Aug. 17th, 2020 at 2:13 AM
RONAN O'LEARY + NATYA ILANOV
don't be afraid to catch feels
don't be afraid to catch feels
August 15th - late evening | Natya's place | PG13
The towering tree Fae no longer needed to be let into Natya’s apartment. She had her magic all over the door but he was no longer a person (or Fae) of interest that needed to be kept out. That and he knew where she kept the spare key. Slipping inside as quietly as he could, Ronan quickly found his way to the shower and helped himself. That way he didn’t have to hear the witch bark at him about getting everything dirty.
It was a small step toward being more considerate.
When he was done he pulled on a tank top and boxers he’d left behind. Looking at himself in the mirror; the image of his full human glamour looking back. His hair was less fiery red, more.. auburn brown, and no longer wildly “styled”. Instead, it was trimmed and neat, much like his beard. Ronan grumbled. His beard was the worst part. It was pathetic in comparison to his more Fae-friendly look. He had needed to use his magic to change his appearance and blend in more — to avoid the authorities, of course. A bar fight had gone a little too far and well, tables had been broken and maybe a leg as well.
It’d all wear off in a few hours, thankfully.
Grabbing the blue robe he’d stolen from Nat’s neighbor, he pulled it on before opening the bathroom door and wandering out.
It wasn’t unusual at this point for her magic to tell her that Ronan was in her apartment before she got there. His emotions were usually a jumbled mess that she blocked out -fae, she figured it was just what happened with fae emotions- but she could usually tell when he was at her place.
Which was more often than not, if she were honest, and not something she minded too much.
She’d stoked more food because he was there so often, she bought toiletries he’d probably prefer, eco-friendly, woody scents, the shower gel in a can that came out in a lather. She bought bigger towels and extra toothbrushes and basically accepted that she had a roommate that didn’t pay rent.
The shower was running when she locked up the doors, pulling off her boots and dropping her keys and wallet on the desk by the door. Work hadn’t been busy or too annoying that she was in desperate need of a shower, so she’d worry about that in the morning. Stripping off her clothes to pull on her threadbare shorts and an oversized, well worn t-shirt.
By the time the shower was off, Natya was in the small kitchenette, throwing a micro-meal into the microwave before glancing up and-- “Jesus fuck, what is this sorcery?”
When his gaze settled on the petite witch he grinned softly; before rolling his eyes somewhat at her reaction. “Had to go full fuckin’ glamour to avoid the cops,” Ronan answered with a shrug, as if it weren’t a big deal. As he walked over to snatch the meal box, looking it over, he scrunched his face up in suspicion. “It’ll wear off in a few hours.”
As he crossed the small kitchenette his hand moved so he could pinch the left cheek of her ass in passing. “And no I didn’t kill anyone,” the Fae added in afterthought, opening the fridge and taking the milk out. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig straight from the container, trying to ignore just how domestic the both of them looked.
“Easy night? You’re home kind of early,” he noted, glancing at the clock as he lowered the milk jug.
She should’ve been annoyed. It should’ve bugged her, but she was already getting the second meal out to throw in the microwave now. Like it had been the plan all along. She didn’t even care that he was drinking out of the carton, gross as it was. She was too busy cataloguing this look.
Realistically she knew that he was like, half glamoured. He was fae. He was still distinctly not average at the best of times, but she hadn’t really considered a more human appearance. That he pulled it out so that he could hide from the cops? Not out of character.
The tidy beard, the fact that he was still broad in the shoulder, still tall and bulky. It made sense. “Yeah, well, when there’s not someone sitting around causing trouble we get a lot more done.” That and it wasn’t a busy night, students didn’t come out until Thursday at least. Even with college classing wrapping up, some of them stuck to their usual -cheaper drinks.
Hopping up on the counter, settling against the tiles on her thighs, Natya just grabbed her own meal when it dinged. “So, you didn’t kill anyone, did you maim someone? Need an alibi for when you don’t look like off duty Jason Bourne?”
When there’s not someone sitting around causing trouble — Ronan grinned again and raised both eyebrows as if to say oh really? To be honest he excelled at causing trouble for others. Typically, it was ~mostly harmless~ save for the frequent brawling. But all that trouble and trickery was just his Fae nature. And spoiled upbringing of getting away with it.
For Natya, though, it was a bit more personal. He enjoyed being around the witch, and seeing her temper flare. It was slightly alarming at times how evenly matched they were - a thought that had crossed his mind more lately. Ronan was a lot to deal with, even on a good day, and she took it all in stride. More importantly, she gave him shit in return and wasn’t afraid to stand up to him. “Boring night, then. Makes sense,” he commented, finally putting the milk back.
He watched her hop onto the counter, causing him to pause and blatantly eye her up for a moment. “A little,” the Fae admitted with another shrug. It wasn’t like the guy hadn’t asked for it. “Who the fuck is Jason Bourne?” he asked, going to grab two forks from the drawer without a second thought.
Ronan took the second meal and tossed it, gently, in the microwave. (And this time out of the box — lesson learned, there.) But he paused, looking over at her because he still had no idea how to work the microwave properly and either under or over cooked things. There was no happy medium. Much like with everything regarding Ronan.
Truth be told, he kept things interesting. She wouldn’t voice it, tell him that she liked when he bothered her at work, kept things from being terribly monotonous, because that would only encourage him and she wasn’t about to inflict that on anyone.
It was probably a little more than that; he practically stayed with her, more than just booty calls and hookups now, more than just the fact that he seemed so maladjusted to the human world that he barely understood soap. He spent a fair amount of time roaming around her apartment, even when she wasn’t there, and she didn’t mind in the least. It was just… a thing that he did.
“He’s a badass agent who basically kicks ass across the globe, but the point is he can curb stomp fifty men without breaking a sweat.” And yes, Natya was aware that Ronan didn’t look that much like Matt Damon, but frankly, she could make up her own Jason Bourne, thank you.
“How do you maim someone a little?” The violence should be off putting, the temper and the outbursts. Half the time she found it amusing, the other half it was hot. Somewhere along the line she wasn’t even remotely worried it would ever be directed at her, even with him finding out a witch bound his power.
It was far too introspective for this late at night.
His interest was clearly hooked with her description of this Jason Bourne. “Sounds like a decent guy,” Ronan insisted - making a note to try and search for it on the TV at some point. Maybe. He tried not to get sucked into too much television as a general rule. He’d rather be outside or doing something with his hands. Grave digging kept him busy, and furthermore there wasn’t anyone to bother him.
As far as jobs went he didn’t mind it.
Ronan randomly pressed a number on the microwave and hoped for the best. At least with hanging out in the kitchenette, he’d be able to smell if the meal was burning this time. Y’know, before the flames started.
At her question he moved to stand in front of her, even with Natya sitting on the counter he still stood a couple inches above her. Leaning forward, he rested his hands somewhat innocently on her thighs. “With panache,” he told her with a mischievous smirk. Ronan, of course, didn’t even suffer a bruise from the fight. Since finding Maggie his abilities were stronger and his luck having returned almost.
“I could teach you sometime?” Ronan offered jokingly. There wasn’t really anything to teach. That and he didn’t really worry about her safety or ability to defend herself. Not because he didn’t care. But because he knew better than to assume she was helpless simply because he hadn’t witnessed her full witchy powers.
A glance at the display told her that he wasn’t about to almost burn down the kitchen, again, so Natya just left it. She’d figure out if the Bourne movies were on Netflix later, since she highly doubted he’d sit still long enough to read the novels, no point in buying those when he probably wouldn’t bother.
Her bare feet hooked around his calves, brushing up as she leaned forwards just a little, not shifting his hands from her legs but appreciating the corded strength in his legs still. “Isn’t everything with panache with you?” It was lightly teasing, a small mock, because he was dramatic. Sometimes it was like a temper tantrum, but she was aware that he mostly just got in people’s faces for the fun of it.
Standing at barely five-foot-four, Natya wasn’t imposing at all. She was all angles and bones too, petite in the most literal sense of it. Sure, she could probably brawl if she needed to, but why would she need to? Raising an eyebrow, with a smirk pulling at the corner of her lip, Natya raised a hand to Ronan’s shoulder, flicking a finger to pull a towel across the room to thwap the back of his head.
“I only get physical with people I like.” Sure, it wasn’t like she could move a lot with her telekinesis, but it was usually enough to freak anyone and let her cast an enchantment.
“Christ,” he hissed under his breath as her cold feet touched his bare skin. “Gotta keep things interesting,” Ronan insisted finally, fully aware that -at times- he could be a bit extra.
The towel hitting the back of his head caused his shoulders to hunch up lightly and blink, notably taken off guard by the little trick. Ronan narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw, trying to look intimidating though there wasn’t any true malice for her behind it. “Tryin’ to pick a fight are ya?” he countered, his hands moving to just above the bend in her knees to squeeze lightly - enough to make her practically bounce off the counter by reflex alone.
With a pleased grin, he pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to her forehead. Two months ago his challenge would have resulted in him manhandling her and tossing her onto the bed.
There was a time where he snubbed his nose at witches. And honestly were it not for the free drinks and sex, Ronan probably would have still held such prejudices for the general populace but Natya had softened him up enough that he didn’t completely shut others out. And now he was practically living with a witch - falling into habits, growing attached to more than just the sway of her hips.
It certainly wasn’t what Natya had expected from things; a few tumbles in the sheets, an ally if needed, some comedy here and there. Getting to the point where she stocked up on supplies for Ronan as much as for herself hadn’t exactly been the plan in the least. But she didn’t hate it.
The laugh that was almost knocked out of her when he grabbed at her knees, her heels kicking a little at Ronan’s legs as she jumped a little and used his chest to brace, “Knock it off, before I brain myself.” The brief and soft affections were somewhat new, and still not bad.
She was aware that somewhere along the line ‘fuck buddy’ had slid towards ‘boyfriend’ and she had neither paid attention nor had she stopped it from happening. “Maybe we can fight later, when we have the energy to spare.” Without clothes. It was easier to throw in some innuendo than address the smooshy moments and feelings.
Were he to actually be confronted with even the notion of feelings, Ronan would have abrasively denied them. Depending on who they came from and how seemingly damning the accusations were to his ego. In truth, the last relationship he had was with the Unseelie Fae he had fallen for and almost started a war over. The only difference now was that Natya wasn’t arranged to be married to another. There was still an unspoken amount of danger in it for her, though - which Ronan also chose to blatantly ignore simply for the fact that he would raise every layer of Hell upon anyone who tried to bring harm to the witch.
It was a startling, sober thought, that caused him to back the fuck out of his own mind. Luckily enough, the microwave beeped steadily as it stopped.
His eyebrows shot up in a somewhat-jokingly offended manner. “Maybe,” he repeated in a mocking tone. Ronan reached for her legs to unhook them from his body and stepped to the side to get his food out. “Maybe I’ll use all your gel stuff to make a foamy sculpture on the shower wall tomorrow,” the towering Fae said under his breath with a shrug as he leaned back against the counter next to her, plucking the extra fork and jabbing it into his meal like a child who’d just had his favorite toy revoked or had run out of time for video games.
It was shockingly domestic. Or at least what Natya assumed domestic was meant to look like at least, which did mostly come from television shows, sure, but that was what those people had experienced too, she was sure. Given how often she’d moved around, and how disposable partners were to her mother, Natya hadn’t really seen a nuclear family anywhere but on television.
Even just consuming micromeals at ass o’clock in the morning felt okay.
“Maybe I’ll start watering down your drinks.” The tease was somewhat diminished by the grin on Natya’s face, still amused at the way Ronan reacted to her non-threats. “Or actually making you pay for them?” Idle threats, again, but still humorous to her.
A couple months ago their “normal” looked much different. More screaming, more sweat, and way more nudity. But he’d be lying if this didn’t seem suddenly normal to him, as well. A different sort of intimacy, some might call it.
“You do either of those things and I’ll go and sell all your fuckin’ jewelry and little fancy fuckin’ pebbles you got lyin’ around,” he said around a mouthful of food, waving his fork at her. Crystals. He meant the crystals - but to him they were basically just fancy rocks. He would do such a thing, too. Not to her, mostly likely, but anyone else he would pawn that shit off in a heartbeat for drinking money.
Natya didn’t stifle the snort, Ronan’s threat of selling her stuff sort of falling flat given how long he’d been here and how often he could’ve done exactly that. Not that her stuff was terribly expensive in the long run, but she wasn’t bringing that up.
“Consider me suitable chided.” She rolled her eyes at him, leaning sideways to open a cabinet to pull out a bottle of soda, because alcohol right now would probably put her to sleep, and it was all the way on the other side of the kitchen. “Honestly I’d hate to see the idiot who watered down your drink.” It was basically sacrilege, and the idiot who did try would likely be murdered on the spot.
“Then I really would need to hide you from the sheriff.”
Ronan quickly ate a few more bites while she got a soda for herself. Freeing up a hand, he took the bottle from her only to pop the cap off on the edge of the counter - handing it back. He would have stolen a sip but soda was disgusting unless it was 2% in alcohol.
“Been doing good with that actually,” he told her around another bite of food, his fork less accusing but still waggled in the air in her direction. “Havin’ Maggie around is like being my old self again,” Ronan insisted, his tone becoming a little more upbeat. The blonde witch just had to stay in town and basically follow him wherever he wanted to go and things would be fine. Least that’s what he told himself. “Now it’s a lot easier to avoid the cops when I’m not getting my jacket stuck in a car door, or falling in a fucking manhole.” True stories, both instances.
“Plus I can do this now,” the Fae said, motioning to his very normal looking face. His hair had a tinge more red hue to it, but it’d still be hours before his glamour fully wore off. Practically done with his meal, he used the moment of distraction to steal a bite of hers.
It was fairly clear that Ronan had calmed slightly since they’d first met and he’d been aggressive about literally everything -being cut off from your magic would be a decent reason for that, Natya knew she’d be a grump if she hadn’t had access to hers. Even if he was still headstrong and reckless at times, case in point, glamouring himself so that he could elude the cops.
Taking some soda, since he’d so kindly opened it for her, Natya actually paid attention to how things were going with the whole ‘bound magic’ thing. She didn’t know Maggie that well, other than through the witch community and seeing her at Temptation, but she had a feeling that with Ronan calming his shit a bit, she’d be far more receptive to what he needed to be able to gain some of his power.
“Some glamouring and not falling in open manholes are definitely moving in a good direction.” Which undoubtedly was a bonus. Finishing her dinner, Natya slid the dish to the sink with the cutlery, resting her hands on the edge of the counter while she watched Ronan.
“I kinda like this look.” She considered his face, the more subdued hue of his hair, the beard looking a bit more tidy, the vibe of above average guy, rather than built like a brick giant. “I mean, obviously I rather enjoy the other look too, but this one… I dig it.”
He stayed quiet, on purpose, as she commented about the glamour. Were he even younger and relatively new to the Mortal realm he might’ve taken more offense to it, but he still relatively looked like himself. Another forkful and he was done, reaching over with ease to set his dish on top of Natya’s.
“You like ‘em plain and boring, huh?” he asked teasingly with his best American sounding accent and a face that displayed his exaggerated disapproval and judgement. One hand hooked under one of her knees while the other wrapped around her waist - scooping her up off the counter to straddle his hips.
Ronan walked over to the couch with her instead of the bedroom, and eased down to sit. “Should I start drinking light beers and fall asleep right after sex?” the Fae joked with a snorting laughter. He still fell asleep, but only after a few rounds between the sheets.
By this point it was second nature to trust in Ronan’s strength to keep her up. Figuring it out the first time, that she didn’t need to struggle to brace herself, hold on too hard, because he could quite easily support her entire weight was pretty damn hot, it still got her a little steamy knowing that she could just clench her knees on his hips and drape her arms over his shoulders and trust that he wouldn’t drop her.
“Even if you were entirely human, I doubt you’d be boring.” Her fingers toyed at the back of his hair, feeling the different between the wild red of his own hair and the controlled style of this auburn. It wasn’t even that drastic a change, she could still make out a lot of the similar features, he just looked less like he could literally kill a man with one punch.
“Although, maybe a little boring now and then would keep things interesting.” It was hardly like it would be boring, Natya knew there wasn’t a chance that he’d adopt a full time human variation, even if he didn’t think it was laughable. But she settled happily in his lap, knees digging into the cushions on either side of his thighs while she sat back a little, braced on Ronan’s knees, inspecting the human-esque physique. “Besides, you still have a gym bod, that’s hardly bud-lite and chill.” The tank top might be a little different from usual, but it wasn’t hiding anything either. “But does this mean you don’t have your usual stamina?”
“I’d probably fucking feel bored,” he replied - realizing that punches would feel different, he’d get tired a lot more, he’d need to eat differently and actually work out more regularly. “Should see me in my true form,” Ronan told her, waggling his eyebrows at her even though in his Fae form he basically looked like a glorified tree.
His hands held her waist briefly as she settled before running down the length of her thighs and resting. Nat’s question warranted a curiously quirked brow in her direction. The answer was yes, of course, he was still built and still a Fae - but he managed to keep from smirking enough to play the oblivious card. “Not fuckin’ sure,” he insisted. “Think we’ll have to test it out..” he trailed off, his gaze flickering down over the petite curves of her body appreciatively.
“Oh that’s right…” he drawled quietly, his hands stopping as they had begun moving up her legs. “Maybe.” Ronan reminded her, removing his hands from her legs and holding them up in the air - a mischievous glint in his eyes that made it obvious he wasn’t truly salty about the statement just minutes ago. Okay, maybe a little, but he was mostly teasing.
Given his in-between form, the one she was most used to, she could imagine that the Fae form, fully Fae, was breathtakingly intimidating. Natya could wait for that to be an option, really, especially since he looked so damn smug.
The teasing about her earlier comment, about maybe. Like it was every a maybe.
Pushing up on her knees, dragging her nails down from Ronan’s shoulders over his chest, she leaned in to whisper against his ear, “You know, I don’t really need you to participate,” although she made a point in pressing close, grinding down against his lap just to make the point before she gave his earlobe a quick nip and pushed to her feet. “If you’re feeling too tired, and boring, I can amuse myself.”
She’d place money on him following her to the bedroom as she sauntered away. Because whatever tangled up feelings she might be having, it wasn’t like she had any doubts when it came to their bedroom activities.
Tags: natya ilanov, ronan o'leary