#a real network a real place that feels like HOME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bruhnze · 1 month

Text

Personal records - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

This is for the pookie that asked. Thank you @okaybronze i had fun writing this, this one is dedicated to you!

Thank you to this, this, this, this and thisssss anon. (you guys sure know how to inspire me)

Summary: This is in an alternative universe where Ona and Lucy are not footballers. Lucy is a personal trainer, Ona is a buisnesswoman.

Wordcount: a bigggggg one 12k+, so i advise to get comfy

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut. It has a lottt of plot bcs i got carried away, but what's new :)

I hope you like it, and i hope i didn't make any mistakes while copy-pasting this thing to here, as this was quite the big one and i proofread in Word so.. if something doesn't make sense, you can ask me, i think i did it right tho :)

Personal Records.

The Batlle family was one of the richest families on the whole planet of earth. In the last years of his working life, Ona's grandfather had completely invested in the internet and technology. His eldest son, Ona's father, had taken over the business and helped it to even greater success. They dominated the tech industry, from hospital equipment to mobile phones and coffee machines.

With so much money and only two children, Ona and her brother Joan were doing anything but bad.

Yet, especially since she had that head start, Ona wanted to create a legacy of her own. Unlike Joan, who filled his time with vacations and his DJ career.

But Ona’s passion wasn’t tech, she liked using her iPhone, yes, but she had no special talent or interest in the subject.

No. Her passion was architecture. She had studied it in college and with her dad paying her tuition, it gave her all the time in the world to go networking at business events. One thing led to another, and by the age of 20 she already owned 15 buildings.

Now, just after her 25th birthday, she had a portfolio of hundreds of buildings and apartments, and was a very well-known high-class real estate agent all over Europe.

She didn’t like the way her life was filled to the brim with meeting after meeting and the fact that she sometimes felt like she was living in airplanes more than in buildings, the thing she loved most in the world, but it was worth it if she could once again sell a characteristic old building to the right owner.

That was the most perfect thing about her profession in Ona’s opinion, sometimes a house was perfect for a certain type of person, she couldn't explain it, it was just a feeling, but when she closed such a deal, it was one of the few moments that Ona could feel a little bit of satisfaction and happiness flowing through her body.

This had been a problem for a long time, she had been through some difficult years, feeling lonely at times and working far too hard without having an outlet.

After talking to some professionals and trying a few things, Ona discovered what worked perfectly for her: so she hired a personal assistant and got on weekly exercise sessions.

Sophia was a perfect PA, she was a 33 year old woman who was dedicated to work just as much as Ona was and most of all she could speak English perfectly, as she was from the United Kingdom. That was exactly what Ona needed as she got most tired from answering all the endless calls that she received.

The exercising also worked out perfectly. Her PA always found a personal trainer for her, no matter what city they were staying in. The first few months Ona really had to get in shape, but now she always came back with a wonderfully empty head after sweating for those two hours and of course, the six-pack she ended up with was also a great bonus.

This summer she had to spend in London, it was not really her preferred place to be for the next month or two, as English summers were not really something to write home about, but with the deals she had waiting for her, she happily went.

What also helped was the beautiful apartment she had in the center of London, overlooking the bridge, it was one of her favorite houses.

But besides the deals she had to close, she also wanted to relax and exercise a bit. Maybe she would even have time to go shopping.

Wednesday – Ona’s penthouse, London

A week before the big deal, Sophia and Ona arrived in London.

"Miss Batlle," the doorman said, as they walked into the building where Ona ‘lived’, or at least she did for 1 or 2 months a year. She was surprised they guy remembered and greeted him happily.

‘’You sure you don’t want an hotel room?’’ Ona asked as they were standing in the elevator.

Sophia shook her head, ‘’for me it’s easier to be close to you, safes me travel time’’ she sincerely confirmed, ‘’oh gosh, do you want some privacy, I’m sorry I didn’t-

‘’No, no, está bien’’ Ona smiled, ‘’I admire your work ethic, I was just wondering if you didn’t miss privacy’’.

‘’Well your penthouse is very big’’ Sophia smiled, ‘’and it’s not like I have a husband to call or something’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona grinned, ‘’our love lives are doomed’’.

A careful smile tugged on Sophia’s mouth, ‘’well, it has been a while since I had to leave space for a date in your schedule’’.

Ona smiled internally at the way Sophia got more and more comfortable with her, she was usually very professional, something Ona admired, but sometimes she felt Sophia and her could be friends a bit more, as she suspected her PA was actually a pretty funny person.

‘’It has’’ Ona confirmed, ‘’i'm basically celibate at this point’’, she added chuckling.

‘’Ona!’’.

At the same time the elevator stopped at the top floor with a ding.

‘’It is true though’’, Ona said as she stepped out the elevator to open the door ‘’maybe I should add searching dating sites to your to do’s’’.

Sophia groaned as she followed her, ‘’I’ll do it if you would really want that, but I do want to show you my current to do list before’’.

‘’I’m joking Soph’’ Ona said as she took of her heels and dropped her handbag, ‘’I trust you a lot, but, I do think love is something that just needs to happen, I don’t believe in dating apps’’.

‘’Well I do think you need to go out to make that happen’’ Sophia chuckled, ‘’or are you hoping to have a really hot woman buying a house off of you?’’.

‘’Hmm’’, Ona said as she walked into the big living area and stared outside of the windows, ‘’that would be the best thing ever, and I’d know she got taste’’.

Laughing Sophia walked in behind her, pulling her suitcase along ‘’do I got the same room as last time?’’.

‘’Mhm’’.

Sophia laughed to herself as she walked to the familiar room she had slept in before, recognizing that Ona had entered her thoughtful mode, something that often happened in places with a good view, and when Ona was thinking it was best not to disturb her.

They had ordered dinner, a bit tired from the travel they had decided to eat in and discussing the details of their work trip and calling it an early night.

Sophia had already set up meetings with various clients in a rented meeting room, made a list with properties they needed to visit and when the viewings would be and had booked a personal trainer.

‘’Sadly she is only available once a week’’ Sophia had said, knowing Ona liked to exercise two times a week for two hours, ‘’but she was the only one available in this period, apparently most trainers have this thing called -summer break-‘’ she joked, ‘’but she is really good, I read a dozen of reviews and she also trains athletes when they’re in between seasons’’.

‘’She?’’ Ona asked after the PA was done talking.

Sophia stilled, ‘’oh is that not-

‘’It’s okay, just surprised’’.

‘’I read she can be quite the pusher, helping people break their personal records’’.

Ona laughed, ‘’well I hope she doesn’t expect such a level of me’’.

Sophia frowned, ‘’you’re well fit, I’ve seen you in the pool, you have a killer body’’.

‘’Aesthetics is different to performance’’ Ona decided, ‘’anyways, thanks for arranging that, you’re the best’’.

Friday morning – Ona’s penthouse

‘’Okay I’m heading out to the gym then’’ Ona called through the living space.

‘’Have fun’’ Sophia called back, ‘’don’t break too many personal records!’’.

Friday morning - Bronze Fitness Forge

It was a nice building, Ona was pleased as she walked inside to search for the gym owned by one ‘Lucy Bronze’.

Ona thought it was a perfect name for a business owner and she liked the way the nameplates that showed the way were also done in Bronze, it was chic.

The Catalan businesswoman got to the front desk and told the lady behind it her name.

"Ah for Bronze herself" the lady smiled, "you may use dressing room 2, you will recognize it by the number on the door, when you've changed you just go through the other door in the changing room and then you're in the gym".

"Great. Thank you." Ona said in her business voice. It just happened whenever she spoke to people that were working.

"You can leave your bag inside the changing room but we've also got lockers".

"It's okay" Ona said, "only have some clothes with me".

The changing room looked very nice, Ona appreciated the way that this whole place was set up, it was not clinical or characterless, but it was very neat.

After changing, Ona went into the gym.

A dark-haired woman, just a little taller than her stood with her back to the door, the silhouette was muscular built, broad shoulders protruding from the tank top she wore.

Ona cleared her throat, ´´hello´´.

The woman turned around from what she was doing and met her with a smile, ´´oh hey´´ she said, ´´uhm´´, she strutted over to Ona and offered her hand, ´´Lucy´´.

´´Ona´´, Ona replied as she mirrored the smile Lucy was wearing. Ona was delighted to notice the woman infront of was rather hot, but she didn´t want to be objectifying and most of all, she was here to clear her head, not to drool over a woman. So she shook the thought from her head and focused back on what she was here for.

´´So´´ Lucy said as she retracted her hand.

Only then Ona realized she was shaking it for a little too long.

´´Oh yes, I´m here for a two hour training session´´.

´´Yes´´ Lucy chuckled, Ona thought it made her look cute, ´´so what are we working with, you didn´t attach a schedule or any of your records or something, did you bring them?´´.

‘’What?’’ Ona said confused, ‘’records?’’.

‘’Yeah what field are you in?’’ Lucy tried, ‘’What do you need working on this summer?’’.

‘’Ohhh’’ Ona breathed out with a laugh, realizing what Lucy was thinking, ‘’I am not an athlete’’.

Lucy scrunched her nose and her head turned slightly in confusion, ‘’not?’’.

‘’No I’m town for business and I always train with a personal trainer, my PA booked you’’.

‘’Oh’’.

‘’Do you not train, uh, regular people?’’.

‘’Oh uh, yes’’, Lucy blushed.

‘’But?’’.

‘’Okay no offense’’ Lucy said carefully, ‘’but they’re usually.. a bit.. older’’.

Now it was Ona’s turn to be confused, ‘’why?’’.

‘’it’s expensive’’ Lucy said, hating herself for being so awkward.

‘’ohhh’’ Ona chuckled, ‘’well we better spend those expensive minutes good, shall we?’’.

‘’Yeah I’m sorry, I’m trying to work on that whole -not judging people by their cover- thing’’.

‘’It’s okay’’ Ona said cheerfully ‘’I come to clear my head before I have some important meetings next week’’.

‘’Great’’, Lucy said as she had called herself back to her senses ‘’and how can I help you with that’’.

‘’Well, I always go to a personal trainer because I don’t know anything about training, so I just - listen, do it and enjoy the muscle ache the day after’’.

‘’Hey’’ Lucy laughed, ‘’people always call me crazy when I say - I enjoy that’’.

Ona shrugged, ‘’one of the few things that make me feel alive’’.

“Okay, so you want to get completely worn out” Lucy chuckled, “we’ll make that happen”.

Ona gulped as Lucy took off, damn, this woman was cute.

They had been working out for almost 2 hours without much talking, Ona enjoyed it, Lucy respected the fact that she was doing this for relaxation, not for dumb chit chat, she hated when trainers were like that.

‘’Do you have a neck issue?’’ Lucy asked out of the blue.

Ona looked up, surprised but not in a negative sense ‘’yeah, how did you notice?’’.

‘’It’s stiff’’ Lucy stated, ‘’ I graduated as a sports physiotherapist’’ she offered as an explanation.

‘’Really?’’.

‘’Yes and right now I’m working on some injury research, stretching and massages are a great interventions for stiffness’’.

‘’So next time we start with neck stretches?’’ Ona joked.

Lucy nodded, ‘’best recipe is stretching – exercise – tissue massage’’.

''Well then, guess I'll do that next time, sometimes my neck really hurts, so I hope it will help''.

‘’Your neck hurts?’’.

‘’Yes, I always just assume it’s my stress traveling to my weak spot’’.

‘’Do you want me to massage that right now really quick? We’ve got-‘’ she looked at her watch, ‘’-10 minutes left’’.

‘’You?’’ Ona let out before she could stop herself.

Lucy crooked her head ‘’yeah?’’ she laughed, ‘’who else?’’.

‘’Ahh’’ Ona chuckled as she spotted the physio bench in the corner of the gym, ''that's where that thing is for''.

‘’Yup’’ Lucy said as she swayed on her feet, ‘’So cooling down? Or quick rub down of the neck?’’.

‘’Well if you’re offering..’’ Ona said as she looked at the big hands Lucy fiddled with, ‘’I do have to warn you that I’m a bit sweaty’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’if you weren’t I wouldn’t be good at my job’’.

...

Friday - Ona's penthouse

‘’Hello’’, Ona called out as she stepped back into her apartment. She felt amazing, Lucy was great with her hands and after the hot shower she took, she felt totally relaxed.

‘’How was it?’’, Sophia asked from behind her computer.

‘’fucking amazing’’ Ona said dreamily, before she stepped into the living room and snapped back to reality, ‘’uh yeah, it was good’’.

Sophia chuckled, ‘’whattt happeneddddd?’’.

‘’She’s hot’’ Ona said as she went through the fridge, ‘’and great with her hands’’.

‘’WHAT?’’ Sophia yelped, ‘’did you hook up with her?’’.

‘’Oh dios mío Soph! no, who do you think I am!’’ Ona shook her head amused, ‘’she gave me a sports massage’’.

‘’Ohhh, hot and handy’’ Sophia chuckled.

‘’You sure you couldn’t book her for more than once a week?’’.

‘’I’ll try again for you’’ Sophia said with a grin, ‘’maybe I can book her for some nightly exercises’’.

‘’Soph!’’ Ona said sternly, ‘’no objectification!’’.

‘’Sorry miss Batlle’’ Sophia answered timidly, ‘’I’ll call them later’’.

‘’It’s okay’’ Ona smiled, ‘’thanks for getting groceries’’ she said as she took eggs from the fridge.

...

Tuesday evening - Bronze Fitness Forge, London

It was a couple of days later, Sophia had bribed Lucy Bronze’s secretary if she could at least ask the woman herself if she could do a couple of more lessons, ‘’Hello, yes, Miss Batlle’s PA, uhm, my boss, she wants to exercise two times a week and I was wondering if you had some more spaces available, she doesn’t mind if it’s outside of office hours, or if it costs extra’’.

Eventually she had persuaded the woman, one and a half times the rate for two hours in the evening, when Lucy actually exercised herself.

Sophia didn't mind making a little effort, she was just happy that Ona was okay with the trainer, that couldn’t always be said.

So this night, at a quarter to eight, Ona walked towards the building with the ‘Bronze Fitness Forge’ logo and headed in.

‘’Hey, miss Batlle’’ Lucy called out from a few meters behind and started jogging towards the door.

Ona held it open for her, ‘’you can call me Ona’’ she said as she let the woman pass.

‘’Oh right, hi Ona’’ Lucy smiled awkwardly, ‘’uhm, to the gym?’’.

‘’Mhmm’’.

Lucy unlocked the door and let Ona in, out of habit Ona walked to dressing room 2, the one she’d used earlier this week too.

Lucy hesitated about what to do, she cringed at herself, she wished she was a bit smoother, ''hey uhm, my stuff is also in 2'' she said as she stopped the door from closing.

''Oh'', Ona looked up, ''i can go to the other-

'''No i'll just take my bag'' Lucy rushed to say.

''Oh no'' Ona said, ''it doesn't bother me, you can change in here as far as I'm concerned''.

‘’O-Okay’’ Lucy said as she looked at the smaller woman, ‘’sure you don’t mind?’’.

Ona looked up with a smile, ‘’should I?’’.

Lucy looked startled ‘’No no, I was just --’’ she mumbled and swallowed the rest of the sentence.

Ona zipped her bag open and got her gym shoes out, she now stood with her back to Lucy, ‘’anyways, had a good dinner?’’ she asked, trying to start some conversation.

‘’Uh yeah’’ Lucy said, now also starting to get her things ‘’I cooked some chicken and vegetables’’.

‘��Nice’’ Ona said as she shimmied down her pants.

Lucy gaze fell on the Spaniards behind, she shook her head, she couldn’t be looking at a client like this, ‘’d-did you have a good dinner?’’ she asked, taking of her shirt.

Ona turned around and sat down on the bench to put her shorts on ‘’yeah I had-‘’ she lagged as she saw the shirtless woman infront of her, who was currently standing with her arms up, struggling to find her arm holes it seemed, she cleared her throat ‘’uhm, I had a business dinner, it was nice but sometimes I get a bit tired of it’’.

Lucy’s head popped up and they looked at eachother. Lucy smiled, ‘’is that why you needed more exercise?’’.

Ona didn’t feel the need to explain anything, frankly, there was not really anything to explain. She had settled for one time a week as she hadn’t known the woman was hot an amazing personal trainer, now that she knew, her assistant had booked her some more time, so she settled on just saying ‘’yes’’.

‘’What branch are you in anyways?’’ Lucy asked as she switched her pants.

‘’Uhm’’ Ona said as she took of her top, ‘’I am a real estate agent’’.

‘’Really’’ Lucy stared at her, partly because she was surprised, partly because the woman looked mesmerizing.

Ona sat up and digged through her bag, it was awkward that she still had to put on her sports bra ‘’yes, I have real estate in a few cities throughout Europe’’ she said and finally found the sports bra. She figured she just had to put no attention to it and quickly get it over with.

Bronze sat down to put her shoes on, ‘’oh.. real estate in a few cities throughout Europe’’ she repeated, ‘’impressive’’.

‘’Thanks’’ Ona said as she took her bra of, ‘’your business is too’’ she turned her head to Lucy ‘’how old are you anyways?’’.

Lucy looked up and blushed when she saw Ona’s bare back, ‘’uhm, I’m 32, and you?’’.

Ona smiled at her, ‘’25’’.

‘’Ah shit, we aren't past your bedtime, are we?’’ Lucy mocked and grinned.

Ona clutched her sports bra infront of her chest and turned around with narrowed eyes, ‘’don’t mock me’’ she said sternly, like how she’d put her workers in place. She had dealt with enough age discrimination, it annoyed her that Lucy did this.

Lucy apologized ‘’oh I’m sorry.. uhm.. I didn’t mean it like that’’. Ona turned around and quickly pulled the sports bra on,.

‘’Uhm, I will start to set up some things, see you in a bit’’ Lucy said before she quickly rushed out of the locker room.

Ona finished dressing up by putting her shoes on and followed her.

‘’Hey I’m sorry, it’s just- Ona stopped as she saw Lucy carrying a weight plate to the matts.

Lucy smiled ‘’I’m sorry too, I am a bit stupid sometimes, you should take everything I say with a pinch of salt.. i suck at talking to people that’s why I chose sports’’.

‘’-sometimes people do not take me serious because of my age’’ Ona confessed, ‘’it’s a bit of a sensitive topic for me’’.

‘’I am sorry’’, Lucy said sincerely.

Ona shook her head, ‘’you’re aloud to make jokes, I should be able to deal with them’’.

‘’Noted, see if I can help you improve on that front too’’ Lucy grinned.

‘’too?’’.

‘’Oh yeah-‘’ Lucy said with renewed energy, ‘’I mean, I was going to ask you about it - but by the way you move, I think your neck feels better’’.

Ona smiled, ‘’oh soo much, I have had the best days honestly, how could I forget - I wanted to thank you for it, I feel so… loose, uh, supple’’.

Lucy held her hands up, ‘’magic hands’’ she said with a wink. Immediately cringing at herself.

Ona laughed, ‘’they seem to be’’.

‘’So’’ Lucy cleared her throat, ‘’stretching, than exercising, which I will leave you to do a bit more on your own than last time because I need to do mine as well, and then last 20 minutes another tissue massage’’.

‘’Sounds good’’.

The stretching went well, Ona learned a few exercises she had never done before, 'good for the back and neck' Lucy had said, and had followed them all before the real work started.

Lucy finished her warm up a bit earlier than she did, which made sense, as she had been warming up all day and she went to set up some weights for herself.

When Bronze started squatting weights with her back to Ona, she couldn´t help but have peek every once in a while.

After her lunges were done Ona asked what she was doing next.

Lucy proposed for Ona to do a bit of cardio on the stair-master, a machine she hated, but Ona agreed and went on it.

Lucy kept squatting, Ona saw her adding small, little plates to the bar each time she got it.

After a few minutes, the Spaniards thoughts got interrupted, the low grunts were swapped with a yelp, she was startled and almost fell of the stair-master, luckily enough she could jump of in one piece and put the machine off.

‘’What happened?’’ Ona said as she walked towards the English trainer.

Lucy looked up as she undid her waistbelt and wrist wraps, ‘’hm?’’.

Ona came closer, ‘’it sounded like you were in pain’’.

‘’Oh’’ Lucy said as she looked better at Ona, ‘’no I just broke my squatting record’’.

Ona chuckled.

‘’Wait did it sound like was in pain?’’ Lucy laughed now too, ‘’I don’t know what to think of that’’.

‘’Well I’m glad you’re alive’’.

‘’and broke my PR’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’how much was it?’’.

‘’139,5 kg’’ (307.5 lbs) Lucy stated as she took out her phone, ‘’let me put it in my notes real quick and then I’m all yours again, I’m sorry for just directing you to the cardio machine, I had this on my agenda for tonight’’.

‘’You have a schedule for when you’re gonna break which record?’’ Ona laughed.

After Lucy had typed it in her phone she looked up, ‘’is that weird?’’.

‘’No’’ Ona shrugged, ‘’I like when people are driven’’.

‘’How much is your squatting PR’’.

Ona laughed, ‘’not even half of what you do, I think 50 kg, and that includes the bar’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’want to do 55?’’.

´´Let´s see if I can do 50 first maybe?’’.

Lucy first had her squat the bar alone and with 5kg increments she guided Ona to a 50kg squat.

At 50kg Ona had trouble getting up, her legs shaking as she did a rep for the 3rd time. She felt Lucy stepping a bit closer, ''you can do it'' Lucy said, ''and if not, I got you''.

Instead of feeling more at ease, Ona became more nervous. She felt Lucy's hands hovering just above her skin.

When she remained in her squatting position, with wobbly legs, Lucy held her sides, ''together then''.

With a little help, Ona stood up again, and immediately she racked the weight and stepped forward, shaking her legs.

‘’Legs tired from the stair machine?’’ Lucy asked.

Ona nodded ‘’think so, maybe next time we can try again’’.

‘’Oh we are’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’and now you’re doing 45, 3 sets of 4 reps’’ she said as she started changing weights.

‘’I don’t know if i-‘’

‘’-I believe in you’’ Lucy cut her off, ‘’and I’m spotting you so if you can’t I’ll help’’.

Ona looked at her with dark eyes, ‘’let’s just do something else’’.

Lucy’s head tilted, ‘’no, why?’’.

‘’I’m tired of squats’’ Ona said, mostly because she was and partly because she didn’t want to fail and have Lucy saving her, as she got way to distracted by the way she felt under their skin contact.

‘’Do your other trainers just accept that?’’ Lucy asked as she finished preparing the bar of weights, she stood infront of Ona now, ‘’in 5 sessions I’ll have you squat 55’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’I don’t care about how much I can squat’’.

The English woman grinned, ‘’no but you did ask me to help you get sore muscles, If you just listen to me I can guarantee you will not be able to walk the stairs tomorrow, how does that sound?”.

Again Ona rolled her eyes, this time with a little smile ‘’fine’’ she said before quietly adding ‘’molest’’. (annoying person).

They took positions again, but Lucy stood a bit closer then last time. Ona was almost going to make a comment about needing room to breath when Lucy whispered something, ‘’think of your most annoying rival’’.

Ona took the weights on her shoulder, she figured to just ignore Lucy and started squatting, the first 4 went easy.

She racked the bar and stepped forward to shake her legs again.

‘’See, that helped’’, Lucy said ‘’come, another set’’.

‘’Your comment did nothing’’ Ona said, getting slightly annoyed at the woman.

‘’Oh’’ Lucy studied her face, ‘’sorry’’.

Ona took place under the weights again, ‘’okay, let’s get this over with’’.

With two squats her legs started quivering again.

Lucy let her figure it out by herself, she kept close, but didn’t say anything or touch her.

Ona took a deep breath and forced herself up with a deep breath out.

"Good job" Lucy said, but when Ona tried to hang the weight on the rack she was less pleased, "uh-huh, one more rep".

Ona groaned and kept standing there, doubtful about her abilities.

‘’Ona, one more’’ Lucy said sternly.

Ona was allergic to getting ordered around and almost wanted to stop but a fire lit inside her with Lucy’s next comment, ‘’what is it with youth and giving up’’.

She bit back a grumble and did one more squat easily before racking the bar again.

She shook her legs out while still being under the bar and after a few seconds she took it on her shoulders again, squatting with pure annoyance and anger, only at the last squat she had to do she struggled again.

‘’Is your anger already used up?’’ Lucy teased, ‘’I expected more spirit at such a young age’’.

With that she groaned and came up for a last time, angrily racking the weight.

‘’Good, shake it off and we’ll head to leg presses’’.

Ona turned around and looked at her instructor, ‘’more leg exercises’’ she grumbled.

Lucy grinned, ‘’I’ll talk to you on Friday, you’ll thank me’’.

Ona rolled her eyes and followed the English woman to the leg press.

After a long session it was finally time for the massage.

‘’You can take your shoes off, I’ll massage your lower body, back and neck’’ Lucy said.

Ona didn’t respond, ‘’sounds good?’’ Lucy tried.

‘’Oh yeah’’ Ona said tiredly, ‘’perfect’’ she said as she took off her shoes.

‘’Was I too harsh?’’.

Ona looked up at Lucy, ‘’hm, no’’.

‘’Sure?’’.

‘’Yeah I am, I’ll tell you if you go too far, I’m not shy about speaking my mind’’.

‘’Okay, good’’.

Lucy started massaging Ona’s leg and Ona couldn’t help but closer her eyes at how good it felt.

‘’Okay that was that, how do you feel?’’ Lucy said as she was done.

Ona smiled, ‘’great, thank you, I’m sorry if I came across as a bitch at one point’’.

Lucy grinned, ‘’at one point? Hmm..’’.

Ona slapped Lucy’s shoulder playfully, ‘’oh come on’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’I’m kidding, you don’t come across as a bitch’’ she looked at Ona with a mischievous grin, ‘’just a bit spoiled’’.

The Catalans mouth dropped open, ‘’I’m not spoiled!’’.

‘’I’m joking’’ Lucy said as she rested her hand on Ona’s forearm, ‘’I’m proud you finished those sets, that proves character’’.

‘’Oh’’ Ona furrowed her eyebrows, ‘’because I had a choice’’.

‘’Ofcourse’’ Lucy tilted her head, ‘’you just said you would speak your mind if you really didn’t want to do it’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’okay, maybe I did want to do it’’.

‘’Good’’ Lucy said with a smile as she withdrew her hand, ‘’well, you go shower, I have to clean up this place’’.

‘’I can help?’’.

‘’No’’ Lucy shook her head, ‘’I like to do it myself and I want to do a couple more exercises’’.

‘’You’re crazy’’.

‘’I’ll see you Friday’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’and then I’ll make you do even more, because you shouldn’t be able to be this much of a smartass if those exercises really were that hard for you’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’yeah see you Friday’’.

In the dressing room Ona jumped straight under the shower, after quickly washing herself and rinsing her hair out, she walked to her bag wrapped in a towel.

As she dug for clean underwear her phone rang, it was Sophia, she had a couple of questions about a client.

‘’Why are you still working Soph?’’ Ona chuckled but as she looked at the time her smile faded, ‘’no way, 22.45 already?’’.

Now it was Sophia’s time to laugh, ‘’yeah got a bit carried away exercising huh?’’.

‘’So it seems’’ Ona said ‘’anyways, for mister Potter you-

-did you ask her number yet?’’ Sophia interrupted her.

‘’Soph! that would not be professional’’ Ona said.

‘’You think she’s hot, what’s wrong with asking a number’’.

‘’Yeah she attractive’’ Ona confessed, ‘’but I don’t even know if she’s a lesbian, maybe she’s just sporty’’.

‘’So ask’’ Sophia simply said.

‘’No I-

A knock on the door interrupted her.

Ona looked up to see Lucy standing in the doorway, ‘’You forgot your shoes’’ she smiled.

Ona’s face got redder than the 2,5 kg weight plates that Lucy’s gym owned, ‘’oh uh thanks’’.

‘’No worries’’, Lucy said as her eyes lingered on Ona’s body for a second before she redirected herself to face Ona and , ‘’see you Friday’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona smiled, ‘’see you Friday’’.

Lucy turned around.

‘’Oh and’’ Ona called out.

Lucy turned back around with a smile.

‘’uh, thanks for my shoes’’ Ona said.

Lucy’s smile faded a little but she nodded, ‘’ofcourse’’.

The dressing room door fell closed behind her.

‘’Aahhhhhhgggg’’ Sophia screamed in her ear, ‘’I felt the sexual tension through the phone’’.

‘’Sophia!’’.

‘’What, you fumbled so hard, you said thanks twice, for a second I thought you were going to ask her number’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona sighed as she thought about the fact that she was originally planning too, before remembering she had Sophia on the phone, ‘’and give you a listen in on my rejection, don't think so’’.

Sophia groaned, ‘’she likes you too, why are you so uncertain’’.

‘’Why are you so sure, anyways we’ll talk about that client when I’m home’’.

...

Wednesday morning – Ona’s penthouse

It was the next day, Ona woke up in her big bed as the curtain automatically opened and stretched.

As she was completely stretched out, she suddenly shrank, ‘’merda’’ she groaned as a cramp hit her left leg, she tried to hold the muscle but it took a while before the cramp went away.

After the pain had disappeared she got out of bed, walking to the bathroom, when she wanted to lower herself to take place on the toilet she cringed, she couldn’t just normally take a seat, so she held the wall and let herself plop down.

When she got back to her room after peeing, she grabbed her phone to Google what she could do best in this situation.

A protein-rich breakfast, a warm bath and some stretching exercises later, she felt a little better and started her workday.

...

Friday morning - Bronze Fitness Forge

‘’Good morning Property Princess’’ Lucy said as Ona stepped into the gym.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’allright Lucy Lift-a-Lot, what are the plans for today’’.

Lucy grinned, ‘’how were your legs Wednesday?’’.

‘’Terrible’’ Ona smiled, ‘’so perfect’’.

‘’Stairs?’’.

‘’Well, I don’t really take those, but the toilet was a pain’’.

Lucy laughed, ‘’good, I suggest more squatting today’’.

Ona scrunched her face, ‘’not to much please, I have this event tomorrow’’.

‘’Work on Saturday?’’.

‘’Well no, it’s like networking event’’.

‘’Oh, is that one of those thing were you have a stand and promote your business’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’yeah, but i’m not there with a stand’’.

Lucy tilted her head.

‘’I got invited to look at peoples stands’’ Ona clarified.

‘’Isn’t that like..’’ Lucy didn’t finish her sentence.

‘’What?’’.

‘’Boring?’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona laughed, ‘’but its good for my image to show up, and the event payed me to show up’’.

‘’Really’’ Lucy said with disbelieve, ‘’so you’re actually a big name in the real estate world?’’.

‘’I guess’’ Ona shook her head as she laughed, anyways I’ll be bored out of my mind because Soph is taking this weekend off to see her family’’.

‘’Soph?’’.

‘’’Sophia, my PA’’ Ona clarified.

‘’Oh right’’ Lucy nodded, ‘’she was on the phone bribing me’’.

‘’Bribing?’’.

‘’Yeah, you wanted two sessions a week’’.

‘’Oh that’’ Ona nodded slowly, ‘’yeah, I hope she was sensible about it?’’.

‘’Oh yeah yeah, it was not actually bribing, she asked nicely’’.

‘’Good, but anyways, I will be walking around all day, so I need some power left in these legs’’.

Lucy nodded and explained some stretches they were starting with.

After the session, where they went a little less extreme as the last time, Lucy gave Ona a massage again. Whilst working her back she broke the silence, ‘’do you not know anyone else in London?’’.

Ona looked at her confused, ‘’what?’’.

‘’For the event, you said you have to go alone, do you not know someone you could take?’’.

Ona shrugged ‘’everyone is on holiday, it’s very last-minute anyways and I wouldn’t drag someone with, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was boring’’ she said into the table.

‘’I think it would be entertaining to see how you talk to everyone professionally’’ Lucy chuckled and acted out a conversation she imagined Ona would have with another realtor. She mockingly acted out the situation, putting on different voices.

Ona’s shoulders shook from her laughter, ‘’I think you will greatly disappointed’’ she laughed.

‘’Yeah?’’ Lucy sad as she put on a pouty face, ‘’is it not like that?’’.

‘’No not at all’’ Ona chuckled, ‘’way more boring’’.

‘’I don’t believe you’’ Lucy challenged.

‘’Well you’re free to join at your own risk’’.

Lucy’s face twisted up in a weird mischievous way, ‘’are you asking me out Batlle?’’.

Ona grinned, ‘’no, I offer you the position to be my plus one to a very boring event so you can entertain me’’.

‘’Well I am free tomorrow’’ Lucy contemplated, ‘’would you like me as your companion?’’.

‘’As long as you don’t publicly mock me’’ Ona rolled her eyes.

Lucy grinned, ‘’I’ll try to keep that for when were alone then’’.

Ona sat up and narrowed her eyes at the taller woman ‘’or like, not do it at all’’.

‘’I’ll see about that’’ Lucy grinned, ‘’what’s the dress code?’’.

‘’uhm, I think you’re best to wear a suit, a light color’’ Ona said as she studied Lucy, ‘’ if you have that’’.

‘’I don’t know’’ Lucy scrunched up her nose, ‘’I’ll have to dig through my closet’’.

‘’Send me a pic, if it’s not good I’ll send some things you could try on’’.

‘’are you going to judge if I look good enough to join your side’’ Lucy laughed, ‘’wow’’.

Ona shrugged, ‘’it’s a cruel world’’.

‘’fine’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’can I get your number?’’.

Ona looked at her with big eyes.

‘’Or do you want me to send Sophia that mirror pic?’’ Lucy grinned.

‘’Oh right, no we’ll exchange numbers, it’s more convenient for tomorrow too’’.

‘’How late is it anyways?’’.

They spoke about the details until Lucy noted that her new appointment would arrive in two minutes. With that Ona went to the changing room and got under the showers, she couldn’t hide the fact that the thought of spending tomorrow with Lucy made her feel giddy.

Friday afternoon – Ona’s penthouse

‘’Okay, I’ll see you Monday morning’’ Sophia said as she embraced Ona, ‘’have fun with your hot date’’.

Ona rolled her eyes but didn’t deny her PA’s words, ‘’you have fun at your parents’ house’’ she wished Soph.

‘’Mhm, I will’’ Sophia said as she walked towards the door with her suitcase, ‘’see you Monday!’’.

‘’Bye Soph’’ Ona called out as she got distracted by her phone buzzing.

An unsaved number had sent her texts, she opened her phone curiously.

@ Bronze Fitness Forge: hey, this is Lucy, hereby my outfit, hope you approve 😅

@ Bronze Fitness Forge: *mirror selfie of Lucy in a mint green suit with a white blouse*

@ Bronze Fitness Forge: ignore my bare feet, sorry, I’ll wear shoes tomorrow I promise

Ona changed the contact name to Lucy and texted back.

@ Ona Batlle: Looks good, what shoes do you plan on wearing?.

@ Lucy: sneakers?

@ Ona Batlle: no.

@ Lucy: i don’t have much else

@ Ona Batlle: what size are you?

@ Lucy: a UK size 7

Ona asked her for her address and ordered her a few shoes and a few white blouses, from a store she had great relations with, making them deliver the products before 10 o’clock tonight.

...

Friday night – Ona’s penthouse

@ Lucy: why did I just receive 4 pairs of shoes and 3 white blouses

@ Ona Batlle: fit them, see which you like best

@ Lucy: I have blouses

@ Ona Batlle: your suit is nice, can’t ruin it with a cheap blouse

@ Lucy: how can you recognize that from a picture

@ Ona Batlle: I got taste

@ Lucy: spoiled

@ Ona Batlle: do you want to come still?

@ Lucy: *3 pictures in the different blouses*

Ona admired the way Lucy’s arms looked in the blouses, the woman was well fit, with one particular blouse she swore she could even recognize the outline of abs.

She chuckled when she noticed the shorts Lucy was wearing, Barcelona football shorts.

@ Ona Batlle: nice shorts 😉

@ Lucy: shut up, which blouse.

@ Ona Batlle: deffo the one with the green buttons

@ Lucy: that one feels a bit tight

@ Ona Batlle: it looks good, but if you feel like it will rip, I’ll go for the one with the collar that’s got leaves on the inside.

@ Lucy: what shoe do you like best, they all fit

@ Ona Batlle: blouse got brown buttons so maybe the brown Loafers

@ Lucy: great, they were the comfiest

@ Ona Batlle: pic of the complete fit?

@ Lucy: tomorrow, I don’t want to put everything on again

@ Ona Batlle: lazy

@ Lucy: demanding

@ Ona Batlle: you know me so well

@ Lucy: you send a pic of your outfit then

@ Ona Batlle: no.

@ Lucy: then you’ll just see tomorrow

@ Ona Batlle: fine

Lucy was disappointed Ona didn’t ask her to send a full outfit picture more, she would’ve done it with a bit more insistence, but she guessed Ona wasn’t someone who lowered herself to such things, she was sure Ona would never beg for anything.

...

Saturday afternoon – London, network event.

The event went great, Lucy had been the perfect acquaintance. Making jokes in quiet, boring moments, but shutting up when Ona was talking to people she needed to talk to.

Lucy had on her part also enjoyed the event, there had been going around servers with appetizers and drinks, although they tasted amazing, Lucy tried to stay modest and allowed herself to accept something once in every three time she got offered something.

It was also fun to be around Ona, the woman was classy, she looked beautiful in the emerald colored dress she wore. She wore white heels and had a white bag with her, Lucy didn’t know if she had seen anyone walk as comfortable and elegant in heels as Ona did.

The event had gone by quite quickly, it was already passed eight o'clock.

‘’Oh fuck’’ Ona whispered, pulling Lucy from her thoughts.

They were standing together after Ona had just finished another conversation with an old guy, Lucy had introduced herself too and Ona had told the man they were working on a project together, it was not true but Lucy didn’t mind, and the guy didn’t ask any questions about it anyways.

‘’What?’’ Lucy asked, turning towards Ona.

‘’Don’t look’’ Ona said discretely, ‘’my ex is there, I didn’t know she’d be here’’.

Lucy suppressed her curiosity and kept looking at Ona, ‘’didn’t end well?’’.

‘’No she cheated’’ Ona grimaced, ‘’she’s the worst, she plays unfair both in business and in her private life’’.

‘’That sucks, how long ago-

-oh my god’’ Ona interrupted her, ‘’she’s coming over’’.

As Lucy stood straight again to prepare for an uncomfortable encounter, Ona leaned in and whispered something to her ‘’It was a year ago, if you like you could act like my girlfriend, that would be funny’’.

Lucy grinned and looked at Ona’s face ‘’ofcourse babe’’.

Ona chuckled at the way Lucy took on the role immediately, ‘’if she questions us we answer one after the other’’ she quickly whispered when the women almost had reached them.

‘’Ona!’’ the woman said as she looked at the pair, ‘’nice to see you again’’.

‘’Evelyn’’ Ona said coldly, ‘’how are you’’ she said as the woman forced a greeting with two kisses on her.

‘’I’m good’’ Evelyn said as she directed her gaze to Lucy and eyed the woman, ‘’you to it seems’’.

Lucy extended her hand to the woman who was also wearing a suit, Lucy giggled a little inside at the fact that it was a dark colored suit, since Ona had asked her to wear a light colored suit, ''Lucy, Lucy Bronze'' she introduced herself.

‘’Evelyn Thomas, Thomas real estate’’ the woman said, ‘’what do you do’’.

Lucy smiled, ‘’I am a sports physio, I help injured athletes with their recovery, I am currently also doing research into knee injuries''.

‘’Charity work?’’ Evelyn rudely asked.

Lucy replied with a smile, ‘’well the research doesn’t really bring in money, but that’s a passion of mine, no, I earn my money with my gym, but I get if you’ve never heard of it, it is an quite expensive membership’’.

Evelyn huffed, ‘’sure’’ she turned to Ona.

Lucy stepped closer to Ona rubbed the small of her back before she let her hand rest there.

‘’How long have you two been together?’’.

Ona smiled ‘’about half a year, right Luce?’’. She asked sweetly as she turned to Lucy, who already had her eyes on her.

‘’Best half year of my life’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’It feels like last week that we met’’.

‘’Right babe?’’ Ona sighed out and reached to pet Lucy’s face and kept looking at her, hoping Evelyn would just take the hint and leave.

‘’Allright’’ the woman said, but the pair didn’t look up.

‘’Well, great saying you again Ona’’, she tried.

Ona let her hand glide from Lucy’s face and turned back to Evelyn ‘’oh yeah, I’ll see you around’’.

Lucy smiled, ‘’nice meeting you Evelyn’’ she said in an overly sweet voice.

Lucy took two glasses of champagne from a server that passed them, ‘’here you go darling’’ she joked as she handed Ona one.

‘’Thank you’’ Ona sight as she looked around, ‘’wow, this bitch is still looking at us’’ she whispered in Lucy’s ear.

‘’Behind us?’’ Lucy asked quietly, getting a bit more into Ona’s personal space.

‘’Yeah, don’t look’’.

‘’No I was curious if I could get your consent’’.

‘’For what’’ Ona chuckled.

‘’Touch your butt, I bet she would eat herself up, she is so hung up on you still’’.

Ona grinned and leaned in to kiss Lucy’s neck softly, ‘’do it’’.

The Catalan peeked from Lucy’s neck at the woman a few meters behind them, she saw the woman had her gaze already fixed on Lucy’s hand, the hand that had rested on her lower back until now, smoothly Lucy let her hand travel south and squeezed Ona’s bum. Ona looked back at Lucy’s neck, she didn’t feel the need to watch Evelyn’s face a second longer then necessary.

Ona chuckled as she felt a shiver run down her spine from the way Lucy’s strong hand dug into her clothed flesh.

Lucy rubbed the place she had just squeezed gently and let her hand rest on the small of Ona’s back again, just a bit lower then she had been before.

‘’Thank you’’ Ona quietly said.

Lucy looked at her with a wicked grin, ‘’it was a pleasure’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’not that, for playing along’’.

‘’I was talking about that’’, Lucy said with raised eyebrows, trying to come across honest, ‘’okay squeezing your butt was fun too I guess’’ she sighed.

Ona’s mouth hang open to act as if she felt offended, ‘’liar’’.

‘’No I feel a bit like a cheap whore’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’a cheap whore?’’.

‘’You buy me clothes in exchange for physical services’’.

‘’You make it sound like I’ll make you sleep with me’’.

‘’are you not?’’ Lucy said acting disappointed.

‘’Lucy!’’ Ona said in disbelieve, ‘’are you proposing to come home with me’’.

‘’I mean, the house of the best realtor is probably very impressive, maybe you can give me a tour’’.

‘’I thought you joined me to distract me from work, not give me more’’.

Lucy shrugged, ‘’okay, worth a try’’.

Ona grumbled on the inside, she wanted Lucy to come with her, but she wasn’t about to beg, ‘’fine’’ she stated, ‘’let’s go then, this event is dead anyways’’.

They were stood in the elevator of Ona’s building, ‘’how are you so bold all of a sudden?’’ Ona asked.

Lucy smirked, ‘’bold, how?’’.

‘’You straight up asked me to sleep with you’’ Ona said as she studied Lucy.

Lucy held her hands up, ‘’I’m confident in my abilities to break personal records with you in several areas, the bedroom being one of them’’.

Ona’s jaw dropped, ‘’does that work on all the girls you hit on’’.

‘’No just the one that are attracted to me’’ she answered with a smug smile.

‘’I’m not- i- how do you-

Lucy grinned, ‘’the dressing rooms are not call-proof, or at least, if it’s a private call, you should probably choose another place from now on’’.

Ona blushed and groaned, ‘’you heard that?’’ she said with a scrunched up nose and palmed her face.

The elevator stopped and with an elegant tone it indicated the arrival to the top floor.

Lucy smiled as the smaller woman walked away with cutely blushed cheeks and opened the door, Lucy followed Ona who stepped in to her appartement.

When she took of her shoes Lucy did the same.

‘’wow’’ Lucy gasped as she walked over to the windows, ‘’this is amazing’’.

‘’Thanks’’ Ona said, ‘’do you want something to drink?’’.

Lucy turned around with a smile, ‘’maybe after the tour? I had some drinks there already’’.

‘’Okay’’ Ona said as she got herself a sparkling water ‘’Okay this is the kitchen, that is the living-

‘’nooo’’ Lucy pouted and walked back to Ona, ‘’the fun way, make me want to buy this place’’ she said as she discarded her jacket on one of the bar stools.

‘’You already would’’.

Lucy rolled her eyes ‘’Like how you-

‘’don’t roll your eyes at me’’ Ona blurted out before she knew it was happening.

Lucy’s mouth fell open, ‘’says you! You roll your eyes every once 10 minutes’’.

Ona walked around the counter and stepped into Lucy’s personal space, ‘’shut up, I can do what I want’’ she said with a grin.

Lucy looked her, quiet from the sudden closeness, ‘’you shut up’’ she said, coming out clumsier than she wanted.

Ona chuckled, ‘’make me shut up then’’ she said as she traced her hand along the row of buttons from Lucy’s blouse.

‘’If you don’t stop me I’ll kiss you’’ Lucy said as she leaned in.

Ona smiled against her lips, ‘’if you don’t kiss me I’ll book you a cab home’’.

Their lips crashed in a hungry, exciting kiss, Lucy was the first to introduce tongue in their facade and Ona cupped the back of her neck as she gladly accepted it in.

Lucy’s hands travelled to the hips she had been eyeing all afternoon, the smaller woman looking delicious at the way the dress hugged her figure just right.

The English pressed herself closer against the Catalan.

Ona broke the kiss.

They both panted as Lucy tilted her head in confusion, ‘’not okay?’’.

‘’How about a quick tour of the bedroom?’’ Ona answered instead.

Lucy gulped, ‘’please’’.

Ona grinned as she took Lucy’s hand and guided her to her bedroom, ‘’wow’’ she gasped for a second time this evening.

‘’Is this enough light for you?’’ Ona asked, ‘’if you want more light we have to close the curtains’’.

Lucy quickly turned to face the woman, ‘’yes, lights on and curtains closed please, I’m not about to be on display for everyone in London to see’’.

‘’that’s why you keep the light off’’ Ona chuckled, ‘’and it can be fun you know, exciting’’.

Lucy shook her head, ‘’nah, as much as I like the view, I bet the view in here will be way better’’.

‘’Oh quite the charmer’’ Ona said as she pushed the button and the curtains started closing, ‘’ let's see if you can live up to all that big talk’’.

Lucy walked over to her and went in for another kiss, much shorter this time, ‘’just give me the green light and I’ll make you experience things you have never before’’.

‘’sure Bronze’’, Ona said as she started to undo to buttons from her blouse, ‘’you have permission do what you want, just stop if I say so’’.

Lucy grinned, ‘’always princess, your wish is my command’’ with that she attached their lips again.

While they were kissing Lucy shook her blouse off, figuring Ona wanted that as she had been tugging on the ting for minutes now. She walked with Ona towards the bed, making her walk backwards. When they were almost there Ona broke the kiss ‘’take my dress off’’ she said breathlessly.

Lucy grinned, ‘’not yet, you look so pretty in it’’ she said before planting her tongue back in Ona’s mouth, a few small sounds escaped the smaller woman as Lucy deepened the kiss and reached to pull up Ona’s dress.

She pushed Ona on the edge of the bed and started kissing her neck, ‘’do you want this’’ she asked between kisses ‘’want me to make you feel so good’’ she asked before licking and sucking the sensitive spots on Ona’s neck.

Ona whimpered, ‘’yes’’.

‘’Allright pretty girl’’ Lucy said she dropped to her knees, she looked up to meet Ona’s eyes as she started to kiss the insides of her thighs, ‘’I bet you taste so good’’ Lucy said as her hands travelled along the skin of Ona’s legs, giving her goose bumps.

‘’Can I taste you?’’ Lucy said as she latched her mouth to Ona’s other leg, she saw the Catalan fighting to keep composure, ‘’y-yes’’ she said with a breathy voice.

‘’Are you so worked up already?’’ Lucy playfully asked as she redirected her gaze to Ona’s thong, a dark-green piece of lace, with an even darker green spot right between the Spaniards legs.

Lucy kissed closer and closer towards the woman’s heat, until she could smell her wetness. Lucy groaned and sat back, ‘’up’’ she ordered as she hooked her fingers in the underwear.

Ona quickly cooperated.

Lucy dropped the thongs on the floor and went back to kissing Ona’s bare legs.

‘’Fuck Lucy, get your mouth on me’’ Ona said jaded.

With a smug face Lucy looked at her, ‘’you still think you’re calling the shots here?’’ she said as she let two fingers glide along Ona’s slick.

‘’Please’’ Ona whimpered.

This was all Lucy needed to hear, the rest of the begging could be done later, now she needed to get a taste.

She spread Ona’s leg wide with her hands as she dove in, letting her tongue glide softly along Ona’s core to make her get used to it.

She reached out for Ona’s hand and placed it in her hair as she kept up the gentle exploration.

When she had found a spot that she felt made Ona quiver, she grinned and kept Ona’s legs apart more strongly before diving in completely.

Ona’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, she head never experienced head like this before.

The skilled tongue rippling against her clit, the strong hands, making her spread out for the English woman on the edge of her bed.

With the hand that was guided to Lucy’s hair she gripped the woman’s dark brown hair, pushing her deeper against her, Ona felt the orgasm building up already. If it didn’t feel this good she would surely have been embarrassed about it.

‘’merda, se sent molt bé’’ (feels so fucking good) Ona moaned before she bit her lips as she struggled to keep herself up, leaning with one hand on the mattress.

Lucy didn’t know what the woman above her was muttering about, but she figured the words were positive. With two fingers of her right hand she teased Ona’s entrance, at this her legs shocked. Lucy looked up.

Ona groaned at the loss of stimulation and looked down at Lucy, ‘’fuck, you can use your fingers’’.

Lucy smirked as she put the fingers inside Ona’s mouth, as Ona sucked at them, covering them in her saliva. Lucy returned to what she was doing, she let her tongue dance along Ona’s clit.

When Ona opened her mouth and moaned, Lucy pulled her hand away and with very little preparation she plunged them inside of the dripping hole between Ona’s legs, deserving a loud guttural moan.

Lucy curled her fingers and searched for Ona’s weak spot, when she’d found it she started thrusting her fingers in a steady but provokingly slow pace.

The difference in paces from Lucy’s tongue and her fingers drove Ona mad, she couldn’t keep her eyes open as her eyes kept rolling back and the arm where she was leaning on was shaking.

After a few second she dropped on her, the leg that Lucy wasn’t keeping open with a hand almost crashed into Lucy but she didn’t budge.

Lucy sat up a bit more and kept working her tongue and hand as she felt Ona’s walls convulsing around her fingers.

She groaned as she felt a new gush of wetness covering her fingers, and dripping on her hand.

With a loud moan and a tight fist in Lucy’s hair, the woman below her orgasmed.

Lucy smiled as she slowly came to a stop and sat back when the hand left her head.

Ona's legs came back together and she stretched with her arms above her, "that was…" she breathed out.

Lucy grinned, ‘’quick?’’ she offered.

Ona sat up and rolled her eyes, ‘’I was going to say good’’.

‘’Both can be true’’ Lucy with a smug face.

After a few hours well spent, Lucy and Ona were standing under her rain shower.

‘’Do you want to sleep here?’’ Ona asked as she was lathering herself up with soap.

Lucy grinned ‘’are you asking out of politeness?’’.

‘’Maybe’’ Ona grinned back, ‘’don’t want you to feel like a cheap whore’’.

Lucy laughed, ‘’no I’ll book my own cab home, thanks’’.

‘’I had fun’’ Ona said sincerely, ‘’thanks for coming along’’.

‘’Me too’’ Lucy returned, ‘’and I’m happy for it to be a one time thing’’.

‘’Mhm’’ Ona said, ‘’perfect’’. She was amazed with Lucy’s maturity about the matter, some woman could get very offended.

‘’What do you want me to do with the shoes and shirts?’’ Lucy asked as they were drying off.

Ona smiled, ‘’keep ‘em, give ‘em away, I don’t care, it costs me more to make effort returning them, then what I would get for it’’.

Lucy shook her head in disbelieve but thought it was very kind she had bought her the things, ‘’thank you’’.

Ona nodded, ‘’it was my pleasure’’.

As Lucy walked back to the bedroom to put her suit back on, Ona just put her robe on, she was home alone anyways, she couldn’t help but look at Lucy’s back and ass, looking perfectly toned.

She bended to pick her clothes up and turned around to lay it on the bed, she looked at the clothes before looking at Ona.

Lucy caught the Catalan staring at her abs and grinned, ‘’could I borrow a pair of briefs?’’ she asked, ‘’I can’t put this back on’’, she said as she held her underwear up.

Ona gaze traveled form Lucy’s muscles to the piece of cloth and she smiled, ‘’ofcourse’’ she said before going into her walk-in wardrobe.

She came back and handed Lucy the underwear, ‘’and you can keep this too’’ she winked.

After that, Ona left Lucy to get dressed and went to the kitchen, she downed the glass of sparkling water that was still on the counter and went to her table, opening the laptop that laid there.

In a few minutes she was completely indulged with the things on her screen and hadn’t noticed Lucy been done with getting dressed, now standing infront of her.

‘’Bye Ona’’ Lucy said as she walked closer to the woman.

Ona jumped at the voice breaking the silence, but quickly got her composure back and smiled, ‘’sorry, I was reading something’’ she stood up, ‘’I’ll see you Tuesday Lucy, thanks again’’.

‘’I had fun’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’I’ll see myself out, see you Tuesday’’.

Tuesday night – Bronze Fitness Forge, London

Ona and Lucy had another session. They both thought back at their one nightstand as a perfect encounter, the sex had been good and they were both on the same terms as far as relationships are concerned.

Lucy didn't think Ona was the type of girl she’d ever date, but she could say that she was absolutely perfect in terms of appearance. The fact that she was shorter, the freckles, her slightly defined muscles and most of all her perfect butt. Ona’s ass might be her favorite thing about the woman.

Ona was happy Lucy had been on the same page as her about at sleeping over, she didn’t like waking up next to people, they often looked and smelt bad and Ona didn’t like anyone in the world enough to deal with that. Ona was happy to go to the woman’s gym again this day, she felt like her sexual frustration had been cleared up and was ready to maybe even break that squatting PR.

Lucy was a little bit nervous about seeing the woman again, hoping it wouldn’t be awkward, she had gotten in a bit earlier than last time, to make sure they could at least get dressed separately. Even though she would be lying if she’d say she wasn’t at least a little bit curious if the hickey’s she had left were still there.

She shook her head, she shouldn’t be thinking about this. Ona had been perfectly clear, heck she had wanted it herself, this was a one time thing and in a month they’d maybe never see eachother again.

Ona came walking in to the gym, disrupting Lucy’s string of thoughts.

‘’Hey Ona’’ she cheerfully said, but she couldn’t help but notice the fact Ona was wearing a shirt and shorts now, rather then the sports bra she had worked out in until now.

‘’Lucy’’ Ona smiled, ‘’ready to break some records?’’.

‘’I sure am’’ Lucy said, ‘’do we go squatting straight after warm up?’’.

‘’Yes’’ Ona replied, ‘’I hope I can do more then 50 today’’.

‘’Enthusiastic, i love it’’

‘’Oh you know me’’ Ona joked.

‘’Always enthusiastic to break records’’ Lucy said, after which she cringed at herself.

They warmed up and went to the weight rack, ‘’hey have you already set it up?’’ Ona asked, smiling.

‘’Ofcourse’’ Lucy said smugly, ‘’six sessions left until you’re doing 55’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’if you weren’t hot I would’ve hired another personal trainer six sessions ago’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’well first off all thanks, second off all, what do you think a good personal trainer does then’’.

The Spaniard shrugged, ‘’not being annoying’’.

‘’I am not annoying’’ Lucy said as she quirked her eyebrows.

‘’How would you describe a person using insults as motivation’’ Ona challenged her.

‘’motivational’’

‘’annoying’’

‘’did you do those reps or not’’

‘’yes’’

‘’so, motivational’’ Lucy stated as if it was settled.

Ona shook her head and walked over to take place under the bar, ‘’please keep from your motivations until really really can’t go anymore’’ she stood up and took the bar on her shoulders, ‘’until then, you spot me quietly’’.

‘’yes ma’am’’ Lucy joked as she took position behind Ona, ‘’I kidding, I’ll shut up’’.

Surprisingly, Ona squatted the 50kg the first 8 reps perfectly, without any problem.

‘’I’m impressed’’ Lucy said as Ona was shaking her legs to get ready for the last set, ‘’you finally found your right mindset’’.

Ona smiled but kept quiet, she couldn’t get distracted now.

She took place under the bar again and accidentally walked into Lucy with her butt.

‘’Oh sorry’’ Lucy chuckled as she took a step back, ‘’okay last 4, let’s go’’.

Ona blushed at the way heat traveled to her core from the brief touch.

She took the weight on her shoulders for the third time and for some reason they felt twice as heavy.

Ona didn’t squat but kept standing there with the weights in her neck.

‘’Come on Ona, you can do it’’ she felt Lucy’s hot breath in her neck.

‘’I don’t know if I-

‘’You can do it Ona’’ Lucy pressed up against Ona, and put her hand under her arms, ‘’we’ll do it together’’.

Ona gulped as she felt Lucy front pushed against her.

She squatted and easily came back up with Lucy’s strength supporting her, she wanted to rack the weights as she stood straight again.

‘’3 more Ona’’ Lucy said in her ear.

Ona groaned as she did another.

‘’Good job Ona’’ Lucy said, in a voice close to a whisper. Ona couldn’t help but think the woman was doing this on purpose, she was so close, Ona could feel her abs in her back, and her thighs against her own, no other trainer had ever spotted her like this.

After the four squats Ona racked the bar and turned around, Lucy stepped back.

She studied the woman’s face, Lucy casted her eyes to the ground.

Ona ducked under the bar and stepped into Lucy’s personal space, she noticed a slight blush on the English woman her cheeks, but then again that could be from warming up.

Ona shook her head, thinking it was her mind playing tricks with her, ‘’so what next’’ she asked.

Lucy looked up at her with surprise but quickly put on a neutral face again, ‘’have you ever bench pressed?’’.

‘’Ofcourse’’ Ona chuckled.

Lucy insisted on showing Ona the best technique and did a few quick sets with the weights she had grabbed for Ona.

However, when Ona did the sets with those weights it went a lot less smoothly.

After the set Ona set up and set the weights down on the ground.

Lucy took place on the bench next to her, ‘’have you ever heard about the mind-muscle connection?’’.

‘’no’’ Ona said as she shook her head.

‘’Okay, so during an exercise touching the muscle is a great way to help increase the mind-muscle connection. When you physically touch the muscle, it provides tactile feedback that can be used to better understand which muscles are being targeted and how they should feel during an exercise’’. Lucy explained.

‘’Look’’ she said as she did a bicep curl, ‘’I am working my bicep right now, so then I’ll tap or touch the muscle and that will eventually help with increasing strength in that muscle’’.

Ona sighed, ‘’okay, so you are going to be poking my biceps as I bench press’’.

‘’With a bench press we target arms, shoulders and chest’’ Lucy said, ‘’one of the most useful exercise to work on your mind-muscle connection with, as you automatically start to use the muscles that are touched more then when you just do it, it helps with knowing from where you need to provide strength into the push’’.

‘’Okay lets do it professora’’ Ona chuckled.

While she was benching the weights Lucy poked the concerning muscles, but Ona couldn´t really take it serious, she was getting distracted with the way Lucy´s hands were resting on her chest now, just above her boobs.

´´don´t be so distracted Ona, focus´´ Lucy said, as she noticed Ona slowing her pace.

´´Allright´´ she said, and Lucy retracted her hands at her sudden harsh voice, the effect she hoped it would have, she dropped the weights besides her, ´´you sit here´´ she said as she stood up.

Lucy looked at her confused, ´´what?’’.

‘’Go sit here and do bench presses’’.

Lucy was confused but went to do what Ona ordered, as she had took the weights in her hands she started, ‘’just like this’’ she carefully said.

‘’Yes’’ Ona said as she took place on Lucy’s lap, ‘’go on, keep going’’ she said as she let her hands travel along Lucy’s arms, shoulders, chest and ended at her abs, as Lucy stopped and looked confused at her she repeated what the English woman had told her earlier, ´´don´t be so distracted Lucy, focus´´.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’I wasn’t sitting on your lap’’.

‘’I wasn’t grinding into your ass’’ Ona bit back.

Lucy set the weights besides her, ´´I’m sorry.. I couldn´t..

´´couldn´t what Lucy?’’ Ona sat as she leaned closer towards Lucy’s face, ‘’couldn’t help but wanting to feel my ass?’’.

The English woman swallowed hard, she knew it wasn’t professional of her.

Ona bit her lip as she looked at the woman squirming below her.

She leant to whisper something in Lucy’s ear, ‘’I am going to take a shower’’ she said before softly laying a single kiss in Lucy neck and getting up.

Without turning around she walked towards the changing room, hoping Lucy would follow her.

Lucy scrambled to sit up and wondered what the fuck just happened, she was very confused, a part of screamed that she should follow the woman, another part said to stay in the gym, as she had done more then enough.

-I am going to take a shower-, the words repeated over and over in her head, if Ona really wouldn’t have wanted her to follow her she would’ve surely said something else right, and not give her a kiss.

Without more contemplation Lucy jumped up, she hurried to the changing room and got in, the shower was already running, Lucy spotted Ona’s clothing on the bench.

‘’Uhm’’ Lucy cleared her throat, ‘’sorry’’.

‘’I can’t here you’’ Ona called from under the water, ‘’what did you say?’’.

Lucy stepped closer to the shower, the shower was just an extension of the dressing room, separated by a tiled wall and a corner, in there were 4 showerheads, which turned out to be the stupidest setup ever, as only one person showered here at a time, but they hadn’t thought about it like that when she helped designing the place.

‘’Sorry’’ she tried again.

Ona chuckled, ‘’Luce come here’’.

Lucy stepped along the wall and was met with a very wet, very naked Ona.

Ona grinned and walked towards Lucy, ‘’it’s okay’’ she said before pressing the taller woman against the wall, ‘’but now you've triggered something in me’’.

‘’w-what’’.

‘’Strip’’ Ona said coldly.

Lucy did as told and stepped out of her shoes before she threw her clothes in to the dressing room, in the same undressed state as the Spaniard she walked back to her.

‘’Good’’ Ona said as she pulled Lucy by her wrist to join her under the weak beam of warm water.

Lucy closed her arms around Ona and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

Ona groaned and broke the kiss, ‘’I don’t know what it is but I feel a weirdly big amount of attraction towards you’’.

Lucy narrowed her eyes, ‘’thanks I guess, I think you’re very hot too’’.

‘’No’’ Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’I mean, I have never not been able to suppress the urge to fuck someone’’.

Lucy smirked, ‘’it’s hard when it’s that good’’.

Ona rolled her eyes again, ‘’shut up, your dumb words turn me off’’ she said before kissing Lucy again.

The English woman grinned against Ona’s lips as her hand roamed Ona’s body until they settled between her legs, ‘’Do you get wet when you’re turned off?’’ she asked with an annoying smirk on her face, ‘’or where you lying’’.

‘’I am not lying’’ Ona said as turned them around, ‘’you’re the hottest when your mouth is closed’’.

Lucy chuckled as Ona dropped to her knees and kissed along her upper thighs. ‘’Or when you are cumming’’ Ona added before tugging one of Lucy’s legs on to her shoulder.

She made sure Lucy’s other leg was planted firmly on the ground before she buried her head in between the woman’s legs. Lucy closed her eyes as the shorter woman hungrily started eating her out. Ona reached around Lucy to grab her ass and guided her to grind down on her face. The muscular woman let out a groan and gripped Ona’s hair. The groans of Lucy and humming of Ona echoed in the tiled room.

With a hand coming down on the Catalans shoulder, pressing into her, she almost lost balance for a second, but she recovered and gripped tighter into the flesh of Lucy’s ass while she kept fucking with her tongue in and out of her entrance.

The leg that was hanging over her shoulder started jolting as Ona heard the breath of the woman above her get more and more unsteady. Lucy felt she was about to come undone and braced herself on Ona and the shower wall, grabbing the rod where the shower was connected to.

She bit her lips as she looked down at the beautiful woman bobbing her head between her own legs, she grabbed the hair she was holding and pulled at the roots as she pushed the head deeper into her core. Ona moaned at the act, a shiver traveled along Lucy’s spine at the vibration.

‘’Fuck’’ she breathed, ‘’I’m cumming’’.

At that last word her voice went up her voice went up an octave and her eyes rolled back while an electric pulse travelled through her body. Ona kept lapping at Lucy, dirty sounds filling the room, only when Lucy’s hips started jerking from sensitivity, she stopped. Only now she realized how hard she had been holding onto Lucy and she caressed the skin gently before pulling her hands back. She sat back and stood up to look at Lucy.

The English woman wore a dopey grin, with hooded eyes she smiled at Ona, ‘’that was amazing’’ she said as if she was under the influence of drugs.

‘’Good’’ Ona said, ‘’because I need this to be our last time’’.

At those words Lucy seemed to get sobered up immediately, ‘’I’m not done’’ she said.

Ona rolled her eyes but couldn’t ignore the way she felt her core pulsing at Lucy’s hungry gaze. Lucy stepped closer and kissed her. Lucy grinned as she felt the Catalan pushing herself against her, almost searching for some kind of relieve with the way her core searches for one of Lucy’s thighs.

‘’Not here’’ Lucy said as she broke the kiss, ‘’come home with me’’.

PART 2

#lucy bronze smut #woso smut #woso fanfics #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze x ona batlle #woso #woso imagine #ona batlle smut #ona batlle

293 notes · View notes

lowedeus · 3 months

Photo

10th LoscheDay is here!

Hello, my followers and inspired dawnloaders! I know it’s been a while. The real life kinda got in the way. Thanks for staying with me!

10 years ago I created this blog to share worldwide my projects. My purposes are to integrate elements of european culture into The Sims 2, to enchance the neighborhood decoraing with recognizable city environment, and to explore and improve the game itself. This hobby has now allowed me to start practicing as a 3D artist, and I believe I found my true passion in it.

So, today I want to tell you about life changes I’m going through, share the gifts with you, and also ask you for help - all about it under the cut:

The Life Changes

You know I’m not very active last years, and this simblr stays without any updated for a long time. There were reasons for this. In 2022 I had to leave my home and moved to another country. Don’t worry, I’m fine and well. I starts my new life, at least, in a quiet place.

Here is a photo of me and my friend @ivanautumnfield in Astana, Kazakhstan:

And now it’s time to move forward!

The Request for help

As someone who has always valued creativity and the arts, I’m reaching out to you with a sincere request. Over the years, I have been dedicated to creating and sharing TS2 content, providing advice, and fostering a supportive community. I have never sought donations or payment for my work; it has always been driven by a genuine desire to help others.

Now, as I face new challenges, I am seeking your assistance. If you meet all of the following criterias, I kindly ask for your support:

Residing in France (or any other state of the European Union): If you live in these regions, your recommendation would be appropriate.

An Active Artist: Whether you specialize in 3D graphics, animation, game development, or any other artistic field, your endorsement would mean a great deal. It doesn’t matter if you are affiliated with an official art institution; I think having a public portfolio/site/artist’s page is matters.

Writing a Letter of Support: If you are willing and able to write a Letter of Support (recommendation letter) for me — that would be invaluable. The letter can be written in a pretty free form, should expressing that you know me and my creations, and you look forward to future cooperation. Rest assured that this won’t burden you or compromise confidentiality in any way. These letters are essential for my relocation preparations.

Please feel free to reach out to me via private messages here. If I haven’t responded to your message, it might have been caught in a filter — simply tag me in a broader context. If you know anyone who can help me or have connection to the proper art organization and\or institutions, I would be immensely grateful for networking.

Your assistance, as well as any reposts or shares, would greatly help me.

If you want to help me the other way, you can support me at Patreon or Ko-fi ☕

The LoscheDay Gifts

I want to thank everyone for the help and attention to my work, it really spurs me on to keep going. As a gift, I want to share with you some content that are ready to be used in the game, but haven't been published yet for one reason or another. All of the links and info avalible in my new Patreon page.

Not all of my (un)published projects are described at that page at this moment, new posts will be publishing time to time in Patreon’s feed, also a brand new cc files will be appearing in SFS folder. Please, subscribe and stay tuned!

I emphasize that everything I create for The Sims 2 will still be available for free, I am not planning on hiding behind a paywall, this is just if you would like to support me through this challenging time.

Thank you!

Enjoy!

#ts2 #ts2cc #personal #lowede #help #important #support #patreon #LoscheDay #ko-fi

195 notes · View notes

headspace-hotel · 2 years

Note

so, in regards to your recent posts on kane-tucky and usa food industry, do you / how do you keep active hope and not slip in into apathy and "looking out for my own" get out of dodge mentality? im having a hard time articulating this, but what makes you not curl up into a shaking mess in anger resentment and a deep desire for change that likely, if ever, wont happen in our lifetime.... any advice is appreciated

The short answer is "getting out and doing stuff in the real world, educating, volunteering, whatever is within your ability"

I will add that "looking out for your own" is not...bad. Like I don't know precisely what you mean by this phrase, but it's actually very important to come to terms with the fact that your impact is strongest where your feet touch the ground, and you have a responsibility and relationship to the people immediately around you, the place immediately around you.

This has not been a popular opinion of mine in the past, but...you can't and shouldn't care about literally everything on the planet. There is of course huge global disparity with access to resources and aid networks, and the largest communities we belong to are: all of Earth and the whole human species.

However: your level of agency is so low with issues that are happening on the other side of the world from you, compared with issues that are happening in your home town. And we're seeing people just get completely burned out from compassion fatigue without ever doing shit because the global responsibility is pushed on us and the local responsibility is not.

I hated my hometown for a decade. In high school I wanted so badly to leave. It's one of those desolate-feeling towns that's developed enough for a shopping center and big chain retailers but not enough to have a sense of community or a single bookstore. I've never been able to place myself precisely along the urban-rural spectrum because I feel isolated from even isolation: there's nowhere to go that doesn't feel razed by human development, where you can't hear the noise of traffic on roads, but it's all cattle pastures, sprawling storage facilities, auto parts stores, big, empty churches. One wrong turn will put you in a dark valley where there are rotting, derelict trailers on cinder blocks hidden back in the woods, and this place has that same feeling of "nowhere to go."

And I felt paralyzed by everything bad happening around the world and the fact that I was just one person, and I had gotten the horrible impression that the only thing I could do about anything was vote and donate money to links I saw online. The worst lie the internet taught me was that in saving the world, nothing matters except Power, Money, and an unclear third category that involves throwing bricks at cops.

But I touched grass. And the weeds taught me something. Do you see the parking lots, the harsh pavement and gravel and brick? I saw. I was surrounded by this landscape of brutal, totalitarian surfaces, impermeable concrete locking the soil away. But in the cracks in the surfaces, dandelions, purslane, and spurge were thriving.

I observed that the spurge stretched out like a shaggy rug and padded the concrete surfaces. The old leaves of the dandelions, as they withered, caught bits of dirt as it flowed into drainage ditches after rains. Soil was forming, and the sprawling structure of the early weeds seemed specially adapted for the task. In older cracks, more plants moved in; I found a wild ruellia blooming in a paved road, an evening primrose. And in some places, seedling trees.

Have you seen what happens when a sidewalk is left unmaintained for years? It disappears. The roots slowly buckle and break it into pieces, and it vanishes beneath lush leaves and moss. A tree growing in a crack in concrete will slowly pry the slab apart.

This is how my IRL rewilding project got started—just pulling plants from the pavement cracks, raising them in pots. I was surprised and awed at the resilience of the plants. I found little trees in concrete with at least two years' growth on them, that had survived being mowed down multiple times.

The weeds changed my viewpoint on the world forever. Up until that point, certain facts about power and politics and money had seemed like law, but I'd suddenly seen that there was a deeper magic.

The dandelions' survival made it possible for others to survive, which in turn made even more life flourish. They could not demolish and remove the concrete and pavement, but they could overcome it by refusing to be destroyed, because the power to take care of each other is in their nature.

People have made fun of me for telling others to go plant a tree. I think culturally we have this ingrained dismissal of things like that due to the twee, cutesy associations of "tree hugging" environmentalists, except in this instance it's because planting a tree is pointless in light of something something systemic issues, not because climate change isn't real, or...whatever reason people have for finding environmentalists cringe. (That is kinda sus now that I think about it.)

And I'm not saying planting a tree will fix climate change. I'm saying that something in my brain had broken and planting a tree unbroke it.

Go outside. Touch grass. Do the work in the immediate community you belong to, in the place you are in, where you have the best and most impact. We have the power to take care of each other, and that power grows stronger the more we are cared for.

The internet is a good place to share information, but that's fucking it. The real stuff, the stuff you can touch with your hands, the stuff that will heal despair, is out there in the real, touchable world. You need to see and feel what you are doing. Don't just give help—accept it. The power to take care of each other is in our nature, and by nature we can give more when we thrive as a result of others' care.

I hope this helps.

#plants #gardening #dandelions #rewilding #plantarchy

969 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

Text

Mirion Malle’s “So Long Sad Love”

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Mirion Malle's So Long Sad Love, a graphic novel from Drawn and Quarterly, we get an all-too-real mystery story: when do you trust the whisper network that carries the fragmentary, elliptical word of shitty men?

https://drawnandquarterly.com/books/so-long-sad-love/

Cleo is a French comics creator who's moved to Montreal, in part to be with Charles, a Quebecois creator who helps her find a place in the city's tight-knit artistic scene. The relationship feels like a good one, with the normal ups and downs, but then Cleo travels to a festival, where she meets Farah, a vivacious and talented fellow artist. They're getting along great…until Farah discovers who Cleo's boyfriend is. Though Farah doesn't say anything, she is visibly flustered and makes her excuses before hurriedly departing.

This kicks off Cleo's hunt for the truth about her boyfriend, a hunt that is complicated by the fact that she's so far from home, that her friends are largely his friends, that he flies off the handle every time she raises the matter, and by her love for him.

There's a term for men like Charles: a "missing stair." "Missing stair" is a metaphor for someone in a social circle who presents some kind of persistent risk to the people around them, who is accommodated rather than confronted:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missing_stair

The metaphor goes like this: you're at a party and every time someone asks where the bathroom is, another partygoer directs them to the upper floor and warns them that one of the stairs is missing, and if they don't avoid that tread, they will fall through and be gravely injured. In this metaphor, a whole community of people have tacitly decided to simply accept the risk that someone who is forgetful or new to the scene will fall through the stair – no one has come forward to just fix that stair.

The origins of this term are in BDSM circles, and the canonical "missing stair" is a sexual predator, but from the outset, it's referred to all kinds of people with failings that present some source of frustration or unhappiness to those around them, from shouters to bigots to just someone who won't help do the dishes after a dinner party:

https://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/06/missing-stair.html

We all know a few missing stairs, and anyone who's got even a little self-reflexivity must wonder from time to time if they're not also a missing stair, at least to some people in their lives. After all, friendship always entails some accommodation, and doubly so love – as Dan Savage is fond of saying, "There is no person who is 'The One' for you – the best you can hope for is the '0.6' that you can round up to 'The One,' with a lot of work."

And at least some missing stairs aren't born – they're made. Everyone screws up, everyone's got some bad habits, everyone's got some blind spots about what others expect of them and how others perceive us. When the people around us make bad calls about whether to let us skate on our faults and when to confront us, those faults fester and multiply and calcify. This is compounded in long-tenured relationships that begin in our youth, when we are still figuring out our boundaries – the people who we give a pass to when we're young and naive can become a fixture in our lives despite characteristics that, as adults, we wouldn't tolerate in someone who is new to our social scene.

To make all this even more complicated, there's the role that power plays in all this. Many missing stairs are keenly attuned to power dynamics and present a different face to people who have some authority – whether formal or tacit – to sanction them. This is why so many of the outings of #MeToo predators provoked mystified men to say, "Gosh, they never acted that way around me – I had no idea."

These men aren't necessarily clueless. There's a predator who once traveled in my circles, and when he was outed, it wasn't just men who were shocked. My professional and personal life includes a large cohort of socially and professionally powerful women to whom this "missing stair" presented an impeccable face on every occasion. None of the people this guy looked up to ever witnessed his behavior firsthand, and for complicated reasons, none of the lower status (younger, less experienced, and not exclusively female) people whom he preyed upon came to us.

Which brings me back to Cleo and Charles, and the mystery of what Charles did to Farah in art school, many years before. The people in Charles's circle have an explanation: Farah was Charles's first heavy crush, and he courted her in ways that crossed the line into harassment. But – according to Charles's friends – this was a temporary condition that Charles outgrew, and it was only later, when Charles was in a healthier relationship with someone who reciprocated his affections, that Farah retaliated by attacking him to their small art-school circle.

This is just plausible enough – Charles was young, still figuring stuff out, he made a misstep – that Cleo is able to console herself with it. But as Charles grows more irritable and belittling of her, and as Cleo's friends gently encourage her to dig further rather than burying her lingering doubts, a much uglier truth comes into view.

Malle handles this all so deftly, showing how Cleo and her friends all play archetypal roles in the recurrent missing stair dynamic. It's a beautifully told story, full of charm and character, but it's also a kind of forensic re-enactment of a disaster, told from an intermediate distance that's close enough to the action that we can see the looming crisis, but also understand why the people in its midst are steering straight into it.

This transitions into a third act where Cleo leaves Montreal and finds herself in the midst a very different social dynamic of people who have figured out a far healthier way to manage their interpersonal problems. This short conclusion is powerfully satisfying, showing how it's possible to live without missing stairs and without the immediate expulsion of anyone who has a "problematic" moment.

The missing stair phenomenon would be so much easier to deal with if every missing stair started out as an irredeemable monster. We could fix all those stairs and declare ourselves done. But – as Malle illustrates – there's a reason it's so hard to fix those missing stairs. Every good friendship has some give and take – but every missing stair takes too much. Knowing the difference is a skill you learn through hard experience, not one you're born with. Learning when to call someone out, and when to call them in, is a hard curriculum – and it's even harder to know when to keep trying to help the people in your life be better selves, and when to protect the other people in your life from their worst selves.

Malle's book is packed with subtlety and depth, romance and heartbreak, subtext that carries through the dialog (in marvelous translation from the original French by Aleshia Jensen) and the body language in Malle's striking artwork.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/25/missing-stair/#the-fog-of-love

#pluralistic #romance #comics #bandes desinees #books #reviews #lgbtq #graphic novels #gift guide #art #miron malle #missing step #metoo #gender

67 notes · View notes

spookyspecterino · 5 months

Text

Back to You Again

Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, mention of blood, mention of death/fear of death, arguing/bickering, swearing. Serious idiots in love who have a little trouble expressing their feelings and choose the wrong time to do it.

You've been gone a little while. A few months to be specific. Why? Tangerine can only guess, but he's not happy about it.

Requested by @nocturnest. I'm so sorry this took so long. I started it thinking it was going to be short and then 7K words flew out. 😬Anyway, thanks for your request. It's been a long time since I wrote anything seriously and this was really good for me. Hope you enjoy!

“Laser cutter. Three auto-rifles. Two handguns. Three boxes of ammo each.”

Check.

The binoculars are heavy duty, and the metal texture grates your fingers as you pull them up to peer through the lenses into the next building over. A high-rise that had at least 30 floors. All windowed at least, which made this a little easier on you.

“In through the fifth-floor service area. Through the employee hallway to the service elevator.”

A map of the building laid next to you on the gravel roof. It hadn’t been easy to get your hands on it, but it was worth it for a building as secure as this. No security measure had been overlooked by this man and as paranoid as he seemed it went a long way to his credibility.

“In and out through the service elevator. 20 mins tops. Oh, the jammer.”

A handheld device that you’d paid top dollar for. Yes, it has duct tape holding pieces of it together, and the screen was a repurposed old Gameboy front, but it is the best your back-channel dealer could provide.

How did anyone do anything without a handler these days?

The jammer would save you the trouble (if things turned sideways) of dealing with reinforcements. It flickers to life by flipping a switch smoldered to its side. The thing really does look like a piece of garbage.

Several frequencies and networks flashed across the screen, all of them belonging to the building you were surveying. Scrolling through, only a few needed to be shut down, too many and it would raise alarms.

Wifi was the last to be turned off and then you would really need to book it inside.

Everything planned out to a T. Entrance and exits mapped. Back-up plans (and back-up plans to those back-up plans) in place. Extra weapons and ammo in case you had to go out guns blazing. This should be no problem.

“Office-penthouse on the top floor. Computer terminal on the desk, west side.”

Get to the computer, get the files, destroy everything. If you happened to kill the son of a bitch, well, that was a bonus.

You sigh and rub your face, trying to work out the stress lines that seemed to make a permanent home between your brows. “Now I just need to stop talking to myself.”

It was an unfortunate habit you’d picked up in the last few months of working alone. Usually, you had… no. This was no time to think of them, or of him. You have to focus. After this is done, you can go back and apologize, even grovel if you have to.

But now is the time for focus.

In the middle of repeating this mantra, one you’ve been repeating for the last month, you happen to look up at the street. Not for any real reason, nothing had drawn your attention. Nothing was amiss in your perfect plan.

Except two very familiar faces walking down the sidewalk.

Lemon and Tangerine.

Clad in their typical attire. Snazzy suits, dress shoes, and ties.

Your stomach does several things. First it flips at the sight of Tangerine as he saunters with his hands in his pockets, then it sinks and twists into painful knots.

“No, no, no!”

They can’t be here! Anywhere but here!

The two walked casually down the sidewalk, as if they were taking a nice midday stroll. No rifles, no car, nothing. Either they were ballsy as hell…or wildly misinformed about this building and the man inside.

Something in you hoped, prayed, they would pass the building. That they were going somewhere else.

They took a sharp turn to cross the street—toward the building entrance—and your breath turned ragged, your blood chilled. At the same time, your mind was churning with practicality, cold and calculated ideas. Some nasty part of you that had gotten you this far in such a dangerous career, that had nestled in you a long time ago and only now resurfaced in the months of being alone.

You could just walk away; they have their job, and they’re professionals. They can handle themselves.

You could go in after and clean up without ever being seen. Easy. The plan you made could still work, Tangerine and Lemon would be a perfect distraction.

But you were already moving. Lega working on their own and putting you into motion. Fingers tapping off the Wi-Fi signal on the jammer while you slung your duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was not the plan, you argued with yourself as you flew down the back stairs. You’ll get yourself killed being this reckless and impulsive. What happened to in and out in 20 mins?

With every point you made the other side of your mind made a counterpoint.

They’re underprepared. They’re misinformed. They don’t have the firepower to walk in the front door, hell, they don’t have enough bullets to make it to the second floor.

“God damn it!” You yelled, taking the stairs down two at a time. Your voice echoed off the walls in the cramped stairwell. The rifles in your duffle bag clattered and banged together.

They’d be killed. Tangerine and Lemon would be killed. You couldn’t let that happen.

. . .

“I say we take a hostage and negotiate our way up.”

“Yeah, sure, Lemon.”

“This guy’s what, a tech billionaire, or something?”

“Probably.”

“Ok, so he’s a nerd. Easy job.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lemon shoots his brother a less than happy look. Tangerine is staring off into space with a slight frown, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he hunches over a little. Which wasn’t new, he’d been doing that a lot lately. A reflection of his dour mood.

Lemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, mate. Come on. We’re on a job.”

Tangerine shrugs, frowning harder. “I’m fuckin’ aware of that, Lemon.”

“Then stop with your sulking! What have I told you?”

“No—” Tangerine waves a hand, “—you don’t need to say it again—”

“Just send her a letter or something. She’d love it.”

Tangerine groans, he’s starting to get a headache now as they near the target building. “As I’ve said before, I attached letters on the flowers I sent.”

Lemon opens his mouth, but Tangerine cuts him off. “And I sent more than one bouquet. For fuck’s sake, her house probably looks like a tropical rainforest by now.”

“What about—”

“I’ve sent her presents. Jewelry. Perfume. A new phone in case hers was broken. Fuckin’ hell I even had her porch repainted.”

“And she didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Lemon hesitates. “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Now Tangerine was about to lose it. His eye twitched, not that his brother could see it. “Sorry for what? She’s the one that up and disappeared without a word.”

“I still think you should say it. Just to cover your bases.”

“I’m not apologizing. We were all perfect and you know that. She was happy as a clam and if something was wrong, she would have told me.”

“Then why’d she—”

“You’re really getting on my fucking nerves, Lemon.”

They were across the street from the main entrance now. Two glass doors with golden handles reflected the brothers. In sync they both took a sharp turn toward them. Through the glass they didn’t see anyone else in the lobby and there was a long, chest high counter with a clerk along the far back wall.

Neither of them blinked at how empty the lobby was. Their client had said this target was some kind of informant, but that was about it. They’d paid half up front and sent them on their merry way.

Tangerine yanked open the glass door, holding it for Lemon. He was beyond pissed and just wanted this to be over with. Despite his complaints he was still mulling over what his brother said. Should he apologize, even though he had done nothing wrong? He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and he had thought back on all the times you’d been with them, working a job or not.

He’d been happy, he thought you were happy too.

The white floor tiles of the lobby were so shiny they could check their reflections in them. The whole place was upstanding and flaunted wealth. On both sides of the spacious lobby were two silver elevators. The clerk, a lady in her mid-thirties, looked up at them as they walked in. She picked up a phone and turned away as she spoke.

It took them 10 seconds to reach the desk, and, in that time, Lemon had pulled out his gun.

He pointed it at her now. “Hang up the phone.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Not the usual response someone has when a gun is pointed at them, but she slowly hangs up.

“Come out from behind the desk, slowly.”

There’s a moment when she does nothing. Then, “No.”

Tangerine blinks, then pulls out his own gun. “Did you really just say no? Listen lady—”

She leans forward over the desk, leering. “Turn around and get the fuck out.”

Lemon shoots into the wall slightly to her left. She doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I will fucking shoot you. Get out. From behind. The desk.”

She leans back. “Cute gun.”

Tangerine starts to get a sinking feeling. He turns to Lemon, about to say they should take a walk (maybe find a back entrance to this place instead) when the woman pulls out .22 Uzi from somewhere in the desk. They only catch a glimpse of the muzzle before they start shooting wildly and ducking.

Lemon takes a shot to the chest with a grunt. Tangerine hears the bullets whizzing past him and shattering glass.

The desk clerk turns disappearing behind an employee door seamlessly built into the wall.

They crouch down next to the desk. Tangerine’s head pounds, as it usually does when a job gets out of control.

“You alright?” He reloads his gun, watching his brother carefully.

Lemon checks himself over, patting his chest and stomach. “Yeah, all good, the vest caught it. This is fucked what do we do—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as both elevators open and squads of heavily armored men pour out. They all have automatic rifles and black Kevlar vests.

“Behind the desk!” Tangerine shouts, pulling Lemon up.

They jump over just as the bullets start flying. Glass shatters, wood splinters, tiles crack. It’s utter chaos and Tangerine and Lemon can only sit behind cover.

“I think we might be fucked!” Lemon shouts, checking his gun.

Tangerine grits his teeth, mind racing. “The client didn’t mention this level of security! I’m going to wring their fucking neck!”

“We’re outmatched!”

“No question, Lemon! Thanks for pointing that out!” Tangerine can feel his brother’s rising anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“What do we do?!”

“We hope to God this is all of them and try our best to make it out of here!”

“You’re saying—”

Tangerine fires blindly from behind the desk. “Yes, we bail on this job and break our client’s fucking legs!”

The onslaught never seems to end. These assholes are top security and they’re trained well. Their shots chip away at the desk piece by piece, Tangerine and Lemon can feel the bullets violently embed themselves in the wood against their backs.

Tangerine glances at the employee door, there’s no handle and no way to pry it open. He figures there’s a remote control that opens it somewhere from behind. He tries to remain calm, think of a way out that isn’t behind at least 10 guys with rifles.

What would you do in this situation? His heart feels like it’s been pierced with a lance as he thinks of you. Obviously, you would never be caught in a situation like this. You were careful, practical, methodical in the way you planned out jobs.

He wished you were here with him.

Instinctually, his hand reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Lemon watches him with something close to sympathy on his face.

Your number is on speed dial. Tangerine presses a button and holds it up to his ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

The automated answering machine has become very familiar to him these last few months. Were you checking his voicemails? He’d left you enough to fill up your mailbox, he was sure of it.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

He hopes you can hear him over the sound of gunshots.

“Yeah, look. Lemon and I, we’re in a bit of a pickle. I was really hoping you would answer this time ‘cause we need help. Since you didn’t, I just wanted to say that you’re a real prick for leaving us the way you did. And you haven’t said a single thank you or anything for all the gifts I’ve sent. Poor Lemon has been wondering where you went off to.” He pauses. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start this message, but every other attempt at getting your attention has failed.

“You know how I feel, I’ve made that pretty clear. But right now, I’m just pissed. Nothing has worked, so I’m going to break into your house and wait for you to come home.”

Lemon gives him a startled look, shakes his head from side to side.

Tangerine frowns. “Don’t take that the wrong—Alright, I won’t break into your house, but I will wait on your doorstep. Every day, I’ll be there until I see you.”

Lemon is still frowning, but Tangerine ignores him.

“This is all because…Well, I…” He struggles, throat turning dry and closing around the words he wants to say. Instead of continuing, he hangs up.

Sitting back against the desk he exhales. The gunfire has stopped to an occasional patter here and there.

Lemon runs a hand through his hair. “Bruv, what the fuck was that?”

“A last-ditch effort at getting some backup.”

They fell into silence; the lobby was eerily quiet. They knew the security team was just waiting for them to come out from behind the desk. The air crackled with energy.

Lemon checked his pockets. “I’ve got two clips left, you?”

“One and a half.”

The look they share conveys their doubts, their dread. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

Tangerine puts it in the back of his mind. “I’ll run out first, then you go a few seconds later.”

“No way, we go at the same time.”

He shakes his head but arguing only puts off the inevitable.

“Go to the opposite side of the desk.”

They split, crouching behind opposite corners. There was no way either of them would be able to make it two steps without taking 10 rounds to the chest. The image of you stays in Tangerine’s mind. He just wished he could see you again. Whatever comes next, afterlife or not, he hoped you—or some form of you—would be in it.

Tangerine gives Lemon one last look, finds that his brother is watching him, and gives him a somber nod. He holds his gun up, takes a deep breath, gets ready to run…

He’s out from behind the desk, gritting his teeth and firing in a flash.

He hits one, another to his left falls from Lemon’s bullets. His legs are shaky, he can feel them trembling.

Rifles take aim.

Tangerine opens his mouth to urge Lemon on.

And a grenade goes off.

The loud bang startles him, his ears ring and a second later he’s shrouded in white, smokey fog. Tangerine stops, confused, looking around to try and find Lemon. But a strong hand yanks him and drags him back. He stumbles, scattering empty bullet shells along the ground, and falls onto the tile.

He’s back behind the desk. Lemon falls next to him.

A pair of legs stands between the brothers. Next to them lies a green duffle bag. Empty rifle shells fall to the ground. Tangerine didn’t even realize guns were firing. He followed the legs up in one long sweep of his eyes.

. . .

A million and one things were going through your mind as you fired an automatic rifle at the security team in the lobby. The biggest thing was holding back every fiber of your damn being from screaming at Tangerine and Lemon for being so foolish.

If you had been a breath later, a second too late, these idiots would be laying in a pile of their own blood on the floor. That thought definitely won’t haunt you for a few months.

The other thing you were concentrating on was ignoring the way Tangerine was staring at you right now. He’s not hurt—you kept repeating, over and over again. He’s ok.

The security team was scattering for cover, but finding little, making your job easy as the last of the smoke cleared. They hadn’t been expecting someone to come in from behind and you’d shot a few in the back before throwing the smoke grenade. Only a few were left now.

They seemed to get over their surprise and began firing back, opening the elevators, and using the inside cabins for cover. Keeping the doors open would stop them from being sent back up for more goons to come through. That was good.

You duck down behind the desk. They were still staring at you.

“Yes! Hello!” You stubbornly gritted out while staring into the wood.

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed many times, but no words came out. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t able to say anything.

“Did you get his message?” He was grinning like some kind of fool.

“Message? Which one?”

Was he talking about the hundreds of messages—texts, voicemails, and letters—Tangerine had been sending on a weekly basis? Yes, you’d gotten them. Read every single one. It had been hard enough sleeping normally, after all that you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The guilt was overwhelming.

Lemon’s eyes dart to his brother. You did the same and regretted it immediately.

Tangerine’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. His mustache twitched.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You quickly look away and clear your throat. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, a shit one. We were just trying to bail.”

“Can’t blame you. What happened, bad intel?”

Tangerine’s voice resembled a growl, it grated against your ear, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Understatement of the century, love.”

Love. Love. Love.

Lemon wipes his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I have my own problems with your target.” You turn to Lemon but feel Tangerine’s eyes burning a hole in your back. “I was about to sneak in when I saw you two walking down the street.” You check your gun, then rummage through the duffle bag for another clip.

“A massive coincidence then?” Lemon was holding back a smile, eyes darting to Tangerine occasionally. It was as if they weren’t just about to die only five minutes ago.

“If you two still want to bail, that’s fine with me. I’ll give you a window after taking the rest out. I’m going to push on.”

Tangerine spins you around by the shoulder to face him. “Are you fucking mental?”

You’re very close together. The determination it takes not to just lean in and…

Speaking slow, you’re focusing your words and hoping it gets through to him. “Your target has info on me that could get people hurt and ruin my reputation. I need to wipe his computer.”

For all his credit, Tangerine takes you seriously in that moment, even as he looks like he might commit murder. He looks to Lemon—they do that ‘sibling conversation’ without words that they’re so good at.

“We’ll stick around to help.”

“You sure?”

Something in him ignites. There’s a fire behind his eyes. “Fuck yes, we’re sure.”

He’s giving mixed signals now. Is he angry? Probably. But apparently not angry enough to leave you on a job alone.

“Alright…” You say, slowly backing away.

You search through the duffle bag, cold objects graze your fingers, you can identify them each by touch. The laser cutter has a rubber handle. “Lemon—" You toss it to him. “—Cut a hole in the employee door. Tangerine—” You grab another rifle, placing it into his hands. “—Help me take out the last of the guys.”

He takes the rifle and for a moment your hands touch. You expect him to flinch away, or recoil, but he lingers there for a moment. His golden rings gleam—of course he wore them, he never leaves them behind—and catch your eyes until he takes the gun from you.

Fucking confusing.

It had been months, but the three of you worked together like no time had passed at all. Tangerine falling in sync with you, watching your back. Working in tandem, the few remaining riflemen dropped like flies.

“Doors open!” Lemon shouted tapping you and Tangerine’s shoulder.

The three of you waste no time dashing into the small service hallway. Tangerine grabbed the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. You were just about to pick it up, but he gave you a look.

There wasn’t as much polish to this part of the building, the lighting was dimmer, and it lacked the white tiles, replaced by a steely gray metal flooring instead. The hallway was long and narrow, its walls matched the floor in color.

“This should lead to an employee elevator. That will take us to the top office.” You panted, oddly exhilarated.

Lemon was looking down the hallway as he crouched. “Watch out for the desk clerk, she went this way.”

“Still can’t believe you both just walked in the front door…”

“We don’t all have your sense of planning, darling.” Tangerine huffed, hiking the bag higher on his shoulder.

“Did you have any sense of planning?”

“Lemon had a plan.”

You turn halfway back to face him. “You—Tangerine!”

He fixes you with an odd look. “What?”

“Lemon doesn’t even read the briefs! And you let him make the plan?” You shoot an apologetic look to Lemon. “No offense, you’re really great in every other area.”

He gives you a half smile. “I appreciate that.”

Tangerine grinds his teeth. “In my defense, the intel in the brief was already bad.” He steps closer, into your personal space. “And you always come up with the plans.”

You don’t shy away from him, in fact, you inch closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make them, but you should know better—”

Lemon sighs, long and loud. “Can you two please focus? We’re in the middle of a dangerous situation here.”

It took a moment for you and Tangerine to resume, the closeness was intimate. Electricity crackles in the air between you.

You both say ‘Fine’ at the same time, like stubborn teenagers. The tension hadn’t settled one bit.

If Tangerine needed to be ignored for the remainder of this mission, then ok. That’s fine. No problem. That doesn’t bother you one bit. Nope.

The three of you empty the duffle bag of its contents, splitting the ammo and giving Lemon the pump action shotgun. That shotgun was your Hail Mary in case shit hit the fan—which, by your definition, it had.

You three were your own personal attack squad now, armed to the teeth.

The employee lift was at the end of the twisting hallway, metallic doors shining like a beacon. The panel to call it only had the arrow pointing up, a one-way lift. You’d poured over the maps late into the night leading up to your personal mission, often with a glass of wine, and it had struck you as odd that it only offered a one way up.

You jab at the button, and the little golden light is stark against the greys around it. Tangerine stands just behind you; you can hear his breath over your shoulder.

“Why’s it only one way?” he asks, hushed and tense.

“I asked the same question.” You responded turning a little to look at him. “I thought it might be security measures.”

“Doesn’t really make sense though, does it? It lets people like us up.” Tangerine zeroes in on your frown. “What is it?”

“There might be internal controls from the top office. This guy doesn’t fuck around with security.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Lemon sniffs, casting a look back down the hallway.

“An asshole that likes snooping into people’s personal business.”

The brothers trade looks.

“He also works in satellite tech, undercover ops, information gathering.”

There’s a gentle bump into your shoulder. “He’s been snooping into your business, has he?”

How long is this elevator going to take?

“He has.”

“Did he try to blackmail you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he find?”

The elevator dings and the sleek metal doors slide open. The inside is full of ominous red and gold hues. The luxuriousness of it gives you the impression that the boss of the building takes it regularly.

Instead of answering, you step inside and forcefully hit the button for the top floor. Tangerine watches you carefully, studying you. Somehow, he looks like a kicked puppy, yet holding the rifle he takes on a much more sinister tone. He still looks dashing as hell in his suit though. You can see the little gold chain of his necklace around his broad neck.

Focus, focus, focus!

His mustache twitches a bit as he catches you staring. And to top that off, he stands in front of you, very closely in front. Either trying to shield you or irritate you. Possibly both.

He’s wearing the cologne you got him as a present almost a year ago.

“If there’s in house security for this lift, we should be prepared.” You shift a little to see Lemon over Tangerine’s shoulder.

“What do you suggest?”

“They know we’re coming, so we have to be fast. Their access to elevators has been blocked. All remaining security teams will need to take the stairs. This elevator opens to another employee hallway that we’ll have to exit in order to reach the office. That’s assuming—”

The elevator stutters, something above you screeches in the elevator shaft, and the panel lights flicker. All three of you stumble as it comes to an abrupt stop and the dim emergency lights switch on. They coat the interior in a faint red light, turning it into a nightmare scenario.

You groan. “That’s assuming they don’t just turn the elevator off. Fuck.”

Lemon places the shotgun on the floor and motions to Tangerine. Together they pry the paneling off to reveal the switchboard underneath. Lemon fusses with the wiring, using a knife to cut through some and connect it to others.

Sparks fly, flashing in the dim light. Your anxiety ramps. Trapped in an elevator was not on your list of things you wanted to deal with today.

While Lemon fussed with wires, Tangerine turned back to you. “Relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try to stay calm, we’ll be out in a second or two.”

Your blood boiled hot. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

Tangerine smiles at you. “I know you hate elevators.”

“They’re fine, I just particularly hate being trapped in them.”

“Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“That doesn’t help at all!”

More sparks and flickering lights and the elevator doors open an inch. Tangerine has the audacity to smirk in that moment and he touches your chin briefly. His eyes gleam in the dim light.

If you all lived, you were going to kill him.

The twins work wordlessly to pry the elevator doors open. It takes a tremendous effort and both of them are sweaty and breathing hard at the end, but there’s enough space for a person to climb through. Except, you’re going to have to jump down into the office below. Half the elevator is blocked.

“Well, good news is…” Lemon says, scratching his head, “we can get out. And if the elevator can only fall downward.”

“The elevator only goes up, Lemon.” You choke out.

“Oh. Right…well, best get a move on then.”

“I’ll go first.” Tangerine volunteers.

On instinct you reach for him. He sees the slight movement before you hold yourself back.

As if it was easy, he’s crouching down, squeezing through the doors, and jumping into the office below. All with his gun in his hand. Meanwhile, your heart is doing summersaults in your throat.

He holds his hands up, beckoning you. “Come on. You’ve done harder things than this.”

You force yourself to move, crouching down and inching toward the opening. You toss him your rifle. “Like when?”

“Like when you jumped between rooftops in Venezuela.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that! And in hindsight, it was fucking stupid of me.”

He laughs. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

You squeeze through the doors, imagining the elevator crashing down, the doors snapping shut, something—anything drastic, and then throw yourself at Tangerine. He catches you with practiced ease and holds you close to him.

He says something you don’t catch over the sound of your trembling breaths. There’s a pat on your shoulder, Lemon is out.

Regaining yourself, you move away from Tangerine and straighten your clothes. His brow furrows, mustache tilts down. Maybe it was your imagination, but did his fingers grip your clothes? A silent plea for you to stay?

You do your best to ignore it. “Let’s go. Did anyone catch what floor we stopped on?”

“37th.” Lemon says, handing over your gun.

“Two floors short.”

“You think they’re waiting for us?”

“I’d bet money on it. Be careful, both of you. I don’t want to see any heroics.”

Tangerine’s eyes follow you as you move to the front and lead them through the hallway at a jogging pace. The single door at the end is much like the one you entered on the first-floor lobby. There’s a control panel for it to the side. As you run up to it, you press your ear to the other side.

No noise.

Your hand hovers over the button. With one last look behind you at the twins you give them a nod, then press it. The door clicks open a fraction, and everything goes to shit.

They were waiting for you on the other side of the door and the gunfire started up immediately. Your vision was blocked immediately, and you were pushed and tugged out by a strong hand—the world was a blur of loud shots, ringing ears, and scrambling. Grey cubicles shoulder-height tall were set up along the floor, which made spotting the enemy incredibly hard. All the fighting was done in the tight walkways between the office spaces.

Your shirt had blood on it, but you had no bullet wounds. Tangerine sat beside you, holding an arm. He’d been shot in his right arm.

“I said no heroics!” You practically shrieked.

Lemon was firing between cubicles, and from the sound of it, he was holding his own.

“What was I supposed to do, love?” Tangerine pants through the pain.

“You’re supposed to let me handle it!” You’re shouting as you pull out some gauze. The bullet went straight through his upper arm. He’d need stitches but, overall, he would be ok. You poke and prod gently as he hisses with each touch.

His teeth are gritted as he grunts out, “You wanted to get shot?”

“I’d take a bullet for you, happily. You know that.”

“I feel the same way, which is what I was doing.”

“I still don’t want you to!”

“I don’t want you to, either!”

Something bounces off your back. It’s a stapler. Both you and Tangerine stare at it for a moment, confused.

“Oi! You two! Get over yourselves and actually talk about your feelings for once!”

You whip around to stare daggers at Lemon. “Did you just throw a stapler at me?!”

He’s taking cover behind a grey cubicle not too far away. “Yeah, I did! I’m sick of you two avoiding an actual conversation. Talk—it—out!”

Tangerine sits up, pushing against your hands on his chest in your weak attempt to keep him down. “You’ve lost your mind, mate!”

“Thomas would say to express your feelings, that bottling them up is bad for you! So, express them!”

“Is it really necessary—” You pick up your rifle and fire blindly down the walkway, “—to do this now? We’re a little busy!”

“It’s now or never, I know you two! Once all this stops, you’ll avoid it!”

Tangerine looks perplexed, like he’s really considering it, and you try not to look at him again. “Fuck this job!” You shout, before rolling into the walkway and opening fire.

The two or three men that hadn’t been behind cover are caught by surprise and the bullets chew through the walls of the cubicles. A deadly silence permeates the office floor, only the ringing in your ears remains.

Another shot rings out and you feel like your shoulder’s been ripped from the socket.

You’re thrown back onto the ground. It must have been a heavy round, your left arm is completely numb, do you even have an arm left?

There’s shouting and more gunshots, the grey office walls and floor merge into one as the room spins. You’re getting pulled off the ground, someone is prodding your arm. Absentmindedly, you swat at whoever is doing it.

“Listen, hey, open your eyes!”

Tangerine…

You obey. He’s inches in front of your face, brows furrowed, a vein in his forehead sticks out.

“I’m fine.” You cough out. “Just fell down, is all.”

“You’ve been shot!”

“Oh.”

He struggles, he looks like he has more to say, but stays silent. You swat at Lemon who’s wrapping your arm—or shoulder, more accurately. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not fine.” Lemon grunts, pushing your hand away. “It was a .308 round. You’ll be lucky if you have any bones left in your shoulder.”

“Why’d you do that?!” Tangerine is shouting, running his hand through his hair. You both match now, he’s bandaged up on his left arm too.

“Do what?” You ask through gritted teeth as Lemon tightens the bandage.

“Run out like an absolute lunatic?”

“I told you I’d take a bullet for you.”

His eyes bug out. “You threw yourself into the line of fire!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, can we get back to it?” You don’t wait for a response, instead pushing yourself to your feet. Your left arm hangs to the side, limp and numb. A dull throb pulses through your side.

Tangerine watches you. “We need to have a serious discussion when this is over, love.”

You huff out a breath, swaying slightly. “Noted.”

The three of you push on in tense silence. Tangerine makes sure you’re behind him while the rest of the floors leading to the main penthouse office are cleared. He’s acting so stubborn, blocking you at every turn, holding you back with a gentle, yet unyielding hand. The vein in his forehead never goes away.

Finally, the double doors leading to the office are before you. Platinum gold, of course, with carved handles. This guy’s style was beginning to get obnoxious.

Lemon kicks open the doors with as much anger and prejudice as you feel (yet can’t muster at the moment). Instead of what you were expecting, the target stands alone behind his desk. He smirks, giving off a Wall Street investor impression with his pressed suit and perfectly cut hair.

He spreads his arms wide. “I really should have known you three would be together for this.”

“Shut up, wanker.” Tangerine shouts, pointing his gun.

The target opens his mouth to say more, but Tangerine doesn’t let him. He empties the clip into the man’s chest.

The target dies with a startled look on his face, falling back over his desk.

You move past Tangerine, fighting his hands that grip at your clothing. “Thank God for that.”

The computer is easily hacked, the files you’re after are on the desktop. Maybe the dead man was looking to bargain—or gloat. You glance at his dead, glazed over eyes.

Bastard.

Tangerine paces, looking at you often. His job is done, the confirmation is sent to the client through Lemon’s phone.

Your files are downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, and you rip the wiring out of the computer’s back, smashing the server tower. Mission accomplished.

“I guess now that you have what you need, you’ll disappear again.” Tangerine is glaring at you, chewing his lip. His bandage is bloody.

The flood gates open.

“I needed these files!” You shout, worsening the headache you already have.

Tangerine shouts back, taking a step closer. “I would have understood if you had just told me!”

“I couldn’t have told you!”

“Why not?”

“Because—well—I didn’t—It doesn’t matter now!”

“So, you disappear for months, without a word, for something you won’t even tell me about?!”

“I didn’t want to involve you! I wanted to get this done myself!”

“I’m involved now!”

“It was a shitty coincidence you showed up here today, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of this job!”

“I’m not concerned about me!”

“Well, you should be! I care about your safety!”

“And I care about yours!”

In the corner, Lemon shakes his head.

You hold your arm, trying to work some feeling back into it. It throbs and you wish you hadn’t. “I would have come back after this was done.”

“Oh, really?” Tangerine laughs dryly. “How was I to know?”

You groan, throat turning dry. “You’re so impatient! I just needed a little time!”

“You know how often I tried to reach you—?”

“Yes! I heard every message, got every bouquet of flowers—and thank you for my porch, that was really nice.”

Tangerine flounders a little, he still wants to argue, but some of the steam has been let out. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“I’m thanking you now!”

“A whole good that did when I thought you were done with me—” He shoots a look at his brother, “—and Lemon!”

“I’ll say I’m sorry a thousand more times, Tangerine! Is that what you want?”

He turns his back to you, grumbling something.

“I don’t understand why it was such a big deal to you, we’re contractors! We kill people for a living, and you’re freaking out—”

He spins back around. “It’s a big deal because I thought you were hurt.” He stalks closer, you notice his hair has come undone from the neat gel, curls flair out around his neck. “I thought something happened to you!” He’s within arm’s distance now. “It’s a big deal because I love you!”

And then he stops. His eyes go wide, as if he’s just spilled a secret.

Fuck, he did just spill a secret. Maybe you had known, but he’s never said anything. It was always just little guesses here and there, a thought—a feeling—and inclination. Late nights, especially recently, that you spent thinking about it, wondering.

Your mouth falls open in the silence. “I—I…love…” but damned if your mouth just wasn’t getting it out.

Arguing and bickering was so much easier.

But he knows, he can see it in the way your eyes soften, in the way you swallow with a dry throat. In the way your hand reaches to him, and your body leans forward.

“You know…” Lemon says, looking up from his phone, “Most people would kiss at this point. Just a suggestion.”

A quip, a very fitting one, comes to mind and you’re about to tell Lemon just how you’re not normal people, when Tangerine pulls you to him. Your chest presses to his and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Hungry, needy. It’s desperate, an urgent need be close, to be touching. Burning with desire and hot with passion. You give into it.

His mustache scratches at your lips and you pull him into you, threading your fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. His hands grip at your back, pull at your clothes.

Closer. You need to be closer.

Fuck air, the feeling of his lips moving against yours is the only thing you’ll ever need again.

Your arm throbs and the dull pulse shoots up to your chest. You sigh, half in pain and half in pleasure. Unfortunately, Tangerine pulls back. There’s blood on his lips and he looks concerned.

“Wait…” You mumble, trying to pull him back to you. He’s your lifeline now.

“You need a doctor, love.”

“Just a little longer.”

Tangerine chuckles, wrapping an arm around your back. “After you’re patched up. I promise.”

…Bonus…

“You’re going to ‘break into my house and wait for me to come home’?”

Tangerine groans, throwing his head back as you walk into the small office. Private clinics with ‘respectable’ doctors. Gotta love ‘em.

“Love, I didn’t mean it, I was in a life-or-death situation—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

You give a good-natured laugh, sitting next to him. You’d been patched up first, Tangerine was just waiting for some blood work to come back.

Tangling your fingers in his you give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just teasing, Tan. I know.”

“Ok.” He sighs, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Good.”

You ruffle through your pockets to pull out your phone, your arm stings, but the pain medication the doc gave you does wonders. “I thought about it, I think you deserve to know why I was after your target.”

He looks at you with new interest now.

You tilt your screen to show him.

It had pictures of you and Tangerine. Pictures of you sitting together at lunch, laughing. Pictures of you walking down the street together, arm in arm. Pictures of you looking like a couple.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “I see.”

“I was worried you’d be put in danger if these…well, if they got into the wrong hands.”

“Didn’t want our clients to think we were softies either, huh?”

“That too.”

He presses his face into your hair. He hasn’t expressed his feelings for you again, but you’re starting to realize he always had—just through actions instead. A gentle hand on the small of your back. Wrapping an arm around your waist. Leaning down to speak softly into your ear.

These were just as much of an expression as words.

“Will we have to do this every time?” he asks, voice muffled slightly.

“Every time what?”

“It’s only a matter of time before more pictures of us make it into someone’s hands.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I’ll be dammed if I have to stop taking you out over that.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to kill whoever tries something like that again.”

“We’ll do it together next time, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

#Tangerine x Reader #Fem!Reader #Tangerine Bullet Train #Bullet Train

128 notes · View notes

something-tofightfor · 1 year

Text

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #1: Javier Peña - Apology Kiss

Starting this one off with our favorite DEA agent and a request that goes a little against the grain for him. Thank you for requesting this, Anon!

Not connected to any other Javi Peña I've written and takes place after the events of the show. Written with a female Reader in mind.

Word Count: 1582

Rating: M? A little angsty, a couple mentions of Javi's informant escapades.

Javier Peña didn’t do romance. He didn’t even usually do relationships in the traditional sense, especially after the way things had ended with Lorraine and the way his life had played out in Colombia.

But when it came to you, he tried, even though it took him some time to accept the idea.

Years spent with the DEA, living minute to minute in foreign countries and never knowing whether or not the day would be his last had put things into perspective, though it had taken until well after he was back in Texas for the meaning of the words live in the moment to really sink in.

At first, your gentle “let me know when you make it home” requests had bothered him. He wasn’t used to anyone that wasn’t a colleague or his father acting concerned about his whereabouts. And the way you weren’t willing to let one syllable answers and non-committal grunts speak for him when you asked how his days were rubbed him the wrong way, too, because it meant having to open up in ways that he wasn’t familiar with in order to answer.

But what had taken him the longest to get around were all of the little ways you were constantly attempting to care for him, and how useless - and frustrated - it made him feel.

Javier knew he was a capable man. After all, he’d been lead on two of the most important busts led by the DEA in recent years. He’d managed to infiltrate cartels and offshoots of cartels and play both sides successfully without getting himself killed. He’d built and maintained a network of informants; some of them women whose company he enjoyed and others regular citizens desperate to change something, no matter how small what they had to offer in the way of information was.

But when your patience shone through - you more than willing to explain the basics of cooking or why it was important not to just toss every article of clothing together into the same temperature water and hope for the best or when you suggested working your way through all of the movies and music that he’d missed out on instead of just starting with what was out now - it really made him feel like an asshole.

And being an asshole was definitely not something that Javier Peña was comfortable with.

He’d met you a few months after coming home for good. Javier was sitting on a bench at one of the many parks overlooking the Rio Grande while he waited until it was time to pick Chucho up from a meeting he had scheduled downtown about the ranch. You approached cautiously with one hand raised and extended, voice carrying even though you kept your distance. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my watch battery stopped … could you tell me what time it is?”

His answer had relieved you - your shoulders sagging as you thanked him. For the next fifteen minutes the two of you made small talk, Javier the one that had to say goodbye first - but not before you asked him if you could give him your number, just in case he ever wanted to use it.

He was used to women approaching him, but there was nothing desperate or cliche about your interest. Not only had he taken your number when you handed it to him on a piece of paper ripped from a pocket sized notebook in your bag, he’d given you his in return, black ink and his name scrawled in ballpoint pen over another page.

From there, the connection grew, and it didn’t take long for either of you to realize that it was a real one.

It was friendly at first, the two of you meeting for lunch or a single drink once a week, and then it progressed, Javier inviting you to see the ranch and you offering your couch and VCR in return, along with an almost endless supply of popcorn and the kind of fizzy drinks and sweet treats he hadn’t let himself indulge in in years.

You initiated the first kiss, and he didn’t discourage it - lips meeting for the first time on the sidewalk outside of some chain restaurant whose Tuesday night special boasted the best wings in town. From there, everything escalated.

One night a week turned into two, and that turned into three or four, split between your place and his. You met Chucho, the man delighted by your presence and immediately launching into stories about Javier as a child whenever you came into view.

He met your friends and some of your family too - bumping into them while you were out, or stopping to drop something off before the two of you set out for a long drive through the flatland east of the city on your days off.

The more comfortable things got, the more uneasy he became at just how easy it would have been to get used to things being that way all the time… if he’d let it. And so when Javier showed up at your place late one night, his well-worn leather jacket snug against his frame to end it, he didn’t bother telling you the truth behind the decision.

He told you everything but the truth instead, spitting out that he was a grown fucking man and that he didn’t need someone to coddle him all the time, and that it seemed like you were getting too goddamn comfortable making decisions for him before turning to walk away, shoulders straight as he made his way back to the truck.

He didn’t relax until almost a mile down the road.

You’d barely reacted to his words aside from recoiling and blinking a few times, one hand gripping the door frame as he shook his head, words pouring from his mouth in the hazy glow of your porch light. And when he turned to go, you hadn’t stopped him, Javier picking up an almost silent “Be careful, Javier,” as he walked away from you. Those three words were what he focused on while he drove.

And what he kept focusing on as he swerved suddenly, turning around with a squeal of tires against loose gravel, the journey back to your house made with his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He didn’t ever apologize. He’d learned it was useless, because an apology wouldn’t bring back someone after they were shot. It wouldn’t unexplode a bomb, or keep someone from overdosing on cocaine. Sorry was just a word, and he’d gotten so used to hearing everyone else around him constantly apologize that the word itself made his lip curl.

But for you, he’d try to prove that he really was apologetic for the way he’d treated you because he was scared of the alternative - as long as you’d let him.

Javier parked his truck in your driveway and gripped the wheel for a few seconds, taking two long breaths - and then headed for your front door, his heart pounding.

You answered after a single knock, the expression on your face sad, the hurt in your eyes evident. But you didn’t slam the door in his face, and that was a start.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

It stuck in his throat but he meant it, the man’s eyes narrowing for a second before he continued. “I’m not used to this. I couldn’t be used to this, and now it’s…” Squeezing his eyes shut, Javi shook his head from side to side. “Truth is that I’ve never had anyone treat me like you do before, and I’m still getting used to it. Scares the hell out of me how much I want to get used to it, actually, because -”

“Javier.” You reached out, laying your hand against his cheek. “I accept your apology. We’re going to have to have a conversation about all of the things you said,and what you meant but -”

“I really am sorry.” He said it again, and that time the words came smoothly, the furrow of his brows easing as he realized he truly meant it. “We’ll talk about it whenever you want.”

“Come inside.” You smiled at him, gesturing to the hallway behind you with your other hand. “I just finished making popcorn. Figured it wouldn’t take you long to come back, and -” Of course you did.

He moved before you finished, both of Javier’s hands rising to cradle your face between them as he tilted your face to kiss you.

There was no hesitation on your part, the soft sigh that escaped you when your mouths met the final thing he needed to truly relax.

It wasn’t a prelude to a frenzied removal of clothes or the two of you making your way to the couch, only unzipping and pushing what was necessary to the side. It wasn’t to keep you from prying or to keep himself from having to make an excuse or avoid a conversation.

It was just a kiss because he wanted to kiss you, and when he pulled back enough to murmur the words a third time - I’m so sorry - you nodded, tugging on his belt to pull him fully into your house and then pushing the door shut behind him.

At the sound of the quiet click, your lips still flush with his, Javier smiled without stepping back, thumbs sweeping over your cheekbones. He still didn’t like apologies, but part of him was very thankful for the opportunity to make them to you - no matter how many it took.

---

#javier peña #Javier Peña x reader #javier Peña x female reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #narcos fanfic #javier Peña fic #summer kiss prompt #2023 summer kiss prompt #javier peña masterlist #javi p #summer kiss prompt masterlist #javi p + apology kiss #practice makes perfect

190 notes · View notes

illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 days

Text

The Halloween Party

Lee Harker x fem!autistic!reader Warnings: brief mentions of drinking/intoxication, smoking, awkward autism times, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Lee meet in the most unlikely of places (at least for you two): a party. But it's your mutual awkwardness that endears you to one another.

You couldn’t believe you’d let your friends drag you to this Halloween party… You weren’t a party person, especially not big, loud ones like this. But they’d insisted, said they were going all out for their costumes. When you’d clambered into the back seat of the car as they picked you up on the way, you realized that you’d wildly misunderstood what “all out” on costumes meant. All your friends… their outfits were skimpy and sexy. They looked amazing.

You, on the other hand… well, you’d spent three hours spiking your short hair up with gel and drawing a beard on your face with eyeliner and a brow pen. When you got in the car, you swear you could’ve heard crickets.

“Um… so who are you exactly?” one of them asked.

You shuffled awkwardly. “Gay Fieri.”

“You mean Guy Fieri?”

“No, no. Gay Fieri. Because I’m gay, get it? Like drag, kind of.”

They all laughed, and you blushed a bit. It was all in good fun, of course, but this wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time that you’d unintentionally missed the memo on what a particular turn of phrase meant. You'd missed what kind of costumes all your friends would be wearing. Not that you’d have worn something like that anyway… You were much more comfortable in your loose button-up and jeans.

You knew, ten minutes into the party, that you’d probably end up Ubering home after a while. There were too many people for you, many of whom you didn’t know. It was too loud and chaotic and your friends were having fun in places other than the corner with you. Which was fine, you just weren’t cut out for parties like this.

Another woman–a little taller than you, sunglasses on even in the dimly-lit house, sidled up to the corner with you, sipping quietly from a cup. She wore an FBI jacket and a lanyard with what you assumed were fake credentials.

“I hate parties,” she muttered over her drink.

“Me too,” you agreed before settling into a comfortable, people-watching silence.

After a few minutes, even behind the sunglasses, you noticed she was watching you.

“What?” you asked, flushing a bit.

“Who are you supposed to be exactly?”

“Gay Fieri. Like, the Food Network guy, but gay. Here, like this.” You set your drink down on a nearby counter and stood up tall, doing your best to adopt Guy Fieri’s voice and personality and, you weren’t gonna lie, you were pretty good at it. Call it a remnant of a childhood hyperfixation on Triple D. Your voice immediately shifted into that particular Guy Fieri cadence. “I’m Gay Fieri, and we’ll see you next time on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dykes!”

The girl cracked a smile, just a small one, like she was trying to keep her face passive, and you grinned, knowing that even if she didn’t want to show it, you’d made her laugh.

“Anyway,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. “Your costume’s pretty obvious.” Then you realized your words could sound insulting and backtracked quickly. “Not in a bad way or anything! Just… uh... clear, you know? Not… ambiguous?” Jesus, this conversation was going terribly. You probably should go home while you were ahead or, well, not so far behind.

“It’s not a costume,” she said, her voice blunt, almost flat.

“Oh…” It took a minute for your brain to register what that meant. “Oh, so you’re… a real FBI agent?”

She nodded, taking another sip of her drink.

“That’s cool.”

You sat in silence for a few more minutes. Normally, you’d be nervous about the silence, it’d make you feel like you were doing something wrong. But somehow with this girl, it didn’t feel wrong, just felt like how both of you would be most comfortable.

“I’m Y/N,” you blurted out, realizing you’d forgotten to introduce yourself or even ask her name.

“Lee,” she replied, watching you stim your hands awkwardly at your sides for a moment. She slumped against the wall. “So who’d you come here with? Boyfriend?”

You scoffed, amused. “Do I look like the kind of person who has a boyfriend? Please. I came here with my friends. I don’t like boys, not my type.”

Lee had that look on her face again, the almost-smile, but she was hard to read with the sunglasses on. People were hard for you to read anyway.

“What is your type, then?” she asked, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket.

Your answer was honest, blunt, and you blurted it out before even thinking, before making the connection, not realizing how it would sound: “Women in law enforcement.”

You meant it as a joke, you meant it as a stupid, stupid reference to your obsession with cop television shows, like Criminal Minds or SVU, but… there was a real, live woman in law enforcement in front of you and… well, you’d just accidentally been more forward than perhaps you’d ever been in your life.

“I mean, uh… anyway…” You shuffled uncomfortably, your body and brain screaming at you to get out of there before you dug yourself further into a hole. “I gotta… one of my friends… see you later.”

You found one of your friends and joined the group she was talking with, not really wanting to converse, but trying to at least act intrigued, act… not as flustered as you were. But you noticed her all night–Lee–in your periphery, and you thought it might be just your imagination, but it felt like she was watching you. It made you both embarrassed and excited. On the one hand, maybe she… maybe she liked you, too? But, no, why would she? You looked ridiculous. You acted ridiculous. Probably she was watching you because she couldn’t believe anyone could be such a huge, raging idiot.

A little bit later, you were sitting on the curb outside, relishing the quiet of the night, waiting for your Uber, when two women sat down on either side of you. They weren’t your friends. You didn’t know who they were at all.

“Uh..” you stuttered.

“You’re Y/N, right?” one of them asked.

You were very confused. You weren’t a popular person, and there’s no reason at all why these two random women would know you.

“Yeah…?”

“Our friend Lee really likes you. She thinks you’re cute.”

Your stomach dropped nearly to the asphalt underneath you. No way. No fucking way. “Uh… what?”

“The FBI dweeb who didn’t even wear a costume,” the other said, describing her. “She couldn’t keep her eyes off you all night. You should ask her out.”

“Oh, I don’t–”

At that exact moment, Lee herself appeared in the doorway, her face immediately turning crimson as she saw her friends sitting next to you.

“Guys,” she grumbled, walking quickly down the porch steps. “Oh my god… seriously?”

Her friends giggled, obviously a little drunk, as Lee approached, hands crossed over her chest.

“Get out of here,” she chastised as they stood, laughing, and made their way back inside. “Jesus… leave her alone.”

Lee sat down next to you, sighing heavily as she removed her sunglasses. Your breath caught in your throat, and your cheeks burned. She was already pretty, but her eyes. God, so lovely and deep and–and… You had to look away.

“Sorry about them,” she said, her voice flat.

“It’s okay…”

“Did they, uh… did they say…” Her face was turning red, too, and you could tell what she was trying to get out.

You nodded, your voice quiet, timid. “Yep.”

She blew out her cheeks, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay…”

You sat in silence again for a minute, and you still loved having her there, still liked the way the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. Lee pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, holding it gently to her lips before exhaling. She was so pretty. So cool. Why would she ever like you? But you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you let it go without even trying, without even just seeing if maybe it was real, the things her friends said.

“Was it… were they right?”

She looked at the ground, taking another drag on her cigarette, blushing a little. “Yeah.”

Your stomach did a little flip. You couldn’t believe it, couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. You knew you had to make a ridiculous picture, you sitting here with your fake beard and your spiked hair, Lee next to you looking impossibly cool like, apparently, she did every day. And she'd looked at you and thought… more?

“Um…” You weren’t really sure how to go about this. “We could… maybe we could… hang out sometime?”

She still didn’t look at you, her eyebrows furrowing thoughtfully. “Hang out?”

Be clear, you thought. Say what you mean.

“Go out… on a date.”

Now, Lee did turn to look at you, her wide, brown eyes piercing and intense as they took you in. You couldn’t read them yet, couldn’t tell what they were saying, but god you’d like to learn.

You were quick to backtrack. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Or just hang out. Either one. Or neither… or–”

“Give me your phone.” She tucked her cigarette behind her ear, so that both of her hands were free, typing her contact info in. You could barely breathe, barely believe this was happening to you, it was like a dream. She handed it back, looking you in the eye again, retrieving her cigarette and taking another drag. “I’m free tomorrow. If… if you are.”

“I–” You stumble over your words. “Uh… yeah. I’m free. I’m 100% free. So free, you wouldn’t believe.”

She gave you that half-smile again, looking at the ground, and you felt your stomach erupt in butterflies. Oh, you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of making her look like that.

Your Uber pulled up, and you were reluctant to leave, but you held onto the promise of tomorrow. “Tomorrow then?” you clarified. “I’ll text you?”

She gave you a little wave, smiling softly, for real this time, her whole face. And it was as if the sun itself had shone on you. “Tomorrow.”

It was all you could do not to scream in excitement the whole way home.

#lee harker #lee harker fanfic #lee harker x reader #lee harker x fem!reader #lee harker x autistic!reader #longlegs #longlegs fanfic

38 notes · View notes

bellysoupset · 2 months

Note

I need some Luke and Vince😭I loveeee the romance but I am obsessed with Vince and Luke's bromance😂🙈

Soooo I wrote this and it was supposed to take place while Leo is still in Europe with Jonah & Angie. Ignore the fact I'm posting out of order pls pls, this comes before the migraine fic with Bell that I just posted.

---------

Lucas loved his new job.

It had been the product of many therapy sessions and, simultaneously, a spur of the moment decision after Bella pushed him once more to get out of the house.

He liked helping people, he liked that within a week or so working he easily could recognize people and they were warming up to him — the actual people needing the charity’s services and his coworkers —, he liked using his pushy personality for a good thing and not feeling one bit guilty about it.

His superior was a woman in her late seventies, named Sylvie. Sylvie smoked too much and she had wrinkly fingers, washed out fingerprints by years of working with her hands, and a big white afro that contrasted against her small face. She wore golden rimmed glasses that covered half of her face and purplish lipstick.

Sylvie was attached to Welton’s Non Governmental CoAlliance since the sixties, had basically grown alongside with it, and no one would or could ever accuse her of being uncaring, even if she was rather practical and cynical.

Lucas had been expecting someone softer and sweeter to be running a non profit and he was surprised during their first meeting when she had been rather curt with him.

She triggered the part of his brain that really wanted to be liked, to impress her. So when she popped her head in the office and pointed at him, saying “Atwood, get your stuff, you’re coming to this lunch with me”, he hadn't even questioned it.

It was just a Friday and he was supposed to go down to Doverport to meet with Vince for the weekend, so Lucas nervously chewed the inside of his cheek as they drove in separate cars to a fancy restaurant uptown to meet with the mayor and other local representatives.

“You’ve been press trained before,” Sylvie said once they parked in front of the place. She patted his cheek, on her very tippy toes. The woman reached about his chest and yet Luke felt so small around her, “but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate. If they want you to explain anything about the shelter, about the actual work we’re doing you will…?”

“Redirect them to you for any official statements, ma’am.”

Her face got even more wrinkly with a smile, “forget the mayor is even there, Joshua hates when people suck up to him and he’ll be all the more interested if you pay attention to anyone but him,” she instructed him, then took Luke’s arm with a fond shake of her head as he offered, “aren’t you charming?”

He had forgotten how much he liked talking with new people. Genuinely enjoyed meeting them and listening to their small talk, asking about their jobs and mentally cataloging them. How the mayor’s eyes sparkled as he heard Sylvie introduce Luke as “Lucas Atwood-Howard”, instead of just his first name.

It was still an adjustment, to have so many people know who he was before he could properly introduce himself, but it also felt… Right. As if he had been hiding something for the past seven years since he had dropped his final surname and slowly even his first one. Becoming “just Luke” was great, but it couldn’t go on for forever and felt a little like shedding his childish manners to finally embrace the full weight of his name and all the opportunities it could open for him and others.

As it was, “lunch” stretched well into the evening. He had to sneak to the bathroom to text Vince to let him know he’d be late and let Bell know he wouldn’t actually go home before heading to Doveport, as initially planned.

They didn’t actually talk about politics or any real measures, something that didn’t surprise Luke. Networking was a slow dance and while they were all definitely aware this was their job, part of the job was pretending it was all a friendly get together.

He fit the part to a T, indulging all the questions that were thrown his way — About his major, the fact he had been part of the local football team, what were his opinions on the university infrastructure, how he was liking the new job… He even forced a laugh at “ you’re so young to be married, kid, who fooled into this?”

“You did great, Atwood,” Sylvia said once they were left all alone. She was yawning in her hand, despite it not being 6 PM yet, and Luke allowed himself to relax, leaning back on his chair. He felt packed full, although he had eaten just a little bit more than usual. Back when he used to bulk he could stomach way more, but it had been over a year since he stopped doing that.

The heavy feeling from the restaurant only grew on the drive to Doveport. He had ordered a sprite for the ride and the first couple of burps, airy and long, had been a relief. His belly was pressing against his jeans and in the privacy of his car he undid his fly and squeezed his stomach, forcing up another belch.

However the burps soon stopped helping. Around his sixth one, the belch turned wet halfway through and brought up with it a little bit of sprite. Luke hurried to swallow it down and groaned as the tight sensation on his stomach turned into queasiness.

He shook the can of sprite, wearily considering if he should finish the last gulp or not. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Lucas chugged the remaining bit and then immediately swallowed a bit of air to force up a burp… And it got stuck right in his chest.

Luke whined, moving the hand that had been cradling his bloated belly up to his chest and thumping on it, trying to force out the burp, but no such luck. All it did was slosh his stomach contents and another goosebump of nausea run down his spine.

His mouth felt sweet and sticky and he wished he had picked sparkling water instead. He planted both hands back on the steering wheel and breathed deeply, trying to calm down his belly. No longer it was just heavy, but now he could feel its contents rolling and churning, producing some angry snares and growls.

His shirt glued to his back and Luke grimaced, turning off the A/C and fully lowering both front windows, hoping the breeze would help.

It didn’t, only made him shiver. He rolled the windows back up. One hour for Doveport. For a brief second he considered turning the car back around, he wanted his own bed and Bella’s comforting hands. However that would mean three more hours of driving and just the thought of that made Luke groan out loud.

By the time Luke finally parked in front of Vince's house, his queasiness had grown into full blown nausea and his head was swimming. He was pretty sure he had parked all wonky, but that didn't matter, as he threw the driver's door opened and retched loudly.

"Hello to you too?" Vince teased him lightly, walking out of his tiny house. The orange light of the living room spilt on the steps that separated it from the street and almost touched the dark grass on which Luke was trying to bring up his lunch.

"Stand-" Luke interrupted himself with a thick burp. It turned frothy at the end and he could just taste the nauseating pesto sauce, causing him to gag and spit a mouthful of saliva on the grass, "stand back..."

"Are you sick?" Vince seemed absolutely unbothered and Luke shook his head, pressing a hand to his belly and trying to work up anything. He hated the sensation of something heavy sitting on the base of his throat, it caused another gagging fit, but nothing came up.

"Lunch isn't sitting right," Lucas groaned, his voice hoarse, as another burp brought up another small splash of acid, but nothing else.

"Okay," Vince walked closer and planted a hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, "come inside, you don't wanna sit here hurling on the grass."

"I don't wanna be sick, period," Lucas scoffed, leaning to his side so his forehead could meet Vince's tummy since the other man was standing next to him. He sank against the soft surface with a sigh, causing his best friend to chuckle.

"Okay," Vin petted his hair gently, "c'mon, help me here..."

Gently, Vince pulled him standing and Luke immediately let out a groan, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Standing made everything churn and he stopped moving, shuddering as nausea caused his mouth to water.

"Fuuck..." He groaned, bracing against his knees and spitting on the grass, swaying on the spot.

"Are you sure it's just indigestion, man?" Vince moved closer slightly, his big hand coming to support Luke's forehead and inconspicuously looking for a fever.

Lucas nodded, unable to speak, and then forced a burp. The belch fizzled out in his throat and he groaned, pressing on his belly and causing his stomach to thrown in the towel. With a choking noise, a horrible gush of bright green vomit fell on Vince's yard.

His best friend let out a yelp and jumped back slightly, but didn't let go of Luke, which was a good thing, because the next minute his knees gave up on him and he fell down, choking up yet another stream.

Lucas' throat was aching and his head swimming, his belly still felt full of something hot and bubbly, but his gag reflex diminished and then vanished as he finishing spitting up the remaining taste.

"Well... That sucked," he groaned, collapsing back against Vince's legs. The other man grabbed him by the armpits, forcing Luke back on his feet with one swift motion.

"Linda Blair wishes she could be as impressive as you," Vin teased him slightly, patting Luke's arm, "done?"

"Not sure..." Lucas wiped his mouth on back of his hand with a grimace, "my stomach still feels so gross... Hi."

"Hi," Vince rolled his eyes in an amused way, squeezing Luke's nape and guiding him inside the house, "sit on the couch, I'll get you some water."

"Urgh-" he muffled a little burp, "get a bucket too..." Luke called after him, falling sit on Vince's small couch and planting his feet on the coffee table. His pants were already undone, but they still felt constricting and Luke wrinkled his nose in disgust as he pulled his shirt up to his chest and noticed how bloated his belly was.

"Here," Vince came back, handing him a small yellow bucket from the laundry room and a plastic mug filled with cold water. His eyes paused on Luke's stomach and he raised his eyebrows, "that looks upset."

"Feels like it too," he nodded, gulping down the water and fully removing his shirt. He felt so warm. Lucas pressed his fingers to his bloated stomach and then let out a burp, making a face when it tasted just like his lunch, "sorry- Sorry for messing up our plans."

"Eh," Vince shrugged, sitting on the couch as well and turning on the TV, "you can watch the game while hurling too, it's fine."

Luke chuckled lightly at that, moving slightly so he could press his face to Vince's bicep and letting out a sigh when the half folded position only seemed to make his belly pulsate.

"C'mere," Vince grabbed him by the arm and Lucas didn't need to be told twice, fully collapsing against his best friend's lap. The couch was too small for him, his legs were sticking out, but Luke had no intentions of moving.

He planted the bucket in front of him, on the ground and between Vince's flip flops, then groaned as he felt Vin's hand on his belly, "dude, be gentle, it feels so fucking gross."

"Would medicine help?" Vince flipped through the channels, barely rubbing Luke's stomach but just keeping a hand there, most of his attention focused on the TV. Lucas wondered how much of that was him actually not minding and how much it was Vin just not wanting to embarrass him.

"Maybe later," Lucas moved slightly, curling up his legs. Vince's hand was heavy and warm and it helped a little bit. He was sure Vin could feel all the bubbles and churns under his palm, but the other man said nothing, "how was work?"

"Nice," Vince shrugged, chuckling at the small talk, "we just came back from the field trip and the teens aren't fully up to speed with routine again."

"Aw man, I miss having field trips," Lucas pouted, then grimaced as his belly gurgled fiercely. A warm, thick burp crawled up his throat and he pitched forward, thinking it'd turn into a retch. When it didn't, he fell back against Vince's lap.

"Speak for yourself, if I never go on a field trip again, it'll be too soon," Vince teased him, "I told you Daniels caught the plague, right?"

"You might have mentioned one or a thousand times," Luke's voice was bitter and he felt, more than heard, Vince chuckle. His best friend grabbed his arm, shaking him lightly.

"You're jealous?" Vince made no effort whatsoever to hide his amusement, glee coloring his words, "so that's why you're so green?"

"Shut up," Lucas scoffed, shoving Vince's tummy and curling up, "I'm not jealous, I just don't see what's so special about that guy that you won't shut up about him."

"Leave him alone, Luke," Vince continued to chuckle, "I think the man is just lonely, I just- I don't know, I feel for him."

"Saint Vince to the rescue," Lucas mumbled, feeling something horrible burn in his belly. Not just indigestion, but plain, unmitigated jealousy. Vin was his best friend and he lived four hours away and wouldn't shut up about this guy and yeah... Luke was feeling more than a little threatened by Daniels.

"I'm gonna invite him to join us next time we're down the cabin," it wasn't a question, it was Vince letting him know and Lucas scowled, rolling on the couch so he was out of his friend's lap and sitting up.

He muffled a sick burp against his hand and squeezed his eyes, a wave of thick nausea washing over him, how much of it due to the food poisoning or insecurity, he wasn't sure.

"Luke?"

His stomach churned and Luke darted out a hand, but didn't move. Vince didn't need any more incentive, he planted the bucket on Lucas' lap and the man promptly folded over it, drooling.

"Sorry..." he grumbled, tongue curling in revulsion and head swimming, "sorry, I don't- I don't feel so good..."

"Yeah, I know," Vince's voice was gentle, his hand squeezing Luke's nap in an affectionate manner, "get it up, buddy."

Lucas let out a deafening retch, but only a mouthful of sick came up. He squeezed the bucket until his knuckles turned white, struggling to breathe, and Vince thumped his back, managing to dislodge a wave of acidic sick from the bottom of his belly.

"Fuck..." Luke whined, resting his forehead on his forearm and panting, "that sucked."

Vince snorted next to him, causing Lucas to open his eyes and glare at him. His best friend only shrugged, not bothered by the pout in the least, "you feel better?"

Luke scoffed, gulping down air and letting out a gross belch, "nope."

"Gross," Vince wrinkled his nose in distaste at Luke burping right on his face, "are you done, though?"

"Maybe," Lucas' belly let out an angry growl and he winced, "are you gonna keep talking about Daniels?"

"Ma que porcamiseria, Lucas!" Vince cried out in italian, but he was laughing, "you cannot be serious!"

Despite how shitty he was feeling, Luke grinned, "I'm dead serious."

Vince rolled his eyes, snatching the bucket to clean it, clearly deciding if Lucas could joke around, he couldn't be feeling that bad, "you're insufferable, that's what you are."

#mywriting #sickfic #lucas atwood #alright last luke for a bit lmao #food poisoning

32 notes · View notes