's jaw and neck. "Not if I can't see all of you. Can't hear you moan my name." She licked over Lexa's pulse, enjoying the way her hips bucked against her. "Not if I can't taste you while you come undone."

Lexa pulled back and brushed away some of Clarke's wild strands of hair. "Such words… You should be a journalist."

"I hear they have egos."

"Oh yes, terrible."

"I'm glad I found one that's not so bad then."

They smiled at each other, then took a breath.

"Sorry," Clarke sighed. "I feel like I'm the one giving you whiplash now."

"No, it's only fair. If anything I admire your restraint."

Clarke leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Maybe you'll just have to work harder next time."

Lexa smirked. "I can do that." She glanced at her breasts. "At least I made new friends."

Clarke let out a laugh, enamored. "Alright, well, you and my tits can pick up this conversation another time. I need a shower and if you're not gone in two minutes, I'm definitely dragging you in with me."

Lexa hummed in agreement.

After Clarke walked her to the entrance and watched Lexa put on her shoes and jacket, they lingered in the doorway.

"Thank you for tonight," Clarke said. She had never felt like this before - a part of her desperate to find a way for Lexa to stay. A way to prolong the conversation. To ward off the night so that Lexa and her could just live in this moment a while longer. "The play, the food, this… Everything."

She hoped Lexa felt the same.

"Trust me, it was my pleasure," Lexa replied, her face still slightly flushed.

"You've set the bar high."

"You took me to a secret hike. I was just trying to catch up."

At Clarke's smile, Lexa bit her lip and toyed with the button of her jacket. "Anya used to say I reacted to everything with either fight or flight. I didn't prove her wrong when I left for Costial, but I don't want to run away again."

Clarke nodded in understanding.

“It just… creeps up on me sometimes,” Lexa continued. “I could be having the time of my life one second and the next my chest gets tighter and the world gets smaller. Suffocating.” She gave her a resolute look. “When I meant slow, I meant… I just need to be sure that feeling won’t come between us again." She glanced at her lips. "But… It also means that once we do cross that line, I intend to make up for lost time.”

Clarke swallowed, fighting the urge to drag Lexa back inside. "I'm a patient woman."

Lexa smiled. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Mm. Text me when you get home?"

"I will."

[part eleven]

#clexa #f: a bit of clarity #w #can you believe these two

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years

Text

THE BARD'S CHARMS

Request: How about some of Dwalin pining over a bard (performer) visiting Erebor?

Pairing: Dwalin x reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @finnofamerica

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none I think

A/N: I feel like I did not write Dwalin, like, at all 😕. At least I tried lmao, hope you enjoy even if I completely changed the character xdd

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Mister Dwalin!" the blond prince called my name just as I approached him. "How are the party's preparations?"

"Everything is set up, except from the music." I informed, joining him in his walk. "Balin will send a raven to The Shire with an invitation tomorrow, I told him to include a request for a bard on it."

"My uncle will kill me, but send a raven to Mirkwood too." I couldn't help but snort at the thought of an elf performing for Thorin. "We must require the services of the best bard we can find." Fíli ruled his eyes begging me for support as we moved through the halls of Erebor with a trail of servants behind us. "Spare no expense on it, Thorin's first birthday under The Mountain has to be perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning of the party, I was summoned by the princes at the mountain's entrance. I attended as soon as I could, and when I got there, the two brothers were whispering. Kíli seemed nervous, and Fíli, distressed.

"What you both plotting, lads?" They both looked at me with that look. I stopped dead in my trucks. "What did you do."

"I told Kíli we needed a bard and-" Fíli started.

"I spoke to Tauriel," the brunet continued, immediately exclaiming, "and she found the best bard!"

"She's an elf."

"In Durin's beard—" I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Thorin will kill you himself."

"No-" Kíli stalked towards me. "but that's why you need your help!"

"You ought to hear her sing," Fíli spoke, "her voice is the most beautiful sound I've heard."

"Hold on- she's here?" I whispered, peeking over my shoulders in case someone might have heard us. "You brought an elf-maid here?"

"I walked in by myself, sir." a fourth, silky voice made me look over the brothers' shoulders. "No one brought me."

I, myself, noticed how my jaw fell at the sight of her. She was a vision of loveliness; the beauty she possessed was not from this earth.

"Mister Dwalin?" Kíli's chuckle snapped me out of my astonishment and sent me back to reality. "This is Y/n, from Mirkwood. The bard." my orbs went from the brothers to the elf and vice versa. "Y/n is really pretty isn't she?"

"I..." with a smile she captured my eyes again. "Must you complicate things all the time?"

"It's worth it!" Kíli defended their idea.

"Is it?"

"I can assure you it is." she spoke with a confident half smile. "Must I sing to you to prove it, master dwarf?" there was some kind of daring undertone in her voice.

"Nae." I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look as stoic as possible with my heart pounding against my chest. "Won't expose myself to any kind of elvish witchery."

"I believe I do not need witchery to gain your favor, do I?" the knowing grin twisting up the corner of her perfect lips made my blood boil for some reason.

I grunted, fighting to pull my gaze away from Y/n, which earned an amused laugh from her. "I'll try to speak on behalf of the lass." I declared, already walking past the princes. "Only because she's already here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were only starting the celebration when the blond prince approached me and took me away from the rest, supposedly to ask for updates on the bard's topic.

"Did you convince Thorin?" Fíli whispered peeking over my shoulder to check on our king.

"Nae, had no time to do it." I looked over my shoulder to see Thorin. "Since Bilbo arrived, I wasn't able to separate your uncle from him." I turned around with crossed arms and a sigh escaped me as I contemplated the hobbit. "For the sake of the lass, I hope the master burglar can placate whatever reaction Thorin has."

"Don't stress about it. Once she starts performing," I felt his blue eyes on me, "everything will be alright, you'll see."

"Where is that famous bard?!" Thorin's joyful yell triggered a grimace in Fíli's face. I clenched my jaw and my shoulders involuntarily tensed as the servants guide a fancy-dressed Y/n into the hall, along with the instrument she would be playing.

There was an uncomfortable silence, in which Thorin’s eyes searched for answers in the rest of us whilst Y/n prepared herself without any kind of distress.

Just as Thorin was about to complain, Bilbo gripped his arm and pulled him to whisper something in his ear. After a moment, Thorin, still with a weary look on his face, nodded, which gave Y/n the cue to start.

She sang, and as the performance progressed, I wondered if she had put us under some kind of spell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The celebration went on an on for an entirety of three days, so, despite Y/n's endurance, she had to take breaks between performances to rest, drink and eat.

No matter where I was, nor with whom I was, my eyes would periodically search for her. I would lose my train of thought, and even become self-conscious of my actions if her eyes laid on me.

The youngest ones noticed that, so did my brother, and they didn't pass a chance to tease me about it as loud as they could, attempting to draw the lass' attention to us.

Thank Mahal, Bilbo kept hogging Thorin’s attention for the most part of the celebration. I wouldn't be able to take whatever opinion my king had on the topic; a dwarf like me, smitten over an elf-maid of Mirkwood.

"Well, master dwarf," her voice startled me, for her steps had been stealthy before she had plopped down in the bench besides me. "was it worth it?"

"Aye, it surely was, lass." I replied, wiping the beer from my beard with the back of my forearm. "Though I have the impression that you know that already."

"Maybe I do." I contemplated her as she grabbed a jar of beer herself. "Did you enjoy it?"

"How could I not?" I stared at the jar in front of me as I spoke. "no words known to me can describe what that voice of yours made a dwarf feel." I grabbed the beer and quaffed what was left of my beverage, hoping the alcohol would somehow mitigate the blush that was already reddening my neck, ears and cheeks.

"Maybe words are not what you need to express what I made you feel." Fíli, who was sitting near us, spit the beer he had been drinking and I had to stop myself from doing the same.

"I see no other way to express it." I lied, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"may I suggest something?" I looked up from my jar and turned to meet her gaze.

Just when I was about to prompt her to do it, she closed the space between us and let her lips place a feather kiss on mine.

Her eyes were now casted down, just like mine had been a moment ago. It took me a minute to realize I wasn't breathing, so I took a deep breath before guiding one hand to grab hers, while the other one held her cheek and brought her lips back to mine.

She let out a chuckle shortly after pulling away from the kiss. "See, mister Dwalin?" her eyes went from mine to our interlaced fingers. "Sometimes words are not needed."

"This may be a stupid thing to ask," I began, trying to keep my voice steady and confident. "But will you let this brute dwarf court you?"

There was a pause in which I feared I would receive a negative for an answer. Dwarven costumes were not the same as elvish costumes after all.

"I would love to say yes," she sighed. "but I'm afraid I will have to leave soon."

"No you won't." Thorin's voice startled us both and my hand would have left hers if she hadn't gripped on it. "I would like to request your services as a bard." he spoke with a half smile on his lips, sharing a knowing look with Bilbo, who had taken a seat in front of us.

"For how long?"

"Depends on how much time Dwalin may need to gain your favor." the dwarves near us let out muffled laughs and I felt my cheeks burning.

"Then it won't be for long." she squeezed my hand and smiled fondly at me. "for he already has it."

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famous-aces · 5 years

Text

Marilyn Monroe

Who: Marilyn Monroe (born Norma Jeane Mortenson)

What: Actress, Model, and Singer

Where: American-Jewish (active largely in US)

When: June 1, 1926 - August 4, 1962

(Image Description: a photo of Marilyn Monroe by Richard Avedon from 1957. It is a black and white image showing Monroe on a sparkly dress from the waist up. It almost feels weird to describe her, her face is so famous. She is a white pale woman with an oval face and heavily lidded eyes with long lashes. She has full lips with a beauty mark beside them. She is wearing makeup and has her trademark short, curly, blonde hair. She has her arms hanging limply at her side. Instead of posing sexily she looks to be lost in thought, looking somewhere off camera. End ID)

Marilyn Monroe is The Hollywood Beauty. The quintessential sexy starlet. Even if you have never seen a movie with her in it, you know who she was, a bit like possible aces I have covered before Andy Warhol or Sir Isaac Newton, you can picture her in your mind just by existing in Western popular culture. She has become a part of our communal consciousness. Her life was brief and marked by tragedy below the glitz and glamor. Her biggest role was playing Marilyn Monroe.

She was intelligent, warm, and a gifted actress, but she is rarely remembered for that. She is far better remembered for singing Happy Birthday to her sometime beau President Kennedy and for the scene in The Seven Year Itch when wind from a subway grate blows up her skirt. You've seen it. Really her whole persona was often created rather than who she really was. She was an actress in her real life, unfortunately.

Monroe actually came into the spotlight in the Second World War when she posed for photos for the boys on the front. From there her modeling, singing, and acting career skyrocketed. Until her tragic death at the age of 36 she was among the go-to actresses for those sexpot roles especially in comedies. Her death by potentially intentional drug overdose (discovered by her psychologist) is just one piece of the evidence of how much of her life was hidden, like her struggles with substance abuse and mental health.

She was famous for playing Blond Bombshells and Dumb Blonds. She was all beauty, glamor, and sex appeal and it earned her millions of dollars. She always wanted to be more though, unfortunately she never really got it. "Please don't make me a joke," she told a journalist, "End the interview with what I believe...I want to be an artist, an actress with integrity...I want to grow and develop and play serious dramatic parts. My dramatic coach tells everyone that I have a great soul, but so far nobody's interested in it."

She is best known for as an icon and emblem of the popular culture of the 1950s and early 1960s, but her most definitive/important roles include All About Eve (1950) (a small role that would lead to her "discovery" and contract with 20th Century Fox), Monkey Business (1952), How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), Niagara (1953), Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), The Seven Year Itch (1955), Some Like it Hot (1959), The Misfits (1961), and her final film, released posthumously as a short, Something's Gotta Give (1962). She also sang "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" and the very sexually charged "Happy Birthday Mr. President" (just the song here).

(Image Description: the poster for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. It shows drawings of Jane Russel and Marilyn Monroe in red costumes the size and shape of one piece bathing suits that are sheer or pink on top. They have on red top hats and long black and white necklaces. They have black canes and are dancing with one leg upraised. Behind them is a busy Paris scene done in a more cartoony/simplified style. There are musical notes around them. Their names are above their heads in blue. Below them on a black rectangle it says (in white and orange) "in Howard Hawks' Gentlemen Prefer Blondes [in] Technicolor" below that rectangle but above the studio info in blue it says "co-starring Charles Coburn". End ID)

Probable Orientation: Mspec Ace

Oh, I am going to get a lot of hate for this one.

And a lot of people are going to show a lot of misogyny and aphobia, be it overt, unintentional, or internalized. Indeed the first thing the first (allo) person I told these findings to said "but she had a ton of sex!" Yes, that is true, she did, and so do some other aces.

Not to mention that Monroe's relationship with sex was a complicated one. A very complicated one. Monroe had a deeply traumatic childhood (mentally ill mother, tossed between foster homes and orphanages) and married extremely young -- she had turned 16 just two and a half weeks earlier -- to prevent her from becoming homeless and returned to the orphanage after her most recent foster family planned on moving out of state and leaving her behind. Then while working a munitions plant in L.A. she became a model for the troops in World War II, aged 18. From her teen years she was made aware that sex was expected from her, thrust into adulthood and positions she might not have been comfortable with. She was a beautiful woman and people wanted her and she accepted that because it did get her what she wanted.

(Image Description: the 1944 factory photos that launched Monroe's modeling career, taken by David Conover for Yank Magazine at the Radioplane Munitions Factory in which she worked. Interestingly the commanding officer that sent him to take the photos was Ronald Reagan. The photo shows an 18-year-old Monroe. She is holding a small propeller and is beside some kind of red machine. She is wearing a simple green top and gray bottoms with a photo ID badge at her waist. She wears a wedding ring. She has much frizzier brown hair. She is smiling broadly. End ID)

Over the course of her life she was in love with and had sexual relationships with many different men and women. That doesn't mean she was sexually attracted to them. Indeed throughout her life she had a lot of difficulty with sex. She didn't like it. She thought she must have been doing it "wrong" and stated that a lot of her sex appeal was applied to her rather than something she felt. She was playing to the crowd. Which makes sense, Monroe was a people pleaser. She desired closeness, she romantically loved many people, I have no doubt, and from the time she was a teenager the best appreciated way to show it was by being sexual. The fact that later in life she had a sexual encounter with a literal 16-year-old when she was 30 shows she had a pretty fucked up understanding of what was appropriate sexually. The 16-year-old was the leader of her fan club, she also had an affair with her acting coach, her first husband was her neighbor who was kind to her. She was loving the people who loved her and was showing it the way society told her to. (On her being mspec, there were several women she had affairs with, including the fan and acting coach mentioned above, indeed it has been speculated she was more attracted to women than men).

No matter how she appeared on screen, she voiced fear that she was broken and frigid to her psychologist (who agreed with her) because she didn't really enjoy/want sex. The desire of wanting to fix herself and wanting to please the people who loved her and who she may have romantically loved in return. She probably romantically loved some of these people but didn't know how to separate that from the sexual aspect or didn't want to lose them if she did. She was giving them what they wanted and expected and what culture told her was essential to normal loving relationships.

Her sexual "failure" was a subject she returned to often in therapy throughout her life. She had only one sexual encounter she actually said she enjoyed and it seemed to be more of a relief because it made her normal than what she got from the sex itself.

She said again and again that she wasn't the sexpot people thought she was, nobody listened.

(Image Description: a series of photos from a photoshoot from Life Magazine. It shows Monroe at home in 1953, a huge year in her career. The photographer is Alfred Eisenstaedt [a photographer of whose work I am extremely fond]. They show Monroe wearing a dark turtleneck and checkered trousers. She is in a bunch of different positions and wearing different expressions. Some of these appear candid and others posed. I am especially fond of one in the middle in which she appears to be trying to stop herself from laughing or sneezing. I like to imagine it is the former. It is very human. End ID)

“People had a habit of looking at me as if I were some kind of mirror instead of a person. They didn’t see me, they saw their own lewd thoughts, then they white-masked themselves by calling me the lewd one.”

-Marilyn Monroe

"I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That's the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing. But if I'm going to be a symbol of something I'd rather have it sex than some other things they've got symbols of."

—Monroe in an interview for Life in 1962 (both of these quotes illustrate that her "sex appeal" was manufactured and applied rather than her own natural state. Her audience made it clear what they wanted and she played to it.)

"A man who had kissed me once had said it was very possible that I was a lesbian because apparently I had no response to males - meaning him...I didn't contradict him because I didn't know what I was... Now, having fallen in love, I knew what I was. It wasn't a lesbian."

-Marilyn Monroe in her autobiography My Story (written 1954, published 1974). (Note that she has "no response". She loves a man, this one or another, but she has "no response" to men physically. That is the only response he could comment on, her physical one. Clearly she feels some kind of attraction to someone eventually, but not sexually/physically. It is the difference between romantic and sexual love. It also shows that homosexuality and asexuality have always overlapped.)

"Primary frigidity"

-the diagnosis from Monroe's therapist Dr. Ralph Greenson, he worked to "cure" her of this "frigidity"

“Maybe I’m a sexless sex goddess.”

– Marilyn Monroe to Life magazine journalist Richard Meryman, 1961

(Image Description: a photo of Marilyn Monroe behind the scenes on the set of The Misfits in 1960, photographed by Inge Morath. She is leaning across a table and smiling at someone to the right of the frame. She has tired eyes. End ID)

#queer #lgbtq #asexual #ace #history #20th century #american #usa #entertainers #bio #mspec #jewish #actors #musicians #models

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