#Best Self Defense Classes for Women

[fightingchoicegurgaon]

Self-Defense Classes for Women | Stay Safe with Fightingchoice

Stay safe and build confidence with Fightingchoice. Our self defense classes for women are designed to help you stay prepared in real-life situations. Whether you’re a beginner or looking to improve your skills, our expert trainers provide practical techniques for your safety and strength.

Call Now:- 081013 13713

[happy10thousandyears]

I keep getting afraid of being a predatory lesbian or being disrespectful towards trans women when I'm drawing my ocs because they have a messy dynamic ... but I do enjoy toxic GL dynamics because I like to project my own traits and traits I may despise or admire onto both persons involved...

[genyukandojo]

Why Every NYC Woman Should Take a Self-Defense Class

New York City, known for its fast pace, cultural vibrancy, and unrelenting energy, is a place where women thrive in careers, education, and personal growth. But amidst the ambition and excitement lies a hard truth—urban life brings its share of risks. From crowded subways and dark alleyways to unexpected situations in everyday settings, the ability to defend oneself is not just a skill—it’s a necessity. That’s why every woman in NYC should consider taking a self-defense class. Whether you're a student, professional, mother, or retiree, self-defense isn't about paranoia—it's about empowerment.

This article explores the importance of self-defense for women in New York City, explains the key benefits, and outlines real-life reasons why every woman should embrace the confidence and capability that comes with training. We also touch on where to find women's self-defense classes in NYC, including options for free self-defense classes in NYC.

The Urban Reality: Why NYC Women Face Unique Challenges

NYC is one of the most dynamic cities in the world, but it’s also densely populated and fast-moving. According to NYPD data, street harassment, purse snatching, stalking, and assaults disproportionately affect women, especially those commuting alone at night or in unfamiliar areas. While the city has improved in public safety over the years, crimes of opportunity remain a concern.

Many women have experienced catcalling, unwanted touching in crowded areas, or even more serious situations such as attempted robbery or assault. Unfortunately, most of us are taught to ignore, flee, or endure these experiences in silence. But there’s a better response—preparedness. And that's where self-defense training becomes a vital tool.

3 Reasons Women Need to Learn Self-Defense

Let’s explore the core reasons why learning self-defense isn’t just beneficial—it’s essential for every woman, particularly in a city like New York.

1. Self-Defense Promotes Confidence and Mental Strength

One of the biggest reasons to take a self-defense class isn’t just about physical safety—it’s about mental empowerment. When a woman learns self-defense, she gains:

Confidence in her ability to navigate potentially dangerous situations

Greater spatial awareness

The psychological edge to stay calm under pressure

Confidence also deters attackers. Studies show that predators often look for victims who appear distracted or timid. A woman who walks confidently and is prepared to react is far less likely to be targeted.

Many women in NYC self-defense classes report feeling stronger, more assertive, and in control—not just on the street but in the workplace, public spaces, and social settings.

2. Realistic Training for Real-World Situations

Self-defense is more than just martial arts. It’s a practical skillset designed for everyday encounters. In a women’s self-defense class NYC, you’ll learn:

How to break free from grabs or holds

How to use everyday items (keys, bags, phones) as weapons

Where and how to strike to disable an attacker

How to maintain safe distances and use your voice effectively

Unlike traditional sports or gym workouts, self-defense focuses on short bursts of action that could mean the difference between escape or harm. NYC-specific classes often simulate subway harassment, nighttime encounters, and public space confrontations—realistic scenarios that city women face daily.

3. Preparedness Can Save Lives

One of the strongest arguments for women learning self-defense is this: you might be your only line of defense in a critical moment.

Police can’t be everywhere. Friends may not be nearby. Emergency response might take minutes that you don’t have.

In such moments, knowing even basic defensive moves can help you:

Escape a dangerous encounter

Protect yourself until help arrives

Help others who may be at risk

Many women who’ve taken self-defense classes in NYC have used their skills to defuse confrontations, assist other women, or escape harassment without injury. These stories aren’t theoretical—they’re real outcomes of real training.

What Happens in a Women's Self-Defense Class?

Self-defense classes for women are welcoming, empowering spaces tailored to all ages and fitness levels. A women's self-defense class NYC typically includes:

Warm-up and cardio to prepare the body

Techniques for striking, blocking, and escaping

Verbal boundary-setting and assertiveness training

Scenario-based drills for urban safety challenges

Instructors often include former law enforcement officers, martial artists, or personal safety experts. Some classes are geared toward specific populations: teens, seniors, LGBTQ+ individuals, or domestic violence survivors.

You don’t need any prior experience. The focus is on learning fast, effective, and intuitive techniques you can use immediately.

Where to Find Self-Defense Classes in NYC (Including Free Options)

Whether you’re looking for regular training or a one-time workshop, NYC has a wealth of self-defense resources for women. Here are some options:

1. Free Self-Defense Classes NYC Offers

Many organizations offer free self-defense classes NYC residents can take advantage of:

NYPD Self-Defense Workshops: Offered through community policing and precinct outreach, these classes are often free and teach urban-specific tactics.

Center for Anti-Violence Education (CAE): Based in Brooklyn, CAE offers sliding-scale and free self-defense programs for women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and youth.

YWCA and Local YMCAs: Frequently host community safety workshops.

Colleges & Universities: Many CUNY and NYU campuses provide free self-defense classes for enrolled students.

Check local community boards, libraries, and neighborhood apps like Nextdoor or Meetup for pop-up events and workshops.

2. Paid Women's Self-Defense Class NYC Studios

If you’re ready for more in-depth training, these centers offer excellent programs:

Krav Maga NYC: Israeli combat training known for its realism and simplicity. Many classes are female-led and focused on street survival.

KMS Self-Defense (Queens): Offers women’s-only classes tailored to busy urban lifestyles.

Martial Arts Studios (Karate, Jiu-Jitsu, MMA): Many offer women-specific self-defense courses on evenings or weekends.

Expect to pay between $25–$45 per class, with discounts available for multiple sessions or monthly memberships.

Women on Learning Self-Defense: Stories and Motivation

What motivates women to learn self-defense? For some, it’s a personal experience—having felt unsafe on a subway late at night. For others, it’s about proactively preparing their daughters or reclaiming confidence after harassment.

Here are real sentiments from women who’ve taken the step:

“I used to clutch my keys and avoid eye contact on my walk home. Now, I walk upright and alert—I feel in control.” – Maria, 29, Brooklyn

“Learning self-defense gave me something I didn’t know I needed—permission to take up space and say ‘no’ out loud.” – Talia, 22, Harlem

“I enrolled my teenage daughter after a man followed her off the bus. Now, she knows what to do, and so do I.” – Rina, 44, Queens

Women on learning self-defense are not just taking classes—they’re starting a personal revolution.

Final Thoughts: Safety, Strength, and Sisterhood

Taking a self-defense class isn’t just about preparing for danger—it’s about reclaiming your space, building unshakable confidence, and learning how to trust your instincts.

In a city that never sleeps, where the unexpected is part of daily life, every NYC woman deserves to feel empowered, prepared, and in control. Whether you choose a one-time workshop or commit to ongoing training, the impact will extend far beyond the studio.

Explore the growing network of women’s self-defense classes in NYC, take advantage of self-defense classes NYC free programs, and join the many women learning self-defense to strengthen not only their bodies but their voices, boundaries, and communities.

Your safety is your right. Your strength is your legacy. Start today.

[fightingchoicenoida]

Best Self Defence Classes in Hoshiarpur | Join Today for Safety

Learn to protect yourself with the best self defence classes in Hoshiarpur. Our expert trainers help you build strength, boost confidence, and stay safe in any situation. Perfect for all age groups—join today and take your first step towards personal safety.

Call Us:- 081013 13713

Visit Us :- https://fightingchoice.com/mma-training-centre-in-noida/

[dcxdpdabbles]

Ok, I need you to elaborate more about The Menace! Danny's Hero Persona cause I can understand if he's too nice (almost like Nightwing but more doting than funny) or if he's the "normal" one (he comes, beats you but hey! He isn't as violent like the rest so he's the best option)

I'm picturing him in his hero persona petting strays and openly talking about mental health

He's the kind of hero who stays behind after the fights, passing around assistance forms for insurance claims. He makes sure to get the information on the damaged properties so that he can later reimburse or fix them himself.

People took notice, and wherever there is a big fight, it's relatively common to see online postings of "Hey anyone that can help, Phantom is at Adress XXX trying to put in a roof! Gardeners too, for the lawns damage by car. I'll bring my grill and some stakes!" and people just....show up to help??? Turn it into a blog party???

Help each other??? Remember the good times.

Phantom always beams at them, which is just as rewarding. He also helps with several fundraisers. Like he'll stop his patrol to buy Girl Scout cookies, go to school bake sales, get involved in cleaning up parks, visit people in hospitals, and find warm shelter for anyone he comes across.

Phantom also never posts things himself. It's always one of his fans because he thinks that good things should be done without aiming for fame.

No one really knows when or where Phantom will pop up. After being Batman's star, since he glows and is a ray of hope, Phantom slowly developed his own time and rhythm, appeasing both Day and Night crimes.

He still beats the criminals up and cracks jokes as he does it. It's not like Flash, who can de-escalate situations, but more of mutual respect. He also teaches free self-defense classes and walks anyone who's scared at night home (Sometimes people try to trap him for this, but most of the time he has escorted young women and men home).

Phantom has also placed emergency buttons around the city, after clearing it with the mayor. People push them to let each other know that something is wrong, and to send an SOS to Phantom. He will pop in to check on you, even if it's just a street kid asking for homework help.

He's literally an angel without wings......and then there's Danny Fenton-Wayne, who's setting shit on fire while throwing in home-made dolls of his classmates and pointing at people to growl "The spirits want you".

[t4t4t]

"So to everyone scrambling to show the dolls that they care i have this to say: we got here because of you. It was your politics, your lines, your gender-class interests that led us to this place. If you want to switch shit up now and try to help us get out of this mess then the best thing you can do is take real aim at patriarchal civilization, both in the ways you are oppressed by it and the ways you carry it into your lives and movements. In the meantime, as Sanyika Shakur said to euro-american radicals, slide any extra weapons our way. We don’t need instagram videos, we don’t need t-shirts, we need patriarchal civilization to be weakened by war on many fronts.

To my trans sisters let me say this: no one is going to dig us out of this pit except for us. We need our own politics, our own armed units, our own territory and neighborhoods, to manage our own hormone production. So long as we are dependent on patriarchal imperialism we are never going to free ourselves. It’s one thing to recognize that it was the cis women’s movement or the transmasculine queer movement or whoever else who led us into this quagmire, but blame is only useful for splitting off. We still have to dig ourselves out, we still have to recognize that it was our political weakness that allowed everyone else to take advantage of us for so long. No one is coming to save us, no matter how many t-shirts they sell.

A real life example of what i mean. In Harlem recently a young trans woman of color, Jaia Cruz, was attacked by a man in a deli. The man struck Jaia repeatedly, calling her a faggot and a tranny. Jaia stabbed him in self defense and her attacker died. She was sent to Rikers island without bail and, after accepting a plea deal, got 15 years in prison. Her official sentencing is at the end of May and while there is a small movement to free her, very few of us trans women want to understand what Jaia Cruz’s case means for us. As with CeCe McDonald back in 2011, Jaia Cruz’s sentence proves that there is no legal way to defend yourself as a trans woman of color. White sisters haven’t picked this up yet.

See plenty of settler trans women are already armed. It’s popular and cute in our subcultures for white trans women to take thirst traps with their guns. This means almost nothing. Isolated gun fetishists will mean nothing when it comes to actually fighting a war against the state. A sister of mine compared them to those white settler rhodesian women who armed themselves against Zimbabwean revolutionaries. Without a revolutionary political-military theory and practice that sets us against the imperialist state and all of patriarchal civilization we, as settler trans women, are just as likely to die for white supremacy as we are to fight against it.

Was that blunt enough to shake things up a little bit? I learned the hard way (as we all do eventually) that niceties and saved feelings get us nowhere in real terms. The feminist (and anti-feminist) left has long relied on telling lies and claiming easy victories to avoid the hard, messy work of sharpening our practice and evaluating our failures. I know i must sound like a broken record at this point but this moment will be squandered without the intervention of sisters who patriarchal society would like to ignore, denounce as insane or fringe.

We are now, in a real way, gender outlaws. Not just because we violate unwritten patriarchal laws but because our very existence is more and more illegal. In this age of social media we have plenty of people sounding the alarm on these kinds of policies. What we need is a breakthrough in practical terms, new experiments in organizing and fighting against patriarchal civilization itself. We are, consciously or unconsciously, stuck repeating old forms of rebellion. Forms that didn’t work even when they were popular. The euro-style Marxist party building org, the anarchist charity projects, the Maoist youth study groups, none are adequate to even begin the work we need to do.

So don’t waste your time buying t-shirts or filming tiktoks. The undertaking that’s sitting in front of all of us is too massive for any of us to shirk our duties, and anyone who doesn’t pitch in is getting left behind. The fracturing that’s happening now between dominant male fascism and gender outlaws isn’t going to leave anyone untouched. Lines are being drawn and you might look down to find you don’t like what side you wind up on. It’s harder to make that choice than you think.

Arm the dolls."

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[f1-mcmuffin]

YES PLEASE A WAG CHAPTERRRR

Meeting the WAGs

(Requested) Lando Norris x Reader (5th Member of BLACKPINK AU)

| Lando Norris Masterlist| Main Masterlist | Spotlight & Slipstream Masterlist |

Kelly Piquet

The harbor at Yas Marina glowed like a jewelry box. Neon reflections danced across the water from the yachts docked along the promenade, voices and music bleeding into the warm night air like perfume.

Inside one of the larger yachts — privately rented by a sponsor with more money than taste — the mood was something between effortless luxury and soft chaos. The music pulsed low, cocktails in crystal glasses were passed around, and everyone looked like they belonged in a Vogue spread.

She stood near the back of the upper deck, leaning slightly against the railing, sipping from a glass of still water. Her dress was deep green, silk, and subtle — cut just right, the kind that didn’t scream for attention but always got it anyway. Her hair was twisted up in a way that suggested zero effort, but wasn’t. A soft breeze lifted a few loose strands as she looked out toward the dark sea.

She was waiting for Lando to come back — he’d disappeared five minutes ago to talk to someone from McLaren. She didn’t mind the pause. She liked watching people when they didn’t know they were being watched.

That’s when Kelly approached.

Not directly — not rudely either. Just a quiet, graceful arrival, a flute of champagne in hand, her walk slow and measured across the deck. She wore a backless navy dress, hair slicked into a bun, and looked — as always — like she belonged in three places at once: a Monaco villa, a fashion week front row, and a post-race celebration.

“Y/n, right?” Kelly’s voice was low, clipped, but polite.

She turned, a blink of surprise crossing her features before she composed herself with a soft smile. “Yes. and Kelly?” 

They shook hands — briefly, cleanly. No fake kiss on the cheek. Just mutual acknowledgement.

“I’ve been meaning to say hello,” Kelly continued. “Max talks about Lando a lot. And you... sort of became the paddock’s best-kept secret overnight.”

She smiled at that, amused. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything secret. I just prefer… quiet entrances.”

Kelly’s eyes flickered — amused or assessing, it was hard to tell. “That’s rare around here.”

They stood for a moment, side by side, the soft clink of glasses and murmured laughter behind them.

“I liked your lap video,” Kelly said suddenly. “The one with Lando.”

She let out a quiet, half-horrified laugh. “Oh God. That’s going to follow me forever, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Kelly said, tilting her glass. “And you using his middle name was amusing.”

She playfully rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “He deserved it. He hit that corner like he was trying to access another dimension.”

Kelly took a sip of champagne, studying her out of the corner of her eye. She was graceful, but unpolished — not in a bad way. No forced giggles to blend in, no PR-trained phrases. She wasn’t performing. That made Kelly pause.

“So… you dance, right? Professionally?”

“I did,” She said. “Not so much anymore, but I try to take classes when I can and touring when my company wants a quick buck.”

“And this?” Kelly gestured faintly toward the harbor, the paddock just beyond it. “This has to be completely different from what you're used to?”

“It is. But I love him,” she said simply. “So I’m willing to figure out how to exist in his world without losing mine.”

Kelly actually blinked at that. It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t self-aggrandizing. Just... honest.

Most women, especially in this environment, didn't say things like that. They played the game or pushed against it. She didn’t seem interested in either and Kelly respected that.

“Well,” Kelly said after a pause, offering her hand again, “it’s good to finally meet you.”

She shook it. “Likewise.”

Lando appeared a few minutes later, slipping an arm around her waist and murmuring something low in her ear. She smiled at whatever it was and leaned slightly into him, effortlessly.

Kelly watched them for a second, then turned to rejoin Max on the other side of the deck.

She didn’t envy her — no. Kelly understood something about her now that she hadn’t expected to. She wasn’t here to prove anything. She was just here to be and support.

Kelly knew she would fit right in.

Francisca “kika” Gomes

The terrace buzzed quietly — VIPs mingling under wide umbrellas, drinks sweating against crystal glasses, the low rumble of race cars still echoing from the track below. The chaos of qualifying had died down, replaced by that brief lull before the media blitz and sponsor dinners.

Kika stood near the railing, half-listening to one of Pierre’s engineers explaining something she didn’t care to listen to. She politely and mindlessly nodded, sipped her spritz, and let her eyes wander.

The rhythm of a race weekend. The polite nods, the glittering people who smiled too hard. She’d learned how to keep her guard up — how to spot when people are being too fake with her or the other wags, also when people who are here for a quick photo for instagram and couldn’t care less about any of the drivers except for Lewis.

Kikas eyes stopped on her, she was standing near the back corner of the terrace, facing away from the crowd.

She wasn’t anything Kika expected, especially from her status. She wasn’t loud or camera-hungry. She was just there and yet she got all the attention. 

She dressed like she didn’t care about being noticed — oversized sunglasses pushed up into her hair, black baggy jorts and a cropped Mclaren top, dog tag necklaces layered over her collarbones. She leaned against the glass, sipping something iced from a paper cup, head tilted toward Lando, who stood next to her in full team gear, smiling like he wasn’t even aware he was smiling.

They looked like people who didn’t need to explain anything to each other.

And that — that — intrigued Kika.

Kika watched them for a few seconds. Lando looked relaxed. More than that — at ease. He leaned in when he spoke, eyes crinkling at something she said, and Kika caught the faint sound of her laugh — quiet, low, real.

There was something about her that made Kika want to say hello. Not out of politeness. Just... curiosity. Kika convinced Pierre to walk with her. 

“Hey,” Lando said when they approached, spotting Kika first. “Hey Kika, this is Y/n.” he said as Pierre pulled Lando into a bro-like hug.

She turned to Kika, warm but unreadable. She didn’t offer an air-kiss or a perfectly timed smile. Just a simple, “Hi,” and her hand outstretched to shake.

Kika took it. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Her voice was calm. Even. She didn’t fill the space with chatter or apologies. She didn’t seem interested in faking her personality. Kika respected that.

Pierre stepped away a moment later to greet someone else, and Lando followed him — leaving the two women alone by the railing.

They stood in silence for a few moments. Not awkward. Just letting the noise settle.

“You’ve been to many races?” Kika asked eventually.

She shook her head. “A few. I’m still figuring it all out.”

“You seem comfortable.”

Her mouth tilted up. “Comfortable and understanding are two different things.”

Kika laughed lightly. “Fair.”

They both looked out at the track, the sun stretching the shadows across the asphalt.

“You like it?” Kika asked.

She paused, considering. “I like the parts in between. Before the race. After it’s over.”

Kika nodded. She understood that.

She glanced sideways at her. “You’ve been around longer than I have.”

“A bit.”

“Does it ever stop feeling so… big?”

Kika smiled faintly. “Not really. But it gets easier to tune it all out.”

She nodded slowly, like she appreciated the honesty.

There was something steady about her. Quietly grounded, not trying to take up space — but not shrinking from it either.

“I’m glad we finally met,” Kika said, sincerely. 

She looked at her for a second, then smiled. “Me too.”

Later that night, when Pierre asked what she thought of her, Kika didn’t hesitate.

“She’s cool,” she said simply, tying her hair up. “I think we’ll get along.”

And she meant it.

Carmen Montero Mundt

Carmen had gotten good at being unbothered.

You have to be when you’re dating a Formula 1 driver. Especially one like George — polite, polished, endlessly well-spoken, but still... on display. Cameras, fans, whispers, the occasional awkwardly framed headline.

She’d learned how to blend in just enough — offer the right smile, say the right thing, wear sunglasses that made you unreadable but still “present.”

But today, Carmen was a little on edge. Not because of George or the upcoming qualifying.

Because she was here.

Not just “here” in the paddock but here, in the same lounge, a few feet away, sitting with her Mac and a notebook open, on a black leather sofa like she'd dropped out of a Pinterest board and couldn’t care less.

Carmen had seen her before, obviously. She wasn’t blind nor immune to the internet.

Carmen had also seen the fan threads. The shipping. The slow-burn speculation about her and Lando. The way people spoke about her like she was both an enigma and their emotional support k-drama lead.

Now, here she was in real life.

Wearing wide-leg jeans, with vintage dior heels and a strapless sweetheart top, and a vintage leather Lotus F1 jacket. Landos Mclaren necklace mixing with her own. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun, light makeup. She looked beautiful even when it seemed like she wasn’t trying at all.

George had gone off to film something with Sky Sports awhile ago, leaving Carmen with her second coffee and too much silence.

She caught her eye first and to her surprise smiled. A genuine, not-too-big, not-too-performative smile. Not the “I know you’re watching me” smile Carmen had expected from someone with millions of fans and a chokehold on Lando Norris.

Just a normal girl's girl smile. Friendly and inviting.

Carmen stood and started approaching her. ‘I’m being normal, I’m being calm, I’m being curious.’ she said to herself in her head.

“Hi,” She said before Carmen could. “You’re George’s girlfriend, Carmen, right?” Her voice was so soft. Softer than Carmen imagined. Not meek, just measured.

“I am,” Carmen said. “And you’re...very brave for doing that lap with Lando.”

She laughed. “Oh, thank you.”

They shook hands. Brief but solid. Carmen sat across from her.

There was a moment — just a blink — where Carmen thought she might shift, go guarded, maybe even cold. But instead, she did the opposite.

“You look great, by the way,” she said, eyes flicking to Carmen’s outfit — cream trousers, navy blouse, Cartier watch. “Effortlessly chic. I’m making mental notes as I speak.”

Carmen blinked. That wasn’t what she expected. She smiled despite herself. “That’s funny. I was thinking the same about you. That jacket is dangerously good.”

SHe grinned, leaning back into the sofa. “It was my mom’s. Shee was a Lotus fan.” No flexing. Just... a distant memory.

They talked. About nothing big at first — espresso quality in different paddocks, the weirdest media request their partners had received, how she had accidentally insulted a McLaren engineer by calling brake dust “glitter.”

And somewhere between the second joke and the third shrug, Carmen realized something:

She wasn’t trying to be impressive. She wasn’t trying to command the room.

She was just watching. Not from a place of coldness — but observation. She moved like a dancer even in stillness — aware of space, of posture, of people. Controlled, but never stiff.

Carmen had met plenty of “it girls.” but she didn’t feel like that. She felt like someone who’d seen too much to waste time pretending.

“Everyone told me you were intimidating,” Carmen said at one point, half-laughing.

She raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“George,” Carmen clarified. “And a few of the other girls in the paddock. They said you were impossible to read.”

“And what do you think?” she asked, sipping her macha latte, eyes steady.

Carmen paused. Then said honestly, “I think you just don’t waste energy explaining yourself.”

She tilted her head. “That’s generous.”

“No, it’s just accurate.”

She smiled — slower this time, but real. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and looked down for a moment, like she hadn’t expected that.

Before Carmen could say more, Lando appeared— hair damp, team shirt half-buttoned, eyes bright.

“There she is,” he said, dropping beside her like he always belonged there. “Did you behave while I was gone?”

“She didn’t even threaten to drive today,” Carmen said dryly.

She looked at Lando. “I like her.”

Lando grinned. “Told you.”

Carmen realized their relationship wasn’t just a trend or one of Lando’s phases or even a public moment waiting to end. Whatever this was between them... it was rooted and growing.

Later that night, Carmen would tell George over dinner: “She’s not what I expected. But she’s exactly what he needs.”

Alexandra Saint Mleux

The boutique was small — hidden halfway up a hill in Monaco, behind a rusted iron gate covered in jasmine vines. There was no sign outside. Just a brass buzzer and a single name etched into the wall in barely-there serif font: R.MARET.

Inside, it was quiet and cool, all pale stone and soft piano, the kind of place where fabrics were displayed like art and conversations never rose above a murmur. The scent of cedar and orange blossom lingered faintly in the air.

She stepped inside in a Balmain tweed pearl mini dress with black lace tights, Mach & Mach bow satin pumps, baby pony 01 jentle salon sunglasses perched on her head and a Prada purse. 

Even since she moved to Monaco she somehow avoided the chaos of cameras and fan accounts — mostly thanks to Lando’s early morning training and her strategic tendency to disappear during peak hours.

She was flipping through a rack of raw silk skirts when the bell from the entrance rang, followed by the soft tap of heels echoed from the entrance.

She looked up — and there she was.

Alexandra Saint Mleux. Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, art history student, and walking embodiment of a French Vogue editorial.

Tall, poised, with that quiet ease she had only seen in women who truly didn’t care who was watching. She wore a linen dress the color of antique paper and simple leather sandals. Her dark hair was twisted up loosely, a strand falling near her cheek like it had been placed there by design.

At her feet, a small golden retriever trotted in eagerly, leash trailing behind. He made a beeline straight for her.

She crouched down instinctively. “Well, hello,” she murmured as the dog licked her fingers, tail wagging hard enough to thump against the leg of the display table.

Alexandra’s laugh — light, accented — floated across the space. “Leo,” she said fondly. “He’s... selective with people. But he’s chosen you, clearly.”

She looked up. “Leo, huh? Like the sign or the king?”

Alexandra smiled. “Both. Charles says he thinks he’s royalty.”

“Typical man,” she said with a grin, still scratching behind the dog’s ear. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“I know,” Alexandra said, and then added quickly, “Not in a weird way — just, the paddock is small. And I’ve seen you on the McLaren feed.”

She stood, brushing off her hands. “And you’re... extremely good at being casually elegant in 80-degree heat.”

Alexandra let out a soft laugh. “My secret is to never sit down and never eat bread.”

She gave her a mock gasp. “Unacceptable. Fashion and bread are both sacred.”

“I make an exception for focaccia,” Alexandra said, eyes gleaming.

They wandered the boutique together with Leo — not forced, not performative. Just women who understood the language of fabric and form, of silhouettes and texture. They didn’t talk about F1. Not at first. They talked about old Mugler corsetry, the tragic genius of Galliano’s Dior, and how both of them had considered stealing vintage coats from stylists’ closets.

Alexandra gently held a backless navy dress up to her frame. “You could wear this on the pit wall and no one would notice the cars.”

She scoffed. “If I wear that on the pit wall, Lando will drive into a barrier.”

“Then maybe you should,” Alexandra said thoughtfully. “Ferrari needs the points.”

They burst into laughter — not performative, not overly loud. Just a shared frequency, clean and easy.

At one point, Leo came between them again, flopping dramatically on her feet with a huff. She leaned down to pet him, and Alexandra watched — her head tilted, something soft flickering behind her eyes.

She liked her.

She was... grounded. Naturally funny. Fierce in her silence. There was no competition in her, no guardedness.

By the time they stepped outside with large white bags in hand, the sun had dipped low behind the stone buildings, and she had Leo’s leash wrapped casually around her wrist.

“You’re sure Charles won’t mind if I steal his dog?”

Alexandra shrugged. “He’ll survive. Besides, Leo clearly prefers you.”

She grinned. “Smart boy.”

Alexandra looked over at her, sunlight catching the corners of her eyes. “We should do this again.”

She nodded. “Text me.”

And that was it.

Just two women in Monaco — and one dog who knew exactly who to trust.

Rebecca Donaldson

he padel club in Mallorca was almost too perfect — white stone walls, vines spilling over the sun-bleached terrace, the low hum of cicadas just audible beneath the thwack of racquets on court.

Rebecca wasn’t new to this setting — she’d spent enough off-seasons trailing behind Carlos through southern Spain to recognize the cadence of his world. She could find the nearest espresso machine in any paddock. She knew how long he’d stay after a loss, when to push, when to let him unravel quietly. She was good at reading rooms, especially when the room was full of men like Carlos.

Her, though — she was new.

Rebecca clocked her instantly. Sitting with one leg tucked under the other, oversized sunglasses perched on her face, neatly styled curls piled on her shoulders . She wasn’t on her phone. Just sipping iced tea, watching the game through the chain-link fence.

There was a dancer’s posture in the way she sat — shoulders down, neck long, like she was used to being on camera without trying to be.

Carlos had mentioned her in passing. “Lando’s girl,” he’d said once. “Pretty quiet and to herself. Funny as hell when she's open.”

But Rebecca didn’t rely on secondhand opinions.

So when she stepped up to the table under the shade of the terracotta awning, she smiled just enough. “Y/n?”

She looked up, immediately pulling her sunglasses to rest in her hair.

“Hi — sorry, I didn’t mean to take over the whole table. There was shade here.”

“No, please,” Rebecca said, setting her bottle of water down and slipping into the seat beside her. “Carlos drags me here all the time. This spot’s prime real estate.”

She grinned. “It’s my first time. I’m not sure I even understand it yet.”

“Don’t worry, the rules are fake,” Rebecca said. “They just like pretending it’s intense.”

They both turned toward the court at the same time, just in time to see Lando trip slightly trying to recover a shot, stumble, and catch himself with a laugh. Carlos didn’t even look back — just fired the ball back across the net with ruthless precision.

She winced. “He’s gonna talk about that for days.”

“Carlos already has a victory speech in mind. He’s dramatic like that.”

“Lando’s worse. He’s going to say it was sabotage. Something about the sun angle. Or maybe Carlos rigged the ball.”

Rebecca laughed — really laughed. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t polite.

There was something disarming about her. She didn’t offer much small talk. She didn’t seem to care about impressing anyone — just sat there, comfortably quiet, sipping her drink and reacting with dry commentary when necessary.

Rebecca appreciated that.

They settled into a rhythm over the next hour. A waiter brought them snacks — olives, thin slices of manchego, bread with tomato rubbed into it. They didn’t talk the whole time. Sometimes they just watched. And when they did talk, it was slow.

She asked about Rebecca’s work — her campaigns, her transition from editorial to more commercial work. And she actually listened and asked questions with genuine curiosity .

Rebecca asked about touring. About dancing. Not in the glossy, fan-interview kind of way, but curious. When she talked about the routine — the repetition, the strain, the weird loneliness of being in motion all the time — Rebecca nodded like she understood.

Because she did.

They didn’t overshare. No trauma-dumping. No fake sisterhood.

But there was ease.

When Carlos and Lando finally called it — sweaty, red-faced, Lando pointing dramatically at the scoreboard claiming a moral victory — the boys walked over, still trash-talking each other.

“You survived,” Carlos said, dropping his racquet bag with a thud beside Rebecca and kissing her on the cheek.

“Barely,” she said dryly. 

“Lando almost lost a lung trying to prove a point.”

“I won the point, though,” Lando insisted, flopping into the seat beside his girlfriend. She handed him her half-melted iced tea.

“No you didn’t.”

“I emotionally won it.”

“Congratulations,” Rebecca said, taking a sip of her water. “You emotionally tied your shoes this morning too?”

Carlos cracked up.

She smirked at Rebecca over the top of her glass.

Lando blinked between them. “Wait. Are you guys friends now?”

She shrugged. “She didn’t run away.”

Rebecca leaned back, stretching out her legs under the table. “She didn’t make me talk about skincare routines and I didn’t ask her to do a TikTok. It’s the healthiest female encounter we’ve had all season.”

Carlos nodded, mock impressed. “You’re evolving.”

Rebecca liked her.

She wasn’t sizing her up, comparing outfits, pretending to bond over things they didn’t share. She sat there, watched the game, laughed when it was funny, and listened when it mattered.

There was confidence in that kind of simplicity and in this world— where everyone was always performing — that kind of woman was rare.

Lily Muni He

It happened at the Singapore Grand Prix weekend.

Not in the paddock — that would’ve been too loud, too watched. Not at some afterparty either. It was earlier in the week, on a breezy Thursday night, before the chaos really began. Alex and Lando had just wrapped media rounds, and they were both somehow starving and exhausted, the way only Formula 1 drivers can be. Lily suggested dinner at a quiet rooftop spot she'd heard about from a friend — low light, no fans, no cameras. Just views, soft music, and good food.

Lily didn’t know she would be there.

“Lando’s girlfriend,” Alex had said casually while they were climbing the stairs to the rooftop. “You know. Y/n?”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “From Blackpink?”

“Yeah.”

“The one who's been turning the paddock in a fan meet?”

Alex laughed. “That’s the one.”

Lily expected someone… intense. Dramatic. Someone who wore her fame like armor. But when they stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, She was already sitting there, legs crossed, wearing an Alex Perry satin mini dress with black tights and So Kates, sipping sparkling water from a wine glass like it was some elaborate inside joke.

She looked up when they arrived and smiled at them and that was it.

No performative “nice to meet you,” no stiff awkward hug. Just a warm, friendly expression that made Lily immediately understand why Lando kept getting caught staring at her like an idiot.

They were seated across from each other — Lando and Alex, already deep into a debate about track temperatures. Within five minutes, she leaned slightly toward Lily and whispered, “What’s the over-under on one of them saying the words ‘tire degradation’ before dessert?”

Lily snorted. “I’ll give it ten minutes.”

She tapped her glass. “I’m going five.”

They clicked instantly. There was no jockeying for attention. Familiarity, even though they’d never met.

Over dinner, they didn’t talk about the boys.

They talked about different foods. About airports. About sleeping in cars between events. About what it felt like to be seen all the time, and still feel like people only knew the edited version of you.

Lily talked about growing up between cultures — Chinese, American, golf tour families, and endless travel. She nodded, her own stories flowing in: training in Seoul, debuting on world stages at nineteen, the pressure of being both known and unknowable.

By the time dessert arrived, they were sharing it without asking. Picking off each other’s plates like they’d done it forever.

Later, while the boys argued over which karting track in Asia was best, Lily and her stood by the railing overlooking the city — skyline glittering, wind in their hair.

“You’re not what I expected,” Lily said, quiet but honest.

She tilted her head. “In a good or bad way?”

Lily smiled. “Oh, definitely a good way. You’re... calm and very funny.”

She chuckled. “People think I’m meaner than I actually am.”

“I get that.”

There was a pause — a real one, not awkward, just weighty with mutual recognition.

“I’m glad we met,” She said.

“Me too.”

Back at the hotel, curled up next to Alex, Lily scrolled through Instagram stories of the night. Someone had tagged them — a blurry shot of the four of them mid-laugh around the table.

She just looked present.

Lily smiled.

She wasn’t just another girlfriend in the paddock. She was someone real and interesting. Someone who could scream during a hot lap and then have a whole conversation about tiramisu like she wasn’t the most recognizable woman in the room.

Lily liked her. A lot, and even more than that 

She respected her.

Lily Zneimer

It happened on a Friday.Free Practice had just wrapped, and the paddock was in its usual state of post-session scramble, engineers debriefing, drivers jogging back and forth with half-zipped suits, and media staff already trying to wrangle everyone into content mode.

Lily Zneimer had ducked into the McLaren motorhome for coffee. Not her usual stop, but Oscar was still in the garage and she’d been waved in by one of the media team who knew her from the GP hospitality rounds.

She slipped inside, tucked behind her sunglasses, hair up in a claw clip, and immediately found herself face-to-face with her.

Not in a fan meet kind of way. Just — there she was.

Standing by the espresso machine, fiddling with the milk frother like it had personally offended her.

She glanced up. Their eyes met.

“Oh,” she said. “Is this yours?”

Lily blinked. “No — I was just…” She trailed off. “I watched your Coachella set from like… four angles. You’re amazing.” she said, quietly.

She smiled, relaxed instantly. “Thank you. That was a blur. I almost passed out mid-bridge of ‘Forever Young’ — dehydration and rhinestones are a bad combo.”

Lily laughed. Not politely — genuinely.

“I’m Lily,” she said, stepping forward. “Oscar’s—”

“Girlfriend,” she finished with a small nod. “I know. He talks about you a lot.”

Lily’s brows rose slightly. “Really?”

she shrugged, grabbing a paper cup. “Only when I’m pretending to listen.”

They both laughed. The tension broke.

They ended up sitting down — two near-strangers in the calmest corner of a chaotic motorhome, sipping espresso out of paper cups.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d be like this,” Lily admitted.

She looked up. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Not… intimidating.”

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Were you expecting diva energy?”

“Yeah,” Lily smirked, “but I thought you’d be… more guarded.”

She took another sip of coffee. “I get that a lot.”

“But you’re easy to talk to,” Lily added, quieter now. “That’s all I meant.”

She nodded, and for a second, they just sat in silence. Just two people with overlapping lives, finding a rare bit of quiet in the middle of chaos.

She lifted her cup slightly toward Lily’s. “I’ll take that.”

From the second level of the McLaren motorhome, Lando leaned against the glass railing, arms folded, eyes scanning the paddock without much focus — until he saw them.

Her and Lily.

Sitting side by side near the back corner of the motorhome, just slightly tucked out of view, espresso cups in hand. Not stiff, not forced — actually talking. She had one foot pulled up onto her chair, shoulders relaxed. Lily was laughing at something, head tilted, all guard down.

Lando blinked like he wasn’t sure it was real.

Oscar came up behind him, nudging his shoulder. “You watching quali replays or staring at your girlfriend again?”

Lando didn’t move. “They’re talking.”

Oscar frowned. “Who?”

Lando tilted his head toward the corner. “Her. Lily.”

Oscar leaned in, following his line of sight. His eyebrows shot up. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Lando repeated.

“I thought they’d need like... a five-minute buffer and some scripted icebreakers.”

Lando exhaled through his nose. “I thought Lily might combust.”

“Same.”

“Right?”

They watched for another beat. She nudged Lily’s cup with her own, both of them smiling now — not a polite smile. A real one.

Oscar glanced at Lando. “Should we be worried?”

“Oh yeah,” Lando said. “We just lost narrative control.”

“Did we ever really have it?”

“Absolutely not.”

They both watched as Lily said something that made her shake her head, grinning — a rare, unguarded kind of grin. It was the kind of moment neither of them could stage, even if they tried.

Oscar bumped Lando lightly with his elbow. “I think they like each other.”

Lando nodded. “Which is great. Also terrifying.”

“Same time next weekend?”

“Only if there’s wine involved.”

There was something about her that stuck with lily. Not in a flashy way, not the pop star polish or the style, though both were impossible to ignore.

It was the way she moved in a space.

Comfortable but quiet. Observant. Unbothered by the fact that several mechanics had side-eyed her in disbelief earlier, like they couldn’t believe that girl was with Lando of all people.

Lily got it now.

She was warm, funny in a dry, unfussy way, and carried herself like someone who didn’t need the whole room to look at her, but it did anyway. And when it didn’t, she didn’t care.

And when she laughed?

It was like watching someone shake the fame off their shoulders for a second. Just a girl, in sneakers, sipping espresso, laughing about almost passing out on the Coachella stage.

Lily liked her.

A lot more than she expected to.

And when Oscar asked her later how it went — if meeting the mysterious Y/n L/n was weird or awkward or intimidating — Lily just smiled, took a sip of her drink, and said:

“She’s cool. No — better than cool.”

Oscar blinked. “You’re blushing.”

“Shut up.”

She hovered over the “Follow” button longer than she cared to admit. One by one, she tapped through them — both Lily's, Carmen, Alexandra, Rebecca, Kelly, Kika and finally, Lando.

Her screen stayed still for a beat after. Her PR team wouldn’t love it. Her company guidelines were clear: keep the posts clean, the accounts neutral, the mystique intact. But tonight, she didn’t care. She cared about what felt real. And this — this small, simple rebellion felt like her

And how could she not follow back all her new friends

----------

This is just first impressions the wags had of her/you. Of course i will build on the friendships a little more later, anyway enjoy.

Don't be a silent reader if you don’t have too leave a comment or drop a message I read them all and don't be afraid to ask anything i'm a very open.🤗

If you want to join the taglist, just ask 😁

Taglist: @verogonewild @freyathehuntress @yawn-zi

[gatheringbones]

[“It’s a vision of unpatriotic masculinity soothed into submission by uniformed womanhood—at least, womanhood with a badge. The colonial vision of social work it conjures is armed, yet sensitive.

Our culture is saturated with these social workers: weary, gun-toting heroines of carceral gender progress, glamorous avatars of the thin blue line. From Charlie’s Angels to Cagney & Lacey, from Decoy to The Silence of the Lambs, not to mention Prime Suspect, Top of the Lake, Killing Eve, Jessica Jones, The Fall, Mare of Easttown, and literally hundreds more dramas and procedurals featuring various kinds of armed female civil servants, we are conscripted in our millions every day to pay our respects to the lady cop. She is allowed to be “imperfect.” (Sociologists have found that, in real life, policewomen often employ emotionally flat, macho, dehumanizing speech patterns in their dealings with civilian women.) Feminism means cutting the lady cop some slack. Even if she’s “an imperfect protagonist,” the trail of women’s empowerment she’s on is blazed by weapons with state-backed legitimacy. Her feminism is a disciplinary saviorism, a fantasy of a benevolently undemocratic route to sisterhood. Feminist progress, for the cop feminist, is something she can impose from above, compassionately, but also, if need be, coercively. What is she here for? To rescue all of society, and sometimes (especially) to use her womanly instincts to rescue other women—even from themselves.

In the past, as we shall see, feminist Freikorps were often a bit of a laughingstock and became something of a nuisance to the government. Nowadays, in contrast, the cop feminist typically treads the hallways of Harvard, the International Criminal Court, NYU, Columbia, Yale, Stanford, or the American Philosophical Society. Her arguments come in new and sophisticated flavors of self-described radicalism. And yet, cop feminism is sometimes part of a self-described revolutionary politics. A cop feminist may even understand on some level that the prison-industrial complex is a vast support system for white capitalist patriarchy, and yet nevertheless believe that female police officers don’t serve the interests of class power in quite the same way male cops do. For her, the sheer feminist force of the woman with a gun is not fatally diminished by the gun in question’s tie to the armed wing of the state. She feels pretty confident that women cops don’t murder unarmed Black people; that women cops don’t harass sexually active women on the street, nor post vile comments on police union message boards; that they have a positive effect on the community; that they serve as little girls’ best defense against sex traffickers and other predators; that they’re just what the police needs in these trying times, what with public trust in the institution being so eroded; that they simply care more; or that they look good in a uniform.”]

sophie lewis, from enemy feminisms: terfs, policewomen, and girlbosses against liberation, 2025

[fightingchoicegurgaon]

Join the Best Self Defense Classes for Women to Stay Safe & Strong

Stay confident and ready with expert training at Fightingchoice. Our self defense classes for women focus on real-life situations, helping you build strength, awareness, and the right techniques. Learn in a safe, friendly environment guided by experienced coaches. Join us today and take charge of your safety.

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[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

fair warning, future chapters will include discussions of abuse and other heavy topics. each part will contain its own warnings please read them! eventual smut

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

cw: small interaction with a scary man, smoking weed

fluff fluff and more fluff, a little angst. protective ellie makes an appearance

inhale, exhale. grunts and bodies slamming against gym mats could be heard outside the big double doors of ‘miller’s defense studio.’ news of women being attacked at night had been circulating quite loudly in your sleepy town. dad says you should attend the free session, be able to defend yourself if anything happens. only problem was half the town was in here and you fucking hated being around large groups of people. you had your pepper spray keychain on you at all times, did you really need to learn how to fight? yeah, probably.

one of the many annoying things about being in such a small town is knowing everyone. at least your best friend dina and her boyfriend jesse were here to soften the blow of all of this chaos.

sat on the sidelines, you observe everyone attempting to show off sloppy, embarrassing ‘defense’ moves. jesse spots you and obnoxiously yells your name across the gym. rolling your eyes, you make your way over to him and dina.

“hey, ___ you’re late and you’re not gonna like what I have to tell you,” he smiles nervously. darting your eyes from him to dina, you eye them warily, regretting coming here even more now. “well? spit it out jesse.”

“jesus ok. well since you’re so late, there’s no one else for you to pair up with-“ you cut him off, “oh? that’s fine I’ll just watch then.” him and dina look at each other before she looks at you cautiously. “well, the only other person who doesn’t have a partner is the instructor for today.” you squint your eyes towards the front of the room trying to make out who it is, and oh fuck no, it’s ellie. the girl you’ve had a crush on for quite some time.

“ha, no fucking way. you guys can just teach me later. I am not making a fool of myself in front of her and the whole fucking town. you know I hate being the center of attention and she’s gonna demonstrate on me to teach everyone!” you turn your body attempting to walk away.

dina grabs your forearms softly trying to chill you out with her witchy, calming demeanor. because seriously how is she able to do that with just her touch? “you’re gonna be fine, ___. just breathe. no one else knows what they’re doing either, that’s why we’re here. you’re not gonna look like a fool,” she nods at you slowly, “plus, jesse already told her you’d be her partner.” she gives you an apologetic smile.

“ugh. why can’t you be her partner jesse? she’s your best friend.” dina grabs jesse’s arm and nuzzles into his side with a gross, love drunk smile. “because, I wanna be with my man. sorry, babe but you can do this. you can shamelessly use this as an excuse to be close to her anyway” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“oh my god,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “you guys seriously suck.”

an ear piercing whistle startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, and the room goes quiet. “good morning everyone, I’m ellie. welcome to miller’s defense studio. today, I’m going to be teaching you guys basic self defense techniques. learning self defense is more than how to prevent an attacker from overpowering you, but also about keeping a clear and calm head in the face of danger and how to gain the upper hand..”

her introduction speech fades from your ears as you observe her confident demeanor. dressed only in a simple white wife-beater tank and sweatpants, she still stands tall with a commanding presence. her hair sits in a low bun at the back of her neck, tattoo on full display while her toned arms move animatedly as she speaks.

you blink a few times snapping out of it as dina taps your shoulder and looks at you. “what?” she nods her head at ellie who is looking at you, waiting for you to join her at the front. your eyes widen briefly, “oh fuck.” you mutter under your breath.

you quickly walk up to her in embarrassment and she smirks at you as if she knows something that you don’t. she puts her hand on your hip and leans to turn on the bluetooth speaker behind you. “hey ___” she whispers in your ear. goosebumps travel down your body. fuck, this is gonna be a long day.

after some basic blocking and hitting techniques, ellie decides to teach everyone how to throw an attacker over your shoulder. many cry of “what if they’re taller or heavier?” blah blah, doesn’t matter. next thing you know, ellie turns and steps away from you, grabs your arm, squatting and lifts your hips against her ass before pulling your arm forward, rolling you off her hips onto the floor, wind knocked out of you, hand now around your throat. you lay there stunned, out of breath as ellie’s face hovers close to yours. you take a small glance at her lips before looking up into her eyes and she smirks, also out of breath. fuck, you were caught.

with everyone now practicing the technique, she grabs your hand and pulls you up. “you okay? didn’t go too rough on you?” she places her hands on her hips and looks you up and down so quickly that you could’ve easily missed it if you weren’t paying close attention.

you laugh “no, no, I’m fine. that was pretty crazy. when did you learn how to do all of this shit? I mean, I knew joel had this place obviously but I didn’t know you were involved in it.”

“hm.. well, when joel adopted me I had some.. anger issues, getting into fights all the time. he eventually gave up on trying to ‘change my ways’ and decided to train me how to fight properly so I wouldn’t hurt myself.. tricked me into taking out my aggression elsewhere, so I guess he ended up changing me anyway..” she chuckles “but, yeah I don’t teach or join in on the classes, I do it on my own time. joel’s been booked up so he convinced me to do this for him.” she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly and blushes. you wonder if it’s because she told you something personal or it’s because it’s her first time teaching.

“well.. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your first time. you really know how to command a room. you’re a natural,” you smile at her shyly. “dunno know if I really feel prepared to come up against an attacker though, maybe you could teach me some more.” you mentally pat yourself on the back for your brave attempt at flirting.

she laughs, “oh yeah?” moving closer to you. you look at her briefly before looking away. “mhm!” is what you come up with. jesus christ. she laughs again and nods. “alright, I guess I can make an exception for you and give you some free lessons. I’m gonna go do the closing speech or whatever the fuck joel wanted me to do..” she looks somewhere behind you and her eyes widen. you follow her line of sight and see dina and jesse look away abruptly. okay, suspicious.

as everyone is packing up their belongings, you make your way over to jesse and dina. dina smirks at you, “so?”

“so what..?” you furrow your brows. “how’d it go up there?” before you can respond, ellie comes over and greets you guys. “ellie! ___ and jesse are coming over tonight, you wanna come smoke and chill?” she looks at you as she answers “yeah, sure” she shrugs and then looks over at dina and jesse, “just text me and let me know.”

as you walk to dina’s house, the cold bitter air of winter sends a chill down your spine. all of a sudden you hear a car pulling up next to you and a window rolling down. the sound of a man’s voice has your adrenaline pumping. walking away quickly, you put your phone to your ear and pretend that you’re talking to someone “hey! you think you can help me with some directions? my phone is dead and I’m lost.” your heart is racing and you click off the safety on your pepper spray. another car comes to a screeching halt behind you. a slam of a car door and quick footsteps has you looking back in fear.

ellie comes into your line of sight and puts you behind her, looking at the man with a challenging gaze “is there a fucking problem here?” you hear a flicking sound and look down, eyes widening when you see a switchblade in her hand. he skids off and she manages to take a picture of his plates, putting the switchblade in her back pocket before turning to you. she gently grabs your shoulders and looks at you in concern. “you okay? what happened?” she looks down at your hands and you hadn’t realized until now that you’re shaking. “c’mon.” she grabs your hand and leads you to her car, opening the passenger door for you.

“why are you walking around by yourself? jesus, ___ you could’ve been..” she looks away from you, cutting herself off and shakes her head, clenching her jaw. “I would’ve picked you up.” she starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

“I know! fuck. dina lives so close I thought- yeah it wasn’t smart knowing what’s been happening.” she turns her head to look at you briefly, her gaze softening. “just text me or something next time okay? I don’t want you walking around by yourself, I’ll pick you up.” you nod and take a deep breath. “thanks for the save,” you laugh, trying to soften the mood. she, however does not laugh which makes you even more nervous. great, you think, I pissed her off. she glances at you, noticing your nervous fidgeting. she briefly squeezes your hand “it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe” she gives you a small smile. you feel butterflies in your stomach. the rollercoaster of emotions from fear to anxiety and now to the feelings ellie is giving you are a lot.

“I’m gonna stop back home to show joel the pics of the plates and tell him what happened so he can take it to the authorities or whatever. I don’t really wanna be the one talking to the cops. you want me to drop you off at dina’s first?” she glances at you. “no, it’s cool I’ll come with you.”

ellie’s house can be described as old and rustic. outdated wood paneling lining the walls, decor and photos that give it a country feel, the cozy smell and crackling sound of the lit fireplace flooding your senses.

joel greets you warmly. small town means he’s seen you grow up, being friendly with your parents. his demeanor is rough around the edges with a don’t fuck with me attitude, but also very polite and caring. you now realize how similar ellie is to him.

as ellie explains the fucked up situation which occurred minutes ago, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

dina🤍: dont kill me pls but I have to cancel tonight. my mom found out im failing stats and she’s on the fuckin warpath. ill make it up to u promise xx

me: fuccck i’m at ellies rn she saved me from some shit i’ll tell u ab it later but now i’m nervous help🥲 sorry ab ur mom i’ll pray for ur soul

you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. the internal panic of now having to be alone with ellie settles deep in your gut.

ellie walks over to you “alright, joel said he’s gonna deal with it. you all set to go?”

“did dina text you? check your phone.”

you watch ellie’s eyes glide across her screen and it gives you a moment to ogle over how fucking attractive she is. her long lashes, sharp jawline and freckles more pronounced due to the soft glow from her phone emitting against the low lighting of the room. she looks up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “uhh fuck, well, do you want me to take you home?.. or we can hang out here if you want.” she looks away from you.

“yeah, I’m down to hang” you smile at her. she gives a small smile back and blushes. alright, maybe she feels the same way I do. “okay cool, you wanna smoke and watch a movie?”

smoke hazes around ellie’s dim lit room and the movie in the background is long forgotten. you’re laughing so fucking hard with tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re so high or if ellie is really that funny. “you really decked your foster sibling in the face because he borrowed your savage starlight comic ellie?” she scoffs and throws a pillow at you. “he did not borrow it.. he stole that shit and thought he could get away with it. can’t let people fuck around with you like that in the system. makes you an easy target” she takes another drag of the joint.

“uh-huh,” you grab the joint and take a hit “well, clearly these kids learned not to fuck with the big, bad aggressive ellie huh?” she laughs and rolls her eyes “oh my god, shut up, ___.”

ellie thinks about how she likes that you’re not taking pity on her for her fucked up childhood, and how it’s so easy to talk to you. it feels natural opening up to you, not being able to do that with other people, not even jesse. it makes her like you even more.

you groan as you try to peel your heavy, post high eyes open feeling warmth around you, inhaling a scent filled with clean laundry and a hint of woodsy cologne. you open your eyes and see a sleeping ellie, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. your eyes widen, realizing your head is on her chest and her arm is wrapped around you. you glance over at her clock that reads 3:54am. fuck, you don’t even remember falling asleep. you move slightly trying not to wake ellie to text your mom saying that you fell asleep at dina’s. ellie stirs and groans, pulling you closer to her. fuck it. you don’t know if this will ever happen again. you close your eyes and drift back to sleep.

[genyukandojo]

Self-Defense in the City: Where to Train in NYC Safely and Effectively

In New York City, personal safety is a growing concern for many residents. With incidents of street violence and random attacks making headlines, individuals are increasingly seeking ways to protect themselves. One effective method is through self-defense training, which not only equips individuals with practical skills but also boosts confidence and awareness. This article explores the best self-defense classes in NYC, focusing on Krav Maga, and outlines essential self-defense strategies everyone should know.

The Importance of Self-Defense Training in NYC

New York City, with its bustling streets and diverse population, presents unique challenges when it comes to personal safety. Recent reports indicate a surge in interest for self-defense classes, particularly among women and marginalized communities, due to heightened concerns over safety .

Self-defense training offers several benefits:

Increased Confidence: Knowing how to protect oneself can significantly boost self-esteem and reduce anxiety in potentially dangerous situations.

Physical Fitness: Many self-defense classes incorporate fitness elements, improving overall health and endurance.

Situational Awareness: Training enhances the ability to recognize and respond to potential threats effectively.

Community Support: Classes often foster a sense of camaraderie, providing a supportive environment for individuals to learn and grow.

Where to Train: Top Self-Defense Schools in NYC

1. Krav Maga Institute NYC (KMI NYC)

Locations: TriBeCa and Upper West Side

KMI NYC offers reality-based self-defense classes rooted in Krav Maga, an Israeli martial art developed for the Israel Defense Forces. Their curriculum emphasizes practical techniques for real-world situations, including hand-to-hand combat, conflict communication, and situational awareness .

Programs Offered:

Adult Krav Maga: Suitable for beginners, focusing on self-defense, strength, and fitness.

Women's Krav Maga: Tailored for women, addressing specific safety concerns and empowering participants.

Kids Krav Maga: Designed for children, teaching self-protection skills alongside life lessons like focus and discipline.

Why Choose KMI NYC:

Experienced Instructors: Led by seasoned professionals with extensive martial arts backgrounds.

Structured Curriculum: Offers a clear progression from beginner to advanced levels.

Community-Oriented: Emphasizes building a supportive and inclusive environment.

2. Ronin Athletics

Location: Midtown Manhattan

Ronin Athletics provides a comprehensive approach to self-defense through Gracie Jiu-Jitsu and other martial arts disciplines. Their programs focus on practical techniques that can be applied in real-life scenarios, emphasizing control and leverage over brute strength.

Programs Offered:

Gracie Combatives: A beginner-friendly program focusing on fundamental self-defense techniques.

Women Empowered: A program designed specifically for women, teaching strategies to defend against common attacks.

BullyProof: Aimed at children, teaching them how to handle bullying situations confidently.

Why Choose Ronin Athletics:

Holistic Approach: Combines physical training with mental conditioning.

Inclusive Environment: Welcomes individuals of all skill levels and backgrounds.

Proven Techniques: Utilizes time-tested methods with a focus on safety and effectiveness.

3. Model Mugging

Location: Various locations across NYC

Model Mugging specializes in full-contact self-defense training, offering realistic scenarios to prepare individuals for potential attacks. Their programs are designed to build confidence and teach effective techniques for escaping dangerous situations.

Programs Offered:

Women's Self-Defense: Intensive training focusing on realistic attack scenarios and effective responses.

Corporate Training: Tailored sessions for organizations aiming to enhance employee safety awareness.

Why Choose Model Mugging:

Realistic Training: Provides hands-on experience in simulated attack situations.

Empowerment Focused: Aims to instill confidence and assertiveness in participants.

Experienced Trainers: Led by professionals with backgrounds in law enforcement and martial arts.

What Is the Best Self-Defense Class to Take?

The "best" self-defense class depends on individual needs, goals, and preferences. However, Krav Maga stands out as a highly effective and practical choice for urban environments like NYC.

Why Krav Maga?

Real-World Application: Krav Maga focuses on techniques that are effective in real-life situations, making it ideal for urban self-defense.

Simplicity and Efficiency: Emphasizes simple, instinctive movements that can be quickly learned and applied.

Adaptability: Teaches how to defend against a wide range of attacks, including armed and multiple assailants.

Mental Conditioning: Develops mental resilience and the ability to stay calm under pressure.

For those seeking a comprehensive and practical self-defense system, Krav Maga offers a robust foundation.

10 Self-Defense Strategies Everyone Needs to Know to Survive

While formal training is invaluable, there are fundamental strategies everyone should be aware of to enhance personal safety:

1. Maintain Situational Awareness

Always be aware of your surroundings. Avoid distractions like looking at your phone when walking alone, especially in unfamiliar or poorly lit areas.

2. Trust Your Instincts

If something feels off, trust your gut feelings and remove yourself from the situation if possible.

3. Use Verbal De-Escalation

If confronted, try to defuse the situation with calm and assertive communication. Avoid aggressive language or behavior.

4. Establish Boundaries

Clearly communicate personal boundaries. If someone invades your space, assertively tell them to back off.

5. Use Your Voice

Yell or scream to attract attention if you feel threatened. This can deter an attacker and alert others nearby.

6. Target Vulnerable Areas

In an emergency, aim for vulnerable areas such as the eyes, nose, throat, groin, and knees to disable an attacker temporarily.

7. Escape, Don't Engage

The primary goal is to get away safely. Use any opportunity to escape rather than engaging in prolonged confrontation.

8. Carry Personal Safety Tools

Consider carrying items like pepper spray, a whistle, or a personal alarm to deter potential attackers.

9. Stay in Well-Lit Areas

When walking at night, stick to well-lit streets and avoid shortcuts through alleys or isolated areas.

10. Practice Self-Defense Techniques

Regularly practicing basic self-defense moves, such as knee strikes, wrist escapes, and blocks, can prepare you for unexpected situations .

Conclusion

In a city like New York, where personal safety can be a concern, self-defense training is a proactive step toward empowerment and protection. Krav Maga offers a practical and effective approach to self-defense, and institutions like KMI NYC, Ronin Athletics, and Model Mugging provide quality training options. By combining formal training with fundamental safety strategies, individuals can enhance their ability to protect themselves and navigate urban environments with confidence.

Remember, self-defense is not just about physical techniques; it's about awareness

[fightingchoicenoida]

Join the Best Self Defence Training in Hoshiyarpur for All Ages

Stay strong and safe with expert-led self defence training in Hoshiyarpur. Our classes are open to all age groups and focus on real-life techniques, confidence-building, and fitness. Join today and take your first step towards personal safety.

Call Us:- 081013 13713

Visit Us :- https://g.co/kgs/2V7j2Fp

[wenclairfamily]

Enid and Wednesday Addams Star in: "THE KARATE GIRLS"

A grown up and married Wednesday and Enid find themselves swept into a werewolf martial arts tournament in an attempt to help their daughter. Will Wednesday discover that she's the best around? Is nothing ever gonna take her down?

Cover Art by @emeriart (used with permission)

Links to the Full Story: Wattpad, Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net

-Or just click keep reading to see the full story immediately!

Wednesday Addams and Enid Sinclair. They were a duo that shouldn't have worked... but they did... and somehow their relationship resulted in marriage and two twin children - Harmony and Ana: two incredibly resourceful and talented teenage girls. Harmony, who carries both of her mother's special abilities, continues to grow and explore the world alongside the love of her life: Megan. Ana meanwhile is a very "different" type of girl without special powers, who is still trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life, while going on adventures with her boyfriend: Gerard... who just so happens to be a ghost... something that Gerard's parents (who thought for the last year that Gerard was dead) just learned...

"The Karate Girls"

Written by: "Fun But Shy Girl"

One cold afternoon at Nevermore Academy: Wednesday Addams and her wife Enid stood in the cobblestone courtyard, surrounded by a hushed crowd of students. Wednesday was wearing a dark jacket as she took a fighting stance, while Enid wore a colorful pink outfit while having her wolf claw nails pop out of her fingers. As Wednesday eyed her wife, she kept a straight face while saying, "You don't think you can really beat me, do you Enid?" Enid made a little smirk as she said, "I think you're about to have your world rocked Wednesday." Then Wednesday immediately began to circle around Enid with her fists closed, while Enid crouched down slightly and made a wolf life growling noise from her mouth.

The tension grew palpable as the students leaned in, notebooks and pencils at the ready to capture what they were witnessing. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, Wednesday struck out with a lightning-fast punch, her hand a blur in the afternoon light. Enid, anticipating the move, caught her wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting it and using the momentum to flip Wednesday over her shoulder. They landed with a thud that echoed through the courtyard, sending a shiver down the spines of those watching. The students gasped, their eyes wide with excitement and a hint of fear.

The battle between the two woman continued, each move consisting of precision and power. Enid leaped-frogged over a bench, using it as a springboard to land a kick that sent a crackling shock-wave through the air. Wednesday, unfazed, rolled to her feet and countered with a series of elbow strikes. The students watched in awe as the two women sparred, their techniques a blend of human and supernatural.

Suddenly the battle was interrupted by the sound of an old woman yelling, "What are you doing to my daughter Addams?" Wednesday and Enid immediately stopped their combat, as they turned to see Enid's mother running into the court yard, with Enid's father trailing in behind her. As Enid's mother looked worried, she pointed to Wednesday while saying, "I knew the day would come when that psychopath would try to murder my daughter. Don't worry Enid. Mama will help you defeat this Crypt Keeper!"

Enid quickly jumped between her mother and Wednesday as she said, "Whoa, whoa mom! Stop! Wednesday and me were just giving a demonstration in martial arts. Wednesday teaches the self defense class here at Nevermore! That's why all these students here are watching us." Enid's mother suddenly noticed all the students watching the entire ordeal. Enid's mother took a deep breath... and then reluctantly said, "My mistake."

Wednesday meanwhile turned to her students as she said, "That concludes this lesson. Be aware there may be an unexpected test of your skills before class resumes on Monday, as I may or may not have hired some former mercenaries to invade this school over the weekend so they can attack you and test your abilities in combat." All of the students immediately looked very scared as they slowly got up and walked out of the court yard. Enid made a little smile as she said, "Good job Wens, keeping your students on their toes with that funny empty threat." Wednesday then turned to look right at Enid with an angry face. Suddenly, Enid looked scared now as she said, "Were you not making an empty threat?"

Enid then shook her head for a brief moment, and then turned to look at her parents as she said, "Well, hi mom. Hi dad. What are you both doing here?" Enid's mother made a little smile as she said, "Well you told us we could visit you whenever we wanted." Enid began to look annoyed, but tried to put on a smile as she said, "That was referring to our house... not where we work." Enid's father then stepped forward as he said, "You both live here for most of the year now, and we were just passing through on our way to visit the Canadian mountains. We couldn't just come through Jericho and not say hello." Enid then looked a little calmer as she said, "Okay. Well... I'm sure we can find an empty dorm on campus for you both to stay at."

Then as Enid's mother began to look around, she said, "Where are my grandchildren though? It usually doesn't take me long to spot Harmony holding hands with that wife of hers, or see Ana blowing something up. What are they up to?" Enid then kept a composed look and smile as she said, "Oh, well Harmony and Megan graduated early and have already started attending university together. Ana meanwhile is now dating a ghost named Gerard; whose parents thought he had moved onto the great beyond, but just learned yesterday their son is both still around on this plain of existence as a spirit, and also dating someone." Enid's mother looked at Enid with a blank look for a moment... and then turned to look at her husband as she said, "Is this just a new thing the kids of today are into now? Dating ghosts?" Enid's father shrugged as he said, "Beats me Esther. I gave up trying to keep track of the latest fads as soon as we had kids."

Enid's mother then turned to look at Enid as she said, "So, anywhere we can get some grub?" Enid pointed to a nearby location as she said, "School restaurant is right over there. Whatever you get, just tell them you're with with me." As Enid's parents happily walked off, Enid then moved closer to Wednesday as she whispered, "You heard anything from Gerard's parents since they experienced their... revelation yesterday?" Wednesday turned her head as she said, "No... but I would assume that Gerard has much to discuss with his parents."

Meanwhile, the sun was setting over the horizon, casting a soft light into the home where Gerard's parents lived. Gerard was floating in the middle of the living room before his parents that were sitting in chairs facing him. Gerard's mother wiped a tear from her eye as she looked at her son's transparent figure, her face filled with many mixed and confused emotions. "So, you're really a ghost now," she murmured, her voice trembling. Gerard nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I am..." he said, his voice echoing slightly. Gerard took a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing to talk. "I don't remember dying," he began, "but I've been stuck in this... in-between kind of existence for a while."

"And how did you meet Ana?" Gerard's father inquired, his curiosity piqued despite his confusion. Gerard paused for a moment, and then said, "It's a bit complicated... but I like her, and she likes me, and she doesn't think I'm weird or scary. She's also the most perfect girl I've ever met." Suddenly, the door to the dining room swung open, and Ana walked in, her hair disheveled from sleep while wearing fluffy pajamas. She spotted Gerard's parents, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh, good morning," she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. As Ana sat down she said, "Thanks for letting me crash in your guest room. I really didn't want to go back to Nevermore last night." Gerard's mother looked confused as she said, "It's almost evening. Did you sleep through the whole day?"

Gerard then looked guilty as he said, "Sorry. That was sort of my fault. I don't sleep at all anymore, and I sort of lost track of time as me and Ana were binge watching our new favorite show." Gerard's father began to look worried as he said, "You stayed up all night with a girl?" Gerard's mother then gently touched the hand of her husband as she said, "Dear, lets not get angry. I mean it's not like Gerard could... impregnate anyone anymore." Gerard then began to look angry as he said, "Whoa, mom. Do you really think that little of me!?"

Ana then clasped her hands together, and smiled as she said, "First off, I am so sorry we all got off to the wrong start. We totally didn't want you to learn about me dating your ghost son the way you did... and also totally didn't want you to learn about your son being a ghost the way you did. These things just happen in life... or rather, the afterlife depending on your perspective." Gerard's mother tried to make a warm smile as she said, "It's okay. We're... we're just happy to know Gerard isn't alone anymore, and we're happy to see he's happy... despite him finding that happiness at a state in his existence we didn't expect him to discover it."

The four all remained silent for a moment as they seemed unsure of what to say. Then the silence was broken as Gerard's dad looked at Ana and Gerard while saying, "Are you two being safe when you're intimate?" Ana's eyes widened with confusion as she said, "Say what?" Gerard meanwhile again looked angry as he said, "What the heck is that supposed to mean!? We can't even touch each other!" Gerard's father then looked a bit confused as he said, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just I was doing some reading on my iPad last night, trying to learn more about ghosts, and I learned of an ancient werewolf talisman that can help the living actually touch spirits. Since Ana's mom is werewolf, I thought she just had one of those."

A look of great surprise entered Ana's face as she said, "Hold on. Backtrack. There's an ancient werewolf talisman that can help the living touch spirits!?" Gerard's father looked a bit confused at Ana's reaction, as he simply nodded his head. Ana suddenly had a look of excitement on her face as she looked at Gerard while saying, "I'll be back babe." Then Ana happily rushed out of the house. Once she was gone, Gerard's mother then turned to look at Gerard as she said, "I'm glad you've found a nice girl for yourself Gerard. So... if you can't touch each other, how do you two get intimate? Do you both just have... happy time under your pants in front of each other?" Gerard then began to look very angry and uncomfortable as he yelled, "MOM!"

Wednesday, Enid, and Enid's parents were sitting in a dining hall together as they were in the midst of eating and talking. As the four were in the midst of conversation, Enid's mother said, "So Wednesday, you've been teaching the self defense classes here for awhile now?" Wednesday nodded her head as she said, "Ever since I began my employment here." Enid's mother smiled as she said, "Well, that's nice. I'm sure you teach the beginner basics of combat adequately enough." Anger suddenly began to enter Wednesday's eyes, which Enid immediately noticed as she said, "Mom, Wednesday teaches some particularly advanced martial arts here." Enid's mother then chuckled a bit, followed by saying, "Oh, well I'm sure they're advanced for most people at this school. However... nothing can top werewolf martial arts." Wednesday then grabbed a knife near her as she said, "Is that a challenge?"

Suddenly Ana ran into the room and stopped right in front of Enid as she said, "Hey mom. How you doing? Don't answer that. I have more important things to ask." Enid looked at Ana with a confused face as she said, "Ana, where were you today? You skipped all your classes." Ana then stood with a matter of fact face as she said, "Well... maybe that's what you believe, but I believe differently, and I consider it a violation of my American rights if you disagree with anything I say." Enid looked even more confused now as she said, "Ana, that's a load of garbage." Ana simply shrugged as she said, "We can agree to disagree. But right now, I need to ask about some ancient werewolf talisman that can allow people to touch spirits. So, I just want someone to tell me where it is, and then: gimme, gimme, gimme."

Enid's mother then spoke up as she said, "I think you mean the Talismans of the Moon. Werewolves have allegedly used them in ancient times to touch the spirits of their ancestors. All have been lost to time, but one still remains." Ana then sat right next to her grandmother as she said, "So grandma... can you give me access to this great Talisman of the Moon thing? If you do, I'll totally give you so much dirt you can hold over my mother, and remind her forever that I love you more than her." Wednesday then began to look angry as she stood up while saying, "Excuse me?" Ana then glanced back at Wednesday as she said, "Oh, come on mother. Don't be so sensitive. You only gave birth to me. Grandma here can help me finally make out with my ghost boyfriend!"

Enid's mother looked a bit reluctant to speak as she said, "Well... as much as I appreciate your offer, I don't own the talisman. However, in honor of the 50th anniversary of the Werewolf Martial Arts tournament, this year's winner will be rewarded the highest honor of receiving the last surviving Talisman of the Moon." Ana then looked excited as she said, "Wait. There's a Werewolf Karate Tournament that will get me this cool talisman!? Okay, sign me up!" Enid's mother looked worried now as she said, "Ana... this is a tournament for werewolves. As my granddaughter, you are allowed to enter, but you would have to face experienced fighters that can fully wolf out." Ana then looked determined as she said, "But I can beat them grandma. I have faced countless powerful adversaries over the years, from crazy mutants to evil demons. I'll defeat any werewolf in my way if doing so will give me the key to becoming closer to the boy I love."

As Enid heard Ana's final words, happiness entered her face as she said, "Oh, Ana... that sounds so beautiful." Wednesday then glared at Enid as she said, "It's not beautiful Enid. Our daughter is simply being driven by her hormones, because she has a single focus of wanting to finally get laid with her ghost boyfriend." Enid then put her hands over her heart as she said, "I know... and it's so beautiful. You know what Ana? Me and your mother will enter this tournament too. Wednesday is part of our pack via marriage, so she can definitely enter. That should increase the odds of at least one of us getting this talisman." Wednesday raised her eyebrows as she said, "Excuse me?"

Enid's father then finally spoke up as he said, "Enid, I took you to one of these Werewolf Martial Arts tournaments when you were young. Don't you remember how intense it was? It's not like watching your brothers when they would rough house in the back yard while growing up. These are trained fighters that enter these tournaments. You haven't trained in their style of combat." Then Enid's mother tried to sound sympathetic as she said, "Also, Wednesday may be a determined and dedicated woman; but look at her tiny thin body. A woman like her wouldn't stand a chance in a tournament against the mightiest of mighty werewolves." Suddenly anger entered Wednesday's face, as her fists hit the table, and with conviction in her voice, Wednesday said, "Bring it on."

Several days later, Wednesday and Enid were running back and forth on a small field while Enid's mother stood nearby watching them. As Wednesday and Enid's running continued, Enid's mother yelled, "Come on. Don't pause at all when you have to turn around and run back the way you came. Shifting your direction and position should be instantaneous! Come on Addams! Put some muscle on those legs." As Wednesday kept moving, anger filled her eyes as she said, "I'll show you the muscle contained in my fists." However, Enid whispered, "Chill Wens. She's helping us. As much as I don't want to admit it, her training is actually useful."

Meanwhile, Ana was in the woods wearing special gloves that had metallic claws attached to them. As Ana was hitting a large tree with her metal claws, Enid's father stood nearby as he said, "That's it Ana. But don't do large sweeping swipes. Do quick jabs. More hits per second do more damage." Ana smiled as she said, "This is awesome Grandpa. So when am I going to get some cool armor to wear for my matches?" As Ana's grandfather chuckled, he said, "Ana, as someone who can't wolf out, you're only allowed to bring one tool into combat with you that isn't a projectile, and the claw gloves are the only thing that will put you on equal footing with your opponent. No additional weapons or armor are allowed in Werewolf Martial Arts." Ana however had a pleading look in her eyes as she said, "But can't we get someone to change those rules? I mean I wanna stand before the crowds, yell henshin, and then wear a cool suit of armor with big bug like eyes and a scarf around my neck, and then I'll wave my arms around as I announce myself as Kamen Rider Anarchy. Come on! A very small percentage of the audience would go crazy for that!"

Some time later, Wednesday and Enid were sparring with each other in an open field. Enid had her hands turned into wolf claws as she was throwing them at Wednesday. As Wednesday ducked under each of Enid's attacks, Enid's mother stood nearby yelling, "Don't just maneuver around your opponent's attacks. Every time an enemy takes a swing at you, they're leaving everything close to their center more vulnerable to attack." Then as Enid took another swing at Wednesday, Wednesday ducked and punched Enid in the stomach. Enid fell back, looking weakened... but then smirked as she howled up at the sky while beginning to wolf out. As Enid turned into a werewolf, Wednesday began to circle her. Enid then pounced towards Wednesday, as Wednesday quickly rolled out of the way. As the sparring continued, Enid's mother began to focus her eyes exclusively on Enid. As Enid's mother watched Enid jump around in her werewolf form, she began to make a very proud smile.

At the same time: Ana was running through the woods as her grandfather (in his werewolf form) was chasing her. Ana then jumped off a small cliff as she did a flip in the air. Then Ana held out her claw gloves, and used the claws to hit the ground as she landed. Using the momentum from falling, Ana quickly rolled forward, and then looked back at her grandfather as she made a loud growling noise. Ana's grandfather then grabbed a nearby robe as he began to transform back to his regular human form. As Ana's grandfather had his body wrapped in the robe, he walked towards Ana as he said, "Very good work with your agility and landing Ana. That will really help help you in your matches."

Ana smiled as she said, "Thanks Grandpa. So we can talk about music that will play during my matches? You see, I have a really long list of 80's songs I would love to play." Ana's grandfather chuckled as he said, "Sorry Ana, but that's not a necessary component to winning in werewolf martial arts." Then as Ana began to have her fists make several jabs at the air, she said, "But Grandpa, when my opponents see me facing them, I want the music to make them think they're seeing into the eye of the tiger. It's the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of our rival! Come on! A very large percentage of the audience would actually go crazy for that, so at least it be a crowd pleaser."

Some time later, in a large garden: Wednesday and Enid were blind folded as they were moving though a maze of many flowers and trees. Enid relied heavily on her heightened sense of smell and hearing to guide her, while Wednesday's unyielding focus and instincts helped her weave her way through the garden. Both women were wearing skin tight black outfits, with Wednesday also wearing metallic gloves that had blades in the shape of claws coming from them. Wednesday's footsteps were silent, while Enid's were heavier but swift. Soon, Wednesday and Enid circled each other, the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl being the only sounds they heard.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of Enid's claws swiping and the rustling of leaves as she tried to find her target. Wednesday, on the other hand, remained still, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a swift snap of a twig, and Wednesday knew exactly where Enid was. She spun around, and with a graceful pivot, she threw a punch in the direction of the sound. It was met with nothing but air. The two continued to dance around each other, each trying to outsmart and outdo the other. Enid's natural claws swiped and hit Wednesday's metallic claws she wore. Enid lunged and retreated, while Wednesday's movements were more calculated and precise. Each time they encountered one another, the sound of their claws clashing echoed through the night.

Meanwhile, Enid's mother was watching from nearby as she said, "Keep going. Let your instincts improve. If your head turns from your opponent for just a second, you need to be experienced as using your other senses to be aware of what's happening all around you." The sparring grew more heated as Wednesday and Enid moved closer to the edge of the garden. Their hearts raced in time with their breaths, and the air was thick with anticipation. However before Wednesday could deliver a knock out move at Enid, Enid's mother stepped forward as she said, "That's enough for tonight."

Wednesday and Enid then took off their blind folds as Enid's mother said, "Enid, you've really come a long way these last few days. I couldn't be more proud of you... and Addams... I was impressed in your ability to follow my orders. You're typically more of an anti-authority kind of gal." Wednesday then glared straight at Enid's mother as she said, "It's important for anyone to learn as much as possible about their enemies, in the event combat with them would emerge one day." Enid's mother then had a nervous and confused look on her face, while Wednesday (with a very small smile on her face) walked past her.

In the early evening, Ana was again practicing hitting a tree with her claw gloves. From nearby, Gerard hovered over to Ana, his ghostly form slightly flickering in the moon light. "How's the training going?" he asked. Ana stopped mid-swing, a bit out of breath. "It's okay," she said, "but I'm not sure if it's going to be enough. I've never fought werewolves before, and I don't even know if these claws I'm wearing will be any use on them. Uggh. I just really wanna win this tournament and get that talisman." As Gerard looked a bit hesitant to speak, he said, "Well... my dad was doing more research on that talisman, and it doesn't look like anyone in modern history has actually used it to touch a ghost. Also, the old legends are vague anyway. There's honestly only a small chance this medallion can do what you're hoping it does."

Ana then began use her claws to hit the tree again as she said, "Well, a small chance is better than no chance... and also... I just wanna prove to my werewolf side of the family, and werewolves everywhere I can do this." Gerard had a confused look on his ghostly face as he said, "Ana... ever since I met you, you never came across as someone who needed the approval of others. What's going on?" Ana took a deep breath as she sat down, and then looked down as she said, "It's not about winning the approval of others. I've never needed it... but other people that lack certain abilities still do. I wanna show everyone out there that feels like they have some sort of disability, that they're still strong with all the abilities they do have... and what better way to prove that to the world than have a girl who has never wolfed out in her life defeating a big hairy full fledged werewolf at their own game."

Gerard smirked as he said, "Now that sounds more like you. Come on. Let me help you practice. I'll zoom around as a target, and you try to keep up with me." Ana smirked as she jumped up and lunged her claws at Gerard. Gerard floated back and forth, trying to make it slightly difficult for Ana to send her claws through his transparent form. Ana laughed as she passed through Gerard's body several times, and yet continued to make more swings at him. Eventually a laughing Ana tripped and fell down on the grass.

Gerard then put his body in a laid down position as he floated just above the grass near Ana. Both Ana and Gerard laid on their sides as they looked at each other. As Ana looked into Gerard's eyes, she said, "Even if I don't win this medallion, I just want you to know that I won't for a second consider leaving you because..." Gerard suddenly interrupted Ana as he said, "Shhh. I know you won't... because I love you." Ana then held out her hand as she said, "Love you too." Gerard held out his own ghostly hand as he brought it as close as he could to Ana's hand without going through it. Then Ana and Gerard just looked into each other's eyes and smiled.

Several days later, the werewolf tournament had begun. The event was held in a coliseum built into the side of a hill, with the early evening moon casting eerie shadows across the stone seats. The air was electric with the scent of fur and excitement as crowds gathered to watch. The coliseum was adorned with banners and torches, the flames casting flickering lights across all combatants. In the front of the arena stood a large podium, where the talisman of the moon, a wooden circle several millimeters thick being held by a silver string, sat in a distinguished spot surrounded by guards.

Meanwhile, Enid was standing near a tent as she said, "Come on out Wednesday." Enid could hear Wednesday inside the tent say, "Never!" Enid however made a smile as she said, "Come on Wednesday. Don't be afraid to come out." Then from inside the tent, Wednesday yelled, "I will never come out!" Enid however made a bigger smile as she said, "Come on Wens-babe. You pretty much came out to the entire world the day you married me. You got nothing to hide now." Wednesday reluctantly stepped out of the tent wearing a skin tight black cat suit, with cat ears on her head. Wednesday turned to look at Enid who was wearing a matching outfit, but with whiskers also painted on her face.

A super excited Enid said, "OMG! You are purr-fect! Look at us Wens. Together again in a competition wearing our classic black cat suits. These will be perfect outfits to wear when we enter the arena." Wednesday however made an angry glare at Enid as she said, "I thought we had to come to an agreement Enid. I was to wear this outfit for you only on your birthday, only in our bedroom, and only if no one else would witness it." Suddenly, Ana appeared walking towards her two mothers in an identical black cat suit as she said, "I think these outfits rock. Plus, I see the total irony in girls dressed as cats taking down a bunch of tough dogs. We are so gonna take down every opponent that gets in our way tonight!"

However, the three women were suddenly interrupted by three nearby hairy men wearing clothes made of bear fur that were howling at them. One of the three hairy men spoke in a thick Russian accent as he said, "Look everyone at the little pussies that want to play with the big boys." The three hairy men laughed as a glaring Enid softly said, "Err. Russian Werewolves. They're the worst kind of werewolves. They never stop giving werewolves from the rest of the world a bad name." Then another of the hairy men, also speaking in a thick Russian accent said, "Hey little pussies. Are you here to fight with us, or would you like to pretend you're puppies instead and chew on our big bones." As the hairy men began to walk away laughing, Wednesday began to pull a knife out of her pocket as she said, "Give me forty seconds and I'll carve them up like the stinking fish they are."

Enid however quickly got in front of Wednesday, put a hand on her wife's wrist, and then said, "No Wednesday. We talked about this. We don't carve up our enemies anymore." Wednesday glared into Enid's eyes as she said, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." Enid kept a serious face on as she said, "Because we need to defeat those guys in public to prove to everyone out there how strong we are." Wednesday however kept glaring at Enid as she said, "Give me a better reason." Enid continued to keep a serious face as she said, "You do as I say... and I'll do that secret move on you when we have sex tonight that makes you howl." Wednesday silently looked at Enid with a glaring face... and then put away her knife as she said, "Your manipulative proposal is acceptable... this time."

The first match of the tournament began as the lights grew dimmer in the coliseum. The crowd grew quiet as the sound of a gong echoed through the early evening sky. Ana took her spot in the arena, standing in her black cat suit while wearing her special gloves that had metallic claws attached to them. Across from her was a towering figure: a male werewolf with fur as dark as the night itself. His eyes were like burning embers, and his teeth gleamed in the torchlight. The crowd was in a frenzy as the announcer boomed, "Welcome everyone, to the first round of the Werewolf Martial Arts Tournament!"

Immediately the bell rang, and Ana's opponent ran at her. As Ana's enemy threw his claws at her, Ana did a flip over his attack while using the claws attached to her gloves to scratch up her opponent. Ana then moved like a shadow, darting around the opposing werewolf, her claws flashing in the moonlight as she scored points with quick jabs and nifty maneuvers. Her opponent meanwhile used his massive paws to send dust and gravel flying through the air, while his roars could be heard echoing across the coliseum. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as Ana's speed and agility kept her just out of reach of her enemy's powerful blows.

Meanwhile, Enid was in her own battle, her werewolf form giving her the speed and power she needed to face off against a rival that was equally as skilled. Her movements were fluid, a blur of fur and fangs as she danced around her opponent. The match was intense, a display of raw instinct and honed abilities. Each blow Enid landed was met with another, as the two combatants were locked in a fierce dance of strength and cunning.

Wednesday's match that was happening at the same time began with a sudden burst of speed from her opponent. Another werewolf was moving in a blur of motion as he circled around her. However as he lunged at Wednesday, she disappeared from his view, only to reappear behind him. With a swift kick, Wednesday sent him sprawling, the crowd gasping in amazement. The werewolf opponent laid on the ground unable to get up, with Wednesday being declared the the winner.

Some time later: Wednesday, Enid, and Ana were sitting on the sidelines watching other werewolves combating with each other. As Enid put her hand over her heart, she said, "I'm so glad we all won our first round... but that was way more intense than I thought it be. Was it a dumb idea to not ask Harmony to come to this event and help us?" Ana made a little sigh, and then said, "Mom, she's busy with college and still being a newlywed. Plus, she's a full fledged werewolf with plenty of combat experience. However, mom, you're well known for being a late bloomer when it comes to wolfing out, thus you were always an underdog in the werewolf community. Meanwhile, mother isn't a werewolf at all, and I never inherited the wolfing out gene. It'll mean way more if one of us wins."

Then Ana turned her head and saw far away in a dark corner was Gerard floating above the ground watching. Ana then made a big smile as she said, "Be right back." Ana then rushed over to Gerard excitedly as she said, "Hey babe. Did you see that first fight?" Gerard smiled as he said, "Yeah. You were amazing. You feeling okay?" As Ana put a hand over her heart, she said, "Honestly... my heart's still racing a bit... although maybe that's just because I know you're here now. Hey. You wanna come out in the open and watch the matches more closely?" Gerard looked a bit hesitant as he said, "I don't know. I'm still a little scared with crowds seeing me. Some people get really scared and freaked out over seeing ghosts." Ana smiled as she said, "Unfortunately, too many people get scared and freaked out over things they don't understand... but they'll understand you better once they can see you." Gerard took a deep breath... and then said, "I'll think about that."

The second series of matches began with Enid facing a werewolf with fur as white as snow. As they fought, Enid's speed and agility was matched by her opponent's brute strength. They moved in a whirlwind of fur and teeth, each trying to out maneuver the other. The match was a close one, with Enid knocking her opponent down. However, after being declared a winner: Enid stumbled to the ground, panting heavily.

Wednesday meanwhile was being forced into a corner by her own werewolf opponent. However just as her opponent pounced towards her, Wednesday used the metallic claws attached to her gloves she was wearing to knock her opponent off balance. After one more swift punch, Wednesday was declared the victor. As she prepared to walk to the sidelines, Wednesday made a small smirk as she saw Ana winning her own match nearby using a move very similar to what she had just done.

In another area of the arena minutes later: Enid was facing another powerful werewolf opponent. The crowd watched in awe as she and the other werewolf battled fiercely, their movements a blur of fur and fangs. After a grueling back-and-forth, Enid's exhaustion got the better of her, and she took a devastating hit that sent her sprawling out of the ring. She groaned in pain, but couldn't get up fast enough as the referee declared she had lost.

Ana, however, continued to dominate the competition. As Ana moved against her following opponents, she moved with ideal precision and timing, her claws flashing through the air as she dispatched each werewolf with grace and confidence. Her prowess grew more and more evident with each consecutive victory she gained.

Wednesday meanwhile was facing off against one of the Russian werewolves as he was throwing his fists at her. Wednesday dodged her opponent's attacks, her movements precise and calculated; but she could feel the power behind each swing. The Russian werewolf was relentless, his fur matting with sweat as he grinned, showing off teeth sharper than knives. Despite her agility and cleverness, Wednesday soon found herself backed into a corner. The Russian werewolf took advantage of the moment, charging at her with a roar that shook the very ground beneath them.

Wednesday tried to have her metallic claws hit her opponent, aiming for his throat, but he was too fast. He ducked and swiped at her legs, sending her tumbling to the ground. Then in a split second, the Russian werewolf made a powerful kick, sending Wednesday flying through the air and out of the ring. The crowd gasped, and the referee's whistle blew, signaling that the match was over and that Wednesday had lost.

As the Russian werewolf put on a robe and transformed back into his human form, he looked down at Wednesday as he said, "Aww. Does the mama pussy have a booboo?" Then Ana ran over to Wednesday from nearby as she said, "Don't worry mom. I made it to the final match. Our family is still in this thing." The Russian werewolf however put on an excited face as he said, "Ooo. I get play with a little pussy soon. How exciting!" The Russian werewolf walked away laughing, as a wide eyed Wednesday laid on the ground with a great amount of confusion all over her face... which slowly was replaced with anger. As Ana helped Wednesday up, she said, "You okay mother?" As Wednesday made a very angry glare in her eyes, she said, "Ana... show that dog the full might of our family's fury."

The final match was soon to begin. The arena was now packed with more spectators than ever, their eyes glued to the center stage. Ana stood in the moonlit coliseum, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and determination. Across from her, the Russian werewolf stood in his human form with a cocky smile on his face. He flexed his arms and cracked his neck while winking at Ana. A nearby referee then loudly said, "For this final match: all it will take is three knock downs to be declared victor. You will battle when the bell rings." Ana then took a fighting position with her metallic claws out, while her opponent began to transform into his very hairy werewolf form.

The bell rang out, echoing through the coliseum, and the match began. The Russian werewolf charged at Ana, his eyes glowing with a fiery intensity. Ana remained calm, her eyes locked on her opponent. As the werewolf closed in, Ana waited for the perfect moment, and then with lightning speed, she dashed to the side. The Russian werewolf's massive paw swiped through the air, missing her by a hair's breadth. The crowd roared with excitement, feeling the tension building in the air. The fight was brutal, with each blow exchanged resonating through the arena. Ana dodged and weaved around her werewolf opponent's heavy strikes. Her metallic claws flashed in the moonlight, leaving shallow cuts across his fur. The Russian werewolf snarled, his eyes never leaving her.

However, as Ana ran to deliver an attack: the Russian werewolf lunged at Ana, his teeth snapping in the air. But using her agility, Ana jumped onto his back, her claws digging into his fur. The werewolf roared in pain, but it was not enough to knock him down. He bucked and threw her off, sending her rolling across the ground. She quickly got to her feet, but not before the Russian werewolf took the opportunity to pounce, knocking her to the ground with a powerful blow. The crowd gasped as she hit the dirt. The referee quickly made the call that Ana's opponent made the first of his three points needed to win.

Ana stood up, dirt and fur clinging to her black cat suit, and took a moment to compose herself. The Russian werewolf approached her, his chest heaving with each breath, his teeth bared in a grin. "You're fast for a pussy," he taunted with a thick grizzly wolf-like voice, "but you're no werewolf." Ana's eyes narrowed as she felt a surge of anger and determination, and then ran at her opponent again. The Russian werewolf swiped at her again, but this time Ana dodged and rolled under his paws, coming up behind him. She jumped and latched onto his back once more. He howled in frustration, and with a mighty roar, he threw her off, sending her flying through the air. Ana landed on her back hard, skidding across the ground as she screamed in pain. The referee quickly yelled out that Ana's opponent made the second of his three points needed to win.

As Ana laid on the ground looking weak, Gerard (who had been watching the entire fight from afar) looked nervous, but then flew out into the arena towards Ana. As the crowd began make cheering noises for him, the Russian werewolf smiled as he loudly said, "Go ahead little pussy. Take all the time you need to recover. In fact, I'll even invoke the Right of Merciful Assistance for you to allow another loved one to come into the match and help you. Take a minute to even get a better weapon if you need to. There's no way a Pretend Werewolf can defeat me." As Ana slowly sat up, she saw Gerard floating near her. Ana looked surprised as he said, "Gerard... you're letting countless people see you. I thought..." Gerard quickly interrupted Ana as he said, "All that matters is that you can see me Ana. Listen, you can't give up. You're one of the strongest people I know."

As Ana looked upset, she said, "No. That guy's right. I'm no werewolf... and I'll never be." Gerard then looked right into Ana's eyes, and made a little smile as he said, "Of course you're not a werewolf. You're you. You're not a werewolf, a psychic, or even of complete stable mind. You're Anarchy Sinclair Addams! Your first name literally means: absence or nonrecognition of authority and controlling systems. You don't recognize the rules of reality. You toss them aside to do whatever the hell you want, fortunately for the greater good. However you haven't been yourself recently. You've confined yourself to fighting like a werewolf. You're tried to combat your opponents the way people here would expect you to. But screw that! Don't do anything anyone expects. Do the most unexpected insane thing you can think of! That's when you're at your strongest! That's when you win!"

Ana sat silent for a moment... and then smiled as she said, "Thank you Gerard." Then Ana stood up as she looked at the Russian werewolf who stood waiting with a smile. Ana then took off her claw gloves, as the Russian werewolf smiled while saying, "Is this a sign that you've given up?" Ana smirked as she took off her cat ears while saying, "Oh no. You said I could get a better weapon to use... and I have." Then Ana happily took a red yo-yo out of her pocket, as the Russian werewolf said, "You're using a yo-yo? What kind of werewolf are you trying to be girl?" Then as Ana put a red and black domino mask over her face, she took off her cat suit to reveal she was wearing a red skin tight suit with black dots while she said, "I'm not here to be a werewolf. I'm here to be miraculous... simply the best. Up to the test when things go wrong!"

Ana quickly ran towards her opponent again as the Russian werewolf lunged for her. However, Ana jumped over his head and whipped the yo-yo at his legs. The yo-yo wrapped around one of his ankles, tripping him up and sending him sprawling to the ground. The crowd gasped and then erupted into laughter, while the referee announced that Ana scored her first point. Ana landed gracefully and gave a little bow as she said, "Thank you very much! Just a little luck that comes when you're dressed like a miraculous ladybug!" The Russian werewolf snarled and pulled the yo-yo off as he began to get to his feet.

Ana's opponent then jumped at her again. It looked like he was about to body slam Ana... until a wind came out of nowhere holding the Russian werewolf in mid-air. Gerard then appeared under the Russian werewolf smiling as he said, "You did invoke the Right of Merciful Assistance to allow Ana another loved one to come into the match and help her... and there is no one that loves Ana like I do." As the Russian werewolf remained floating in mid-air, he said, "How is it girl, that you command a spirit to be loyal to you!?" Ana crossed her arms, while smirking as she said, "It's because I'm miraculous, the luckiest. The power of love, always so strong!"

Then Gerard stopped having wind come from his body, causing the Russian werewolf to fall to the ground hard. The referee quickly announced Ana had scored another point, while the Russian werewolf angerly stood up. Ana and her opponent then began to circle each other again, with the crowd on the edge of their seats. Ana's yo-yo spun in her hand as she smirked. Then the Russian werewolf made his move again, charging at her with great fury. Ana waited until the last second, and then threw the yo-yo. It hit the Russian werewolf right between the eyes, bouncing off and then wrapping around his neck. Ana pulled the yo-yo string, and the Russian werewolf chocked and stumbled, giving her just enough time to run around behind him and jump onto his back again.

The Russian werewolf roared and tried to throw her off, but Ana had a tight grip on him with her legs around his neck. She began to hit his head repeatedly with her fists, each punch echoing through the coliseum. The crowd was in a frenzy as the Russian werewolf stumbled around, trying to dislodge her. As he tried to move Ana off his body, he yelled, "You cannot defeat me little girl! You cannot make me even fear these pathetic punches you throw!" Then suddenly Gerard floated right in front of the Russian werewolf as he said, "Well maybe you'll feel different when I possess you for a moment, and make you feel an emotion you haven't felt for a long time."

As Gerard's hands glowed, the Russian werewolf felt his mind being altered... and then he screamed, "Ahh! Get this girl off me! Get her off me! Get off her me!" The entire crowd laughed as Ana jumped up and threw her yo-yo again, this time aiming right at her opponent's eyes. It hit with a satisfying 'thwack', and the Russian werewolf stumbled back, temporarily blinded. Ana then sprinted towards her opponent as she said, "Time to pound it." Then with all her might, Ana kicked her opponent right in the chest. The impact sent him flying through the air, and he landed with a thud.

The crowd went wild as the referee announced that Ana had scored her third and final point. As Ana heard the cheers, she caught her breath, and then looked at all of the spectators around her as she smiled. The Russian werewolf meanwhile lay on the ground, defeated, his chest heaving as he grabbed a nearby robe while transforming back into his human form.

Wednesday and Enid then rushed over to the where Ana was standing. Enid's face was beaming with pride, while Wednesday was making a surprise smirk. Enid scooped Ana up in a tight hug, whispering in her ear, "You were absolutely amazing. I'm so proud of you." Wednesday meanwhile raised one eyebrow as she said, "Now perhaps you can start giving that amount of focus and determination to your school work." Ana giggled as she said, "Coming from you mom, I'll take that as a high compliment." Gerard meanwhile floated near Ana, looking at her with pride as he said, "You were spectacular tonight." Then Ana looked into Gerard's eyes, smiling as she said, "No Gerard. We were spectacular tonight."

Then suddenly Ana heard two other familiar voices calling out her name. As Ana turned her head, she saw Enid's parents, her grandparents, coming towards her. Ana's grandfather made a warm smile as he said, "You went off the book Ana... but you relied on your strengths, and that's what matters most." Ana's grandmother meanwhile hugged Ana as she said, "You may have never wolfed out... but you honored your werewolf ancestors tonight honey. Good work."

Then everyone heard an announcer say, "And now our champion: Anarchy Sinclair Addams will be presented the famed Talisman of the Moon." A referee then handed the wooden talisman to the Russian Werewolf, motioning for him to give it to Ana. The Russian werewolf then walked towards Ana as he said, "You're all right Addams. Good match." Ana smiled as she reached out her hand and said, "Thanks a lot." Then just as Ana was about to touch the wooden talisman... the Russian werewolf suddenly dropped the fragile talisman to the ground... where it immediately broke.

Ana suddenly fell to her knees looking devastated, her eyes wide as he said, "No! No, no, no, no! Noooooo!" The Russian werewolf made an evil smile as he sarcastically said, "Whoops. Butter fingers." Ana then stood up with fury in her eyes as she starred down the Russian werewolf while yelling, "You! I'm gonna kill you!" Gerard then held out his hands as he tried to sound very calm while saying, "It's okay Ana. Don't let him control you. It's gonna be okay." As tears appeared in Ana's eyes, she yelled, "No, it's not! That talisman could've meant everything to me! To us! But now, I am gonna to destroy that creature!" Suddenly, Wednesday got in Ana's way as she said, "Ana, it's not proper for you to waste your time getting revenge on small minded bullies that harass you... when as your mother, that's my job."

Then Wednesday suddenly threw a fast hard punch right into the Russian werewolf's face. Then before he could react, Wednesday sent several more punches to his chest, and then kicked him hard to the ground. Then Wednesday got down as she began delivering blow after blow to the Russian werewolf. As Wednesday continued to attack him, the Russian werewolf tried to scream for mercy, but Wednesday wouldn't stop as a crazed smile began to appear on her face. Everyone else meanwhile just stood watching the scene, looking completely uncertain of what to do. Gerard then nervously asked, "Should we stop her?" Enid however put a finger near her lips, as she began to make an excited smile while saying, "Actually, don't. Anytime she gets this violent, she always gets way more frisky and horny in bed a few hours later."

Several days later, Ana was standing on top of a cold mountain wearing thick winter clothes, while Gerard floated in front of her. Snow and wind was blowing around them as Ana pulled her winter hat down slightly while saying, "So you finally gonna tell me why we came all the way up here?" Gerard made a warm smile as he said, "Well first off, I just wanted to let you know Ana how proud I am of what you accomplished the other day; and even though you didn't get the item you wished could enhance our relationship, I am completely content with how things are between us." Ana made a little smile as she said, "Thanks Gerard... and as long as you're always with me... I'm content too."

Gerard then began to wave his hands together as he said, "But with that being said... I've been experimenting with how I can control the wind. I found when it rained, I could actually use my control of the wind to control the direction of many rain droplets if I concentrated hard enough. Then I realized that snow is just frozen rain droplets. So I began to experiment with how I could control snow as it fell... and then finally pulled off this." As Gerard waved his arms around, suddenly an ice sculpture in the shape of a hand began to appear in Ana's hands.

As Ana held the frozen sculpture up, she studied it for a moment. It wasn't a perfect recreation of a hand, instead looking more like a mitten; but the approximation was still very close. Gerard looked a bit displeased with himself as he said, "Sorry I can only make a hand, and sorry it doesn't look perfect, and sorry it has to be so cold for me to do this. It's just that I wanted to find someway to..." Ana suddenly interrupted Gerard, smiling as she said, "Shhh." Then Ana held the frozen hand against her cheek as she said, "It's the warmest touch I've ever felt." Gerard made a very grateful smile, as Ana made a very grateful smile back. Then both Ana and Gerard continued to simply smile at one another at the top of the mountain, as the snow continued to blow around them.

THE END

*Next Time: Wednesday Addams: All Alone

[flawssy-227]

Fogwell’s pt.1 Matt murdock x f!reader

pairing: College!matt murdock x fem!reader

a/n: this is a repost from almost THREE years ago on my old blog! since the new daredevil is coming out soon... maybe I'll revisit my favorite hell's kitchen baby boy.

I will always do my best to leave the reader description as vague as possible (albeit female, but I am a woc, so will also always have woc in mind in my writing)

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: mention of beer, language

You remembered the first time you met him.

It was a Sunday at Fogwell’s, the gym was closed except for a private training session you had held earlier, some women from a hair salon in Hell’s Kitchen wanting to learn self defense.

You heard the little bell chime above the front door that signaled someone was coming in.

“We’re closed,” you called out without turning around. You were preoccupied with taking off your hand wraps as you heard him tentatively tap his way into the gym.

“Oh, sorry,” he started. “I was hoping I could speak with the owner.”

“You’re lookin’ at her,” you stated definitively. You took in his appearance, tall, somewhat built, a slight blush crossing his cheeks, and stubble you almost wanted to reach out and run your fingers across. He was cute you thought, as you tried searching his eyes before realizing they were pointed downward, a walking stick clutched tightly in his hands. “What can I help you with?”

“You don’t sound like the owner of a boxing gym in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen,” the man cocked his head to the side with a small smirk.

You scoffed a bit. “It’s my uncle’s gym, but he is on an extended vacation in Florida. Till he comes back, if he comes back, I’m the owner-operator,” you stated matter of factly. “You gonna question me or tell me what you want?” you said as you finished unwinding your hand wraps.

His small smirk extended into a full grin as he took a step closer to you and extended his hand for you to shake. “I’m Matt. I uh, I wanted to see if I could train here?”

You shook his hand, large and warm in yours. “Yeah, sure. We have open gym from 11-4, Monday through Saturday, kickboxing classes during the week at 5, boxing after that…” you trailed off. “What are you looking for?”

“Something more… private, actually.”

Now it was your turn to cock your head questioningly. As if he could feel it, he started speaking again.

“Even though I’m blind, I can feel people watching me. I know they’re wondering what someone like me is doing at a boxing gym, but I don’t need the judgement or little comments they make that they think I can’t hear. Plus my dad used to box here, way back in the day. I just want to be able to train in peace, privately. After hours?” he explained.

“After hours?” 

“Just a couple of days a week. I’ll stay out of your way. I promise.”

There was sincerity in his voice as you weighed your options. He seemed perfectly nice, innocent even. You usually stayed late in the gym most nights anyway, either looking over Fogwell’s books or training by yourself. Matt training after hours wouldn’t really impact you either way, plus, if you were being honest, you could use all the extra help financially.

“I’ll tell you what, you can stay today. I’ll be in the office, working on some things. Use the gym, do whatever you want, and I’ll make a decision after. Does that sound fair?”

Matt nodded his head, still clutching his walking stick. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“No worries, Matt.” You began walking your way back to your office before turning around again. “You’re a Murdock, right?”

Matt was in the middle of unzipping his jacket when he turned to look back at you quizzically. 

“You said your dad trained here. It was Jack, right? Jack Murdock?”

He slowly nodded back at you. 

You walked backward to your office, taking in the man in front of you. “Nice to meet you, Murdock.”

That was about 5 weeks ago, and Matt had been making regular appearances in your gym ever since. He would show up after hours a few times during the week and on weekends, sometimes giving you a call and begging, pleading you to come back and unlock the gym for him. You always would, knowing he would slip you a few extra dollars or bring you a 6-pack of beer to show his gratitude. You knew it wasn’t the only reason you would go out of your way to let Matt into Fogwell’s, but he didn’t have to know that.

You had a quickly developing crush on him. He was sweet, kind, and smart. Not hard to look at, either. He would flirt with you sometimes too, you were sure of it. Complimenting your perfume, praising your generosity. Sometimes you felt like he could read your mind, calling out your name or coming into the office every time you would daydream about him. You would always ask him to stay later when he brought you beer, too. Sometimes he would, and you two would spend an extra hour sitting around and talking about life. You really began to look forward to his calls, feeling a little lonely if you didn’t hear from him for a couple of days. 

There were other reasons you wanted to see him, too. He would do things, when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Things that made you question how much his disability really affected him. So, when he gave you a call at 9 PM on a Saturday, begging, no, pleading you to open up the gym for him, you immediately said yes.

He was waiting for you at the front door, body perking up as he heard you approaching.

“You got here fast,” he said.

“Murdock, you know I live upstairs.”

“I know, I know. I’m just surprised you didn’t have plans. It is Saturday, after all.”

You scoffed as you held the door open for him. “Here to make me feel bad or to train?”

He laughed as he made himself comfortable in the gym. He took off his hoodie and you made a sharp inhale at his toned stomach. Was it just you, or was he getting ripped?

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked, walking toward the ring in the center of the gym.

“Sure,” he said, rolling his neck and shaking out his muscles.

“You ever think about getting in the ring?” You hopped up onto the platform and lowered the middle rope to climb in.

Matt looked at you, a smile tugging on his lips. “Can’t say that I have. Might not be easy for me to see who I’m fighting, on account of the no seeing thing.”

“Humor me,” you said, trying to take a slow deep breath as the shirtless man made his way toward you.

Matt walked to the ring, reaching his hand out to feel for the platform before climbing into it himself.

You slowly walked around the ring while Matt stayed close to the ropes, trying to decide the best way to approach your theory.

“I’ve been watching you these past few weeks,” you started, centering yourself directly across from him.

His eyebrows quirked up at your confession. “Oh?”

You nodded your head. “You’d probably be a tough opponent. Natural ability, a lot of fight in you.”

Matt’s smile grew bigger, his chest puffing out slightly at your compliment. He was clearly about to make some clever, flirty remark back at you, as he always did, but you took advantage of his distracted state and slid your keys out of your pocket, throwing them straight at his head.

You watched as his brows furrowed, only slightly, his head popping straight up. You don’t know it, but Matt feels the breeze shift in the gym when your arm quickly moves to throw the keys, he smells your deodorant, the fragrance being released because of the little bits of friction caused by your movement, and he tastes the metallic of the keys as they fly through the air.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You had a feeling, but you were still surprised to see Matt clutching your keys directly in front of his eyes. He looks at you, eyes pointed slightly downward, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, knowing you caught him.

“I fucking knew it!”

read pt 2.

would you guys like more Matt? I have a very very old angsty wip that I'm tempted to finish if anybody is interested!

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 11

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 11 - Take a Chance and Crash

Tags: (changing this to tags for each chapter) Swearing, masturbation, sexual innuendos, flirting, alcohol consumption, drunk Reader, angst, confirmed sexual abuse by parent. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.1k

AO3

“Thanks for driving me home, Emily,” you said sleepily in the passenger seat. Unlike you, Prentiss had held back on drinking a lot so she could drive home safely. The other ladies took ride shares, and you were going to as well until Emily offered to take you home.

“Well, considering I strong armed you into coming, figured it was only polite,” she answered cheekily.

“Strong armed?” You laughed and accidentally snorted, which made Emily bite back a chuckle. “Maybe if I kept saying no you woulda gonna go cavewoman on me.”

“What does that even mean?” She was not fluent in your drunk talk yet.

“You know!” you said without explaining any further as to you, it was obvious.

“I’m sorry to say, I do not,” she said with the years of patience talking to inebriated co-workers.

You found this confusing and shrugged. “I thought you were smart and membered things good.”

 “I am, and I do, but not once did either of us mention prehistoric women.”

“You were going through my clothes!”

She nodded.

“And you were so …” your hands gestured in the air trying to find the word, “so…insistent. Persistent?” You looked confused and pouted. “Both?”

Emily fought a smile by biting her lip. “Both works in this case as they’re synonyms.”

You made a fist to pound on the armrest triumphantly. “Yes! So, if I didn’t still wanna go, I bet you woulda made me get dressed, throw me over your shoulder, and throw me in the car. Ugh! Ugh!” You pound your chest in time with the grunts, and then looked around with a squint trying to remember something. “This car, actually. This is the car we came in, right?”

“Yes!” Emily barked out a laugh. “But I wouldn’t have made you get dressed.”

“No?” The thought of that makes you sad as your eyes drifted to her hands wondering what they would feel like on your whole body. That made you grin a bit dopily.

“No,” she confirmed and wished she didn’t notice that you may have been delighted by being undressed by her. You were intoxicated and she wasn’t going to confirm that look any further, but it made her wonder how far your defenses had dropped to comment like this and how truthful they were. “I’m not a cavewoman. Just … persistent.”

“Insistent!” you said, looking proudly at her and squinted with one eye open. “Syn -no -nym.”

“Very good, Whitlock. You get an A in English class.”

You jutted out your lower lip and nodded. “I’m skilled with my tongue.”

It took Emily every ounce of self-control to not push down on the gas pedal and tear off down the road with that unexpected comment. She plays it cool. “And … why is that?”

“Linguistics!” you announced. “Know lots of English and other languages. Like you!”

Her heart’s accelerated beat slowed a little with that, and she chuckled. “Not the best use of the English language right now, honey, but at least you’re trying.”

Then you blurted out in Russian. “Это означает, что вы тоже умеете обращаться с языком!” And then looked sly. “Делает меня счастливой девочкой, а?”

This time she came to a hard stop at the red light and the seatbelt locked on both of you. “Ugh! I hate when this happens.” You fought with the strap to try and loosen the seatbelt. You looked the fool as you kept failing to free yourself by grunting with each pull, glaring at the anchor attached to the door that kept clunking in defiance.

Emily remained quiet as you struggled. She wasn’t as proficient in Russian as you were, but she gleaned enough of it that made her mouth go dry …

The rest of the drive home had been tamer because the fight with the seatbelt seemingly made you forget all about the linguistic tongue inuendo due to alcohol consumption, but Emily was well aware that her surprised reaction was wailing with desire for you. When you exited her car, a flash of want passed between you when you locked eyes. It began as a rudimentary current that wanted to spark brightly and latch onto the two of you. Emily did want to reach out to claim it with a fervent need. In those scant seconds of gazing deeply into your eyes, she pictured herself quickly exiting the car to stalk around it towards you so she could capture your lips in a hot, fervent, kiss.

Later that night Emily was stuck lying in bed and unable to sleep, her mind drifting inevitably to you. She tried forcing her mind to work on the current cases to be logical instead of emotional – detailing evidence or witness testimony or go through Monday’s schedule to bore her to sleep because running numbers at that financial meeting is boring as fuck. But every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing you. The way your eyes squint, making them noticeably mischievous, when you playfully flirt with her. It caused your mouth to curve upwards divinely despite Emily being mortified! Or how delightfully witty you are, how your intelligence pours from you underneath all that frivolity that speaks to the demons you’ve shared with one another. Your physicality in taking Luke down was a sight to behold. Not just the innate skill that you’ve honed over the years to defend yourself but your exquisite lean frame that her wandering eyes enjoyed tracing your musculature.

Emily hadn’t felt this way in a long time and when she did, she just took care of her needs with a toy or her hand in the safety of her own home. Instead of giving in to her desire and being respectful of your inability to make sound decisions, you both parted ways, Emily waiting until you made it inside the main entrance safely as you continued to sing Shadows of the Night by Pat Benatar that had started playing in the car. You may have been drunk but damn, did you have a fine singing voice. You even stayed on key.

Her mind begins to wander further, wondering how those strong arms and legs of yours would feel wrapped around her own body. It forced a sigh from Emily’s mouth, her body shifting under the sheets as the chase for friction between her legs grew wanton. As she brought her hands under the sleep shirt she wore, she toyed with already erect nipples, palms gliding against them in a circular pattern before fingers pinched and rolled. She closed her eyes and gasped, feeling herself clenching as her body demands more.

One of Emily’s hands drifts teasingly along her bare abdomen, imagining how the two of you would try and dominate the other, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes until one of you claimed victory and, in her mind, Emily succumbed first. She softly groans with her hand slipping under the pajama pants and the waistband of her underwear, teasing coarse hairs. She cries out, picturing your face between her legs, nuzzling and teasing your tongue to work Emily up viciously. She spreads her fingers rubbing her clit between them as hips rock of their own accord. She immediately clenches with a strangled sigh, needing to fill the escalating ache. She imagines her fingers sliding inside her were yours, that you were feeling her slick heat for the very first time. That your tongue was batting against her clit instead of the palm grinding against it. Emily’s wanton body was flushed with impending climax – lips parted in a diverse symphony of cries and gasps with hips rocking to reach maximum penetration. Her free hand gripped the sheets tightly and tugged, grounding herself in the image of you pumping and curling your fingers at just the right tempo to make her sing. She imagines your heated gaze locking with her own across the landscape of her undulating body and that was when she couldn’t hold back any further.

Emily cried out your name at the first tight pull deep within her pelvis before unraveling completely.

She immediately fell asleep after releasing her body’s tension in a delightful orgasm but when she awoke this morning, Emily knew she was in trouble. She wanted to blame JJ, Tara and Penelope for putting thoughts of you two together in her head, but that wasn’t entirely true. These stray thoughts have been occurring since Indio. If she wanted to be truly honest with herself, probably even longer.

So, it really, really, was unpleasant to know that she didn’t have the entire weekend to get her emotions in check. No. Sicarius just had to make contact late last night. Penelope texted both you and Emily that Spiderboy took the bait. Emily had made the decision for the three of you to meet at Quantico to go over next steps and not respond too quickly without a plan, and if things progressed further, you would need a separate device to use, which could only be provided onsite.

She purposefully remains seated to the left of Penelope, not wanting to sit against the edge of the desk to avoid as much eye contact with you as possible. You had shambled into Quantico with an FBI hoodie on looking like a criminal. The hood was pulled tightly over your head, the strings long and dangling against your chest and to make the ensemble perfect, you had sunglasses on. The black sweats and crocs really took away the mystique though.

You were nursing your coffee from a to go cup from Costco, idly swinging your chair back and forth in thought on the other side of Garcia. You hadn’t said anything or acted like anything out of the ordinary happened last night, and Emily knows she didn’t fantasize the interaction. It occurred to her that maybe she got lucky, and you were so drunk you just don’t remember what happened.

Penelope being hung over also was in Emily’s favor. No jokes or pushing any information on driving you home has come up. Well except one joke she made about you.

“You’re awfully quiet there, Unabomber.”

“Ha. Ha.” Your tone was dull. “I’m thinking.”

You were thinking about last night and how stupid you were on the ride home with Emily. Sure, you didn’t betray national secrets, or Emily’s tendency to sleep on her office couch instead of going home, but you were a stupid drunken fool hitting on her so explicitly when you two were alone in her car.

You had never been so grateful being choked by a seatbelt. It managed to reset your brain, making you behave, your addled mind going to a safe place which was singing in Emily’s car! Who does that?! You’re so fucking embarrassed that drunk you thought singing to Pat Benatar was the perfect way to turn the conversation around to something less mortifying with only three minutes left until you arrived at your complex.

You’re still unsure how you feel about Emily ignoring what happened and honestly, it’ll have to wait for another time. You need to focus on Sicarius.

User45125: How’s the world on your end? It’s been a minute.

You received this message a minute after Sicarius responded to your carefully written response to a true idiot poster that thought gasoline and a match were all you needed to send things ablaze. Someone with more finesse would offer advice on how not to get caught after your first fire. You and Emily had bounced different ideas on how to tackle your first post on the message board and felt that an innocuous response to a thread would get your feet wet. You also liked some posts that fit FlamePit23’s usual interests, but at an inconsistent pace to make it appear that FlamePit23 was busy.

Penelope suddenly whines in frustration. “Ugh, still no luck, ladies. The way private messaging works on this platform is that the system deletes messages after ninety days. Nothing I’m doing can retrieve them.”

“Well, we got everything FlamePit posted, and I came up with a good opening. I can keep it up with the info we’ve got. Just, if we keep messaging like this and things escalate, I’m gonna need more wiggle room to communicate and I doubt I’m doing this on my personal cell,” you explain.

Prentiss immediately agrees. “Garcia, set up a cellular device for Whitlock with all the bells and whistles the prior unsubs had. I want this phone to be Sicarius approved.”

“Easily done. I’ll hook you up with latest and greatest, my dear.”

You nudge her knee with yours and she looks up at you and smiles when she sees yours. “Thanks for taking care of me. But now I need to borrow her majesty’s keyboard to respond. May I?”

She tilts it towards you. “You may.”

You bite your lower lip and, in these situations, become FlamePit23 and go with your gut. It’s how you’re a good spy. You put you away in this neat little box to emulate the persona that you’re required to be. You type something out as Garcia and Prentiss watch. You didn’t even have to delete words or rephrase. You answer as if this wasn’t your first time speaking with Sicarius which impresses both women.

FlamePit23: You know how it goes. Life gets in the way and you have to pretend play. How is shit on your end?

You didn’t hit send yet and look at the ladies to your left. “Sound good?”

“Did you seriously rhyme on purpose?” asks Penelope.

You finally pull back the hood covering your head and smooth back your tussled hair. “Indeed, I did. This girl likes being poetic so here I am waxing some.”

Emily nods to hide her distracting eyes towards your movements. “Hopefully it’s enough.”

You hit send and slide the keyboard back to Penelope. “Figure I’ll stay here until the phone’s ready?”

“Correct. We can’t take the chance Sicarius responds back now that FlamePit23 will seemingly be more active. How long to get her set up?”

Penelope’s fingers dance along her newly returned keyboard setting up programs and requisitioning a phone for your use. “A few hours to work my magic, lovelies.”

“And let’s start brainstorming electronic footprints that Sicarius can find. If things start going well, he won’t want to talk to someone that he can’t find anything on.”

“Good plan. But first, I’m gonna go make some coffee. Can’t plot without more,” you announce, rising. “Shall I make it for three?”

“Yes, please!” Penelope brings up coding to start imprinting electronic lies for later. Not for social media. No, this FlamePit would be off those apps, probably have a police record and basic information of where she lived, went to school, work, and current address. Simple things for Penelope to create.

“That would be great. Thanks, Whitlock,” says a distracted Emily, busy scrolling through her phone.

You take it as a good sign that she doesn’t want to join you to talk about last night. You salute the two of them and head out to the kitchen.

Penelope may have been hung over, but she was not ignoring her desire to know what happened last night after Emily offered to drive you home. Since you arrived at Quantico first looking like shit, she didn’t want to press her cutie for any information just yet. The sober section chief was her target.

She looks at Emily who was focused on her phone and decides to take her fuzzy yellow pen top to tickle her friend’s face. “Okay, spill!”

Emily irately swats the offending item away. “What the hell?!”

She accusingly points her fuzzy pen top at her. “You mean to tell me nothing happened last night?!”

“What?” Emily was tired and impatient at the vague statement, but the fierce look Penelope was giving her provided the means to piece together the unspoken specifics. “No, nothing happened. I just drove her home.”

“After all the flirty banter and her eying you all night, nothing happened?” Penelope was appalled.

“She was not eying me all night. And to be fair, you all end up being flirty with each other, and me, when you’re all tipsy and beyond,” she corrects firmly.

“I have eyes, Emily, and I saw hers looking at you when she wasn’t laughing against your side,” she counters haughtily. “And you sure as heck didn’t mind her being all cozied up to you.”

“And she was drunk. I’m not going to do anything when she’s drunk.”

“Ah!” Penelope points happily. “So, you do want to do something!”

“No! That’s … that’s not what I meant,” she says, quickly trying to defend herself.

“Then what did you mean?” she asks, crossing her arms with an eyebrow raising with demand. “You still haven’t given a real reason why you can’t go for her.”

“Because we’re working a case.” She gestures with her phone hand to Penelope’s screens. “Last thing I need is a distraction. Or if shit goes wrong, being awkward at work.”

“No,” Penelope waggles her brows in mischief. “But this would be a good distraction since, you know, you’re one of the few people not getting laid around here.”

She grimaces and feels her cheeks grow hot as her mind goes back to getting herself off last night to the thoughts of you. “God damn it, JJ …”

Penelope’s face relaxes and looks at Emily with sympathy. “I wouldn’t push if I didn’t think our cutie wasn’t in to you, and believe me, all signs point to being hot for Prentiss. And come on, Emily! You two have a lot in common and are getting on well. Take a chance for once and see how things go instead of running away of a maybe good thing …”

You stop in Prentiss’ office to grab her FBI mug before heading to the kitchen without thinking. You just know that was her preferred mug and wanted to use it. You pour the coffee grinds into a filter, fill the coffee maker with water, hit brew, and then line up the mugs. Yours was just a plain red one that you borrowed and set it between Prentiss’ and Garcia’s Good Morning Servant white mug with cats on it.

As the hot water starts dripping with audible hissing, you lean against the fridge with a sigh wondering what you were you going to do about last night. Do you just ignore what happened like Emily was doing or do you come up with a lame apology and see where things go?

Easy enough. You’re going to forget about it and pretend you were an amnesic drunk. You never had a relationship before and you’re not going to start changing your mind now. Everyone has baggage but yours is the size of two semi’s packed full of it. Emily doesn’t deserve to deal with your bullshit. Bullshit that equated to never having an emotional or physical relationship ever with anyone since your fucking father ruined any chance of that connection with his abuse against you. You used your body for marks in the CIA, which was easy for you to pretend to be someone else, like how you pretended to be someone else when your father assaulted you. It was easy to transpose the same survival instincts to undercover work and push women that held interest in you away with being aloof to their advances. Men were easier to disappoint. If a no didn’t suffice, it became a fuck off, and if that didn’t work, the fist in their face ended the issue.

But fuck it all with Emily. Why did she have to be so fucking flawlessly imperfect. You didn’t know how else to explain her energy that just wanted to link with yours. The woman was fucking gorgeous with long silver hair framing her face, and brown eyes that spoke to you with a depth of emotional understanding being in the same line of work as yours. And her fucking ability to disarm you was aggravating as it was comforting. You just were able to be you around her and since Brian gave her some leeway into who that was, you found it easy to be honest with her.

You never had this sort of affection come over you for anyone and it scared you that you wanted to know what it felt like. But you couldn’t. Again, it wasn’t fair to Emily.

Your phone goes off just then and when you pull it free from your pants pocket, you see that it was Brian and answer. “Your ears were burning. The guilty party has decided to check in.”

Brian laughs. “She told you, huh?”

“Considering she showed up outta the blue at the apartment and I was livid? Yeah, of course she told me.”

“And how did it go?”

“Oh, you just assumed I went?” you respond back, pretending to be irritated.

“You sound tired and hung over, so yes. I know you did.”

You scowl in displeasure at how easily he can still read you over the phone. “Seriously? I sound like that. I thought I was hiding it pretty good.”

“Well?”

“You want a pat on the back or something?” You say it with a chuckle.

“Nope. Just want to know how it went.”

The hand against the fridge door was lightly stroking the cold metal before you began drumming your fingers against the surface in thought. “I had a lot of fun. Thanks for telling her.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Though, you really should be thanking Prentiss for calling me.”

“I did.” You rock your head mulling it over and rephrase. “Sorta.”

“Alright. How did you sorta thank someone this time?”

Brian was well aware of your ability to speak around certain phrases and thanking someone for pushing you was one of them. “By allowing her the pleasure of driving me to the meet up and back.”

“That all?”

“No.” He waits patiently as you work up your courage. “I let her know I suck at being in groups.” Then you thud the back of your head against the fridge a couple of times. “And I sang in front of her on the ride home.”

“You did not.” He’s shocked.

“Indeed, I did.”

“You never sing in front of people so casually …” He still couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, well …” You sigh,” … I was drunk.”

“Even drunk you don’t.” He waits a beat, and you can hear him smiling into the phone. “You must really like her to let your guard down like that.”

“That’s debatable but thank god I have a good voice, or I’d really be embarrassed.” You click your tongue. “I also may have confirmed I’m a spy last night. Just with Prentiss tho. Since you gave a bit of clearance and all.”

“That’s fair. She’s high enough up the chain to know small details of your work. But speaking of work …”

“Uh, oh … I swear I didn’t do it,” you grin, chuckling.

“Actually, that’s right on the nose. You missed Nina.”

Your eyes widen and you hit your fist against the fridge. “Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bail on Nina. Is she mad?”

“No, but I am. You’re seeing her tomorrow. I want no excuses and for you to write it on your forehead if you need to. This is the first time in years you missed a session when stateside.”

“Okay, okay. Wait. Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“And I’m the Director of the CIA.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Of course, Brian pulled strings and paid Nina a bonus to talk to your ass on a weekend day. “Fine. What time?”

“10am.”

“Got it. I promise I won’t miss my date with Nina this time.”

What you didn’t realize is that Prentiss had come down to talk to you and was waiting for you to finish your conversation with Brian just around the corner. The courage that Penelope had forcefully coaxed out of her immediately dissolved into disappointment. It was too good to be true that you were interested in her and it was just the alcohol talking. She slips away back to Penelope’s office, anxiously picking at her nails to work through the emotions coursing through her body.

Whoever this Nina was, she must be an amazing woman for Brian to be setting her up with you. She was lucky. Unlike Emily who was two minutes too late in asking you out …

*Translation from Russian

And that means you’re skilled with your tongue, too! Makes me a lucky girl, eh?

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