#[no need to give the millionaire blonde woman all my money]

[charlottcharles]

caved and had my mother get me the midnights lavender cd while she was at target lmao

[kitthepurplepotato]

Part 11 / This Wedding Sucks.

Summary: Mr. Katsuki goes to Denki’s wedding and gets drunk (and sappy). Things get weird. Mr. Katsuki does NOT want to kiss the Menace. Kirishima almost looses his poor balls. This summary does not make sense but neither is the chapter. Author went all deep and shit on this one. She’s not sorry.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drunk Bakugou, swear words, suggestive

First Chapter 💥 Masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Wow, this is…”

You are not sure how to describe this wedding hall.

One thing for sure, this place was re-designed especially for this occasion; Who the actual fuck would want such an obnoxious piece of furniture at their wedding?! This massive, expensive looking sofa has leopard print on it, the legs are pure gold and if that’s not enough, the whole shape of it looks like they have stolen it from a porn film set or something.

Otherwise, the place looks super fancy; the main color theme is black and white with a hint of golden all over the place; the door knobs, the accents, they are all shiny and expensive looking.

The other weird thing is the music; instead of the usual classical music, your ears are met with the sound of acoustic guitars. It’s sophisticated, but… different. You will definitely ask about the artist, just in case you ever get lucky enough to find an idiot who can tolerate you enough to spend the rest of their life with a lunatic like you.

“This is the bougiest shit I’ve ever seen.” Mr. Katsuki finishes your sentence, and honestly, he is not wrong; Kaminari Denki might not be the worst payed hero in the industry, but he’s definitely far off from being a millionaire and this place is way past his pay grade.

“How did he pay for this?” You ask the question of the century; and for your surprise, there is a really easy answer for it.

“Denki saved the owner’s son a few years ago.” Kirishima butts into the conversation. “They only need to pay for the catering.” He laughs and makes his way into the main hall.

“If there’s no caviar on the menu, I’m leaving.” Murmurs the angry blonde and stomps over to his seat.

“Jealous much?” You snicker and sit down next to him.

“Tch, why would I be jealous? This is a joke.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit too much for my liking.” You agree while you sip on your champagne.

Mr. Katsuki looks exceptionally hot today, you need to say. He’s wearing a black tailored suit with a dark red, super skinny shirt which doesn’t leave much for the imagination; his tie is loose which gives him a look of a rebellious teenager who doesn’t want to dress up but tries his best to fit in anyway. Having such a shitty personality in this godlike body is such a waste.

After the hall gets filled with heroes and family members, the event is about to start; sappy guitar music fills the hall as the couple of the day walks down the aisle.

“Whoever cries first need to chug down a bottle of vodka.” Mr. Katsuki smirks at you and the others, but his words are met with eye rolls and shush sounds. “This is not fun.” He sighs with a massive scowl on his face.

“I’m in.” You whisper into the blonde’s ears; he can barely hide his challenging smile as he leans back on his chair.

Honestly, you are not a big fan of weddings. You will never understand why would anyone pay so much money just to exchange some words and a bloody ring. Also, you’ve never been at a wedding before.

As the ceremony goes, you kind of start to understand the whole thing though; even you tear up by the end of the ceremony.

“If you cry…” Mr. Katsuki whispers in your ear in a deep voice, and damn if that doesn’t do “things” to you. He also smells really nice up close.

Ahh, fuck. Since you met that fucking Bakugou doppelgänger you’ve been having confusing feelings towards this person next to you. It’s not like he’s the same person. Get your shit together, woman.

“I almost lost, dammit.” You grin at him, tears long gone and the closeness feels weirdly comfortable. He’s literally in front of your face, yet you don’t feel threatened. It’s just two wedding-hating idiots having a banter in the middle of the ceremony. No biggie.

“I bet that’s his girlfriend.” Comes a loud whisper from a pink haired girl behind you, her name is Mina if you remember it right.

“I bet he’s secretly gay.” Comes another whisper from a black haired guy. Bakugou called him soy sauce face, but you are quite sure that’s not his real name.

“You are both wrong.” You turn to them with a mischievous smile on your face and the two start giggling like two teenagers; it’s not like you actually now if Bakugou sways that way or not, but even if he does you are quite sure he doesn’t want anyone to know that.

“Guys, behave!” Comes Deku’s high voice from somewhere behind the two, so you turn back with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s really not fun.” You sigh and turn back to main event; you can’t wait until this shit is over. This dress is really uncomfortable.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Bakugou Katsuki did not get to eat caviar today.

Also, this fucking afterparty sucks.

Everyone wants to talk to him. Everyone. Even the heroes he has never met in his goddamn life want to talk to him about the shitty weather.

Can’t they at least try to make a proper conversation? This is an absolute waste of time.

“If another extra comes over to tell me about the current stocks, I’ll catapult out of here through the window.” He grumbles to no one in particular, and to be fair, non of his friends care about him today anyway; they are all having fun and dancing while he’s stuck on the sofa with a bottle of champagne he’s stolen from the dining room after the hundredth small talk he had to suffer through.

He did such a good job in hiding from all the extras that he ended up alone in the far corner of the room, overlooking all the cheery people on the dance floor while drinking himself into a “sensitive bitch”.

He can’t take alcohol too well, okay?! Especially champagne and wine, but there isn’t anything else.

And now, after half of the bottle being gone, he is a little bit lonely, but not lonely enough to move from his comfortable hiding place.

His eyes wonder around the dance floor; he can see the Menace dancing with Kirishima in her motherfucking fancy dress; she works in unisex hoodies and massive boots, so this is the first time Katsuki realizes how stunning the Menace actually looks like behind all the oversized stuff she’s wearing. She did wear a skirt on her first day, now that Katsuki thinks about it, but he wasn’t really interested in her enough to take a good look back then; not like he’s interested now. He’s absolutely not.

There was also the fight two days ago when the Menace kicked his ass in a tiny sports bra but he was too angry to actually appreciate the view; not like he’s sad about it or anything. As he said, he doesn’t like the Menace that way.

He’s just… not blind.

Thanks to his drunk ass self, his staring got noticed by the demon itself and she’s coming over with a fond smile on her face.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

While you enjoyed meeting all these new people, you couldn’t take your mind off your anti-social boss, especially after he disappeared into thin air in the middle of the after party.

Did he kill someone and fled the scene? He looked super intense and constipated the last time you saw him talking to a random guy. The fella looked super annoying and loud, and to be fair, you would have killed him too. You are just about to finish the conversation and look for Bakugou in case he needs help in hiding the body when you find his crimson eyes staring at you from the far corner of the hall, his face emotionless and bored. As you get closer you realize something’s wrong; he isn’t wearing his usual scowl and there is no indication of him being annoyed by your existence as you come closer and closer to his secret hideout.

When you see the bottle of champagne in his hands, you understand why.

Now here you are, face to face with the bane of your existence, and you are willingly sitting down next to him. Damn, things have changed, haven’t they?

“I’m tired. And it’s cold.” You announce, trying your hardest to get comfortable without showing off your favorite panties to the whole world. It’s a challenge, let me tell ya’.

Instead of a proper answer, the blonde takes off his suit jacket, and throws it in your lap in an unfriendly way.

“Put it on. I’m hot anyway.” He grumbles and looks to the other side; there is a slight blush on his cheeks thanks to the alcohol.

“Mind to share your stolen goods with me?” You grin at your companion, who answers you with an eye roll, but shares his drink anyway.

“I hate this so much.” He grumbles again, but this time, he doesn’t shy away from the eye contact. This might be the first time he actually looked into your eyes properly. No one can blame you when your heart skips a beat from the soft, drunk look in his eyes. “Why do people feel like they need to make such a big deal out of their stupid love? It’s not our business, is it?”

You are not sure if he’s jealous or just grumpy, but you do your best to answer as honestly as you can; seeing the amount of booze missing from his bottle, he’s probably drunk enough to be able to have some emotions to understand your answer.

Needless to say, you are extremely excited about this whole situation. Since the alternative universe shenanigans, having a drink with your grumpy boss was on the first place on your bucket list. It’s out of pure curiosity, really; you just want to know if there is any chance the Bakugou you’ve met back then is a part of this Bakugou too.

Since the accident, you’ve been wondering about Katsuki’s real thoughts; the ones hidden behind all the anger and ego. You have a feeling there is so much more to him than the pure aggression he shows to the world.

“They’ve been together for ages. They had their fair share of privacy already. Let them have some fun.” You answer. “This is a new beginning for them. It’s not my cup of tea either, but I think I can understand.” You sigh while you rest your cheeks on the backrest of the sofa. The blonde shuffles to mimic your pose; you are both facing each other now.

“I would never make such a big fuss out of my wedding.” He murmurs, deep in thought. “A small wedding in another country, with only the most important people in my life - the stupid hag, my father, Eijirou, Shitty Deku and Candy Cane face… my teachers, maybe.” He mumbles with a dreamy face; a face that painfully reminds you of the other version of him.

“Am I not invited?” You snuggle closer, the liquid courage in your veins doing a great job at tearing down all your protective walls.

“Do you think you are important enough to be there?” He scrunches his brows, but there is no edge to his voice. It’s an actual question.

“By the time you get married, I might be.” You smile and take the bottle from the blonde’s hands to take another sip. There a slight electricity going through your body as you touch his fingers in the process. “I don’t think I want to get married, to be honest.” You admit with a sigh. “I have impossibly high expectations for my significant other.” You giggle into the small space between you two.

“Like what?” He asks like he actually cares about your answer, and the curious glare makes your heart melt. You wish to be able to see this side of him every day.

“Like… I want my other half to be really close to me. Someone who I can talk to about anything. I also want them to be strong enough to talk back to me when I go overboard. I want them to be able to have an argument with me without stepping back and letting me have everything in my own way.” You are way too deep in your thoughts to realize the blonde snuggled closer. You are also too drunk to realize that your answer isn’t hypothetical anymore; you are describing someone who you already know. “I want them to challenge me every day. Keep me entertained. But I also want them to be able to communicate their feelings towards me, otherwise I’ll always think I’m not good enough.” You sigh and look up at the blonde who’s looking at you with wonder and true interest. You definitely can not ignore the way your heart skipped this time. “What about you?” You ask shyly, but you don’t move back; you can feel Katsuki’s breath on your lips as he answers.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“What about you?”

Mr. Katsuki is way past his drinking limit; he’s drunk enough to not be able to contain his emotions, and he’s about to burst.

He wants to explode from all the confusing feelings; the way his heart is about to jump out of his rib cage from the closeness; the way he can’t stop snuggling closer and chase the warmth of Y/N’s body, the way he can’t help the shiver going down his spine when he can feel Y/N’s breath on his lips while she talks about her love interests.

For a weird reason, he wants to be that person; he wants to make Y/N’s dreams a reality and the sudden realization scares him deeply; he might be a sensitive drunk but he’s also a honest one; this is him, these are his real feelings coming up to the surface, even though he tried his best to push them under the rug for months. Now, with his emotions up his sleeve, he can’t lie to himself anymore. He will definitely deny everything, even to himself the next day when he sobers up, so this is his only opportunity to come clear.

“I want…”

What does he want? This right here, right now?

He can’t fucking say that.

Being so close to Y/N is extremely… uncomfortable, in a really weird way. His sober self wants to run away, snap this weird connection between them, even if it causes him pain, but his drunk self wants nothing more than to get sucked in by the abyss that’s calling him so desperately; it feels almost unbearable, the way his whole body just reacts to this person in front of him, like he can just mold into this person and be a whole; like the last puzzle piece in a massive picture finally being put in it’s right place.

“I want to feel a connection. I want to be pulled in, I want to feel like being close to someone isn’t a necessity, but the only way for me to finally breathe. I want to feel something that isn’t anger or frustration; find someone who can wash away my anger with a cheesy soft touch. Someone who can turn my fucking world upside down, twist it, untangle it, until I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.”

Katsuki is not sure if his words make any sense without seeing the full picture here, but he doesn’t care.

The truth is, Katsuki had his fair share of fooling around back when he was a teen. He forced himself out of his shell, tried everything to be able find out what makes his heart beat faster, but after all the meaningless make out sessions and unappreciated touches, he got to the conclusion that he just doesn’t have a heart.

Instead of a pleasant shiver, his mind was filled with disgust from the soft touches, he felt sick in his stomach when someone tried to caress his cheeks on a bad day, he broke so many hearts on his journey thanks to his inability to love that he decided to give up completely on it.

Bakugou Katsuki has never felt such a strong urge to pull someone closer, like he needs to close the distance, to chase the sweet release of this sudden tension or otherwise, he is going to die. He has never felt his chest this tight from the thought of someone, from the thought of being in someone’s arms; he has never craved the safety of a loving embrace as much as he is craving it now.

“Sounds like this person needs to move mountains to be able to get your attention.” Y/N comments, but there isn’t an edge in her voice when she says that.

“It’s impossible, I know.” He sighs, no offense taken by the harsh words. “No one would ever tolerate me enough to…”

“Kats.” Katsuki’s heart is about the explode by the nickname. He always hated it, hated the whole pet name thing, he wanted to throw up and run away, when anyone in his past ‘relationships’ - if you can call the few weeks of fooling around that - tried to call him anything else but his surname; but for a weird reason, right here, right now, his stomach is filled with butterflies from the sound of it. “There will be someone who will find their way into your heart, you know. You might be rough and angry on a normal day, but there is so much more in there.” Y/N’s hand caresses Katsuki’s chest, and the blonde wants nothing more than to put his hand over it, like a lovesick fool. “You are caring and sweet, always listening to everyone’s problems and trying to help in your own way. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes to understand you, but there is someone in this world who will see all the good things behind the mask you’re wearing. I can see it. I can also tolerate you… well, kinda.” She giggles, her face blushed and embarrassed. Katsuki can’t take this anymore.

“Y/N…” Katsuki leans in, their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Y/N pupils are blown wide from hearing her own name from the blonde’s mouth and also from the sudden closeness, but by the look of it, his presence isn’t unwelcome. “I…” Katsuki’s body moves on it’s own; his hands find their way into the back of Y/N’s head, caressing the soft hair, like it’s the fanciest silk Katsuki has ever touched and Y/N relaxes into his arms like she belongs here, she snuggles her nose to his own in a weird Eskimo kiss and Katsuki can’t stop himself anymore, he leans into the touch; their lips brush for a millisecond, for just enough to get lost in the feeling…

“No, no, no, fuck no” There is a fucking hand pushed in between his and Y/N’s lips, just when he was about to move them. Katsuki looks up at the intruder with murderous intent; Kirishima stares at him, his eyes blown wide, his face slightly mental from the utter embarrassment.

After a few moments, he looks to to other side of the couch; Y/N moved away, her face hot and red from the sudden realization.

This is when the happenings of the past few minutes hits Bakugo like a truck.

Oh.

Fuck.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

5 minutes before

Kirishima doesn’t want to pry.

He really does not.

He is about to come back from a quick toilet break, taking his time looking around the area; it’s such a rare occasion to have everyone together like this these days.

They are all busy, they are all pros, fighting against the evil with their lives on the line. They don’t have time for silly chit-chats and party games anymore; those few hours they have left from their day is usually used for taking care of their loved ones, or to be at the shrink’s office after having a massive meltdown/life crisis.

This is hero life for ya. Not all shit and giggles but shit piled up on another old pile of shit until you suffocate and die.

But don’t worry, you die with a smile on your face. Because you are a fucking hero from the beginning to the end.

No, Kirishima is not depressed. He’s just realistic.

As the redhead sighs into the void, his eyes wondering around the corner, he can’t believe what he’s seeing; Bakugou and Y/N is almost SNUGGLED UP on the sofa hiding in the corner of the hall, giggling and chatting away.

Kirishima has been Bakugou’s best friend for almost a decade, he knows this man as the back of his hands; it only takes him a few seconds to find the almost empty champagne bottle on the floor next to the blonde.

It’s not like he’s absolutely shocked by the scenario; he knew this will be the end game from the first second Y/N came into the office, but something just doesn’t feel right about this; it feels too sudden, too forced.

If this goes the way Kirishima thinks it will; because let’s be honest, he could feel the sexual tension between these two and it’s honestly unbearable at this point; Katsuki will ruin everything the day after, run away like the fool he is. He will run away from the responsibility, from the feelings, from the unnecessary complication that is Love, the second he sobers up.

So Kirishima says farewell to both of his balls as he sneaks closer to the two lovebirds, ready to act as a shield between them when it’s needed.

For his surprise, the conversation is nothing what he expected it to be; instead of shameless flirting his ears are met with reassurance and pure, heartfelt consolation. For a second, he thinks it would nice to just let have their way with each other; as we all know, Kirishima is an absolute softie and he can’t take this away from his explosive friend; he’s been praying every single to day for Bakugou to find someone who can appreciate him for who he is, and his prayers were clearly answered when Y/N came into their lives, even though this whole scenario wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago when the office was nothing but smoke and destruction when the two were in the same room for longer than 5 minutes.

By the end of his monologue the air got filled with tension and sparks; he only closed his eyes for a long second but when he opened them up again, he saw something he will never be able to unsee; the two drunk and emotionally overwhelmed idiots are a millimeter away from kissing each other in front of the whole hero industry.

Kirishima takes a moment to asses the situation.

With the alcohol melting their protective walls away, his two friends finally realized their feelings towards each other and that’s amazing and lovely and cute and Kirishima isn’t at all jealous right now.

But….

If Kirishima let’s this happen, Bakugou will be mortified tomorrow, his non-existent relationship with Y/N will be out in the open before they can properly talk about it, Bakugou will end everything the first second he wakes up to his friend’s stupid messages about his “new girlfriend” and he will never be able to face Y/N again. He will cause Y/N as much pain as he can chase them away; he will break Y/N’s heart into pieces and also his own, out of spite; Katsuki isn’t in deep enough to not run away from all these new feelings yet. It might already be too late, but fuck if Kirishima isn’t the best friend the world has ever seen when he moves his hand between the two just in time to stop their drunk shenanigans.

“No, no, no, fuck no”

Well, that’s a poor choice of words, but he’s freaking the shit out right now.

Can you blame him?

He’s probably about to get castrated by his own best buddy after what he’s done.

They both look like they’ve just woken up from a fever dream, barely knowing what’s happening around them.

Kirishima thanks God for sparing his balls today.

“Katsuki, we are going home.” Declares the redhead, grabbing the blonde’s shoulder to pull him up. “I’m calling you a taxi, Y/N. Please, give me a call when you get home, okay?” Wasted Dynamight on his shoulder and the phone in his hands, he orders 2 taxis on the app.

“Yes, mom.” She swallows loudly, and without a single other word or eye contact Y/N makes her way outside the building. The 2 stumble after her; he wants to make sure she actually takes the taxi and doesn’t wander away to clear her mind in the middle of the night.

“I can’t believe you cockblocked me, you fuck.” Slurs Bakugou, his eyes glaring daggers.

“You’ll thank me later.” He sighs into the void and makes his way to the second taxi after he made sure Y/N took the first one.

They don’t talk at the way home and let me tell you, nothing is scarier than a quiet Bakugou, but in this case, the quiet is a good sign; it means the blonde is willing to give his new feelings a chance; he probably won’t act on them yet, but he won’t ignore them either.

“Thanks, Ei.” Murmurs the blonde as Kirishima helps him to his bed with a bottle of water and an empty bucket ready by his bedside drawer. He puts his phone on charge as well to make sure it doesn’t die on him in case he needs help during the night.

“Thank me by not running away from this. You deserve it, whatever that was.” Answers the redhead with a fond smile on his face.

“Fuck off.” The blonde mumbles, his blushing cheeks safely hidden between his pillows.

Kirishima doesn’t answer, he only laughs.

He’s just happy to be able to be there for his best bud. “I can hear your disgustingly sappy thoughts, shut it. Just stay here for today, it’s late.”

Kirishima doesn’t need to be asked twice; he makes his way to the couch and falls into it face first.

Whatever will tomorrow bring, he’s ready for it.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

*author is silently screaming into a pillow*

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!💥💚

Taglist: (If you want to be added, just ask!) @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai @nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

Demons of the Past

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Mature language

Word count: 3074

Ch.1 Stranger Danger

Poppy Min Sinclair had to arch her slender neck to see her reflection from over the shoulder of Chloe, who had been testing her new artistic vision on her for a good few minutes. For some time now, Poppy had become a canvas for Chloe's magical hands as she tried her luck at running a beauty salon, along with Veronica, who was doing her best advertising.

"What do you think V?"

Veronica tore her gaze away from her phone and looked towards Poppy wrinkling her nose slightly. She usually did that when she was seriously considering something. "As far as I'm concerned she could use some plastic surgery."

"Asshole," Poppy laughed hurling a pillow at her friend, which missed and knocked over a decorative vase standing nearby. Three girls looked in that direction and soon the three of them burst out laughing loudly, curling up on the floor.

"Enough, enough!", Chloe began to shout when she noticed that Poppy wanted to wipe her eyes from crying, and she caught her hands, looking at her with a chastising gaze. She wouldn't let her hard work be destroyed so easily. Poppy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face remained constant as she silently teased the shorter girl along with Veronica. "Why am I hanging out with you guys..."

"You love us," whined Veronica hugging a reddened Chloe with one arm, who lowered her gaze quickly to her hands nervously playing with the hem of her skirt.

Poppy made the sound of displeasure she made whenever the two girls started acting too cute. She was glad for their happiness, but deep down she felt an incredible jealousy, because she herself would like to share her life with someone too.

The couple sort of understood the blonde, pulled away from each other and looked at her docilely.

"Don't worry Poppy, I'm sure you'll meet someone at the party tonight. From what I heard Zoey invited some cutie from the old days...", Chloe smiled as she tried to convey positive energy with her words. "Besides, you're wearing my makeup, no one will be able to resist you!"

"Cutie you say..."

Ch.2 Party Fever

She was the most beautiful girl in the whole room.

No.

She was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

Bea watched from a dark corner of the room as Poppy twirled effortlessly to the beat of the music, attracting the stares of drooling people with her movements. Her tiny skirt didn't leave much to the imagination either, but that was Poppy Min Sinclair's style; if she wasn't the main attraction, what was the point of her presence?

"You're acting like a creep," she was snapped out of her observation by Zoey who magically appeared next to her, making her almost gasp.

"You should have some kind of bell around your neck, Wade," Bea rolled her eyes at her friend's laughter.

"Wow, she has nice ass... Ets, yeah, nice assets," Zoey smiled innocently seeing her friend's murderous gaze. "You'd better come over to her eventually,"

Her gaze went back to the dancing blonde. "It's been five years, what should I say to her?"

"Maybe something like; Heya Pops I already have money, maybe you want to come with me for a little Macarena?", the black-haired squirmed as Bea's fist landed right in her stomach, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. The slight pain she felt didn't stop her from laughing at the tomato-like look that appeared on her friend's face. "Come on babe, she's at the bar now, this is your opportunity."

Bea nodded and straightened up, ready to attack. "You finally said something with sense."

Ch.3 Deja-vu

"One Old Fashioned and Sex On The Beach."

Poppy turned behind her with a ready biting remark, but her voice froze in her throat when she saw the person standing behind her. And it was none other than Bea Hughes herself, her first drink, crush, kiss, sex, love, but also her first heartbreak. She stood before her as casually as if those five years of separation between them had never existed. Her short brown hair, now shoulder-length, was whiter than snow itself. Her childlike facial features had sharpened and she could see tiny wrinkles appearing from the overworked late nights. Her style had also changed, from boyishly sporty and bad girl to formal and important. She looked like a millionaire ripped straight from the cover of Forbes. She no longer resembled the person she once was.

"You remembered what I drink," the blonde choked out as the first wave of shock left her and the lump in her throat loosened. Talking to her seemed so unreal that she felt like she had lost consciousness and was now dreaming.

Bea smiled in response, though it was more of a tired smile than the beaming howl with which she had greeted Poppy daily in their school years. "There are some things that are hard to forget Pops," the white-haired girl shrugged her shoulders sheepishly as she slid the hundred across the counter towards the bartender, who with renewed vigor reached over and ran to prepare the drinks, nearly tipping over his own feet.

"Feeling generous tonight?", Poppy chuckled as she watched Bea tuck a rather thick bundle of bills into her pocket. In their teenage years, the white-haired girl had barely been able to make ends meet, but Poppy had always admired her ability to live from day to day and enjoy herself, even when an eviction order from her home hung over her head.

Bea laughed a throaty laugh that sounded almost like a cough. She nodded and tilted her head to one side, the way she did every time she got into a thoughtful mood. "There's nothing wrong with supporting the littles." Poppy's insides tightened to ask where she'd gotten all that money, but by some miracle her strong will managed to curb the urge and nip it in the bud. That would be tactless, and lack of tact is a trait that should not be associated with Min Sinclair.

"You can ask me anything you want," Bea looked her straight in the eye, making Poppy stop seeing anyone else but her. It was as if she had cast a spell on her and moved them far away, enclosing them in a safe bubble illusion. Even the music became just a distant rumble as the white-haired woman looked at her that way. The same way she had looked at her five years ago.

"I don't understand," the blonde cursed herself when she heard her own words, which sounded more idiotic than some of Chloe's wisdom. Bea seemed unmoved, by her clumsy attempt at pretending, in fact, a cocky grin appeared on her lips that she, oh so much, felt like tearing off now.

" Don't play games Poppy, we're not kids anymore," Bea reached for the drinks that had finally been brought in and handed one to Poppy, completely casually, fingertips brushing against the skin of her palm. "Drink up, it'll help you relax, and I know you have a lot of questions."

The blonde lowered her gaze to the drink and took a moment to look at the colors that danced on the surface of her liquor. How was Bea able to read her like an open book after all these years. Everyone said she had changed, but could it be that the change wasn't so great after all? And why was she always questioning herself in her company?

She was pulled out of her reverie by Bea, who unnoticeably slipped her finger under her chin and lifted her face so that they were looking at each other again. This time, however, she was closer, much, much closer. Poppy could without much difficulty smell the expensive perfume that didn't match the Bea of her memories, but did match the woman who sat before her. Just as in years past, Bea's thumb involuntarily stroked her cheek.

For a brief moment, the blonde let her selfish thoughts consume her and savor the touch, but it didn't last as long as she wanted it to. "N-no," she whispered and using all of her strong willpower she moved a safe distance away from the white-haired woman, who didn't object to her reaction. "I can't do it like this," she said as she walked away, escaping as quickly as possible from this cursed place, from this cursed past.

Ch.4 When It Rains, It Pours

When she left the building, it was already dark and chilly outside, and a light rain was drizzling from the heavy clouds hanging in the sky. At this point, however, she didn't care about ruining her expensive and designer clothes and makeup that Chloe had sat on for dozens of minutes. She needed to get some fresh air, cool down, and let her thoughts flow.

Why had she come back just now? Now that Poppy had put her life back together, without her and without thoughts of her.

"Sinclair!"

"You've got to be kidding me," she snorted under her breath hearing Bea's loud voice behind her, who as usual wasn't giving up. At least that hadn't changed. "What do you want Farmsville?"

Bea squirmed at that old nickname, but quickly imposed a stoic expression on her face and shoved her hands into her pockets. Even in this gentle rain and illuminated only by the slightly penetrating moonlight, she continued to look like a goddess, which annoyed Poppy immensely.

"You ran out so suddenly, I thought something happened and I thought..."

"Oooh now you thought?" snapped the blonde, who nervously shifted from foot to foot, almost ready to throw herself at the white-haired woman's throat. Years of pent up rage bubbled through her veins, making her skin almost burn with living fire. "Forgive my surprise, but I would never judge Bea Hughes for her ability to think!"

The white-haired woman watched her in silent contemplation, answering nothing. Her silence irritated the blonde a hundred times more than anything she could say. The atmosphere between them was becoming strained to the limit and all it took was one wrong move, one misspoken word, and the catastrophe was certain. The rain intensifying around them wasn't helping either.

"I don't understand what happened. We were talking calmly like we used to, and suddenly you run out and do one of your tantrums..."

"Ha! Like we used to...," she interrupted her again in mid-sentence, mimicking her and almost bursting into maniacal laughter, but her mood had nothing to do with amusement. "I guess you've already forgotten that you left me for five whole years and now you're back and you expect us to talk like old friends?", her voice wavered between anger and tears. "Someone paid you to come back here? That's where you got the money from, right? You were hired to get revenge on me..."

"What," the astonishment in Bea's voice was almost palpable as she stared at the blonde shaking with anger with her eyes wide open. It was Poppy's nature to explode and make arguments for any reason, but what she was saying now sounded irrational, even for her. "I'm the CEO of my uncle's company, that's where I get my money from," she corrected.

"What," this time it was Poppy's turn to be surprised and her face even softened. "What do you mean, what about your dreams of becoming a music star?"

Bea scratched the back of her neck nervously and lifted her face up, letting the raindrops wash her face of any negativity that had accumulated. When she felt ready enough not to explode, she looked back at the blonde and sighed, her face looking more tired than before. "Those were childhood daydreams. A music career would never make me the kind of money an accounting firm would."

"Childish daydreams? You spent your first earned money on a guitar and an amplifier, how can you call that childish daydreams...", the concern in Poppy's voice was sincere, probably one of the more sincere feelings she had felt in recent times.

"I needed real options and real money," Bea replied dryly, ignoring any emotion from the blonde, who was looking at her with a worried expression on her face.

"What for? Why did you need the money?" she asked, not yet knowing that she would light the fuse from the bomb with that question.

"What for? Is that really what you're asking?", Bea's so far calm expression bent into unnatural anger, her eyes misting over from the emotions gripping her. "And isn't that what you wanted? A girl who can fulfill your every whim, with a stable life, a job and a mountain of money?", a realization and simultaneous remorse appeared on Poppy's face, but it did not satisfy Bea. "Yes Poppy, I heard your conversation with Veronica the other night when you thought I was sleeping."

Poppy blinked several times, unable to formulate a response. She replayed that conversation in her mind, all the words she'd said then that she hadn't really meant, but under the onslaught of people around her, her perception was distorted. "It's not like that..."

Bea raised a hand to silence any explanation from the blonde. She didn't want to hear it. "No Pops" she shook her head, her hair wet from the downpour sticking to her face, masking any tears falling. "It at least gave me the motivation to change my life, for that I will be grateful."

Ch.5 Irreplaceable

"You understand that she still had the nerve to be mad at me? Like it's my fault for changing for her," Bea had been lamenting to Zoey for about an hour, who, like any patient friend, silently let her rant.

"And she's telling me that she changed for me... After all, I didn't ask her to!", Poppy nervously walked around the living room almost already trampling a path in the tiles. A worried Veronica and Chloe watched her in silence, letting her get all the negative emotions out.

"I know she didn't ask me to do this, but I wanted to finally be worthy of her, you know? I wanted to give her the future she deserved, and she wouldn't have it with me if I continued to follow my dreams," the white-haired girl slumped helplessly on the couch next to her friend, dipping her face into her hands. "After all, to a gorgeous girl like Poppy, it wouldn't be enough that I...”

"After all, she knew full well that she suited me the way she was, why did she take away the one person I..."

"Love."

"I wish I could be mad at her...", Bea muttered lifting her face and looking straight at Zoey who seemed to be in deep thought.

"But I can't," groaned Poppy leaning against Veronica's shoulder, who reflexively began to stroke the blonde's back, which slowly began to twitch from her silent crying. Chloe moved to the other side and snuggled into Poppy to give her her full support, knowing that no words could heal these wounds.

Zoey nodded and patted the white-haired girl's shoulder giving her silent support. Bea relaxed from her friend's touch. "Haven't you thought maybe it's about time..."

"To move on and find someone new? It's been five years," Veronica felt Poppy's whole body tense up and prepared for a burst of anger, from the blonde, but the blonde only raised her head and furrowed her eyebrows."

"No. She's irreplaceable."

Ch.6 Where Something Ends, Something Begins

It had been a week since the memorable meeting.

Since then, Poppy hadn't seen or heard from Bea who had sunk like a stone into water. Such disappearing without a word wasn't her style, but the blonde wasn't sure what her style was anymore. The days she lived as she always did, and the nights she sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and reminisced about old times while talking to herself.

"Thank you for coming Poppy."

Poppy slipped her sunglasses off her nose and looked over at Zoey who was warming her hands with a mug of hot coffee. "Believe it, I was surprised myself that I agreed," she lied. She agreed without hesitation because she knew it was about Bea, and inside she was dying to know what was happening to her.

Zoey giggled at the blonde's nudge and shook her head. Although her words were biting, there wasn't an ounce of incivility in them. Such a habit between them. "You can probably guess why I met with you."

"Is it about Bea?", Poppy tried to sound as formal as possible and not show that she was thinking about it day in and day out, almost unable to focus on anything else. How pathetic it would be if someone found out she couldn't control her feelings.

The black-haired woman sighed grimly and nodded her head. For a moment she began to search through her backpack and pulled out a strange little bundle. Poppy tilted her head and looked at the colorful paper that only her Bea could choose. She smiled at the surge of positive memories.

"The day she left, she told me to give this to her. I honestly thought about it for a long time, against all odds I wouldn't want you to suffer any more than you already have," Zoey's gaze drifted somewhere behind Poppy's back as she couldn't stand the pain in the blonde's eyes that grew with every word she said. "But I think this will help both you and her close a chapter in your life" Zoey pulled money out of her pocket and placed it next to the empty cup. Without a word, she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, who stared at the package as if mesmerized. She squeezed it tightly and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

With trembling hands, she reached for the bundle and prepared to open it. Somewhere deep inside she knew exactly what she would find, but she hoped that it was only an illusion and that it would not really contain what she had in mind. Unfortunately, hope is the mother of fools and when she opened the package, a velvet box appeared before her eyes.

She opened it with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe in another life and another time we would have had a chance, but I will love you always."

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (3)

masterlist. 

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE SKIP THE SEX SCENE. It’s the last part of the chapter, and all you need to know is that is happens. 

*****

There were never enough showers. 

Never enough showers to wash off the grit and the smell and the fear. Not from the dumpster—that came off pretty easily—but from before. 

Riley had initially turned the handle all the way hot, but she didn’t turn it down when she stepped into the shower. Water scalded her back, her chest, her thighs, but she didn’t care. She welcomed the pain with open arms. Anything to keep the numbness from returning. 

She left the glass door partly open. During her first shower since coming home, Riley had closed it normally and immediately panicked. The once spacious shower was suddenly too tight, closing in on her with each breath, like if she didn’t open the door right then she would’ve been trapped in it forever. Now Riley left the door open. The shower felt less like a cage when she did that. 

Riley went through the motions almost mechanically. Wash face. Shampoo hair. Wash body. Condition hair. Shave legs. In that order. Always in that order. 

She turned the water to freezing cold for a minute before stepping out. The shock to her system hurt worse than the hot water did. It felt like force-rebooting her body the same way she would a malfunctioning computer. 

She pictured the start-up graphics on a screen as her brain woke back up. Blackness. The mouse appeared, barely more than a white smudge against the dark. Then the loading screen. 

She got dressed, and it felt like typing in her password. The first outfit felt wrong, like she’d typed in the password incorrectly. Riley tried again. She got it the second time, mental fingers landing on the right keys, in the right order—clothes that felt like her, embracing her body. 

Skinny jeans. 

Rolling Stones t-shirt. 

Silver hoop earrings. 

When the mirror unfogged, Riley re-did her makeup—smokey eyeshadow and eyeliner sharp enough to stab the demons colonizing her mind. All part of her armor against the world. 

She’d need it with the whole team in her apartment tonight. 

Unsurprisingly, Desi and Cage let themselves in without bothering to knock. Riley’s only warning was an unmistakable squeal that could’ve only come from Cage before someone pounced on her from behind, nearly sending them both tumbling to the ground. Pale arms wrapped around her, and Riley awkwardly reached back to hug her friend. 

From somewhere behind them, Desi scoffed, “You could’ve at least waited for her to turn around, you know.” 

Cage shot back, “Don’t be all macho. You already got to see her.” Riley didn’t think picking her, Nikki, and Jill up from their dumpster adventure counted, but she didn’t correct the blonde. 

Cage let go only long enough for Desi to give Riley a real hug. Lowering her voice so Cage couldn’t hear, the more reserved woman whispered in Riley’s ear, “If you need anything, even just to talk, you come to me, okay?” 

Riley whispered back, “Okay.” Desi gave her a long, knowing look before pulling away. 

They brought Italian takeout from the fancy place downtown and an ungodly amount of wine. Riley eyed the expensive labels. She’d long been banned from alcohol duty; Nikki didn’t mind beer and tequila, but Cage and Desi just sneered and said she and Nikki drank like college students. Which, to be fair, they did. 

Cage poured a glass for each of them, and the trio migrated to Riley’s black leather couch. “So,” Cage began, “how does it feel to be out?” 

The interrogation was beginning early, it seemed. Carefully sipping her wine, Riley answered, “Good.” Cage narrowed her eyes at the one-word response, and Riley fought not to squirm under her all-knowing gaze. The former interrogator was literally a fucking mind reader. 

Cage pressed on. “What was it like in there?” 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Desi quickly assured, shooting her girlfriend a warning glare. There was something in Cage’s returning look that made Riley think this wasn’t the first time they’ve talked about this. 

Of course the team had talked about her while she was in prison. They had to process the events leading up to Riley’s arrest too. Riley didn’t blame them for that. But for some reason it still stung that they talked about her behind her back. 

She was saved from answering Cage’s question by Nikki’s loud arrival. The blonde gasped audibly from the doorway, eyes locking on the wine glasses in their hands. “You started without me? Rude.” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Speaking of rude, did you all forget what knocking is?” 

“If you wanted us to knock then you shouldn’t have given each of us a key,” Desi sneered. Riley frowned but didn’t disagree. 

Jill cautiously trailed Nikki into the apartment. Riley arched a brow in surprise; she hadn’t been sure the woman would actually show. She put up an icy exterior before speaking. “So,” Riley drawled. “You came.” 

Jill smiled awkwardly. “Hi.” 

“It’s Jill, right?” Cage got up to introduce herself. “I’m Samantha.” Riley watched the exchange carefully, studying Jill’s body language. She seemed to fold in on herself under Cage’s intense gaze, but Riley didn’t blame her. Even after six years of friendship, Cage was just as scary as the day Riley met her. 

With food in front of them, the conversation flowed easier. Riley was content to let Cage and Desi pester Jill with endless questions while she ate her pasta in peace. Hopefully they’d forget all about interrogating her. 

“So how did you all meet?” Jill asked after Cage finally ran out of questions. 

Riley smirked, but it was Nikki who spoke first. “Well, I met Riley the day I was fired from my first job. We ran around with the lowlifes of LA for a while until we met Cage, who was a professional gold-digger at the time.” Nikki took a sip of her wine. “And it was all fun and games until one day I found myself making breakfast for this cranky ex-military chick Cage brought home—” a pointed look at Desi— “who did the walk of shame out of our apartment every day until she moved in.” Desi stuck her tongue out at Nikki, who returned the gesture with glee. 

Meanwhile, Jill’s eyes widened with each new piece of information. “There is so much to unpack there.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, focusing on Cage. “You were a professional gold-digger?” 

Cage smiled and poured herself another glass of wine before snuggling into Desi’s side. “I was.” Desi wrapped a protective arm around her girlfriend. 

“She had a good thing going for a while,” Nikki explained. “Get with a hot millionaire, spend a year embezzling his money, fake her death. Repeat.” Cage wiggled her eyebrows, making everyone laugh. It was moments like this Riley missed most in prison—the gossip, the easy laughter. 

“And what about the other girl?” Jill asked. The laughter died immediately. “The one I’m replacing.” 

Riley’s grip tightened around her glass. “My best friend from high school.” There was just enough edge to her words to keep Jill from asking anything else about Leanna or the past. Riley knew what her next question would be: If she was your best friend, then why isn’t she here now? 

She’d asked herself the same question every day Nikki visited her in prison, alone.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Carefully timed trips to the kitchen enabled Riley to get Cage and Desi’s opinions on Jill without arousing suspicion. The team was in agreement—recruiting Jill was a yes. 

After the movie ended and the dishes were done, Riley gathered her team in the kitchen. There were times in prison she thought she’d never see this again—Nikki standing to her right, Desi sitting on a barstool with her boots on the counter, Cage just sitting on the counter, and now Jill, who miraculously knew how to both be polite and sit in a chair correctly. But here they were. Her team. In her kitchen. Waiting for Riley to pitch their next job. 

“So,” she began. “I’ve got a job for us.” 

Desi snorted. “I had no idea.” Rolling her eyes, Cage smacked her girlfriend’s calves in reprimand. 

Riley ignored her. “Paris Fashion Week is next month, and it’s time we attend. While we’re there, we can do some sightseeing, eat at fancy restaurants, visit the Louvre.” Desi and Cage sat up straighter at the word “Louvre.” Nikki already knew part of the plan, but until now the others had no idea what Riley had been planning. 

Nearly as perceptive as Cage, Jill asked, “What’s special about the Louvre? I mean, aside from the fact that it’s famous and holds lots of cool stuff.” 

“The Louvre,” Riley began, fixing her intense gaze on Jill, “contains some of best-guarded treasures on the whole planet. Which will make them all the more lucrative when they hit the black market.” 

Jill looked between the other women warily, as if she suddenly found herself surrounded by people who should be in a mental institution, and Riley had to fight the urge to laugh. “No offense, but you’re insane,” the recruit said. “Do you even realize how impossible this is?” 

“Not impossible,” Riley corrected. “But the challenge is what makes it fun.” 

Curiosity flooded Cage’s eyes. “I’ll bite. What’s the target?” 

“The French Crown Jewels.” Riley was met with a series of gasps and raised eyebrows.

Even Nikki showed concern. “Riles,” she said softly. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much, even for you?” The others nodded in agreement. 

Appalled, Riley demanded, “Are you doubting me now? I’m gone for two years and then...nothing? Where’s the trust?” 

“Of course we trust you,” Nikki said, stepping closer. “But maybe we should try for something easier.” After what happened last time, her eyes finished. 

Fire roiled in Riley’s gut. Who were these people? What happened to the women who jumped at every batshit plan thrown their way? Riley didn’t recognize the cautious people in front of her. Nikki, of all people, didn’t get to lecture her on easier. 

“This is the plan,” Riley snapped. “Either you’re in, or I replace you too.” She held Nikki’s gaze in challenge, making it clear she wouldn’t back down. 

It was Desi who finally dared to break the charged silence, standing up to pour herself another glass of wine. “Well, if you insist of doing something stupid, I’m not letting you do it by yourself.” 

Riley barely hid her surprise. Desi rarely took her side in an argument, if ever. 

Cage’s lips formed a grim line. “Guess I’m in too.” Even Jill reluctantly nodded. 

That just left Nikki. She glowered, clearly unhappy with being outvoted. “Fine,” she grumbled. “But I’m just as much the leader of this team as you are, and I reserve the right to pull the plug at any time.” Riley figured that was as close to agreement as she was going to get for now. 

She grinned wickedly. “Then it’s settled. We’re going to Paris.” 

*****

The next night, Riley took Nikki and Jill to a headline-making new club that just opened in Hollywood, as both an apology girls night and an opportunity to instruct Jill in Con Artist 101. Even though it was a weekday, neither protested. No local goes out on a weekend. Not in this city. 

The club featured the finest of LA’s nightlife—pulsing music, beautiful women, overpriced drinks, the occasional person who may or may not be a celebrity, and people doing lines of coke on the bathroom counter. Truly a sight to behold. 

The women to men ratio was surprisingly close to equal for an LA hotspot, and Riley didn’t waste the opportunity to check out all the eye candy her city had to offer. At the same time, she watched the crowd for easy victims. 

She found one easily. A young blonde woman barely contained in her tight, sequined dress stepped up to the bar, and Riley could just see the edge of her ID sticking out from the top of her dress. She’d be easy to pickpocket, especially once her large, bubblegum pink drink was in her system. 

The three women ordered their own drinks, and while they waited, Riley pulled Jill aside, lowering her voice. “You see her?” She tilted her head in the direction of the target. “Drunk blonde in a sequin dress.” 

“What about her?” Jill asked cautiously. 

“You’re going to pickpocket her.” 

“I’m what?” 

On her other side, Nikki chuckled, resting a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Con Artist 101, babe. You’ve got to start with the basics.” 

“Okay.” 

Riley continued, “You’re going to steal her ID. It’s stuffed down the front of her dress—easy, unsecure. First step, watch her to figure out exactly where it is.” This was the first test, seeing if Jill was perceptive enough to pick up the kind of small details most people ignore. It wasn’t enough to just be aware of her surroundings; she had to know exactly where everything was at all times. People in their line of work couldn’t afford surprises. 

After a few minutes, Jill nodded with confidence. “Found it. Right side, in between her boob and her armpit.” 

“Good,” Riley praised. “Now you have to go get it. Bump into her so she’s more focused on that than your hand in her dress. Maybe even spill your drink on her.” 

Jill’s newfound surety was short lived. “Can you show me first?” Unease returned to her voice. 

Riley smirked. “Gladly.” She found a new target for herself—a man, tipsy but not drunk, and not so big that he’d overpower her if he got a little handsy. She spied the outline of his wallet in the left leg of his jeans. “When you’re stealing heavier items, say a wallet,” Riley explained while her eyes searched the bar, “you need to put something in its place. Otherwise your mark will know pretty quickly that something is missing.” The club was swanky enough to use real coasters at the bar instead of napkins, and Riley leaned over the bar to grab one. It wasn’t quite heavy enough, but it would do. “Watch carefully,” she instructed. 

She sauntered right up to the man, eyes focused on a random point in the distance, and collided with his left side. In the brief moment their bodies touched, Riley slipped her hand into his front pocket, snagging his wallet and leaving the coaster in its place. “Sorry,” she apologized with a demure bat of her eyelashes. Slipping the wallet into her purse, Riley kept walking before the man could do or say anything else. 

The theft was as easy as breathing, the thrill short lived. 

“Your turn,” Riley said, returning to Jill’s side. Jill shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “If you second-guess it, it won’t work. Have some faith in yourself.” Emphasizing her point, Riley shoved Jill forward. 

Nikki slid into the newly open space beside Riley. “Are you sure we should just throw her in the deep end like this?” 

Her eyes never leaving Jill, Riley replied, “The only way she’s going to learn is if she practices. You know that just as well as I do.” 

“I guess.” Nikki sighed. “I just don’t want anything to happen to her.” 

Maybe it was the lingering annoyance from yesterday’s fight that Riley had yet to let go of, but something about Nikki’s words rubbed her the wrong way. Riley snapped, “You mean unlike what happened to me?” 

Bristling, Nikki didn’t rise to the bait. 

On the dance floor, Jill bumped into the woman well enough, but she was a little slow on the grab. Thankfully the woman was too drunk to notice. 

Subtly flashing the ID, Jill asked, “What do I do with it?” 

“Keep it,” Nikki said. “She looks enough like you. Use it the next time you get carded.” Jill didn’t look too happy about that, but she slid the ID into her purse all the same. 

Riley murmured just loud enough for Nikki to hear. “See? I told you she’d be fine.” Nikki gave her a look she wasn’t sure how to interpret.

The bartender dropped off their drinks, and Riley knocked back both her tequila shots, one right after the other. Nikki raised an eyebrow. “There something you need to tell me?” 

The burn from the alcohol lingered in the back of Riley’s throat. “Nope. I’m good.” 

“Riles—” Nikki protested, but Riley cut her off. 

“You, however, look desperately in need of a good fuck.” She said it more to get Nikki off her back than anything else. Riley scanned the crowd, eyes settling on a tall, muscular man with dark skin and close-cropped hair. He stood right at the edge of the dancing, talking to a group of guys, providing Riley with an excellent side-view of his chiseled silhouette. “He’ll work.” She didn’t wait for a response before striding through the mass of writhing bodies. 

Riley sidled up next to him, and the whole group of guys turned to her in unison. “Hi,” he said. Riley immediately liked the sound of his voice, deep and smooth and sensual. 

She smiled. “I’m Riley, and if you’ll come with me, there’s someone I think you should meet.” The boldness came easily. The tequila added to her already high self-esteem was just a bonus. 

The man turned to face her fully. “Riley,” he crooned. Her name rolled off his lips like melted chocolate. “And what if I’d rather just get to know you?” Riley smirked. That plan was fine by her. Nikki could find her own man. It had been a long time since Riley had a fuckable man’s hands on her body, and she wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. She lightly tugged on his shirt. 

“Dance with me.” 

They melted into the crowd, and his broad hands found Riley’s waist as she eye-fucked him, gently drawing her into his hard, warm body. He took his time, giving her the chance to change her mind if she wished. His courteousness made him even hotter. Riley pressed her body closer. 

The rhythmic bass rattled her bones, but Riley welcomed the sensation. She let it carry her away, guiding the swinging of her arms and the rolling of her hips. 

The man’s lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “I’m Kalei, by the way.” 

Kalei. Riley repeated his name, committing it to memory. Kuh-lay. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue.  

“Turn around,” Kalei commanded. Biting her lower lip, Riley obeyed, and Kalei tugged her hips firmly against his own. 

Riley leaned back, resting her head on Kalei’s shoulder, running her hands up and down his thick, muscular arms. Kalei’s fingers curled into her hips, his breath was hot on Riley’s neck, and Riley already found herself wanting more. He moved perfectly with her, their bodies in sync. 

Her arms rose up, fingers finding purchase on the nape of his neck. Kalei’s hands steadily grew braver—first skimming up her waist, then down over her thighs—leaving a delicious burning sensation in their wake. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, and his palms traveled higher, just brushing the undersides of her breasts. Riley gasped. 

She growled over her shoulder, “Do that again.” 

He did. Again and again and again. 

When Riley finally turned around, the hungry glow simmering in his eyes matched her own. She wanted him. She wanted him now. 

He smelled like cedar and something else she couldn’t quite place with the stench of sweat and alcohol accosting her nose. Riley pulled his mouth down to hers, but Kalei stopped just before their lips brushed. “Shouldn’t I at least buy you a drink first?” 

She chuckled, deep and full of wicked promise. “I already cut myself off for the night. Besides, we both know you’d rather skip that step.” Riley pressed her hips against his for emphasis, feeling him hard against her. 

Kalei tensed. “Are you sure?” 

Riley knew she’d picked a good one. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

Apparently that was all the reassurance he needed. Kalei grabbed a fistful of Riley’s hair and kissed her, hard and desperate. She moaned into his mouth, imagining all the depraved things his tongue could do. Riley planned on becoming intimately acquainted with every single one of those things by morning. 

She started to drag him toward the bathroom, but Kalei stopped her. “I am not fucking you on a bathroom counter. Let’s get out of here.” 

Fair enough. “Your place or mine?” she asked. 

“Do you have a roommate?” 

“Nope.” 

His fingers trailed down Riley’s arm and linked through hers. “Then yours.” 

The cab ride was short, but tense. The driver dutifully kept his eyes glued to the road as Kalei’s hand stroked the inside of her thigh. Riley shivered in her seat. 

Kalei’s eyes bulged when the driver pulled up to Riley’s swanky apartment building. “Wait, are you in the industry? Should I know you?” 

Riley laughed, picturing herself as some whiny, simpering actress. Pathetic. “No. I’m just a businesswoman.” 

The easiest lies were mostly true, after all. 

The lobby was empty, and the elevator doors slid open mercifully quickly. As soon as Riley pressed the button for the top floor and the doors slid shut, Kalei resumed kissing her, hands tangling in her curls as he pinned her against the wall. 

The doors opened, and Riley didn’t waste any time leading Kalei down the hall to her apartment, unlocking the door, and shoving Kalei inside first. 

Her apartment was mostly dark; the only light came from the city lights shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. Riley didn’t bother to turn on a light. Kalei backed her against the door, and Riley let out a gasp as her legs wrapped around him and his mouth lowered to her throat. Her dress bunched around her waist, becoming little more than a shirt. 

“We can stop at any time,” he rasped. “Just say the word.” Kalei held out his little finger in a pinky promise, and the gesture had Riley already contemplating where she’d take him out to breakfast in the morning.

Riley had no intention of stopping. She told him so, and Kalei’s mouth slanted over hers, kissing her thoroughly. Her greedy fingers made quick work of his jacket, then his shirt, and Riley smiled into the kiss as she traced his chiseled abs and chest. Kalei was hot, polite, and ripped. 

In short, he was perfect. Not that she’d ever inflate a man’s ego by telling him that. 

She pulled away just far enough to ask, “Are we doing this against the door or on my bed?” 

Kalei’s dark chuckle set every nerve in her body on fire. Riley wanted to carve the magnificent sound into her memory forever. “Bed,” he murmured. “I want to take my time unraveling you and learning exactly what it takes to make you scream my name.” 

Fuck. Every coherent thought vanished from Riley’s mind. The best she could do was nod furiously as he set her down. 

Riley yanked off her heels before dragging Kalei down the dark hallway to her spacious bedroom. Their clothes came off all at once, without ceremony, and then her back was against the mattress, and Kalei’s delicious weight hovered over her. 

He kissed his way down her body, all the way to her knees before moving back up to where she really wanted him. She was right, earlier, about what his tongue could do. Broad licks, circles, delicate, methodical strokes—magical, toe-curling, spine-arching, embarrassing noise-inducing stuff. 

Riley whimpered his name as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. 

And then his hands were shackles around her wrists, pinning them above her head. Riley froze. The confinement made her want to crawl out of her own skin, and not in a good way. 

Noticing Riley’s shift in body language, Kalei released her wrists and sat up, seeming to know she needed space. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. 

A deep breath. “Yeah,” Riley lied. 

No I’m not okay. 

I felt trapped. 

That’s never happened before. 

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready to keep going.” 

“I’m ready now.” She didn’t hesitate, flipping them so she was on top. 

Despite her reassurance, it was slower now, less desperate. Riley focused on the sounds escaping his lips, letting them wash away the shackled feeling. The more she touched him, the more she felt powerful, in control. Her smirk finally returned as Kalei sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes screwing shut and head tilting back, exposing the strong column of his throat. 

It was control Riley really craved, after not having any for so long. 

And Kalei seemed to be more than happy to surrender to her. Chuckling at her haste, Kalei stroked her calves as Riley ripped open the new box of condoms in her nightstand drawer. His broad hands on her hips guided her, meeting her halfway, but Riley dictated the rhythm and pace, giving her desperate, touch-starved body everything it desired. 

She nearly got off on the high of watching this beautiful man come undone beneath her alone. 

Riley was in awe of how quickly he had figured out her body—how to tease her, draw her pleasure out, send her over the edge. Kalei earned every utterance of his name on her lips. 

And god were there a lot of them. 

When Kalei woke her up in the middle of the night for round two, they tousled for dominance. Riley knew there’d be marks on her body in the morning, but she didn’t care. There would be just as many on him. 

Kalei didn’t touch her wrists again. He only pinned her shoulders and hips, leaving her limbs free to do as she pleased. “Is this okay?” he’d asked the first time he held her down. She assured him it was. 

If Riley had time for love, she thought she might be able to have it with him.

With her common sense still lost in the delicious, post-release haze, Riley said, “I never say this, but do you want to get breakfast in the morning?” 

Kalei pulled her against him, her back to his front, his arm possessively circling her body. “I never say this either, but yes.” 

Riley smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

[songtoyou]

Tolerate It - Prologue

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R 

Word Count: 1,182

Warnings: Mentions death of spouse.

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires. 

A/N: I have fallen in love with Tommy Shelby. He is one of the most interesting and complex television I have seen in a long time. He is fascinating. So much so that I needed to write about him. This fic is a take on a modern version of Tommy Shelby and the Peaky Blinders. Also, this fic does include an original character, which will be one of the main characters.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people actually like this fic. I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Control. That is all Thomas ‘Tommy’ Shelby wanted in life. Absolute control. He would do anything to get it. Anything to maintain it.

His need to control everything only heightened after the death of his wife, Grace. Her passing was sudden that left everyone in the Shelby and Burgess family shocked and devastated. The cancer diagnosis crept up on Grace. Tommy sought out every cancer doctor across the world to assist Grace in her recovery. Money was no issue to him when it came to curing his beloved wife. Despite all of the treatments and surgeries, her cancer continued to spread throughout her body. 

When the doctors’ told Grace and Tommy that she did not have much time left, both were left at a standstill. Neither planned for this…at least not yet. They were still a young married couple with a young child. The last thing Grace wanted to do was leave her child, Charlie, motherless and her husband a widow. However, she did her best to maintain a brave front for the two most important men in her life. Grace worked with Tommy’s sister, Ada, to get everything prepared from the funeral to her will in testaments and other necessary items to close up. 

Grace wanted everything ready for when the time came. Unfortunately, no matter how much she prepared for her death, she knew that nothing would fill the void that was going to be left in her absence. Her main worry was not herself but her husband and child. She worried how both would cope with her no longer being around.

She already knew Tommy would busy himself with work to keep his mind occupied. That is what he does when he wants to avoid the bigger issues in his life.

“Thomas, please promise me that you won’t be an absentee father to Charlie. Promise me that you will make time for him…he needs you more than ever, especially after…”

“Stop,” Tommy interrupted Grace. The last thing he wanted was to talk about life without Grace. He was already in the denial stage of grief. A tiny part of him hoped Grace would magically recover. It was the one thing he prayed for at night as she lay in his arms. 

He looked at Grace... he really looked at her. She was so thin and pale. Her cheekbones more pronounce. Her once blonde tendrils were no replaced with a cropped pixie style once her hair grew back. But her eyes were still radiant.

 To Tommy, Grace was still the most beautiful woman in the world. She always would be. She was his angel. And he hated that he was going to lose his earth angel.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about…about your dying. I…I can’t do it,” he said to Grace. He did his best to hold his composure, but his strong exterior was crumbling.

Grace reached for Tommy’s hand to comfort him and say, “Yes, you can, Thomas. You will do it because Charlie needs you. I know you won’t let him down as your father let you down. But you need to make sure that you don’t let the voices in her head get in your way of being the amazing father I know you are. You can’t control everything, darling. You have to let things go the way they are supposed to go. You will drive yourself mad. Let down your guard, especially with Charlie. Let someone into your heart after I am gone. It is okay to love another, Thomas. You deserve love.”

Tommy shook his head to disagree with his wife. “I don’t, though. I’m not a good person, Grace. You know that…my past, present, and future. Nothing is going to change. You are the only one who sees me for me. Can see me for the man I could be if I hadn’t…if I had chosen a different path. No one can match me that way you can. No other woman can compare to you, Grace.”

“No, that is true,” Grace teased with a little laugh. “But that is okay. You will find someone that matches you perfectly. Humans are necessarily destined to be with one person in their life. It is important to develop connections with others, albeit friendships or relationships. You can’t close yourself off to the world. It is okay to love another, Thomas. I am telling you it is okay to love another woman when I am gone.”

“Is that an order, Mrs. Shelby?” asked Tommy with the smallest of smiles forming on his lips.

“I want it to be a promise. Promise me, Tommy, please. It is my dying wish.”

Placing his forehead to Grace’s, Tommy let out a sigh. He wanted to give Grace everything the world had to offer. No matter the costs, he would give it to her. However, this…this was not something he could give. So, he did the worst thing he could do. He lied to his dying wife. 

“I promise, Grace.” 

The sad thing, Tommy did not feel much guilt in his lie. He already knew he was destined for Hell. One lie to Grace was not going to change his fate. 

While Tommy did not decline himself the pleasures of being in the company of multiple women after Grace’s passing, he did not love any of them. They were merely whores to entertain and keep his mind occupied. The only woman who ever came close to melting his icy heart was Lizzie Stark. He met her one night when he was attending a secret exclusive club that garnered other high-profile members. The club allowed members to fulfill their deepest sexual fantasies (within reason, of course) from role-playing to bondage; it soon found Tommy Shelby to be one of its top members. 

Lizzie was Tommy’s main girl at the club. She was the one to allow Tommy to explore his desire for control and dominance further. Lizzie was the perfect submissive to fulfill his needs. It was not only a sexual connection the two adults had but also an emotional connection. A small part of Tommy knew he could let go of his guard around Lizzie, and there would be no judgment from her or nagging that he needs to change his ways.

Their arrangement lasted two years when Lizzie all of a sudden left the club. She did not even let Tommy know why she left or where she went. The other girls at the club merely said that Lizzie had enough of the life and wanted to leave. 

A part of Tommy wanted to go after Lizzie and demand why she left him; however, he knew it was important to respect her decision. He used his contacts to locate Lizzie because he wanted to make sure she was alive and safe. Tommy sent Lizzie one final payment as a way to thank her for the years of her services and companionship.

He was alone once again.

That was until a new girl came into his life to fulfill his deepest and darkest desires.  

[moviegroovies]

confession time: for someone who (semi) actively runs a movie blog, i really haven’t seen a lot of classic movies.

(i know this comes as a shock for those of y’all who have been subjected to nothing but my half-baked thoughtpieces on bad 80′s horror for the past couple of years, but bear with me.) 

to be honest, even this review doesn’t REALLY represent me making an active choice to remedy that so much as it does me pulling a long con where i endear myself to marilyn monroe by watching her movies to get myself excited to watch the miniseries blonde (2001), for abnormally pretty, young jensen ackles purposes*, but let’s not dwell on all that. the practical result is the same; i watched some like it hot (1959). now, i hope y’all are ready for a few some like it Thoughts™:

first, idk how much attention y’all have been paying to the loose bits of personal lore i occasionally scatter within my reviews, but one thing about myself that i feel i’ve been pretty open about is the fact that i’m trans. this being so, and knowing not a whole lot about the movie beyond the very basic premise “1959 extended man in a dress gag,” i can’t say i went in with the highest of expectations. imagine my surprise, then, when the gender aspect of this movie was... actually pretty good? i mean, full disclosure, it’s not exactly gender studies, but it’s passable! it’s tolerable! there were even a few moments where i felt inclined to say the words “oh, GENDER?” out loud!

perhaps most impressively, i’d say the Cis Creator Cringe Factor of some like it hot was actually impressively LOWER than a lot of modern moves with genderswapping premises tend to be. like, i know that one definite explanation for that would be the fact that trans experiences are more widespread today, so modern filmmakers don’t feel comfortable playing with ideas like this without at least giving lipservice to them, while the era that bore some like it hot didn’t face the same “pressure,” but, okay. listen. compared to another movie i watched recently--freaky (2020), in which a teenage girl swaps bodies with serial killer vince vaugn, featuring one incredibly anvilicious scene where, upon being informed by a gay boy that she’s in the men’s bathroom, the girl’s best friend retorts, “she [vince vaugn]’s got a dick in her hand, and you’re wearing chanel no. 5. i think we’re past labels.”--some like it hot, a movie older than my father, was wayyyy easier to watch**. actually, you know what? yeah. listen to me. cis content creators? movie producers? i’m talking to you. DON’T EVEN BRING GENDER (or gender “identities”... which is an incredibly gross term, anyway) UP IF YOU’RE NOT PLANNING TO DO SOMETHING WITH IT. sincerely, this particular bad taste corner of the trans community :).

...anyway.

some like it hot, by contrast, did it right. YES, the premise of the movie was two presumably cis men in disguise as women. i’ll put that in the open. however, there was a certain... i don’t know if “respect” is the right word, but there was an avoidance, at least, of the usual predatory tropes. in fact, the worst behavior by far from either main character comes when joe manages to take off his female disguise, donning another, male persona and using things that sugar (marilyn’s character) confided in “josephine” to create a nonthreatening, desirable “millionaire” in order to trick her into sex. okay, like i said, it’s not gender studies, but, the humor in some like it hot comes from generally the right place. joe and jerry don their female disguises in a matter that in quite literally life and death for them (and it’s more than the creators ever thought of, i’m sure, but there IS an interesting analysis to be had of them needing to pass to live), which to a degree removes the usual pitfalls of male to female crossdressing as a gag; they’re neither doing it for lecherous reasons, nor to parody the female experience. this being a comedy, there is a degree of humor found in the situation, but it’s directed at jerry and joe, the characters, more than their disguises. the general assumption is that they both pass without question, as long as they’re wearing their ladies’ clothes; jerry once comments that he’s “not even pretty,” but it’s never an issue to contend with. 

wrt the crossdressing, the worst moment for me, personally, was a scene on the train when jerry prepared to take off the disguise in order to sleep with sugar, and even this ends up comedically averted at jerry’s expense.

and speaking of jerry.

jerry is actually the most compelling part of the movie for me, especially viewing it through the lens of gender. while joe, who gets the girl and manages to spend large chunks of the latter part of the film in his second, male disguise, never thinks too much about what they’re doing beyond the survival aspect of it, jerry is the one who, erm, “gets into character.” joe’s female name is simply josephine; before they get on the train with the woman musicians, it’s assumed that jerry will be going by “geraldine.” however, when they give their introductions, the duo becomes josephine... and daphne. 

as the movie progresses, this distinction grows more pronounced; when joe has to remind a smitten jerry on the train that he’s a girl, referring to their disguises, jerry miserably repeats the affirmation: “i’m a girl. i’m a girl. i want to die. i’m a girl.” later on, however, as joe’s relationship with sugar develops, “daphne” becomes acquainted with local horndog millionaire osgood, who he at first dislikes, but comes around to after being forced on a date as part of joe’s plan to trick sugar. after seeing jerry excited by the prospect of marrying osgood, a bewildered joe has to remind jerry why it’s an impossibility, and in the same miserable tone as before, jerry/daphne muddles through a new affirmation, one that definitely didn’t ring false to my trans ears: “i’m a boy. i’m a boy. i want to die. i’m a boy.” 

hm. actually, now i’m thinking about a trans male reading of joe. he was the one at first resistant to taking the job (with the all-female band), when they only needed money, and not a place to hide from an upset mob boss, but also the one who seems to know more about the role when it comes time to get into character. while jerrydaphne gets increasingly comfortable with femininity as time passes, joe never performs it in anything but a perfunctory, necessary way, and sloughs the costume EVEN WHEN the danger of being found out has not yet passed, because pretending for such a long period of time is just untenable. something about passing for female being a safe haven and a burden for both closeted (re-closeted, in this case) trans men and out trans women?

anyway. by the end, though both osgood and sugar do find out the truth about the disguises, sugar seems to instantly forgive joe for his treacherousness (again, referring more to his actions as the shell millionaire than his escapade in drag), while osgood appears unbothered by daphne’s truth, leading to an ambiguous ending for the futures of the characters, and any realizations that might come later.

no, it’s not the “real transgender experience.” it (thankfully) never claims to be. BUT, being trans myself, there were some moments that made me feel linked to our protagonists, and relatively few, if any, that made me feel alienated. all in all, that’s a lot more than i hoped for going in, so that’s what i’m happy with.

watch some like it hot, y’all. it’s a good movie in a timeless way, and, as modern movies appealing to short-lived trends that will feel outdated next week (if not by the very time of their release) will show you, that’s more than it needed to be. 

*since my original draft of this post, i DID watch blonde, and i don’t know if that’s technically fair game for this blog (not exactly a movie) or what, but 6/10. fairly well done piece of art but just BEATINGLY tragic, so proceed with caution. jensen ackles literally is THAT PRETTY though, so the jackles cut i give a strong 11/10. i am a homosexual.   **i would like to clarify that this isn’t me telling you not to watch freaky. yes, some of the dialogue is tragically riverdaleian, but there’s also a scene where vince vaugn makes out with a teenage boy. so,

[hear-me-growl]

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter VI (final)

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff, angst | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx ||  ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: can’t believe this beast is finally done (though I might post a bonus epilogue, we’ll see 😉). Thank you so, so much for reading and leaving likes. Not gonna lie, it’s been a hard one to write, but also extremely fun. As my first story in English (and also my first BTS fic), it holds a special place in my heart. Also I may or may not be a sucker for this Jin. Now that it’s over, don’t be shy to let me know your thoughts. It’s important for creators that you give feedback, even if just a few words or a keyboard smash. You can make someone (not only me) very happy.

Ambrosia brought a lot of people to my blog and I’m super thankful for you all and very excited to write many more stories you’ll enjoy too. Once again, thank you for all the love and support. 

Psst! Keep an eye out for the next update on the Dionysus ·pub· series. Did someone say Hobi?

“Thanks, you fuckers! We love you!”

The growl in the frontman’s voice raised screams and whistles that rumbled through Dionysus. Sweaty, ethereal and devilishly handsome, Taehyung bowed for the crowd chanting his band’s name. Everytime their signature purple bunny posters covered the beaten bricks of the pub, a mass of people flooded the establishment. V’s Moon Rabbits caused a frenzy wherever they played, waking the masses with their sound like a rockslide. The rock, jazzy melodies paired with the singer’s looks skyrocketed their popularity in underground Seoul.

However, no matter how many concerts and jam sessions were scheduled, they always came back to Dionysus —the pub that gave them a chance when nobody did.

After the performance, they usually hung out at the bar until they found a fan desperate for a chance to share the night with their idols. Doe eyes and sultry smiles in every corner, the boys never went home alone.

Tonight you didn’t work behind the bar, though. You just sat on a barstool, keeping your best friend entertained on her shift, ready to jump to her rescue if she felt overwhelmed. Not that she needed it, she handled the crowd with a big smile on her face. Beer in hand, you chatted animatedly with the blonde singer and Namjoon, the drummer, since the others had already found someone to drag to the bathrooms for an intimate rendezvous.

“You broke your drumstick. Again. You owe me 30.000.”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning both of them, so I’m not paying a single won.”

“C’mon, man. Don’t be a pussy,” Taehyung nudged his bandmate’s side as he took a sip of his beer. “Next time don’t make it so easy for her to win.”

“Yeah, pay up, Joon,” you chimed, a taunting tone lingering on your lips.

“Sorry, love. The rules were clear.” 

The tall man leaned back on the bar and gave his signature jaw-dropping smile, flanked by two cute dimples. Who would’ve thought underneath all that there was the lady-killer of the century? You bent forward towards him, sniffing before wrinkling your nose.

“Does it smell like chicken over here?”

A snort came from your other side, Taehyung trying to conceal his laughter and you snickered along. Namjoon’s tattooed hands ran over his chin as he watched the both of you in amusement too before speaking.

“Tell you what it doesn’t smell like: money in your pocket. Now, if you excuse me,” he said, eyes fixed on a juicy target. His self-satisfied smirk turned sultry as his gaze darkened, “there’s a pretty doll over there not sucking my cock and I’d like to change that.”  

In a flash, the drummer finished the rest of his drink, attention solely on the woman at the other side of the bar. Still perched on the counter, he looked at you with a raised brow. “Unless you want to join her?”

“Go get your dick wet already,” you nudged with a groan, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely joking.

Like a panther, he stalked towards his newfound prey, mixing with the crowd. Taehyung and you chatted for a little while. He differed from his charismatic persona on stage. V’s goal was to attract people with mysterious looks and alluring smiles, but Taehyung was much more reserved, rude even, except around his close ones. At some point, you noticed the cute girl behind him. You recognised her immediately and smiled warmly, inviting her to talk to the singer.

“Hi, Tae,” she greeted quietly.

Hearing his name, he turned around to face his number one fan. Her face brightened up with the attention.

“Hey, baby girl. Just arrived?”

“Err— yeah, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

“You’ve been to all of them for the past two years, I think you can skip one, ” he sneered. After that an awkward silence settled between the two. When he started to turn back to you, ending the conversation, she was quick to keep his attention.

“Do you… umm… wanna dance with me?”

“Not now, I’m talking.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.

“No worries, sweetie,” you intervened as you shot a murderous glare to the man, the second-hand embarrassment urging you to help the poor girl out. “Stay and chat with us. What do you drink?”

Her eyes jumped from you to Taehyung nervously, a flash of pain through them when he lazily checked his phone, clearly indiferent. She swallowed a sigh, shrinking in defeat.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to… my friend should be here somewhere,” she grimaced at her own excuse, but bit her lips and cocked her head before speaking again. “See you later, Tae?”

“I don’t know my plans yet, baby girl.”

“Right,” she whispered, looking at his side like he’d shot just her. After a beat, she cleared her throat, eyes on the floor. “Bye, then.”

She walked away, hand on her face to hide from the overflowing crowd and ponytail shaking. The singer took a sip from his beer, still on the phone. He didn’t even bother to look her in the eye to reject her.

“One: that was actually painful to experience, and two: you are a major asshole. That poor girl follows you like a puppy with heart eyes and you know it. Do you have to be so rude?”

“Hey, she knows what she’s getting into,” he answered with a shrug.

That naive fool. What a terrible mistake she made falling for Taehyung. To him there was no point in lying, so he proudly waved the “I’ll never be your boyfriend ” flag before anything happened and then jumped to the next roll in the hay without sparing a glance. Never settling, never making false promises. He was upfront about his intentions, so it never bothered you before, despite how tactless he was. Tonight, however, you felt pity at the heartbroken look in her eyes. Love brought more pain than happiness, she’d learn sooner or later.

Suddenly, something bumped into the barstool and you stumbled forward. Taehyung catched you before you could hit your head on the counter. With a snarl on display, you turned and yelled at the culprit, who zigzagged towards the exit, probably to smoke or take a piss. You scoffed. He probably didn’t even hear you, given his unsteady walk. Just as the door opened, a tall, neatly dressed figure entered the bar, stepping aside just in time to dodge the tripping drunk. 

It took a second for you to register the tingle travelling across your skin like wildfire brought by the newcomer. You had felt it before, that twisted warm fuzzy feeling, a disease that spread and ruined people. All too familiar and foreign at the same time, like rewatching an old movie with new eyes. 

‘You felt something that night and you feel it still’. 

The words echoed in your memory, taking you a couple of weeks back. That night after the event was your last conversation with him and you thought you’d finally rid yourself of unnecessary trouble. Quite the opposite. You found yourself craving for something, no matter how much instant ramen you ate or how long you stayed at work to keep yourself busy. His silence was directly proportional to your uneasiness, but you refused to connect the dots.

Until tonight.

Faster than light, your head snapped back at the singer to avoid being seen. Reason overlapped panic as you assessed the damage. That mind-reading snake was right, you felt something beyond physical for him. At least now, fully aware of the issue, you could fix it. Keeping a cool head, you devised a plan of action. It was imperative to eliminate those thoughts before they infected your brain any further, to show both him and yourself that your interest was merely a passing malaise, like a cold or an indigestion. You just needed to find the right medicine for it.

“You okay there? You look like you either had an epiphany or smoked the worst weed in Seoul.”

Taehyung’s voice was low in your ear and you realised the lack of distance between the two. Feeling him chuckle, you looked up at him. You’d forgotten he was even there, hands still low on your waist. In a feeble attempt to regain some control over yourself, you grabbed the shirt over his taut stomach and swallowed hard. Half-lidded, he tongued the corner of his mouth revealing a smug smile. No wonder people lost their shit about him. He looked bewitching and fun, but most importantly, uncomplicated. The perfect remedy for your stupid, stupid heart.

“Kiss me,” you blurted, eyes locked on the mark at the edge of his lower lip.

“What?”

A quick glance back at the door and you frowned before closing the distance to press your mouth roughly on his. For a second, he seemed confused, but then responded eagerly to the kiss. When you pulled back, panting and determined, he tongued the corner of his mouth in amusement.

“Not complaining, but where did all that ‘I don’t make out with my buddies’ philosophy go?”

“As far as buddies go, you’re the shittiest one I have. Not much of a loss there,” you joked, shifting your weight impatiently. Now of all times, Tae had to grow friendship ethics. Although you should’ve praised his character development, right now was a rather inconvenient moment to be a gentleman. What you needed was a distraction in the form of an unapologetic fuckboy. Fast.

Luck on your side, Taehyung just grinned cheekily, happy to indulge your sudden neediness, and tipped his head towards the crowd. He let you guide him through Dionysus, to a dark spot where you’d fuse with the stench of sweat and bad ideas.

“Gimme a minute, ok? Don’t move!” Shortie greeted with a warm smile, waving above intoxicated laughs and the strings of an old song’s bass. 

Seokjin nodded and leaned on the counter, avoiding the alcohol spilt all over it. Dionysus was especially crowded that night, which only made scanning the multitude in hopes to find you harder. 

After your last conversation, he gave you some space, a chance to miss him. On paper, it was a good strategy. What he didn’t expect was his plan backfiring. After a couple of weeks of self-restraint, his will power ran out. He missed you. Instead of working on his next project as he should’ve, his car brought him across Seoul to you —his personal bittersweet pill. He couldn't help but smile, even when the air reeked of sweat and the sticky floor threatened to peel off the red of his soles. What wouldn’t one of those sensationalists that defamed him give to publicly gut him for his new-found addiction. Those ever-changing eyes that begged him to keep trying despite your constant rejection made quitting you impossible. Only if you would see it too.

“Now, I’m all yours. Sorry to make you wait,” said the petite bartender, already pouring his usual drink. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Work has been busy lately. No help tonight?”

 “If you mean it in a ‘ is my hot-ass crush here? ’ kind of way, she is,” your friend said, catching his intentions easily. Not that he put any effort in masking them, constantly looking around the place for you. “I don’t know where she went, though. She was sitting over there just a moment a— what the...?”

Seokjin followed her gaze, fixed intently somewhere behind him. Your body pressed against someone’s, fingers buried in blonde hair. Unable to look away, he watched a mouth clash against yours before traveling down your neck.

“Oh, Jin, I’m sorry. This dumbhead, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Taehyung? Really? He’s like her little brother.”

I’m pretty sure “little brothers” don’t stick their tongues down your throat . Shortie kept talking in the background, probably making excuses for you. To his surprise, the first thing he felt wasn’t anger or jealousy, but something close to satisfaction. An odd sense of pride filled his chest every time the blonde touched you where he had before, when he kissed over the skin he had marked as his already. 

The man turned the two of you around, giving Seokjin a perfect view of your backside. Long fingers travelled down your spine, cupping your delicious ass with a rough squeeze. The same ass he remembered perking back for more despite the leftover sting his palm left behind. He couldn’t shake the vibrant shade of red he created that night, nor the soft whines you sang for him. Pretty eyes clouded with lust as you came on top of him, now etched in his memory forever —along with the iciness you left behind on his sheets the morning after.

With a fist full of his leather jacket, you laughed. Seokjin could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. In fact, it seemed like the attention on the man in front of you was only half-hearted. 

Yes, he noticed the pink tint on your cheeks, the hips grinding on a thigh clad in ripped jeans and shortened breaths. But he was also aware of your eyes bouncing around the pub distractedly as your companion nipped your jaw. A smirk tugged on Seokjin’s lips. He’d seen withdrawal before, when his mother quit smoking. Gum could not replace a cigarette and a toyboy could not replace him.

Meanwhile, you kept trying to redirect your wandering thoughts to Taehyung, who locked lips once again, sucking on your lower one. Closing your eyes, you attempted to concentrate solely on his tongue on your mouth. The air was humid, too many bodies in one room. It stuck to your skin the same way it did at the club with Seokjin, but somehow thicker. Tae smelled rich and exotic, nothing like the subtle sweetness of his surely expensive cologne. You remember because it lingered on your skin the morning after, along with the marks he imprinted all over your body. You weren’t as excited for Taehyung to leave his.

Catching your train of thought, you emptied your mind and only allowed pleasure to invade it. You left out a sigh at the hot pressure running through your veins as his thigh flexed against your core just right. It was all you needed at that moment, a nice body against yours to fight the infection of Kim Seokjin. Large hands roamed your body, brushing your breasts on their way up to your hair and tangled there to deepen the kiss. Just when you had achieved the perfect balance between numbing everything around you and enjoying the feeling, the blonde whispered hotly in your ear. His low grumble shook you out of your blissed state, crumbling any prospect of eluding reality.

All of the sudden you found the spicy kisses bland. A light frown etched between your eyebrows when you studied his profile. It dawned on you that it was Taehyung who just told you to come all over his jeans. Taehyung. The same guy who sent you stupid memes while taking a shit because “he was bored”. Fuck, you even came close to orgasming in front of him. Because of him. You winced at the thought. What a genius idea, 15-minutes-ago you. Way to go.

About to detangle from his hold to apologise for the impromptu makeout session —a damn good one, true, but probably scarring for life— he beat you to it. Hands still around you, he arched an eyebrow over your shoulder. 

“Hey, man. Want something?” he rasped out.

“The lady and I need to talk.”

Great . Just fucking peachy. You took a steady breath before turning around, putting a bit of space between you and your friend. The first thing you noticed was Seokjin’s piercing gaze, squinting slightly from how intently he looked at you. 

“Do we now?” you questioned acidly, wearing your best unfazed visage.

Seokjin looked damn fine tonight. Hands casually in his pockets and the gleam of his silver watch just showing. In that position his shoulders squared further. The urge to bite along the curves leading up to his neck rose out of nowhere. You really needed a cold shower.

He smirked at your response, as if he knew your deepest, dirtiest secrets.

“Yes, we do,” a command more than anything else. Still, you recognised the glint of playfulness in the black coffee of his eyes. The one you foolishly claimed for yourself, even though he probably used it on other girls. “Leave the puppy behind and let’s go outside. It’s too loud in here.”

“Who the hell is this jerk again?” Tae enquired dryly, offended by the nickname. He placed a hand on your hip, squeezing slightly to regain your attention.

You jumped slightly at the contact. Seokjin’s eyes snapped up, acknowledging his presence behind you, still too close. The sharp edge of his jaw rolled in annoyance, almost imperceptibly, but he was quick to smooth it with light-hearted indifference.

“The only reason she’s making out with you, kid.”

Amidst the deafening ambiance, you heard a pin drop. There was a beat of silence, tension so high it took you both a moment to register. Then, Taehyung stepped forward, moving you aside. He was not a fighter, despite what one may think with that foul mouth and attitude of his, but he had no problem in punching a douchebag.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Tae,” you stopped, catching his arm. Seokjin remained unaffected, holding the younger’s glare with neutral expression. “Please, don’t. Just go, I’ll deal with the asshole.”

Brows still furrowed, he studied you for a moment with scepticism. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, look I—” You pulled him closer, so you could talk to him more privately. No need for Seokjin to hear anything that could be used against you later. “I’m sorry. About all of this, I mean. I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight when there’s other, um, stuff on my mind. I needed something to help me unwind and you were here so... ”

“Five more minutes and you might’ve ‘unwound’ all the way.”

Your face burned immediately, aware of his lingering taste and the stickiness between your thighs. Pure joy bloomed on his lips at your reaction.

“Back to the whole friend thing?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but you owe me a beer for the semi.” 

With that, he nodded at Seokjin in some sort of solemn bro code and the older reciprocated. Men’s short grudge-holding span was always fascinating to witness. He waved both of you goodbye, as if the awkward situation had never happened. Trust Taehyung not to really give a fuck. He was the best at it.

You eyed Seokjin up and down and snaked through the crowd towards the back exit without a word. He followed closely the trail you opened, people too distracted to care if their drinks spilled when you shoulder them. Not sure if you felt angry, relieved, mortified, confused,  scared shitless or all of the above, you avoided looking back to check if Seokjin was still there. How did a fun night out with your friends end up like this? You were at home and ready to order a nutritionist’s worst nightmare. You coming to Dio, right? The boys perform tonight. Pretty pleeeease?🥺 That cursed text was to blame. Whoever invented best friends should be sued.

The difference in temperature made you shiver when you stepped out of the pub. A single bulb illuminated the alley, rain puddles and broken glass reflecting its dim light. The night was calm. Not a single siren wailed, like they usually did. Only the constant boom of the bass drum could be heard now, noise muffled underwater, as the door closed behind Seokjin. Your own pulse followed the rhythm, feeling the vibrations deep in your chest.

“Why are you here?” you finally asked. “Just to ruin my night or did you make a sport of being a jerk?”

“Doing you a favour. It didn’t look like you were having a good time,” he answered, amused. You could almost see the ‘I know when you are’ itching to follow. 

“That’s not for you to decide. Go home.”

“Not without you.”

His wolfish smirk stretched as he threw a wink. A bit late to try to lift the mood, in your opinion. He seemed to forget that the world didn’t revolve around his stupid, handsome face. It happened at the nyotaimori event, and it happened tonight. Even if you would’ve ended up alone anyway, he had no right to come all the way to Dionysus to mess with your head and ruin your plans —said plans being to drink the embarrassment of almost fucking Taehyung away. Still, he shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have tried to relax your emotional cramp with Tae either, but it was his mistakes you wanted to focus on, not yours.

“I missed that frown of yours, sushi girl.”

Unaware that you’d been scowling, your arms crossed in self-defense.

“Listen, you can’t just barge in on my life every time you’re bored,” you chided. “Get a hobby, plant a tree or whatever. Didn’t you like fishing? Go do that. Just don’t bother me.”

His features softened slightly. “You remember.”

How could you forget the half an hour rant at the burger joint? Truth be told, you did disconnect half-way, but you recall his somewhat boyish excitement as he gave you a whole monograph on baits. Also the fish puns, those you recall with painful accuracy.

“Just because you are full of yourself enough to have your ears clogged doesn't mean that mine are.”

He shook his head and laughed at your comment. When he stood in front of you to brush a stray strand out of your face, you froze for a second. The tenderness of the gesture was suffocating, his gaze on yours too. No matter how hard you tried to keep distance, Seokjin always found a way to close it. You wanted to run.

His eyes fell on your lips for a moment, intense and wanting. Suddenly that sliver of fondness evaporated from them as something else caught his attention. A hand slid down to your neck and his thumb wiped there repeatedly as if he wanted to clean the spot. Once again, his jaw tensed and his stare grew jet black. Swallowing hard, you felt your cheeks reddening both at his touch and the admonishing tut he gave. He was glaring at what you assumed was a hickey left there by Taehyung. Irrefutable proof of your useless attempt to escape the itch that was Seokjin. Because he was exactly that —a maddening, unreachable itch that one cannot assuage. 

“Don’t you think it’s cruel to toy with that Kurt Cobain wannabe?” The tone remained teasing, but his hard, steel stare gave away his mood. He’d never felt jealousy before, and it tasted dry and sour. “He might get the idea that you’re interested.”

You held his gaze, puffing with cockiness to disguise any sign of guilt. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he gets what casual means. Ask him for pointers on that.”

“You think I don’t?” he chuckled airly, brow raising. “I’ve had plenty of that, believe me. But this? Us ? Nothing casual about it, sweet cheeks. I told you already: I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Perfect teeth on display, he smiled at you. Selfish bastard, airing those words so carelessly. He gave the impression of a teacher explaining the slowest student how to do simple math, not a man admitting his feelings. Yet, the confession sounded brutally sweet in the quiet back alley. Perhaps the beer still buzzing was to blame or the opiate smell of his cologne coating your senses, but you wondered if it would be that bad to believe him. Then reality poured on you like tar. Even if he did feel like he said, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d grow tired eventually and leave, like everyone else. He’d ask why couldn’t you be sweet and shy like his exes. He’d tell you that he would never introduce someone like you to his parents. He’d text saying that he would come home late after work, night after night. He’d call you a slut because ‘don’t lie to me, I saw you flirting’ with someone’s panties in his back pocket still. Every time you were naive enough to catch feelings, you’d paid for your stupidity tenfold and ended up hurt and broken. You wouldn’t go through it all again.

“There’s no us ,” you reminded both him and you.

“We should change that, then,” he offered with a shrug. “I want us.”

The fucker knew how to play the strings of your heart, a master puppeteer with the cruelest intentions. Every word was a shiver of excitement that pooled in your uneasy stomach. It felt a lot like love and it was terrifying. Love always faded into ugly crying, ice-cream and vodka. Cornered against your own crumbling walls, you transformed your mixed feelings into bitterness.

“I don’t know what kind of spoiled-prince fantasy you live in, but in the real world people don’t always get what they want. Shocking, I know. Get a whisky to swallow that crazy fact and leave me alone.”

You shoved him away and walked back towards the door, desperate for Seokjin-less air. The pressure in your lungs was suffocating. 

“Don’t run away, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say, rich boy. I told you I don’t play couples anymore.” Seokjin snorted, surely about to make a quick retort, but you cut him. “Find someone else for your little rom-com attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going back in to find a man who can fuck me and not catch feelings after the first kiss like a Disney princess.”

“I’m not sure if your goal is to hurt me or make me lose interest, sweet cheeks, but it’s not working,” he stated, low grit in his tone. “Push me away all you want, I’m not letting my perfect woman slip through my fingers. Not when I know you feel the same way I do.”

You should’ve left and forgotten about him, but you took the bait.

“Oh, please, enlighten me. How’s that exactly?”

“Restless. Every fucking second of the day. Wondering if I’d laugh at the joke I just told or if I’d enjoy the new restaurant you’re at. Tired and grumpy, because you want me lying next to you so bad that you can’t sleep at night. Frustrated, because the moment we kissed, I ruined everyone else for you.”

You snorted, amused both at the accuracy of his words and how much they irritated you. Hopefully he’d assume you were mocking him. It had to be some sort of superpower, there was no other way he could read you so effortlessly. With every layer of sarcasm he peeled you felt more naked, more vulnerable to his sharp sweet nothings. Falling for him felt inevitable and you were afraid of crash-landing.

“Maybe you didn’t see me making out with a guy literally 5 minutes ago.”

“Oh, I did, sweet cheeks,” he said slowly, taking a step towards you. His lips curled upwards and you swallowed hard at the sight. He was hypnotic, expensive clothes fitting like a second skin. What an awful moment for your legs to become butter. “I saw his sloppy tongue on your mouth and you not smiling at him like you do with me. I saw how you kissed him just to take me out of your head.”

Your retreat ended quickly when your back bumped into the door you had been so determined to walk through. Emergency exit now blocked, the only strategy left was to hold your ground. And you would’ve, but the beating of your heart drowned any coherent thought. He stopped when the tips of his shoes kissed yours. Lifting your chin up, you tried to swallow the sand in your throat to no avail. Seokjin propped his hands on each side of your head, the slow tempo of his movements almost theatrical. Spikes of anticipation raised all over your skin. As he caged you, his eyes leveled with yours. You saw a glimmer of triumph in them, lips stretched in a self-satisfied grin. Maybe you could bite it off, kiss him hard enough to erase it.

“Careful, your ego is showing.” 

“Your bluff too,” he countered.

The poorly lit alley stayed silent for hours in the little bubble your words created. Stray raindrops that slid from the rooftops hit the ground uncomfortably loud. Perhaps it was just your percepcion. Seokjin held your glare with blazing determination. It was useless, you couldn’t convince him to leave. Around him you felt made out of glass, he saw through every lie and every rejection. You were love-sick and you both knew. There was no miracle remedy, no snake oil to cure this heart infection —it spread too deep already. The further away you tried to stay out of love, the deeper you got in it. The poetic irony might just as well slap an ‘I was here’ sticker on your forehead. 

With a heavy sigh you accepted defeat. 

“What do you want from me, Jin?”

Your whisper came out as a plea. Arms went limp on your sides, exhausted. ‘ Please, be gentle ,’ you wanted to say. Even if the words never came out, Seokjin understood. Your features stiffened as you braced yourself for the blow, ready to take the hit. You looked too fragile, too beaten. He hated it. Seokjin felt the need to hold you and make all the promises he intended to keep. He’d be there to lull you to sleep if you cried, to share your smiles, to lift you when you fell, to say ‘sorry’ every time he’d fuck up and ‘it’s ok’ when you did. A four-letter word burned his throat like alcohol, but he wouldn’t voice it —he didn’t want to scare you away.

“Right now? I want to kiss you. I want to take you home and take my time eating you out to get whatever doubt you might have about me, about us, out of your system. I want to make you come while you scream my name and forget that stupid idiot and any other idiot before him. I want to fuck you slow to make you understand how much you want me and then hard to show you how much I need you.” He inched even closer, trapping your eyes with his so you could read his heart in them. “I want to find you beside me in the morning and make a routine out of it. I want you to laugh at my naked butt in an apron while I make breakfast and fuck you again and again in the kitchen until you to beg me to never let go.” 

He paused, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. His eyes fleeted down as his lips ghosted yours, tickling the skin with his breath, and then back up for his next words. 

“I want everything with you.”

You were desperate to close the distance in a kiss, drown in his words. Techno beat pounded in your chest so loud that you thought something might explode. Everything . You wanted that too.

“Jin, I…” as you talked, your lips graced his. He looked at you intently, pupils completely blown and a choked gasp escaped him at the brief contact. The hand on your face tensed, showing you his neediness. It only spurred yours. “I’ve tried this before and it never turns out well.” 

“Not with me, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m scared. What if—?” 

“Don’t be,” he cut with a smile and a wink. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”

Tired of fighting a lost battle, you gave in. Your body moved on its own and you closed the barely-existing space between you, sealing your mouth and his with a kiss. There was urgency in his response, as his tongue immediately asked for permission. He kissed you with a starved need that you were quickly to match. His kisses were ardent, numbing you from anything outside Seokjin. Every doubt and heartbreak died where he started. Eager to taste you, he bit your lips until they puffed. Although neither of you couldn’t get enough of it, there was something gentle in your passion. His arms encased you and brought you close enough to fuse with him. Muscle memory laced your fingers to his dark hair, disheveling its perfect shape into whatever you wanted, and your hips grounded his. You molded together in a frenzy of desire. It was satisfying to see every limb and kiss back in place, exactly where they were meant to be. Like one of those compilation videos, it was addicting. The only thing missing was his bare skin on yours to make the moment perfect.

As you got lost in him, his words filled your head, triggering a moan that Seokjin drank with devotion. Perhaps it was foolish, but you let yourself believe him. No flowers, no romantic music in the background, just sincerity in his eyes as he said them. He didn’t paint a movie-like romance where every day would be perfect. He didn’t swear a life of never-ending happiness or vowed to never hurt you. No, he made one promise: that he’d be there. The effortless conviction in that one promise told you that he’d stay and try, that he’d fight for you. He was stubborn and persistent enough for you to trust him. Besides, he always kept his promises before. 

Now that you allowed what you felt for him to flow freely, you couldn’t cointan it. He flipped your world upside down. You wanted to tell him what an irritating, fun, conceited, irresistible prick he was, that sometimes you would choke him and others you would kiss him until your lips drew blood, that with him you felt the barest you’ve ever been, but also the safest. Words weren’t enough to express all that, so you kissed him fervently and urged him closer, your heartbeat reverberating in his chest, to show him instead. He grunted, immersed in you and those words you didn’t speak. No need for it, he heard them in the way you moaned and pressed against his hardened cock, seeking desperately some kind of friction. Your hands roamed his shoulders, crinkling the material of his shirt. He felt so yearned for that he forgot to breathe. When his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Seokjin broke the kiss, missing it the moment cold air hit his wet lips. You whined at the loss, but allowed yourself a moment to recover. Panting heavily, you both stared at each other. At that moment, he looked perfect. Dishevelled and void of that cold mask he wore most of the time, it was the final shot you could take —you were recklessly and catastrophically in love, with no hope of recovery. All that fight you put up, just to lose anyway. What a poor soldier you’d make. With a breathy laugh you rested your forehead on his chin, which brought a bright smile. Still trying to get some air, he kissed your hairline tenderly as he brushed back flyaway strands. Your fingers mimicked the intimate gesture, drawing circles on the nape of his long neck.

“By the way, I don’t beg,” you quipped suddenly, lifting your head so he could see the arch on your brow and a half bitten smirk. The moment was getting too soppy already.

“You look like you enjoy new experiences.”

A wink and a kiss and then you were in his arms again, hidden in your newfound shelter as it started to drizzle in the back alley of Dionysus.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, October 2020 

[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

Big dreams, expensive taste

Part one: How does it feel, to treat me like you do?

A Maxwell Lord x f!reader fanfic

Pairing:Maxwell Lord x f!reader

Rating: PG-13? Say the ratings again?

Words: 2.1 K

A/N: This is the first chapter of a series I'm working on (it's more like an introduction though). I hope you like it!

Warnings: swearing, talk of unwanted flirting, embarrassment?

Summary: you meet Mr. Lord in a very odd way.

Is working for such a big company supposed to be this tiring?

The phones keep ringing and ringing. Powerful, arrogant men enter and leave the building without so much as looking at you, and the ones who do, are just stares filled with lewd. It makes your skin itch.

The vase that decorates the counter stands tall over your head, full with some kind of white flowers that, even after four years of working in the three thousand eight hundred million dollars worth business, you fail to recognize. One would think that such an obscenely rich enterprise could easily afford to have even orchids as a way of impressing all the investors that come every day. 

The amount of time you've spent working there still amazes you. It was supposed to only be temporary until you had enough money to rent your own apartment and not obliged to rent with someone you have to pretend to like for the sake of reaching the amount of money the landlord asked for. And then the pay had been great, it wasn't such a bad schedule and four years passed in the blink of an eye. The sight over New York City in your apartment was worth every day.

Another phone at your left rings in such a noisy way that it's as if it was a person screaming at you to pay attention. Might as well be, with all the condescending assholes you have to deal with daily.

Taking a deep breath, you pick up the receiver and put on a fake smile, instinctively making your voice sweeter and falsely warm.

"Lord Enterprises, how can I help you?"

A nasal, petty voice of a woman asks you to communicate her with the head of the advertising area. Must be the girl from accountancy. "Yes, I'll put you through"

Diane's laughter comes from your right just as you hang up the phone and sigh, exasperated. It puts a smile on your face. Her fierce, genuine personality never fails to feel like a blow of fresh air in this suffocating world built on mountains of money.

"Accountancy again?" she asks, grinning. The black uniform that she never fails to look marvelous in makes her stand out in a way that even you understand why every guy and some girls drool at her sight. No one's stupid enough to flirt with her though. After that one time she sent a guy to ER for an obscene comment aimed at her, everybody understood that if she wanted something, she'd search for it. Otherwise, better stay away.

"Yes," you answer, "they seem to be going crazy with the new campaign"

Her hair moves in waves as she shakes her head, giggling. It sounds like bells.

She's better than you at handling the lines. You still can't understand how Diane can make her voice like dripping honey, convince everyone to be nice and want to kneel at her feet. And it wasn't even with malice, she was just that great. 

Another phone rings, this time one of her lines.

"Lord Enterprises, how can I help you?"

Shouting comes from the speaker as she picks up, making your blood boil as someone on the other side of the line screams at her.

She just grins and rolls her eyes.

"Sir, I can't understand a word from what you're saying. Breathe and I may be able to help you." she winks at you, leaning over the counter with a pen held between her fingers.

The shouting stops as her pen scribbles down something on her notepad, nodding. "Yes sir, will do"

She hangs up, manicured nails contrasting beautifully with the black plastic of the telephone. She looks up to find you with an arched eyebrow and an amused smile.

"It never fails," you say, amazed by how easy she can handle everything.

"It never fails"

Her skirt raises over her thigh as she bends down to pick one stack of papers that have been collecting dust all week, waiting to be taken to Human Resources. 

"I have to take this to the girls at HR," Diane mutters as she walks outside the confined space of the reception. 

You nod as her heels click away to the staff elevator, turning your attention to the phones again.

Before you take the new call, a deep voice reaches your ears as a blonde man enters the building. It sounds weirdly familiar.

"You have to schedule both reunions the same day," he orders to one of the three men walking behind him. "I can't be taking a flight every week to London when the shareholders feel like it"

His stance lets you know he's angry about something, and the men that follow him seem completely intimidated by the strong tone of his voice. It makes something hot settle on your stomach.

But not one of them bothers to show you their IDs, ignoring completely the fact that registration is needed.

You walk to them with a frown. Did they really think they could get through one of the most important buildings in the city without identifying themselves? They watch too much Tv.

"Excuse me, sir," you walk to stand in front of the blonde man. "who are you coming to see?"

His eyes burn holes through your skull as he stops talking to the man carrying his suitcase to turn towards you. "Pardon me?"

He sounds so offended that it makes you recoil slightly, but you're not getting fired over some stupid, conceited man. You look at him and he holds your gaze, impassive.

"You have to register with us before you walk in", you say, "if you're not wearing a badge, you have no access"

For some reason, the incredulous laugh he gives settles a void in your stomach and anger lights in your veins.

"Do you know who I am?"

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You've heard that phrase at least a hundred times in the last three months by far more intimidating men than him.

"You could be the president and there would still be rules to follow, with no badge you don't have access"

He crosses his arms right at his chest, fury shining in his brown eyes. A shiver runs down your spine but you refuse to budge, holding his stare with conviction. His upper lip twitches.

His arm points to the picture of Maxwell Lord at the back of the room behind you.

 And you turn.

That's when you realize you've really fucked up.

"Oh my God", your heart goes wild as you take in the picture of the millionaire.

You just stopped Maxwell fucking Lord from entering his own building. You're gonna get fired because you just denied access to the boss of your boss of your boss, the fucking founder of the company you work for. 

Fuck.

 "I-I'm so sorry sir," the apology leaves your lips as you stumble over your words. Your face gets hotter when he grins, amused by your embarrassment. Your chest begins to feel tight and breathing becomes harder the more you realize the mistake you've made.

And then, as if the situation wasn't bad enough already, he throws back his head and laughs. He laughs like you just told him the best joke in history, holding his stomach and covering his mouth, with shrieks of laughter that make everyone turn to look at him.

It leaves you speechless. The blood drains from your face and your hands start to feel sweaty and cold. His gaze never leaves your face once he calms down again.

 "Well," he smiles, tucking his hands inside his pockets, "it's been a while since I last met someone so efficient in their work."

You grimace. "I'm just doing my job the best I can sir"

He laughs, extending his hand towards you. "Maxwell Lord, nice to meet you"

What are you supposed to do? Take it?

You find it hard to look at him after what you just did, but he doesn't even seem to think about walking off and firing you. That would be less painful.

He raises his eyebrows, cold eyes looking at you. He doesn't look very happy now.

Despite every instinct that tells you not to do it, you grab his hand, tell him your name and give him his so desired handshake, trying not to let your whole body combust or evaporate like it wants to. 

You scold yourself when the first thing that comes to you is how warm his hand is, how soft his skin feels. His rings feel cold to the scorching heat that your whole body seems to be enveloped in. His grip is strong as he holds your hand, an entirely different kind of fire lighting his pupils as he looks at you. A bolt of electricity runs from the tip of your fingers and all the way up your arm, settling something hot and overwhelming right at the center of your stomach. His head tilts slightly to one side, studying you.

When he lets you go, all the air you hadn't realized you were holding goes out of your lungs. If he realizes, he doesn't comment. 

"Go register," he orders his men, with a much stronger tone than the one he used with you. All three of them give him incredulous looks but are smart enough to shut up and do as he says. 

With a weird sense of being in a dream, you walk to the counter and take their IDs, ignoring the glares that they're giving you. You quickly register their names in the computer and give them a card that identifies them as workers, and each takes them and pins them to their clothes.

Maxwell walks to you again and squeezes your arm, smiling.

"Keep up the good work," he winks as he turns around, grazing your arm with his gold ring. It leaves that patch of your skin burning. Now, watching as he walks away, you realize how much power he carries with every step he takes, how everyone seems to leave the way free no matter what direction he goes to. 

You wonder briefly what would it take to bend that power, to break that sense of superiority he owns in such an exquisite way.

Someone calls you from behind as you stand there, stunned at what you just lived through. One of the most powerful men in the country gave you a handshake.

You just talked with the owner of one of the most lucrative companies worldwide and he complimented you for your job. And not only that, he made his men follow the rules per your request.

When Diane calls your name again from the counter, you turn around to see her with her jaw on the floor. You feel numb as your legs take you back inside reception.

"What the fuck did I miss?" she hisses, pulling you closer to her by your arms when your legs feel close to giving out. She pulls one of the chairs to you and pushes you down, making you sit. Then, she bends down at your level and looks you straight in the eye. It feels close to what you imagine would feel if someone could search through your soul.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. She shakes you by your shoulders.

"Tell me what happened!"

With trembling hands, you grab her fingers and squeeze until yours start to hurt. She lets you, not showing signs of pain.

'I…." You hesitate for a moment, "I stopped him when he came in because he wasn't wearing a badge"

"You what!?" She says, close to shouting. "And you didn't recognize him!?"

Your head snaps up to look at her, defensive.

"Well, I don't spend every hour of my shift looking at him!"

She laughs, pulling her chair in front of you to sit down. Her fingers start to draw circles in the back of your hand, trying to calm you down.

"But you're keeping your job, right?"

If you had met her back when you had to rent and made her your roommate, you'd probably still be living together.

"Yeah," you smile, squeezing her hand "you're not getting rid of me that easy"

She opens her mouth to say something else when one of your phones rings. She picks it up.

"Lord Enterprises, how can I help you?"

For a moment, she listens to the person on the other side of the line. An incredulous chuckle leaves her mouth as she turns to look at you, handing you the speaker.

"They're asking for you," she says, astonished about something you're not sure you want to find out.

"From where?" You ask, scared.

"From Lord's direct office"

All air leaves your lungs. She shakes the phone in her hand, urging you to take it. With a deep breath, you grip the phone and hold it at your ear.

"Yes?"

An old lady speaks to you.

"Miss, I've been told by Mister Lord to call you so you come up to his office at the end of your working hours please"

Diane's eyes look like they're about to pop out of her head as the lady speaks.

"Y-yes, I will," you stutter, "thank you for letting me know"

When you hang up and let your head fall in your hands, Diane covers his mouth with both hands and gasps, laughing.

Calls keep coming in from every line.

You let the phones ring.

[lesbianlotties]

the only touchstone of truth

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

Chapter 2:

There was something different about Marla that day. She wasn’t bored, she wasn’t idly waiting. She was waiting, true, but only because that was part of her plan. Standing behind her counter, her shop more or less back in shape, she wore a different blouse, higher heels, and a smile that sharpened, even more, when somebody came in. Marla sent a quick nod to Curtis, who had instructions on what to do. He pulled out his phone and walked away toward the storage room of the place.

“Marla,” the man greeted her with a perfectly polite and respectful tone that already started to crumble on his second sentence, “I wonder, what on Earth are you trying to do?”

“Mr. Nelson, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marla replied, “It’s a pleasure to have you visit us.” What an honor to have you millionaire, corporate, chain store, ugly ass step on my broken dreams physically this time.

“You cleaned up the store,” he sighed, looking around as if to take a hold of his emotions.

This promptly reminded the blonde of the couple of hours she spent with Curtis destroying her own shop and then putting it back together again. In the upcoming years, Marla would learn just how far she was capable of playing dirty, and many would accuse her of being unscrupulous, among worse adjectives, but nobody would ever dare call her lazy, that was for sure. With or without morals, Marla was an extremely hardworking woman, and she wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, for better or for worse. A practical habit that she cultivated during her days of playing fair, and kept, for some reason. Most likely because idleness simply went against her nature, and she had promised herself not to rest until she achieved her goals. 

“We did, yes. Lots of hard work,” the blonde nodded, “such a shame what happened.”

“Such a shame,” the man echoed the sentiment, speaking on autopilot, but when he focused his eyes on Marla again he was all ice. “You’re accusing us of doing it,” he said.

Purposefully, Marla gave him a deep shrug and another shark-like smile. “I believe it’s the police who marked your company as suspects,” she replied in a mockingly innocent tone.

“We didn’t do it. And the accusation is bad publicity for our business. Drop the lawsuit,” he ordered, his voice starting to shake just slightly. When Marla only shook her head slowly, he scoffed. “You’re nothing, Marla Gray,” he seethed, “Your little business is over. Why would we try to boycott you out of all people? You’re not even competition. Drop the lawsuit.”

“Grayson.”

“What?” he was still laughing with a combination of awkwardness and annoyance.

“My name is Marla Grayson,” she stated using the full power of the commanding nature that she knew she had, “and I will fight for this shop until the end.”

He scoffed again, clearly losing his patience. The man walked to the door of the store and back to the counter once, twice, until he calmed down and not quite looking Marla in the eyes, he offered, “Twenty thousand dollars, and you’ll drop the lawsuit.”

“No,” Marla denied it immediately and before she could fully think about how offensive the offer was, he continued.

“Fifty thousand, Marla,” he said, his face red and his voice trembling. It was a pretty number that put Marla at a crossroads between the attempt to feel offended and the impulse to just ask for more. Either way, that number would not do. She only tilted her head and her expression said it all. “A hundred thousand dollars, dammit! Final offer!”

At this point, Marla made it a point to pick up her vape pen and look as bored as possible. “Please get out of my store, Mr. Nelson. I’ll see you in court,” she concluded.

He shook his head, he was breathing heavily and wildly waved a finger in her direction. “No! This is not over,” he protested, “How dare you say no to me?! I’ll make you regret it, you know?” He made a pause and after seeing that his threat did nothing to disturb her, and in fact, she only exhaled the smoke in a terribly irritating way, he slammed his hands on the counter right in front of her, “Dammit just take the money!”

“I will not,” Marla fumed back at him, barely letting show a hint of her patience running out.

“And you better stop screaming.”

Both Marla and her unwanted guest hastily looked toward the door of the shop. There was Fran, casually leaning against the doorway, not so casually showing off her plaque. At first, the man didn’t even move from his place. But Fran let out a quick whistle and said, “This aggressive visit will not look on your case, Mr. Nelson.”

Finally, the big store owner groaned loudly and without even sparing either woman a word, he stormed away from the place for good.

This quick turn of events left Marla and Fran alone in the shop. Marla stayed behind the counter that she managed to handle like an equivalent to a throne, and Fran took a couple of effortless steps forward until she stood in the middle of the place, directing a small and easy smile at the other woman.

“I must say,” Fran started to say, “I didn’t expect to receive this ‘Marla needs help, come over right now’ text from a number, I assume, that isn’t yours.” She waved her phone once for emphasis.

“Personally, I don’t usually give my number to strangers,” Marla replied, earning herself a chuckle from Fran, who looked away for a second, but when their eyes met again, Marla was sincere as she said, “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Fran nodded, accepting her gratitude without making a big deal of it. This gave Marla an opportunity to study her again. Fran looked similar to what she did that night showing up to the shop after the staged attack. A ponytail holding on for dear life to wild hair that just begged to be freed, a more or less regular detective’s outfit that most likely wasn’t designed with the purpose of fitting Fran’s curves so scandalously well on every single right place. And then there was the way she simply stood in the middle of the store with immeasurable confidence. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to lean into, just her in an open space without any issue with Marla’s eyes glued to her. She wasn’t standing there like she owned the place, not exactly. It looked like she couldn’t care less about ownership, but her world consisted of only her, and she didn’t care enough about any authority to give them the power of deciding if she belonged or if she was out of place. Fran carried herself as if the rest of the world’s ideas of right or wrong were mere suggestions. Nothing sounded more appealing to Marla.

“You weren’t exactly in trouble though,” Fran contemplated, reluctantly breaking the silence, “you looked like you had it handled.”

“But you did scare him off,” Marla grinned.

“And you didn’t take the money.”

“Do I look like someone that would have taken the money?”

Fran laughed, because they both knew the answer to that question very well. She walked forward until she could lean her arms on the infamous counter, not quite in front of Marla, just a little to the side. “Maybe you should have,” she finally mused, “this might be bigger than you, gorgeous.”

This development in their interactions came with considerable consequences for Marla, who had underestimated the effect it would have on her to have Fran again standing so close to her. She wouldn’t back down though, she wouldn’t lose her higher ground, but she couldn’t deny the fact that Fran shook her to her core in a magnitude previously unknown to Marla. She couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer until it was obviously too late, so she stayed silent, picked up her pen, and after taking a drag she left it on the counter. This seemed to spark Fran’s attention, who had previously been content to just study Marla’s face from up close and during the daylight.

“So, are you going to offer me one of these,” the brunette wondered, lightly tapping with her fingertip the tip of the pen standing between them, “or a coffee… a drink… should you at least walk me to my car?”

“I will… walk you to your car,” Marla decided, after a quick and not exactly pleasant assessment of the situation. There was nothing she’d love more than to take Fran’s hand and either lead her out of that damned store or guide her to the other side of the locked door of her office. But there were already smoke signals in the air between them that she couldn’t ignore. This could be dangerous, this was possibly great, this was certainly bigger than either of them was accustomed to. Marla was stunned by the undeniable fact that she wasn’t sure how to handle Fran, and equally as unsettled but no less excited about the fact that she had no idea how Fran would handle her. She had no doubt they could handle each other, but until she felt completely confident in a perfect plan of action, she would have to see for how long and how much she could feed this ferocious and inexplicable fire that was burning between them.

As they approached Fran’s vehicle, Marla made two statements. “I will not take the money,” she said, followed by, “and that’s not a car.”

Fran winked, “My mistake.” She leaned back on the motorcycle and focused her attention on the blonde in front of her.

“I’m taking that asshole to court,” Marla managed to say, despite that unexpected and entirely alluring image of Fran standing just like that. She should have known that even the safest option among all that the brunette had offered would still come with a trick to test Marla’s hesitant boundaries.

“For something you did?”

“I’ll have to close either way,” Marla rolled her eyes, “He took me out of business. I have to take something from him. Something big.”

Fran tilted her head. “Do you have experience in court?” she wondered.

“I’m confident I can manage,” Marla smiled.

“Of course,” the other woman chuckled. “Though,” she added, “if only you had… an acquaintance, who happened to be knowledgeable in the shady alleyways of court and would be willing to give you a hand.”

Fran was barely done with her word when suddenly Marla was almost on top of her. Marla had moved quickly and swiftly, standing impossibly close to Fran, somehow not touching, but if any of them were to so much as breathe a little harder than usual their bodies would meet in all the right places. Which was maybe the reason Fran was suddenly holding her breath. Marla had placed both hands on the bike, on either side of Fran’s hips, trapping her in place, while holding her face just inches away from the other woman.

“What do you want,” Marla slowly asked, “Fran?”

“Why do you assume I want something?”

Being softly hit with Fran’s breath on her cheek was an unexpected consequence of Marla’s plan, but she held her ground. Very deliberately, one of her hands moved slowly and confidently to one of the back pockets of Fran’s pants. The brunette, to her credit, her only reaction was a noticeable clench of her jaw, but she stood still while Marla pulled out her phone and mercifully stepped away to let both of them breathe a little easier.

“Unlock it, I’ll save my number,” Marla held out Fran’s own phone for her and proceeded to follow through with her words. 

Fran got her heart rate almost back to normal as she watched Marla quickly tap the screen, and deciding the only right thing to possibly say at that moment was to answer Marla’s question, she said, “Give me a percentage of the money you’ll make with the lawsuit. So I can finally quit the police.”

Beyond pleased with that answer, Marla bit her lip for a moment then returned the phone. “And here I thought you were just trying to have dinner with me,” she said to Fran right before walking away from her, but not before looking back just in time to catch the other woman staring, and adding a final smile she threw over her shoulder, “See you soon, Fran.”

[get-your-fics]

Violent Delights - Chapter Four

Playing Dirty

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER THREE

The front door let out a quiet creak as I pulled it open as slowly as possible. I stepped inside the manor, the floorboards squeaking under my weight. I turned around and gradually pushed the door closed. It finally clicked into place, and the telltale sound caused Alfred’s head to pop out of the archway leading to the living room and into the hallway.

“Master Bruce, you’re home early.” He stepped into the hall tentatively and looked at me with hope in his eyes. “How was the charity ball?”

I let out an exasperated groan. “It was fine.” I shed my tuxedo jacket and shoved it into his arms.

“Did you find Miss (Y/L/N)?” His head followed me as I trudged past him.

“Yes, I did.” I lifted a hand and massaged my temples with my long, thin fingers. My head was pounding.

“Well, how is she?” he persisted.

With my back to him, I rolled my eyes. “She’s fine,” I grumbled, my words slightly slurring together.

His gray brows furrowed, and his lips twitched into a frown. “Master Bruce, have you been drinking?”

I leaned back against the wall, my head bumping into an old, dusty painting of a vase of lilacs. “What do you think?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You said my parents worked with her family, right?”

He wrung his hands. “Well, yes, a little bit.”

“So they would have her address on file.” I toed off my dress shoes.

He cocked his head to the side. “Possibly, but they wouldn’t be allowed to give out that information.”

I gave him a pointed look. “Alfred, look who you’re talking to.”

 “Right.” He folded his hands in front of him and advanced towards me. “What do you want with her address anyway, Master Bruce?”

I tugged at my bowtie before it hung loose around my neck. “I don’t believe I’m allowed to give out that information,” I mocked. I sent him an antagonizing wink before stumbling into my room.

It was easy enough getting your address. All I had to do was call reception at the Wayne Enterprises building and tell them my name. After that, I had my chauffeur drive me in a town car with tinted windows to your home. Turns out it was about five miles from mine and in the same neighborhood of sprawling estates, so the drive wasn’t long. I had the chauffeur park across the street from the wrought iron gate sealing off the property.

Your home was a manor slightly smaller than mine. It had high, gray brick walls crawling with ivy and large, white-trimmed windows. The pointed roof was built out of cobblestone, and the garden was green and well-tended to. There were several neatly trimmed shrubs and a bubbling fountain in the front lawn. It was a lot cleanlier and livelier and more cared for than Wayne Manor was, well, at least that’s how it looked from my confined position.

I sat in my town car outside of the gates for a whole week from sun up to sun down, surveying and keeping track of the daily routine at your home. Unlike my manor, yours was constantly full of life. Maids and butlers and gardeners were consistently coming in and out of the front gate, but there was no sign of you. The only clue that anyone resided there at all was a sleek, black town car that went in and out of the gates. One time, I caught a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat, and from what I could see, she looked like a rich, middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair. She definitely seemed like the head of the household.

I got sick of sitting and waiting for you to show up, so I drove to your estate as normal, but this time I was in a UPS van rather than my usual town car. It was easy getting them to let me rent it for an hour. If you threw enough money at anything, you could get what you want. I pulled up to the front gate and rolled down my window. I leaned out of it and pressed the buzzer on the gate.

After a second, a snooty voice asked, “What’s your business?”

“I’m dropping off a package!” I yelled into the speaker.

There was a pause, and then, “Go ahead.”

The gate buzzed as it swung open, and I fell back into my seat. I stomped down on the gas, finally able to drive past the iron gates that had kept me from you for so long. I pulled around the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway and pressed down on the brake in front of the door to the manor. I undid my seatbelt and grabbed the large, brown box in the passenger seat next to me. I kicked the door open and hopped out of the van, closing it with my shoulder behind me.

I jumped up the wide, brick steps and landed on the doorstep. I looked up at the tall, arched, double doors and sucked in a deep breath. Balancing the cardboard box in one arm, I pulled my cap bearing the UPS logo down lower to shield my face. I hit the doorbell and listened to the satisfying ring reverberate throughout the inside of the large manor.

I heard muffled footsteps drawing closer and closer to the door from the inside. Then, the door opened, and the woman I had seen in the back of the town car poked her head out. “Hi! Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” I asked in a bright and cheery tone.

“No, I’m her mother.” The unnaturally wide smile on my face nearly faltered. Your mom? But I thought you said you were an orphan? “May I help you?”

“I have a package for her.” I lifted the box in my arms higher. “Is she home?”

The woman’s glassy eyes raked over my uniform, and her thin lips pulled taut into a straight line. “No, she’s not.”

“Do you know when she’ll be home next then?”

“She doesn’t live here anymore,” she snapped. Rude. Your mom wasn’t very nice to innocent delivery men. “Who is the package from?”

“Uh...” I pretended to read the label I had printed out at home. “It says it’s from Gotham Children’s Hospital.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Oh, it’s probably a thank you gift. My daughter is the fundraising chairman of the (Y/L/N) Corporation. She gives a lot to charity,” she said with a condescending smile. Your mom liked to brag, didn’t she? “I can hold onto it for her.” She started to reach for it with her frail arms.

I pulled it out of her grasp. “I’m sorry, but I need her to sign for it. Do you have an address I could forward this to?” I flashed her a polite smile.

She studied me intently for a moment before relenting. “Wait right here.”

She left the door open and retreated into the mansion. Her stiletto heels clicked against the polished, wood floors as she walked down a long hall, leaving a cloud of expensive, jasmine perfume behind. She turned into a room off of the hall, and I took the time to examine the foyer. A large, winding, marble staircase led to the second floor, and a ginormous, crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. It would be almost too easy to walk in and do whatever I wanted, but this place was of no use to me anymore.

Your mother returned with a slip of paper in hand. “Here’s where she lives now.” She held it out to me, and I took it from her. “I’m surprised they didn’t have her new address already, but knowing that girl, she probably forgot to update it. She’s always so busy giving back to the community.” She settled her hands on her hips.

“Right.” I forced one more painful smile. “Well, thanks for your help. Have a good day!”

“You too. Goodbye.” She quickly shut the door.

The smile slipped from my face the second she was concealed from view and a smirk formed in its place. Your mother was dumb, gorgeous, but for once I was thankful for someone’s stupidity. Your mother just handed me the golden ticket, and it would lead me straight to you.

The address scrawled onto the slip of paper took me to an apartment building in the center of Gotham. It wasn’t too far away from Wayne Enterprises and looked very sleek and modern. All of the walls were made of glass, which made it easy for me to locate you in the penthouse at the very top of the building. I could only imagine the rent cost an arm and a leg, but as the chairman of an internationally successful corporation, I’m sure you had more than enough plus a little extra. I wondered why you had felt the need to move out of your family’s manor. Maybe it was because you liked having a sense of independence, even if Mommy and Daddy were still the ones making your millions.

For a girl with a practically made up job, you kept a pretty busy schedule. You woke up every morning at the crack of dawn and got ready for the day. Your town car pulled up around eight in the morning, and you climbed into it wearing a designer dress or fitted pantsuit. You were always adorned with jewels worth more than most mens’ bank accounts. You started your day by grabbing a vanilla latte and a slice of coffee cake from Roosevelt’s before heading off to whatever you had scheduled for the day. During the week, it was tedious board meetings, lunches planning fundraisers, and dinners spent convincing snobby millionaires who inherited all their money to give to the less fortunate that kept you running from restaurant to cafe to conference room and back again. The weekends were reserved for benefits and galas and charity balls where you charged up your black card until the amount reached seven digits.

I had to admit, I enjoyed watching you strut around with your nose in the air and a sway in your hips. You exhibited the same confidence you had that night in the Towers, but now it had more of an authoritative air to it. I could see us now, me, the billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and you, the savvy, charitable businesswoman and future Mrs. Wayne.

I was still curious as to why you felt so indebted to give. The people around you sure didn’t. Your mother certainly didn’t seem like the giving type, considering the way she treated me and how she hardly left her luxurious estate. I wondered what had inspired you to write check after check to people in need. Or were you running from something, gorgeous?

You sashayed out of the lobby of your apartment building dressed in a checkered suit, a pair of Ray Bans shielding your eyes from the blazing, summer sun. Your town car pulled up to the curb at the same time, and you ducked into the backseat. I watched the car peel down the street and out of sight before I got out of mine. I crossed the road, narrowly dodging oncoming cars, and slipped inside the glass doors of the building.

The lobby was rather empty except for a few people and a security guard. Luckily, I fit in with the environment of the building and its posh residents in my black turtleneck and fitted pants. I walked straight past the security guard and towards the turnstiles barring the elevators from me. I took my fake apartment pass out of my pocket. It was pretty simple to make it a few days ago using all the technology Wayne Enterprises had to offer. Still, I held my breath when I scanned it, and only released it when I heard the beep and pushed through the turnstile with ease.

I shoved it back into my pocket and approached the elevators. I jabbed the up arrow button with my pointer finger, and a second later, the light above the middle elevator flickered on. A ding sounded as the metal doors slid open, and I stepped inside. The button for the penthouse lit up when I selected it, and the doors clicked into place behind me. The elevator jolted slightly when it started to ascend, but the ride quickly smoothed out as it climbed up the skyscraper.

I watched the number of floors tick higher and higher until the elevator finally came to a stop. The doors parted, and I stepped out into a small hallway leading to a single door. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching me, before I pulled out a pair of black, leather gloves. I slipped them on as I walked towards the door. I took out my lock picking kit and bent over, getting to work. After a little bit of testing and tweaking, I heard the telltale click of a lock opening. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, and the door gave way.

I stepped inside the penthouse, my dress shoes squeaking against the light hardwood floor, and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, like lemons and lilacs and laundry detergent. I kicked the door closed and locked it behind me. I glanced down at the heavy, silver, Cartier watch on my wrist. I had approximately four hours before you would come back and regather your wits in between meetings. Four hours to do whatever I wanted in your home.

Maybe my behavior was starting to border on psychotic.

The living room was open and airy with a breathtaking view of the cerulean sky and Gotham City skyline out of the wall of floor to ceiling windows. There was an L-shaped, white leather couch in the middle with a few gray pillows haphazardly thrown on it. A potted succulent and a copy of George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier gathered dust on a glass coffee table. A large flatscreen tv was mounted to a white wall. After digging through your DVR, I found that you didn’t really watch a lot of tv, which made sense, since you didn’t really have the time to. The only shows you had recorded were a couple of dramas, some family sitcoms, and the occasional guilty pleasure reality tv show. Titles by Howard Zinn and Upton Sinclair lined the shelves of an overcrowded bookcase, and a few Rothko paintings hung on the wall, bringing in a little bit of color to an otherwise monochromatic room.

Next was the kitchen. It was situated right beside the living room in an open concept style. The cabinets and cupboards were made out of glossy, white wood and didn’t have handles. You had to push on them before they opened. The countertops were clear and shiny from a recent cleaning, and what little dirty dishes there were had been stacked in a pile in the sink. Overall, it was extremely tidy and neat. The only thing out of place was a half-drunk glass of water sitting on top of the island. I guess you had run out of time before you could drink all of it this morning. I picked up the glass and drained the rest of its contents before putting it in the sink for you. You could thank me later.

I moved into the dining room right off of the kitchen. I knew you used it for some of your fundraising dinners and board member meetings. There was a pair of glass, double doors that led out to the patio. I could see a grill that I doubted you used, some tables and chairs, and lounge chairs surrounding a rectangular pool filled with crystal blue water. The surface perfectly reflected the sun and the clouds so it looked you like you had the sky in your patio.

I took the see-through staircase to the second floor. It led me to a small landing with two doors. I chose the one on the left, and I opened it to reveal your bedroom. However, it wasn’t decorated with personal or sentimental belongings. It looked more like a hotel room than somebody’s bedroom. I walked across the white fur rug and collapsed on the king-sized bed that was the focal point of the room. It was impossibly soft, like laying on a cloud, and I rolled around in the white duvet, messing up the articulately made bed. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to fuck you on this very bed, to hear the sounds of your moans over the squeak of the springs and leave imprints of our intertwined bodies on the mattress and dampen the sheets with our sweat. My eyes snapped open. I was getting hard already, and I had to stay focused. I couldn’t attend to my needs just yet.

I got off of the bed and smoothed out the covers before heading into the attached bathroom. The walls were covered with gleaming, white tile, and the floor under my feet was made out of cold marble. The wall of windows had a large, white curtain drawn over it to keep passersby (but mostly me) from seeing in. There was a walk in shower big enough for three people to fit inside comfortably. The shower head was a metallic rectangle installed in the ceiling that let down a drizzle of water similar to rainfall. I took my time smelling your body wash and shampoo and conditioner, all of the products that made up your delicious fragrance that I had become so addicted to.

I walked over to the sink. Above the counter was a mirror that had a string of lights around that, when turned on, gave the perfect lighting I assumed to do your makeup. I bent down and rummaged through the cabinet below the sink. I found a lot of hair care items, bottles of perfume, boxes of tampons, and lotions. I saw a little green packet in middle of it all and picked it up. Birth control. From the looks of it, it had been recently used. Good to know. I put it back and closed the cabinet. I stood up and looked at the sink. There was nothing on the counter except for a single toothbrush. I took it out of its holder and ran my tongue over the bristles. I could still taste the minty toothpaste you had used this morning. I wondered if this is what your mouth would taste like when I finally kissed you.

I replaced the toothbrush and turned into the other door attached to your bedroom. It led me to a huge walk-in closet probably as big as most college dorms. Garments ranging from your everyday dresses and suits all the way to luxurious evening gowns hung on racks lining the perimeter of the room organized by item type and then color. There was an island in the middle that contained all of your designer purses, high heels, and priceless jewelry. A small chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling cast white light down on the closet. I scampered over to a plain laundry basket tucked into the corner of the room. I fell to my knees and sorted through the contents until I produced a pair of black, lace panties. I buried my nose in them and breathed in your scent. My eyes closed, and a smile came over my face. I could tell they had been recently worn.

My blood ran cold when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I lifted my face away from your underwear and glanced down at my watch. “Shit,” I whispered under my breath. I had lost track of time.

I only had enough time to shut the door and turn off the closet light before the door to the bedroom swung open. I peaked through the slats in the door to see you walk in, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and panting from exhaustion. You dropped your purse at the foot of your bed and threw your phone on your duvet. It bounced once on the mattress before coming to a rest.

“Why is it so hot?” you murmured to yourself. You kicked off your oxfords and shimmied out of your checkered suit jacket. Then, your fingers went to the buttons on your white, chiffon blouse. My eyes widened as I watched you undo button after button, each one that came undone revealing more of your smooth, unmarred skin. My cock twitched in my pants, and I started palming myself to ease some of the tension.

You finished unbuttoning your blouse and let it hang open. You shrugged it off and discarded it carelessly to the floor. My gaze raked over the exposed skin of your stomach to the rise and fall of your flushed chest. The swell of your breasts could barely be contained by the cups of your pushup bra. My erection was painfully restrained by the fabric of my pants, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As quietly as I could, I unzipped my pants and pulled my hardening cock out of its confines. My hand was still gripping your panties, and I wrapped them around my length as I started to stroke up and down.

You toed off your socks and walked over to the full length mirror in your room. You stood in front of it with your back to me, and I could see your reflection look over itself. You pursed your lips and pinched the skin of your stomach with your fingers. I wondered if you were self-conscious. You had no reason to be. I couldn’t understand how you could see yourself as anything but gorgeous, gorgeous.

You bent over and tugged your pants down your legs, giving me a perfect view of the curve of your ass. The region between your legs was covered by a gray thong, and my hand sped up. Something about the possibility of getting caught in the act thrilled me and only heightened my arousal. Drops of sweat ran down my face, and I bit my lip to stifle my moans so hard that I could taste blood. I imagined touching your soft, warm flesh, letting my hands trail over your curves, covering every inch of skin with my mouth. I imagined tearing that thong off of you before pressing you up against the wall and fucking you senseless until you were begging and screaming my name.

You stood up and reached for the clasp on your bra as I came. My release coated your lacy panties, and I leaned my head back. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my lips as euphoria washed over me. It was barely audible, but my pulse quickened as your head snapped in the direction of the closet. You drew your brows together, and the sound of blood rushing filled my ears as you slowly made your way towards me. I was stuck, glued to the spot, and my limbs were frozen. I had no clue what to do.

Just as it seemed like the end for me, your ringtone drew your attention. You stopped in your tracks, and after a second, walked over to your bed, shaking your head. You snatched your buzzing phone off of the duvet and accepted the call before holding it to your ear. “Hello?”

I tucked myself back into my pants as you listened to the speaker on the other end. “Yeah, sorry, I was in a meeting earlier. That’s why I couldn’t return your call. Yeah, I know I’ve been busy lately. I’m sorry I keep cancelling, but there’s not really anything I can do about it.”

God, whoever you were speaking to was really clingy. “Look, we’re still on for tonight, right? Dinner at seven?” I halted all my movements. This person didn’t seem like one of the rich people you cyphered money from. Who were you going to dinner with that wasn’t me?

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you there.” You paused as the caller said something else. A laugh tumbled from your lips, a real, genuine laugh, and I narrowed my eyes. I wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that! “Okay, I have to go. I have another meeting to get to. I know, I know. Bye, Brant.”

The air was sucked out of my lungs. Wait. I knew that name. Brant? You were having dinner with Brant Jones? The guy who had beaten me up along with Tommy Elliot back at Anders Prep, and then teased and taunted me relentlessly in front of Grace and Emma Hsueh? You were choosing to spend your time with that sleaze when you had me at your every beck and call?

I waited as you got dressed and grabbed your things, and only when I heard the front door slam shut did I come out of my hiding place. I stashed your soiled panties in my pocket for later use. I needed to confirm if my suspicions were true. I dashed out of your room to the other door across from it. It opened to an orderly office. This room was a lot darker than the other rooms. Thick, black curtains covered the windows, and bookshelves packed with even more books bordered the walls. In the center of it all was a grand oak desk. Neat stacks of paper took up the desk space, and a Mac laptop rested on top of a pile of manila folders.

I pushed aside the padded desk chair, sending it rolling across the room, and I combed through the assortment of files and documents on your desk. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I lifted a worn, gray, moleskin planner from off of the desk. The cover was creased and wrinkled from so much wear and tear. I pulled the elastic band keeping it closed off and flipped to the page with the ribbon page marker stuck in the spine of the planner. It was an overview of the whole month, and I went back a couple of weeks to the day after the Falcone Home and School for Orphans charity ball. Sure enough, written down in black, fountain pen was “Dinner with Brant.”

You had turned me down for some half-wit who leeched off of his trust fund? I couldn’t understand it. My eyes scanned over the next couple of weeks, and “Dinner with Brant” was written down in a couple more places and crossed out a few times. I landed on today’s date, and there it was again: “Dinner with Brant” in neat, precise handwriting.

There was no doubt about it. You were dating that ugly, foolish piece of shit! How could you decide to be with that hideous asshat with a brain the size of a walnut? I physically winced as I imagined you two doing anything remotely sexual. He looked like a garbage fire next to me, and yet you would rather date some repulsive, vile creature who did nothing but crawl around from club to club and beg until he could get in and then drink until he couldn’t remember his own name. What could you possibly see in him?

I shouldn’t blame you. It probably wasn’t your fault. There had to be something else going on. Someone as perfect as you couldn’t willingly choose to be in a relationship with him. Maybe you were forced into it, or maybe he was abusing you. The thought of him laying a hand on you made my blood boil. He had already exhibited some pretty controlling behavior already. Though, I guess I wasn’t one to talk, since I was standing in the middle of your office uninvited and all.

But there’s no other way around it, gorgeous. Your boyfriend has to go.

CHAPTER FIVE

[k18fics]

Strictly Business

Here's my next entry for Chestnutfest, I am so happy to be writing again. @chestnutisland

Strictly Business

A tall man with jet black hair spiked up tall wearing a three piece navy blue suit walked into the conference room where all the employees tensed up instantly. Ever since Dr. Gero lost that terrible lawsuit against a begrudged client, Goku, the banks have been in and out of the company distributing settlement money and to save his company Dr. Gero sold the entire company to someone else.

The employees who had all been there for a number of years feared for their job security and for what kind of new boss they would have. This serious man in the blue suit did not inspire confidence at all.

“My name is Vegeta,” he said. “I am the new CEO of the company appointed by the new owner.”

A blue-haired woman entered the room wearing a Navy blue tight dress with a red scarf tied around her neck. Vegeta motioned to her, “this is my wife Bulma, she is the new CFO.”

“Our goal is to keep the company running as smoothly as it always has except for more compliant with the laws. We are not here to fire anyone or change anything but to simply supervise things more closely. Unfortunately the lawsuit and buyout of the company puts us at quite a large loss and we need to close a large account to be able to recover the losses. We have a multi-millionaire heir who needs investment help because he grew up and poverty and we need to get him on our client-load ASAP.” Vegeta motioned to Bulma after completing his speech.

“Let’s see here,” Bulma said opening a manilla folder. “Our top investment agents are Lazuli and Lapis.”

Vegeta looked at the employees. “Are you here?”

“Right here,” Lazuli said standing up along with Lapis.

She was a beautiful, thin blonde woman wearing a white button up shirt with a pink sweater vest and a tag that said “Gero Enterprises” and her name.

Lapis wore a very relaxed suit without the blazer and had his long black hair tied in a loose ponytail that allowed a few pieces of hair to loosen and fall on his face.

“You are listed as the top the agents,” Bulma said. “You both have executive positions here, Vice Presidents and minority shareholders. Quite a feat.”

“Excellent,” Vegeta said handing Lazuli a folder. “You can take this potential client Ms. Lazuli. Mr. Lapis I would like you to come with me to review client files and see if we can stir up business that way. The rest of you Bulma has prepared a calling list for potential clients. We have prepared scripts as introduction, your goal is to set up appointments for in person meetings not to try to sell over the phone, understood?”

“Understood,” came the response.

The room cleared out quickly as Bulma had already set up folders for everyone to take. Lazuli walked straight to her office to start reviewing her file. A multi-millionaire heir who has no idea how to manage money, this should be an open and shut case. Earn his trust, close the deal.

She opened the folder and looked at the paperwork. There was no picture only a list of information:

Name: Krillin

Age: 29

Occupation: Owner of Roshi Martial Arts School, formerly a monk

Inheritance: $50 million

She hummed and started inputting his phone number and address onto her phone. A few years back she had had a one night stand with a martial arts teacher. She never knew his name and she never did see him again even though he was so cute, though a bit shorter than most of the guys she ever dated.

She dialed the number and waited for a response. “Hello?”

“Hi!” Lazuli said cheerfully, “My name is Lazuli with Gero Enterprises and you were referred to me to help you with your new inheritance.”

“Oh. That. Can I just donate it all?”

“You want to donate it?” Lazuli said. “To what organization?”

“Uh I don’t know, cancer research?”

“That’s amazing, so what would you like to do? Donate all of it once or give them a good amount every single month for years and years nonstop?”

Krillin made a surprised sound. “Wait I can do that?”

“Yes and still have money to set up income and retirement for yourself and anyone you want to help,” Lazuli said. “Are you available tonight for dinner so we can discuss this further?”

“Um, sure yeah,” Krillin said. “I get out of my last class at 7:30, we can meet at like 9.”

“Great let’s meet at Satan Cafe at 9pm,” Lazuli said. “Just ask the hostess to bring you to the table.”

“Okay sounds good, see you tonight.”

...

Lazuli had been sitting at the table for twenty minutes before the hostess appeared with a short bald man in a simple white button up with a messy black tie. Lazuli recognized him almost instantly and she just froze. In her years of experience as an agent she had never encountered something like this before.

He recognized her too and sat down across from her looking shocked. “You’re Lazuli?”

Lazuli gulped. “And you’re Krillin?”

Krillin chuckled nervously and scratched his head. “Well what a coincidence.”

“You know when I saw that you were a martial arts instructor I thought about you but I never thought you were actually that person,” Lazuli said.

“I think about you a lot too,” Krillin said, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Well we certainly have some catching up to do,” Lazuli said smiling. “But let’s talk business first.”

“Yes let’s,” Krillin said grinning. “But this time we’ll keep in touch after yeah?”

Lazuli smirked. “Definitely. But right now...strictly business.”

...

Lazuli let out a heavy sigh as she collapsed onto the bed followed shortly after by Krillin who collapsed on top of her naked and sweaty.

Panting still she said, “okay so we didn’t get anything done.”

“Well we got something done,” Krillin murmured against her throat.

“And quite well might I add,” Lazuli said chuckling. “But I meant business wise.”

Krillin sighed and moved himself off of Lazuli so he could lie beside her. “You’re like the seventh agent that has come see me. I am not a...money guy. I got this inheritance when my mentor and father figure passed away. He had to die so I could get this money and I just...I don’t wanna keep it.”

Lazuli sat up and looked at him. “You are a good person Krillin. I have a twin brother and when we were teenagers our parents died in a car accident. The state gave us life insurance money. My brother was adamant about not taking the money but the truth was we needed that money to survive. Our parents had the foresight to purchase life insurance so that we would be taken care of if something ever happened to them. How disrespectful and dumb would it have been to not take the money you know? That money got us through college and set us up.”

“Hmm,” Krillin said sitting up. “I guess I never really thought of that.”

“How long did your mentor work to make all that money?”

Krillin looked pensive for a moment. “About 40 years. He’s the creator of my martial arts studio, and he franchised it and expanded it.”

“It was his life’s work?”

Krillin nodded.

“And he gave it to you? And no one else’s?”

Krillin nodded.

“What an honor that is Krillin,” Lazuli said smiling. “He loved and trusted you enough to leave you everything because he wanted you to be comfortable and well, and to carry on his legacy.”

Krillin smiled sadly. “Y-yeah, I guess he did.”

“So trust me then,” Lazuli said. “Let me help you set up your account. We can set up accounts for you to live comfortably the rest of your life whether you work or not, we can set up accounts for anyone in your life that you want to help, we can set up accounts to give money consistently to any charity or project you want, and we can set things up so you can get any leisures or luxuries you want.”

“I’m good with all the other stuff, I don’t know about the leisure part,” Krillin said.

“It’s all up to you,” Lazuli said smiling. “Whatever you want. So, what do you say? Do I have the job?”

Krillin chuckled. “Is this how you close all your deals?”

Lazuli leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. “Only the short cute bald ones.”

Krillin laughed and kissed her gently. “You’re hired.”

Lazuli smiled and moved away so she could offer her hand for a handshake. He looked at her hand for a moment then said, “we can seal the deal another way.”

Lazuli grinned slid her hand up his torso instead. “After all, this is strictly business.”

[fuxkingmarvel]

Memories of Times Past

Summary: Reader learns about Steve Roger’s past relationship during a Tony Stark fundraiser. 

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader 

Warnings: past relationships with cheating but fluffy goodness 

Tony Stark was a people’s man. He had clients from around the world. Today was one of his most renowned annual fundraisers. He invited every client which would soon hurt you in the back. One of Tony’s clients was a woman named, Sharon Carter who had happened to be Steve Roger’s ex. Steve had never brought her up but now you were face to face with her. The two of you were in mid-conversation discussing her past relationship with your boyfriend.

“He didn’t tell you about me. What makes you think he’d tell you about who he actually lost his virginity to?” The woman with blonde hair snarled with a smirk, eyeing you up and down. You were intimated for sure, the words spewing from her mouth didn’t sound like something Steve would do. 

    But, why keep her a secret all this time.  

You bite your lip nervously as you actually started to believe these lies.

 “I-I, and why tell me this?” you said through your teeth not trying to cause a scene. 

“You want him back? Huh?” You crossed your arms.

“No.” she said simply as she smiled and sipped her drink.

 “I just like reminding Steve that I'm the best he's ever had--” her words made your cringe and jealously ran through your veins. Before you knew it, Steve walked up to the both of your guys. 

Steve began to become defensive as he heard some parts before he came over. “Excuse me? I've never been with you, Sharon. Why are you telling lies?”

You looked at him, tears welling up in your eyes.  “Y-You” you choked out and began to shake your head and held tears back. 

“How should I believe you?” you asked him and Steve’s face began to soften. 

“Babe--What--No, please, don't cry. You're the only one I love! She's lying, Y/N. I love you, I've only ever loved you, and I lost my virginity to you, I promise” Steve rambled on trying to convince you with everything he had. 

He looked at you and then at Sharon. “Why are you so hellbent on ruining my life? I love her! You cheated on me, you treated me like shit, not the other way around! What, are you regretting your decision now because I all of a sudden suit your needs and interests? Well fuck off, Sharon!” His face becoming red and his eyes filled with pain.

“Unlike you, I didn't need to change for Y/N to give a shit about me. She cared about me the moment she fell in love with me, and I fell in love with her. I didn't love you and I'll never love you. Y/N is in my life now, and we've been 6 months strong, and I'm not going to let toxicity like you ruin it” Steve pulled you in protectively. 

Sharon’s jaw dropped at Steve’s words in disbelief.

 “Why are you even wasting your time on her, she doesn't and won't ever compare to me, Steve--what we had—” Sharon went on but Steve cut her off. 

“What we had was disgusting and toxic! She is a better woman than you are or ever will be. I love her, and she loves me, and fuck—I'm happy. Go back to your antics of hurting other guys and burrowing your way into their lives and stay the hell away from mine before I have Tony’s security escort you out” Steve pulled you away an arm protectively around you as he lead you to the bathroom.

Steve closed the door and locked it. He got down to your level and took his handkerchief out of his front pocket and uncovered your hands from your face. He carefully wiped your tears and simply listened and remained quiet for a bit before speaking out.

 “I'm sorry about her, babe...” You sniffled and looked at him. 

“I’m always crying in front of you. This is embarrassing. I shouldn’t even be crying. This is so stupid!” your groaned out loud as you sat on the cover of the toilet seat. 

Steve stroked your cheek and shook his head as he continues to wipe your tears. 

“No, don't say that. You're not stupid. It's not stupid, you have every right to cry. But I will always protect you, I'm not going to let anybody get away with talking to you like that”. 

He wipes your tears with his thumb and continues to speak. “Y/N, I love you. You know that. Sharon was lying—Sharon is lying. I lost my virginity to you and only you, and it was one of the best days of my life. You have to believe me, beautiful” You looked at him softly as his words sounded genuine. 

“I believe you... but why did it take you so long to every bring her up?” You held his hands. 

“We’re supposed to share everything... You love me and I love you--”

Steve strokes your cheek gently and kisses your hands.

“She--she's a part of my p-past that I'm not really proud of... but if you want to know about her, I'll tell you about her...” He sits on his bathroom floor, against the wall, looking at you. You looked at him hesitantly. 

Steve clears his throat. “I can't avoid it forever. She's dead to me anyways, I don't—I don't mind talking about her... I had a crush on her. She was around the office every time we finished a mission. She was there during the briefings...” He paused for a moment and sighed as you listened carefully. 

“When she asked me out, I thought it was a joke, I thought "Why would a girl like her date a guy like me?." But she asked me out and we dated for a year, and I— I thought I was happy, for a time?... I guess I was just infatuated with the idea of being in love, but I wasn't in love, I wasn't in love with her.” He looks at you with shame in his eyes.

You bite your lip and listen to him.

 “I wish you never met her” you say out loud and continue.

 “I’m sorry, you felt like that...” you look at him with soft and genuine eyes. You get off the toilet and go on to the floor meeting his level again but being a bit smaller. 

Steve shakes his head and moves over so you can sit beside him. 

“It's not your fault, I was naive. I genuinely thought she cared about me, despite her always putting me down and only complimenting me when she wanted money or a gift from me. I--I think a part of me wanted to ignore it--deny it and say it wasn't true because she was my first girlfriend in this new era of my life... but I always knew that I never loved her.”

“I always knew... it was only when I caught her cheating that I finally had the balls to admit it to myself that it wasn't a healthy relationship... it wasn't a like, and it definitely was not a love... it was just a tolerance to use someone for convenience. After that, after her, I promised to uh—to do better by myself... to not let other people step all over me...” You looked at your boyfriend with the softest eyes imaginable.

You cupped Steve’s face and looked at him with loving eyes. “I love you. I am going to make sure you never feel like that ever again” You said softly as you leaned your forehead against his. 

Steve held your hands as they rested on his face. “I love you more... and it doesn't matter what she's put me through... what matters is that I ended it with her, got over that part of my life, and I'm now with someone who loves me for me, and that I can genuinely say makes me the happiest that I've ever been in a long time” He looked at you, gently running his thumb across your lips before gently holding your chin in place. 

“I love you so much Y/N...”

“I love you more, Steve.” You pulled him into a deep kiss, and lightly giggled noticing that the two of you were literally on the bathroom floor.

Steve cupped your face and kissed you back deeply. He sat up as he pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling him as they're covered by your dress. 

You pulled away innocently and stayed in his lap, laying your head on his chest. You mumbled into his chest lightly. “I love you so so so so much.... I can’t believe we’re cuddling on bathroom tiles right now” You let out a soft chuckle softly. 

Steve looked around and chuckled hard. “Don't worry, they're clean bathroom tiles. In the home of a millionaire, you could eat off these tiles if you wanted to” He kissed your lips softly and mumbled, wiping some stray tears.  

“Your makeup must really be some powerful shit, it's not running after those tears” He chuckled and held you, kissing your head.

You look at him weirdly before breaking out into a laugh. “I HATE YOU!” You exclaimed playfully and hit his chest. 

Steve laughed and smiled brightly, looking at you. “Yeah, but I turned that frown upside down, didn't I? Made my girl smile—love that smile...” You blushed hard at his statement fighting a smile and burying your head back in his chest. 

“Stop...” you said lowly and softly.

“What, stop making my girl happy? Never.” he said stroking your hair softly, smiling. “You're everything to me. I meant what I said out there”

You smiled hard and placed light kisses on his jaw. “I know you did— and thank you for defending me. You’re really the best” You said squeezing him tight. 

“Anything for my best girl. I'll always defend you, always.” He kisses your hand, standing up and fixing himself.

“And as much as I would like to stay cuddled up with you in this bathroom, I would very much love to show you off; my girl IS the hottest one here, ya know?” he winks and offers his hand, heading the two of you back to the fundraiser. 

[kurtty-drabbles]

Ocean au (the plan)

N/A: Merciful short, I hope.

Contrary to what Peter Ross may believe, Kitty does not live with Gwen, in fact, she has her house/loof where she lives and plans her next move along with her two babies, but, as the woman enters in her loof something is amiss and she looks around making no sound(what good thief would she be if she alert her presence) hovering on the air by a few inches the woman has a knife on her hand ready.

(Who would visit a thief at this time?)

"Darling, this is your house?" a honey voice rings in the loft as a woman with platinum hair is sitting in one of the couches with a sultry smile on her face.

"No, I came here to steal this place as well" Columbina replies and takes a knife out her back "and I may be so bold to ask...what are you doing here?"

"Oh, my, my. You have a knife. No need to go physical, I´m not here to hand you to my husband nor to steal from you" Felicia promised to make a cute signal with her fingers "You can trust a thief´s word, Columbina"

"No, I can´t, much less yours, where are my babies?" Kitty asked dropping the knife.

"Your cat and dog? sleeping on your bed like two angels" Felicia states and points to the corridor where one can see the only door open and Kitty could verify that Cosmo and Jupiter are sleeping soundly over the pile of dresses tore apart.

"Goddamnit," She mutters tiredly and goes back to deal with Felicia who is all smiles now. "Ok, what do you want? And never again break in someone´s house...that may or may not be mine" she orders in a strong voice as she puts the knife on the kitchen site.

Felicia was never nervous to see Columbina with a knife(odd, as she knows Columbina can cause more damage with her hands than with a knife) and speaks freely as if she was restrained by any means. "I heard you are planning a heist and I want in"

"No," Kitty said a bit acerbic. This didn´t stop Felicia in the slightest.

"Darling, you´re one of the best, in fact, I would be happy to pass down the name Black Cat to you" she has a more serious attitude now as Columbina is sitting in front of her. "But this heist is something too big even for you"

"I have a plan" she states confidently.

"Your last plan involved green goo"

"Why everyone mentions that...ok, back to the point, how did you heard about that? " she asked and Felicia is offering that enigmatic smile of hers as if she won´t tell the secret for immortal life. "it was Gwen" and now the smile is dead.

"Yeah, I blackmail her to talk...you love to take the mysticism out of my words" she explains pouting a little "But I want to help, my husband is, well, let me tell you something, Shield deals with cursed diamonds ALL DAY, to the point I´m sick of diamonds and if that could make Bruce that a chill pill for a moment ...I´m in"

"Felicia....is cursed diamonds, you can´t keep with them"

"Wasn´t thinking in that, darling"

"If I say yes, you´ll stop coming to this place?"

"I can try to invade your house but I can promise to make this a secret"

______________________________________________________________________________

Kitty, on the next day, was walking with her cat and dog as any owner should and is not minding the oddities in the New Gotham Park. Cosmo and Jupiter are walking in their usual way, that as always, got the attention of people ("uhm, lady, your cat walks on the back of your dog?" "yep")

"Lady" a new voice gets her attention and Kitty turns to see a teenager chewing bubblegum and offering an amused smile. "I want to get in the heist"

Kitty almost had a heart attack, but, she´s Columbina for a reason. "An excuse me? I´m a semi-normal citizen of New Gotham walking with my cat and dog"

"I´m Jubilee Wayne and Felicia told me to speak to you"

"Urgh, Of fucking course"

__________________________________________________________________________

The place for the meeting was on Gwen´s penthouse, which the blonde was happy to offer as she is more than enthusiastic with this plan now that Columbina did get the heroines to help and ("no green goo so far" "IT. WAS.ONE. TIME") and soon all the heroines are presented.

"So, what do we know about cursed diamonds?" Columbina begins and White Witch explains the matter of such cursed items, but, sensing she notices the stares everyone was giving she realize that didn´t need to go full encyclopedia. "Well, thank you, Wanda, but the point is...where those diamonds come from?"

Meggan and Wanda's side-eye each other for a moment as this was a question they never did until now. Lorna, the green-haired hacker takes the powerpoint presentation.

Lorna takes the lead. "Those diamonds are magical and sentient enough to form a bond with human" she has a winning smile as she wants to give a big spoiler but Columbina is muttering to her (''keep going'') "now, think about, in all those cases of diamonds cursed, what we learned about the victims?" Lorna really wants to give a spoiler and Columbina is not letting.

Sparrow being invited here by Felicia that did invite herself as well, something that Columbina loves to point out, raises her hand. "All of them are very rich to buy a diamond...by the way, what you do with the diamonds you steal?" Sparrow asked intrigued and Columbina puts her finger on her lips and wink at the teen.

"Yes, they´re rich and yes, we have questions about Columbina, for example why your cat and dog are so...odd?" Lorna asked as Cosmo and Jupiter are in Gwen´s penthouse and are raiding the fridge together.

"Focus, Lorna, Focus"

"I think your cat and dog..." Wanda looks at them for a moment as they steal something and are gone from their eyes "are very familiar"

"They´re my babies, now, Lorna..."

"Ok, back to the topic, all of those rich people buy their respective diamonds in one place..." and clicking on the bottom it shows an image of Emma Frost with a moustache and devil´s horn "this woman here is responsible. She´s the owner of the Hellfire jewellery and is getting money, too much money for normal or even successful jewellery" Lorna explains and shows some dates.

"Look, this is the normal ratio that jewellery makes...but Emma´s is making the triple...is not normal" and Lorna then concludes "and is very convenient that she has very strong insurance in case of robbery or if the diamond takes over your body"

Felicia is looking at this for a moment while Jubilee Lee is surprised, how Dark Claw let this one fly under his radar? "But" Felicia states "if the diamonds are cursed and are sentient enough...why to stay with Emma?"

"They make a symbiote relationship with Emma, maybe, because she can turn into a diamond too" Lorna finally gives the spoiler and Meggan is making questions. Lorna has no problem in showing the picture of diamond! Emma to her and Meggan is shocked, how come they never noticed this?

"Yeah, she can be a diamond but I can still phase her" Columbina explains and continues "anyway since she has a symbiotic relationship with the diamonds...it means they trust her to deliver the cursed to every citizen and " pressing the button for a moment "the number of clients that buy diamonds is increasing...she´s disguising the diamonds as bijous making more accessible to everyone. She won´t stop until the last one is infected, everyone"

Wanda and Meggan are visibly shaken. Jubilee is impressed, Felicia is ready to do something and Gwen is drinking wine. Lorna is watching Cosmo and Jupiter raid the fridge again.

"Why we just don´t go there and beat her up?" Meggan surprised even herself with this suggestion but Columbina gestures her to sit down.

"Because while is a symbiotic relationship, I have a feeling they can search for other hosts" she clicks on the button and now there are 3 photos on display "some of the possible candidates Victor Savage, a millionaire that loves everything expensive, Sophie Muller a woman who has a mine of diamonds in a few countries of Africa" they notice Kitty´s mischievous smile "suddenly is noticing the missing of money on the mines as the cities around her are getting more prosper and finally, Alex Simsan, the man is an old enemy of JLX and loves magical items, so far they all are fact but...maybe with the cursed...what can happen if those diamonds were put together with those fakes? How can we be sure they are fakes or just dormant?"

Meggan sits down and is a tick that the situation is that dire. Wanda never foresees this situation. Lorna is sharing lunch with Cosmo and Jupiter and Jubilee raises her hand again. "How can we stop this?"

"Glad you ask, Sparrow/jubilee, the first part of the plan: Emma Frost loves to give the most lavish parties in her mansion...we need someone to be there and talk with White Queen to get a hold on the magical protections that place has" Columbina looks at Gwen who is sibilating ("green goo")

And no one makes any question.

"That´s why we need Wanda there" Kitty speaks and Wanda herself is shocked. "Yes, you, Emma seems to be a big fan of you, and, no offences Meggan, but, Maximoff´s name has more worth for her than Braddock"

"I see, I´ll be undercover then, talk with everyone mentally?"

"Oh no, you´ll give info to Lorna and Felicia who will be the waitress of that party" Kitty states and Lorna is confident enough to say she can hack the database of the company who provides the buffet for those parties and put their names there.

"Meggan will shapeshifter and speak with Sebastian Shaw. He´s one of her partners and is getting a big sum of money to be quiet about the location of the cursed diamonds, but, if the boss asks" Kitty trails off and Meggan nods.

"Now, here comes the big part, we will need to take all those cursed diamonds calmly and quickly without attracting anyone´s attention. Me and Jubilee will do that...yes, kid, you´re very athletic and that could work" Jubilee does not want to show how she´s happy for those words but fails on that.

"And Gwen your mission is to advocate new jewellery that has nothing to do with Emma"

"Yes, being an influence, but, while I have some influence can this really work?"

"Yes," Meggan states looking at Gwen "Because the ladies of JLX will support the new jewellery and we have a certain influence too" and Wanda nods. Jubilee states that since she´s the daughter of the billionaire and Felicia works as a socialite in her spare time they can work on this to help Gwen.

Lorna and Kitty aren´t billionaires or influencers, but, they are changing the world...well, they´re about to change Emma´s world.

"Kitty, what are Cosmo and Jupiter?" Lorna asked as the cat and dog are watching the commotion with somewhat confusion in their eyes.

"Two excellent boys" Kitty respond proudly.

[doubleduo]

Writer: Aria

WC: 906 Prompt: 

"I love you." "Lying isn't a good look for you." Background: Calypso is the rising CEO of Haik Industries - a company known for making the latest technologies and medicines. She is also known as The Bandit who works for the Night Bloods as an assassin.  Annabelle is a rising millionaire who is also known as The Dragon in her criminal activities. The two criminals have been locked in a battle with seemingly no end until one of them finds out the truth.

Tinkling laughter sounded behind the curtains of the hidden alcove, hushed by the quiet 'sh' that rushed past Calypso's lips. "Annabelle, you're going to get us caught," the words slipped off her tongue in a harsh whisper. The redhead shifted in the muted light that passed through the slit in the curtains. "I would do nothing of the sort," she huffed. Delicate fingers ran through golden locks, twining them through her fingers before tugging softly. A hiss sounded from Calypso, pushing away the girl's hand. "You're such a pain." "Mm, yes, but I'm your pain, no?" Annabelle placed a chaste kiss to her lover's lips, her eyes keen beneath thick lashes. "Something along those lines," she grumbled. Her cheeks were hot from being pulled behind the curtains, she could have sworn her figure had been imprinted against the windowpane from where the redhead had pinned her. "Come on," Annabelle whined, her fingers finding Calypso's chin, trying to direct her gaze. "You know I love you." The woman stilled beneath her lover's gentle caress. "Lying isn't a good look for you, darling," she mused, pulling her head out from the gentle cup of Annabelle's palm. She slid off the windowsill, parting the curtains with a gloved hand as she slipped out. "Lying? Caly," she said, her hand shooting out to grasp at her lover's fleeting figure. Her fingers hooked around Calypso's, snagging the woman as she rose to slip out of the alcove. "You know I'm not lying. We've been together for almost four months, how could you say that?" Hallow eyes glanced at the pale fingers that had wrapped around her's, trailing up the woman's arm until she found blazing red hair and the betrayal of emerald irises. "Four months of lies," she stated, the color of cherry blossoms that had dusted her cheeks began to fade. Annabelle shook her head, dislodging a strand of silken hair that fell across her eyes, quickly brushed away by manicured nails. "Babe, I don't understand." She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "You do, you just don't want to admit it." An audible sigh passed red-painted lips, her gloved fingers rose up to find the gentle curve of her lover's hips. Grey dull eyes scanned the redhead's, searching for the truth behind the mask. "I know your name isn't really Annabelle, right, Hannah?" The confusion melted with the name, dangerous calm falling over her gentle features. "What gave me away? Actually, how long have you know?" Her manicured brow arched dangerously. She tossed her arms along Calypso's shoulders, twirling the woman's hair between her fingertips as a vicious grin began to curl along glossy lips. "Last week, William told me," her eyes slid shut for a moment, sucking in a steadying breath before she looked back at the woman who quite literally had her wrapped around her finger, "I know you're The Dragon. I know that this whole time you've been playing me." "Mm, I guess you're smarter than I gave you credit for." A pout formed along her lips, taking in the hardened glare that furrowed the blonde's brows. "Don't look at me like that, it isn't my fault you poured your money into my bank account. You fought against me so valiantly, I didn't want to ruin your little fantasy." "I gave you that money because you said that you needed help, not to fund your gang." Her words came out harsh, her fingers tips flexing into the woman's hips before loosening. She schooled her features, refusing to get angry and play Annabelle's games anymore. "Oh, don't point the finger at me." A giggle passed the woman's lips. Her fingers tightened in Calypso's hair, pulling her head back to expose the girl's neck, taking in the bruise already forming. Her lips caressed the warmth of Calypso's skin, right up until her teeth nipped at the girl's ear. The woman's head pulled back from the teeth that snapped at her ear, stopped by the firm hand that held her in place. An ache began to form along her spine, starting with having to crane her neck. Even now, with the betrayal that rested heavy in her chest, quivering breaths still passed her lips with every touch. "It would be a shame if the public found out that their pride and joy was using Haik Industries as a cover for dealing out drugs and weapons. Not to mention your little killing sprees you go on at night." Hannah's grip eased, just enough to give Calypso a moment of reprieve when the woman's fingertips had begun to dig into her dress. "What do you want, Annabelle," the name sounded broken on her lips, airy and hurt. She'd been avoiding this, knowing that deep down, she could never tell her lover no, even when it had all been an act. "I want you wrapped around my finger, at my beck and call. I like you, darling, it would be a shame to put you to waste." Her lips pressed just beneath the glittering silver that hung on Calypso's ear, pulling back to look at the shame that burned along her lover's cheeks. Calypso had been so blind to Hannah's little hoax that she'd stepped right into the woman's trap. The redhead had wrapped the chains of love around her wrists and now had pulled taught. Love was a game and there was more than one way to lose.

[blackberrywidow]

Roll to Me

Summary: You find yourself stuck in a church, about to make the biggest mistake of your life. Luckily, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is there to save the day. -- Based on the song “Roll to Me” by Del Amitri. 

Warnings: Nadda, unless mild coarse language offends you.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

---

Look around your world pretty baby Is it everything you hoped it'd be? The wrong guy, the wrong situation The right time to roll to me

---

“You look stunning,” your mother cooed, clasping her hands as she gazed at your reflection in the mirror. “June brides are always the prettiest, don’t you agree?”

There was a chorus of agreement from behind you, but you only continued to stare dispassionately at your reflection.

You supposed you werestunning—much more so than you normally were. Your hair was neatly pinned into an extravagant up-do that had taken over an hour to pull off. Your make-up was perfectly applied—eyelashes dark and full, complete with smoky eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, and plump red lips. Combined with your wedding dress—a monstrosity that felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and cinched too tightly at your waist, preventing your ability breathe properly—you looked like something out of a magazine. Not at all like your normal self.

This really was shaping up to be the worst day of your life, despite the promises that it would feel right when the time came. You had always known that was bullshit anyway.

“(Y/N), darling, quit frowning. You’ll get premature wrinkles, and Lord knows you need all the help you can get.”

Your brows furrowed as your frown deepened. There was the mother you knew—cold, insulting, fake. At least something was familiar now.

“She won’t be frowning for long,” one of your bridesmaids snickered—you couldn’t be bothered to remember her name as you had only met her a few hours ago and weren’t exactly in the mood to make friends. She was pretty though, with neatly curled and pinned back red hair and a figure that was accented perfectly by the deep purple dress she wore. “Once you see Michael in that tux… well, I’m sure the last thing you’ll be feeling is nervous.”

You scoffed as the rest of the strangers parading as your friends tittered in response. Michael was attractive, you would give her that, but the last thing you were was nervousand you knew that this frown would likely be a permanent fixture on your face from now on. You would gladly let the pretty redhead with the jealous green eyes take your place if that’s what she wanted.

“Right,” you said, forcing a smile that hurt your cheeks. It was obviously fake, as was everything else about you, but no one in this room knew you well enough to tell the difference. “I am nervous. I was uh… actually hoping that everyone could give me a moment alone to… process all of this. I think I still can’t believe this is really happening.”

You chuckled awkwardly, hoping that they would chalk it up to embarrassment and nothing else. They all smiled, giving you sympathetic looks as they filed out of the room somewhat reluctantly. Your mother hovered a moment longer, eyes narrowed on where you still sat in front of the mirror until you turned to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Mother. I just want to… take it all in. These are my last few moments as a single woman. I’d like to spend them on my own. Just for a moment.”

With a heavy sigh and a critical look, she turned and left—not a word of advice or support leaving her cherry-stained lips. You suspected the only reason she listened to you at all was because it was your wedding. It was nice to know that it was good for something, at least.

You sighed, relief mingling with your distress as your shoulders dropped into a more natural position. You hadn’t even realized that you were sitting so stiffly, but it felt like a weight had lifted from your chest once you relaxed a bit. The feeling was immediately lost when you reopened your eyes and caught sight of your reflection in the mirror once more.

It was your wedding day—something you had dreamed of since you were a little girl. But it was nothing like you had imagined. All of the lace and pretty things that surrounded you were nice, of course, but it wasn’t what you wanted. Michael Averywasn’t what you wanted, and you knew that it wasn’t something that you would make peace with.

You stood, pacing the small room that served as your bridal suite, chewing on a thumb nail and likely smearing your lipstick as you contemplated your situation.

Your parents, millionaires with a failing company and rapidly declining fortune, had come to an agreement with the Avery family. Their fortune, a steadily rising one that starkly contrasted your family’s own, would help bring (Y/L/N) Industries back to its former glory. And all they had to do was join your families.

You had wondered how arranged marriages were still necessary in modern society, why they couldn’t just give you a loan and call it good enough, but that curiosity had died the moment you met Michael Avery. He was gorgeous, yes, with his baby blue eyes, perfectly-styled blonde hair, and winning smile. But that was the only appealing thing about him and it certainly didn’t outweigh the negatives.

He was an ass, to put it simply. A smug, disgusting, chauvinistic pig that didn’t deserve the fortune he was being served on a silver platter. So it wasn’t difficult for you to put together that his parents were concerned about any potential wife would have ulterior motives—namely their fortune that they didn’t trust their idiotic son to properly protect.

They knew you well though, and the money they were gladly handing your family would ensure your loyalty. If you didn’t want to ruin your family, you would smile pretty and stay in the background as the ever-dutiful wife they wanted you to be.

You hated it. You hated them, and your blood boiled as you thought about your future as Mrs. Michael Avery.

You whirled around, ready to make another round across the room as you tried to work through your anger and fear, when you saw something red and blue flash across the window. Your breath caught, and you rushed to the window, peering out to the right just in time to catch sight of Spider-Man swinging around the corner.

Your lips curved up into a smile, momentarily forgetting the life sentence that was waiting for you outside those doors. What would it be like, to be free like that? To move about the city without regard for your family and their expectations.

---

Look into your heart pretty baby Is it aching with some nameless need? Is there something wrong And you can't put your finger on it? Right, then roll to me

---

Your hand curled into a fist as your resolve settled. You may have been born into a family of privilege and wealth, but you wouldn’t enter into a loveless marriage just to keep that lifestyle. Your family could find another way to save their company—you weren’t born to be anyone’s pawn and you would know what freedom felt like.

You just had to figure out how to get the hell out of there.

You spun around, eyes zeroing in on the door—the only exit. It was probably a bit obvious, but it would have to do. You hefted up your skirt a few inches, moving quickly across the room. You held your breath as you cautiously opened the door, peeking around the edge to see an empty hallway. You could hear laughter and mindless chatter coming from the room across from you and knew that your bridesmaids at least had slipped into the groom’s suite.

Without another moment’s hesitation, you were out the door and hustling as quickly as you could down the hallway. The heavy layers of your skirts slowed you, but your resolve to get out of the church and find a better life for yourself spurned you on.

The promise of freedom wasn’t one you had even considered before, but now you were unwilling to give it up. And that meant getting your ass out of here ASAP.

Unfortunately, despite your resolve, you didn’t actually know much about the venue or where you were going. Which meant you were making blind turns that you could only hope would lead you to the exit.

They led you to a basement.

“Shit,” you hissed, spinning around and wondering how you had even managed to get into a basement. Maybe you could just hide down here until everybody left?

A door to your left opened and you whipped your head around to find a man who appeared to be about your age stumbling out of a storage room. You raised your eyebrows as he hopped around, trying pull on a beaten-up dress shoe.  

He glanced up in the next moment, bright brown eyes blown wide as they landed on you, and he straightened, leaving his shoe untied. “Uh, hey! I was, um… just looking for you. I know I’m late, so uh… sorry about that.”

He finished with a sheepish smile and a shrug, running a hand through his disheveled brown curls. He was adorable, but that was the least of your concerns. You were supposed to be getting out here without getting caught, giving you enough time to get to a bank and withdraw the money from your account before you disappeared from your parents’ lives.  

“Yeah… who are you exactly?”

“Oh! I’m Peter. Peter Parker, your uh… photographer,” he explained hesitantly, holding up the camera that you had just noticed was hanging around his neck. “Well, I’m not a photographer really. I’m still in college, so I’m just doing this for some extra cash, ‘cause you know college is expensive. But I have experience! I’m not saying I—”

“Uh, look Peter,” you interrupted him, glancing anxiously at the door behind you to make sure you were still alone. “I don’t really have time for this. If you could just… go upstairs maybe? Take some pictures of the groom or the ceilings or something. That would be great.”

You turned around, accepting that hiding down here wouldn’t help, and headed for the door. You were cautiously peeking into the hallway when you felt a presence appear at your side.

“Yes?” you hedged, glancing at the odd man out of the corner of your eye.

“Well…” he said, taking a step back to allow you to fully turn around—a difficult task in your dress. “I thought that maybe we should do some pictures of you with your bridal party before? That’s what I’ve done in the past anyway. But if you’d rather we didn’t…”

“Listen,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I’m just gonna be honest with you here Peter. I have no intention of marrying that creep. So, you can go upstairs and take all the pictures you want, but I won’t be in them. And I would reallyappreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone you saw me. It’s vital that I get out of here without anyone noticing to at least give me some time to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

“You mean… you aren’t getting married?” Peter asked, taking in your white dress and immaculately styled hair with wide, confused eyes.

“No,” you huffed and gathered up your dress again, preparing to just make a run for it. “Michael Avery is a scoundrel and there’s no way I’m going through with this, consequences be damned. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

You turned in a whirl of skirts, wrenching the door open only to have it slam shut once again.

You whipped your head around, ready to rage at the not-really-a-photographer when you stopped short at the look on his face. He almost looked… concerned. It was an expression you weren’t used to seeing on anyone’sface, much less a stranger’s, and it was enough to make you hesitate. “You don’t want to marry him?”

“Yes! That is what I’m saying! Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Peter was quick to reply, moving past you, rather ungracefully due to the many layers of tulle that he had to stumble through, to peek out the door himself. “But I’m not so sure that the basement is the best way to go about running away. No doors or windows, you know?”

---

And I don't think I have ever seen A soul so in despair So if you want to talk the night through Guess who will be there?

---

Five minutes later, and you and your new friend/lifesaver were rushing down another drab hallway in enormous cathedral you were trapped in.

“Do you actually know where you’re going?” you panted as you turned another corner.

“Yeah, of course!” your companion responded, not even sounding out of breath. “At least… I think I do.”

“Oh, well I’m glad you thi—”

“Wait!” Peter cut you off, spinning you around and dragging you backwards into a vacant room seconds before you were about to turn another corner.

He slammed your backs against the closed door, causing your breath to whoosh out of you in a rush. You opened your mouth to protest, but he clamped his hand down over it, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You could feel every breath he took and the warmth radiating from his chest as you stood there for several seconds. You were fuming, unable to believe that this guy you had just met was clutching you against him as though your life depended on it until you realized what had caused his reaction.

You heard the raised voices calling your name before you heard the footsteps. You recognized a few of them as girls from your wedding party, but there were even more, likely groomsmen or staff, searching for you as well.

“They’re searching the rooms,” Peter breathed in your ear, causing goosebumps to spread across the nape of your neck. You could only nod in response, considering the warm hand that was still pressed firmly against your mouth, but he didn’t really need your input anyway. “We need to get you out of here. Now.”

You tried to respond with a biting “no shit” but it came out as “mo mhfit” considering he had yet to remove his hand. It seemed to be the push he needed to finally let you go though.

“They’ll be checking in here any second,” he whispered, voice coming out panicked as he released you and looked around the room—a Sunday School room, if the brightly colored Jesus posters were anything to go by—with wide eyes. They snapped to the center of the back wall and seemed to brighten, prompting you to turn and look at what had grabbed his attention.

A window… Your stomach dropped. Surely he couldn’t th—

“The window! Hurry!”

“You can’t be serious,” you hissed out, though based on the way Peter was currently tugging you toward it, he was. “I’ll never be able to get thorough that in this dress!”

“It’s our only option.” Peter was already hopping up on the table that, opening the window that was directly above it. “We’re only on the first floor—you’ll be fine. And don’t you think you should have considered the dress being an issue before you tried to bail? I think changing may have been the less conspicuous option.”

You paused, mouth open and ready to fire off a retort before you realized that he was right. You snapped it shut with an audible click of your teeth, kicked off your shoes, and climbed up on the table with him, scattering construction paper and crayons across the floor in your wake. “Well, clearly I don’t work well under pressure.”

“No worries. That’s what you have me for.” Peter grinned at you and it was contagious. He really did sound like he wasn’t at all worried, and you momentarily forgot that there was a herd of people searching for you, ready to drag you kicking and screaming to the altar, all so you could fix your parents’ mistakes. But then you both leaned out of the window to observe the ground below.

You gulped.

“Well…” Peter hedged, giving you a nervous smile. “It’s clear down there at least.”

You nodded shakily, mouth suddenly dry. You had never liked heights, and it was at least a 15-foot drop to the ground. But the voices coming from the hallway were growing in volume, and you knew it was now or never.

“Well, here it goes,” you murmured, looking at Peter expectantly.

“Right,” he said, sucking in a deep breath before crouching down beside you and making a cradle with his hands. “I’ll give you a boost up to the window. Just be careful on your way down, okay?”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty heavy—I mean, the dress alone weighs like thirty pounds.”

He grinned crookedly at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach, which you promptly ignored. Now was not the time to notice that the man kneeling in front of you was actually reallyattractive. You were still in the middle of trying to escape your wedding, so… not the time at all. “Trust me. I can take it.”

You shrugged, realizing that you didn’t really have a choice anyway, and placed your bare foot in his hand… and immediately squeaked when he easily hoisted you up to the widow.

You scrambled to grab the window sill and lift one leg to carefullystraddle the window. Once you were precariously seated half-way inside and half-way outside the window, Peter straightened with a self-satisfied smile to place a steadying hand on your hip. “Not too bad, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but I’m not exactly on the ground yet, am I?”

“Right,” Peter agreed, glancing back at the door as though he had forgotten why you were trying to climb out of a window in a wedding dress in the first place. “They’re getting closer. You better go.”

“You’re not coming with me?” you asked, surprise and a tinge of disappointment coloring your tone, though you hoped he didn’t notice. You weren’t sure why you had assumed that he would be making the trip down with you, and you were even less sure why the fact that he wasn’t made you sad, but it did.

“Nah, I’ll stay here and… try to distract them so you can get away. But I’ll uh… call a friend and have them help you out. You won’t make it far in that dress otherwise,” he explained, giving you a crooked grin that made your lips twitch upwards ever-so-slightly in response.

“Well… thank you then. I really appreciate your help, Peter Parker.”

“No problem. Uh… maybe I’ll see you around sometime…” he trailed off, brows furrowing, and you realized that you had never actually told him your name.

“I’m (Y/N),” you supplied with a light laugh. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Peter started to smile when the rattling of the door handle drew his attention. “Well (Y/N), as nice as it was to meet you, you gotta go now. Safe travels.”

And without further ado, Peter slid his hand under your leg, helping you move it to join its twin dangling outside the window before he unceremoniously shoved you off the ledge entirely.

---

So don't try to deny it pretty baby You've been down so long you can hardly see When the engine's stalled and it won't stop raining It's the right time to roll to me

---

You landed on the grass below with a startled shriek and a mess of tulle and lace. You had enough forethought not to lock your knees as you hit the ground, allowing them to buckle and send you rolling down the small hill that the cathedral was situated on.

You glanced up at the window as soon as you came to a stop, seeing Peter give you a quick thumbs up from the window before disappearing inside. You cursed him under your breath, but wasted no more time before standing up, hiking up your now grass-stained and torn dress, and booking it out of there.

You came to a small wrought iron gate that enclosed the large cathedral, likely in an attempt to make it seem separated from New York’s ever-rushing atmosphere. You took a moment to spin around, taking in the beautiful green lawn and garden you were in, the beautiful stone walls, stained glass windows that shone beautifully in the summer light, the tall spires that seemed to go on forever. You would have loved to have your wedding here, in such a stunning space that seemed to exist in its own time—just not to the man waiting for you at the altar.

With that thought, you threw open the gate and rushed out onto the sidewalk just as you heard the front door burst open and your mother’s shrill voice call after you.

You pushed yourself to run faster down the sidewalk, shoving and elbowing your way through the dense crowd of people that surrounded you on all sides. You panted from the exertion, finding yourself out of shape even when you weren’t trying to run carrying a dress that seemed to drag you down with every step you took and was constantly being stepped and pulled on by the swarm of people around you.

In short, you were getting nowhere fast, at least in comparison to you parents that you could hear trying desperately to catch up to you. Shouting words of earnest pleading and anger, begging you to do this for them and for yourself. For your family’s company. For your future.

For once you just wanted to do something for your own happiness. But you knew that if they caught up to you, there was little you could do save follow them back. They would drag you back with strong hands and words of persuasion. Just like they always had be—

You squealed as you felt something hit your lower back with a sharp thwap, sure your parents or their posse had finally caught up to you, but then you were being pulled sharply back and up. Strong, gloved hands caught you, pulling you to them as you came to an abrupt stop. You turned, gasping for air before immediately screaming again.

“Woah, woah, woah. Relax lady. It’s just your Runaway Bride Service, here under strict orders to save a damsel in distress.”

---

And I don't think I have ever seen A soul so in despair So if you want to talk the night through Guess who will be there?

---

You managed to regain some measure of composure and stopped screaming, though you were still sucking in greedy gulps of air as you stared at your savior with wide eyes. Spider-Man had just pulled you off the street, sparing you from a confrontation that would have surely ended in you being unhappily married for the rest of your life. How were you supposed to respond to that?

“I would hardly call myself a damsel.”

Well… that was one way.

You winced, immediately regretting your fairly rude response. Spider-Man seemed unbothered though, replying in a strangely familiar teasing voice that soothed your nerves. “But you are in distress, right? At least, that’s what I assume when I see a woman in a wedding dress running from a church.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing down to see your parents and a few other onlookers below gaping up at you, and instantly cursed and clutched onto Spider-Man tighter, your fingers digging desperately into the soft spandex of his suit as you buried your face in his chest.

You really hated heights. And you were currently standing on the ledge of a fairly tall building.

“Hey,” the superhero tried to coax your face back up with gentle fingers and a nervous laugh. “Sorry about snatching you off the street like that. But it uh… seemed like the best option at the time. But I can see now that maybe that wasn’t the case. You’re already having a pretty rough day, so maybe I should have gone down to you. You know, instead of webbing you up fifty fe—”

“Why are you helping me?” you interrupted, eyes focused resolutely on the white slits in his mask, refusing to glace back down at the street—and your past—that waited below you.

“Well… I’m Spider-Man. Helping people is kinda what I do.”

You raised a skeptical brow at that. “You just swing around looking for runaway brides?”

“Uh… no, I guess not. But you did seem like you could use the help. And a friend called saying I should swing by, so… I did. I can put you back down if you want though.”

You were shaking your head before he even finished his sentence. “No! No. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, just… surprised. And probably more than a little scared. But thankful. And—did you say a friend called you?”

“Ah… yeah. He did. Said there was a pretty lady in a big white dress that needed some help making a quick getaway. You weren’t too hard to spot in the crowd, believe it or not.”

Your lips twitched up into a forgiving smile, both at his teasing tone and what he was saying. “Peter? The photographer?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, the sound coming out a little strained. “Yup. Just a guy I know—but not well. Like… just in passing. We aren’t close or anything.”

Your eyebrows were slowly raising again. “You know him in passing… but he has your number? I feel like most superheroes don’t just hand that kind of information out.”

“I’d give you my number if you wanted it. Ah—not like that!” he rushed to assure you when you just blinked at him in shock, trying to figure out if Spider-man had just flirted with you. “I mean… yeah. Let’s just pretend I didn’t say that.”

You simply nodded, accepting the change in topic easily. This day was already so goddamn weird. There was no sense in thinking too hard about it. “So… what now?”

“Well…” the socially-awkward superhero responded, glancing down at the streets below you before raising his head back up. “You want a ride?”

You grinned, a surprised chuckle bursting out of your chest at the mundane question that had extraordinary implications. “Yeah, a ride would be great. Thanks.”

“Alright,” he responded, and you got the sense that he was grinning back behind his mask. “You have anywhere in particular in mind?”

“No.” You shook your head as Spider-man repositioned you, clutching you tighter to his side as he moved you to face a building across the street. “Just somewhere far away from here please.”

“You got it.” He laughed, raised a hand to aim at the building, and then a flash of white shot out of his wrist. He gave you one last warning—“Just hold on tight”—before leaping off of the building.

You managed to resist the urge to shriek again as your stomach dropped and the wind whipped past you, but you did clutch onto Spider-man tighter that was strictly necessary and bury your nose in this neck with your eyes squeezed shut.  Your flight across the city went like that for several minutes, you hanging onto him for dear life as you felt yourself swing from building to building and heard the normal New York traffic pass by below you, until you eventually came to a stop.

Disappointment mingled with your relief as your bare feet hit solid pavement again. You hated heights, yes, but you were beginning to love the feeling of freedom that came from soaring above the city, held securely in Spider-Man’s arms. You opened your eyes slowly, looking up to see his masked face looking down at you with what you could only assume was concern.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered breathlessly. Then you laughed—it was the happiest, most freeing laugh you had in a long time, and you loved it. “I’m wonderful, actually. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Spider-Man answered, and you could have sworn he was smiling again, but then he released you, seeming to only then remember he was still clutching you tightly to his chest. “Well… I guess I’ll let you go now. Seems like you have a lot to figure out.”

“Um, yeah,” you agreed, nodding and backing up just as he had done. “I guess I do.”

He nodded, glancing around the empty alleyway that he had dropped you in before refocusing his attention back on you. “Will you be okay?”

You hesitated. For the first time in, well, forever you really didn’t know the answer to that question. You had nothing planned, nothing set for you, but you were surprised to find that it didn’t scare you. Because for the first time you also had the ability to choose what that future would hold, so what was there to fear but the unknown? And the unknown couldn’t be any worse than what you had already been through. So…

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling brilliantly despite your few lingering doubts. “I think I will be.”

“Good,” he answered, clearing his throat and backing up the few remaining feet to the mouth of the alleyway. “Well… guess I’ll see you around then, (Y/N).” And with that, he was swinging up and out of the alleyway.

You blinked at where he had been in astonishment before rushing to the spot and looking up for any sign of him. “Wait! What does that mean?!” You called after him, despite the fact you could no longer see his brightly-colored form. “How do you know my name?!”

No answer came, of course. But you supposed that was just as well. You had a lot to do, starting with finding a bank, shortly followed by figuring out the rest of your life. You had no time to get caught up in superheroes and their drama.

---

So, Look around your world pretty baby Is it everything you hoped it'd be The wrong guy, the wrong situation The right time to roll to me

---

Six months had passed since then, and you were doing well. Better than you could have ever hoped, actually. You had enrolled at Empire State University and were finishing up your first semester. You had yet to decide on a major yet, but you were leaning toward journalism.

You were also working a part-time job at the library, making money for yourself for the first time in your life, and you were happy to say that you loved it. It kept you busy, and you often went home too exhausted to do anything but sleep. But you were content, and that was what mattered.

You still thought about them often though—Peter and Spider-man, the men that had helped you find yourself and a future that you could live with. It’s what you were doing then, actually, as you sat in a coffee shop in Queens, drumming your fingers on the table and staring at the blank screen in front of you in frustration. You were supposed to be writing a paper, not day-dreaming about superheroes and photographers with a cute smile.

But you couldn’t get them out of your head.

“(Y/N)?”

Oh great, now you were even hallucinating. You picked up your coffee, taking a drink for no other reason than to give your hands something to do.

You were finally getting your life together. The last thing you needed was to go crazy.

“(Y/N)… it is you!”

Your head snapped up as the voice came closer and became clearer. Your eyes widened as your gaze landed on its owner and you couldn’t contain your smile. You weren’t crazy after all.

“Peter!” you exclaimed at the man standing next to your table before rising to pull him into a grateful, possibly too tight, hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter agreed a little bashfully, pulling back to smile at you. “It is. You… look great.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, stepping back to give him some space, realizing your exuberant reaction may have been a bit much. “A lot different when I’m not in a wedding dress, I guess. I’m surprised you even recognized me.”

Peter’s gaze swept over your form, and you were suddenly self-conscious that you were only wearing a pair of black yoga pants with an oversized ESU sweatshirt and worn-out converse. Your hair was in a messy bun and you were wearing minimal make-up—a far cry from the perfectly put-together you he had meet all those months ago. But he smiled, meeting your eyes and making your insides strangely warm. “You do look different—but a good different. You look happy, (Y/N).”

“I am,” you responded easily, because it was true. Much truer than it had ever been before. “Thanks to you.”

“Oh no,” Peter denied, shaking his head as a light flush appeared in his cheeks. “I didn’t help all that much.”

“Yes, you did,” you insisted. “I never would have made it out of there without you or yourfriend. I really owe you, Peter.”

He looked like he wanted to deny it for a moment, but then he sucked in a deep breath, ran a hand through his curly brown locks, and seemed to gather his courage before saying, “Okay then. You can make it up to me by getting coffee with me sometime.”

You raised a brow, smirking at him as you glanced around you. “We’re in a coffee shop now, you know.”

“Uh, right,” Peter said with a laugh, hand tugging at his hair once more. “I meant that we could go together to get coffee sometime in the near-future. Like… on a date?”

Your teasing grin softened and warmed along with your heart. He was nervous, that much was clear, and just as sweet as he had been six months ago. “I’d love that Peter. Though, if you have the time, I don’t see why we can’t have coffee together now too. I’d say we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Peter’s smile was stunning as he nodded in agreement, pulling your chair back out for you. “Yeah, I’ve got some time. Tell me everything.”

“Everything?” you laughed, taking your seat as he took his across from you. “That might take a while.”

“Well, like I said. I’ve got time.”

“Okay,” you agreed, unable to keep the smile from your lips as you looked at the boy that had changed your life irrevocably. “I think I can do that.”

---

The right time to roll to me

The right time to roll to me...oooh

Taglist: @desir-ae