#the hour between meetings where I’m just waiting for a client to call in with something that needs me at my desk ten minutes ago?

[peterman-spideyparker]

You're My Zebra (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) (Horses and Zebras 4/4)

Author’s Note: I've finally come up with an ending for this mini series that I like, so it's time to wrap it up! Really, thank you to everyone who's been interested and invested in this series, I never thought it'd be anything more than just a one-off post. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You didn't sleep a wink after Matt left, and with some time before your shift, you decided to get some answers from him, needing to put the pain of the past behind you.

Warnings: Angst (broken heart, nerves related to canon-typical violence, two stubborn idiots in love who never stopped being in love with one another for seven years), swearing, fluff, happy ending

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 1,748

Your heart is racing like a hummingbird’s. This is truly just one of the stupidest things—no, it is absolutely the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. With those injuries from last night, the sheer amount of blood you absorbed up with his gauze, he’s probably not even in! Hell, he might not even be alive. He might not have even made it back to his place; with that amount of blood loss, he could easily be dead on some street or rooftop. But he has to be alive, right? He can’t just show up out of the blue after seven years just to die twelve hours later. At least if you go, someone in that office has to tell him you came, right? Just as you’re thinking about doubling back, your hand is already opening the door to Nelson, Murdock, and Page. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” a blonde woman says, looking up from her desk. 

“Is Matt Murdock in?” you ask. 

You notice how her eyes just barely look over to where you assume his office is. “Can I have your—Hey, wait!”

Walking into his office, you see him sitting at his desk, his fingers running over papers as Foggy stands to his left. 

“Get out, Foggy,” you tell him. “I need to talk with Matt.”

Foggy looks between you and Matt skeptically before standing straight as if he’s about to walk out.

“Foggy and I are discussing case strategy right now,” Matt says curtly. “This is confidential. You can’t be here.”

“Then take a break from it, we need to talk.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. We need to wrap this up, and then we have client meetings back to back all day.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that? It’s 10:00 a.m. What about lunch?”

“Lunch meeting.”

“Then we’ll talk after.”

“I’m afraid we’re staying late. And if you’re here right now, it’s my guess you’re working the late shift tonight.”

“Then I’ll make an appointment with you, I don’t care, we need to talk, Matt.”

“I think we both said everything we needed to last night.”

The sentence and the look on his face is like an ice-cold dagger in your heart.

“You’re a real piece of shit,” you breathe, your face scrunching as you hold back your tears. “Go to hell.”

As you start to walk out of the office, you hear Foggy call out: “Karen, stop them!”

The blonde does as he asks, maneuvering in front of you, mirroring every step you take to halt your exit.

“(Y/N),” Foggy breathes as he comes out to meet you, taking Karen’s place. “What’s going on?”

“A mistake,” you sigh. “And now, after seven years, I guess it’s finally over.”

“Matt said something about last night. Did something happen?”

You straighten and adjust your hand on the step of your bag. “He came to me for some help. I gave him a hand, and he left when I wasn’t looking.” You notice the slightest raise in Foggy’s eyebrows, and you can tell he knows exactly what’s going on and just what kind of help Matt came to you for last night.

“Turn around,” he says softly.

“Foggy—,” you begin to protest.

“Nope, for once you’re both gonna listen to me,” he insists with a gentle hand on your back, leading you back to Matt’s office.

“Foggy—,” Matt starts once you both enter his space.

“Nope,” Foggy says, holding up his hand. “You two are going to talk about whatever all this is right now. I can handle the client meeting with Karen.”

“But—.”

“No. All of this has been going on between you two for nearly a decade. You’re my friends, and as much as neither of you want to admit it, you still mean a damn lot to one another.”

Walking out of the office, Foggy closes the door behind him, the loud sound of a door clicking shut cutting through the deafening silence of pure tension as you place your bag on one of the client chairs in front of his desk. 

“What the hell, Matt?” you hiss, your voice quivering as tears immediately sting at your eyes. 

“(Y/N)—,” he starts, smoothing out his tie against his button down. 

“No!”

“Keep your voice down.”

Your lip quivers as you stand and stare at him. “I cleaned up so much blood last night, you were incredibly injured . . . You could barely move—It hurt you to breathe, and you just left! I-I . . . I was so scared! I was sick to my stomach! I was half-convinced that if I came here today, you wouldn’t be in because you’d be dead on some street all alone!”

“You had a phone call. I wanted to give you your privacy.” How the hell is he keeping his voice so flat? You feel like you could scream, and he sounds like he’s telling you the weather for the day.

“Oh my God, Matt!” you cry, running your fingers through your hair. “That—I—! Cover your ears and wait! You couldn’t ha—!” Your blood runs cold when a thought runs across the forefront of your mind. “Did you leave . . . Because I left that night at Columbia?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Take off your glasses and look at me!” you shout, rage, hurt, and betrayal coursing through your veins. “I am done. Tell me the truth.”

Pausing for a moment, he does as you ask. You don’t know how it’s possible, but he looks even worse than he did last night. 

“If this is some sort of cruel punishment for something I was genuinely mistaken about, you’ve got a sick sense of justice. I thought I was going to die from how worried I was about you, and you—!”

“I couldn’t stomach the thought of listening to you talk to your boyfriend,” he cuts you off. “I heard him call you ‘baby’, and I—.”

“You could hear that from where you were on the sofa?” you clarify, totally confused. 

“Yeah, I could. My hearing is one of the ways I do . . . what brought me to you last night.” He clears his throat. “It’s a lot to explain.”

“Is that the only reason you left?”

He moistens his lips, his eyebrows pulling together as he shakes his head. “You were gonna tell me no. You were gonna say you didn’t want to see me ever again. That was gonna be the nail in my coffin, and it was gonna be the last time I ever saw you. It made sense to leave while you were on the phone to save us both another heartbreak, but then I heard how you were crying after I left. I wanted to turn around and just hold onto you, but, I think that would’ve only made it worse.”

“I wasn’t gonna tell you no, Matt,” you breathe. 

He tilts his face back up, showing you fresh tear marks along his face. “You weren’t?”

“No, Matt. I was going to say I needed some time. Everything we unpacked last night . . . I was a lot. Between what happened in Columbia, you stumbling into my place, what you were doing last night—I needed time to sit with it. And then you left, and I . . .” You swallow hard before you take a few steps toward him. “I felt so ashamed, because everything about our relationship has been my fault. But all I know with every ounce of myself that I want to fix it, and I swear if you ever leave me again, there is no place where you can go where I won’t find you to give you a piece of my mind and a swift smack to your head.”

His eyebrows shoot up like those of a sad puppy as you make your way around the desk. “(Y/N) . . .”

“I mean it,” you tack on. 

“You have a boyfriend.”

“I care about him, yes. But if you’re asking me to compare my affections, who I’ve imagined a future with? That’s you, Matt. You’re my future, and you always have been.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. “I-It won’t be easy.”

“I know.” You slide your hands into his. “Matt, do you remember that night when we were studying for that exam? When I told you that doctors are told to look for horses, not zebras?”

“Mm,” he hums, leaning his forehead against yours. “I remember that night well.”

“You’re my zebra, Matt. I don’t want easy. I want you. The good, the bad, the complicated, all the messy history—everything. I want to be there for you, and I will sit and talk it all through, I will stay up late to be with you when you get back from being out at night. I want to lay it out so we can start over. Start fresh.”

He squeezes your hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over the back of your hands. “I’m not gonna go anywhere,” he vows. “I swear.”

“Neither am I,” you breathe, resting your forehead on his.

“Can I kiss you?” It’s not so much a question, but an urgent plea filled with need, as if it isn’t fulfilled here and now, he might wither away. You don’t give him the pleasure of a verbal response before you pull him in for a kiss. His hands hold onto your waist for dear life as you wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss is firm and passionate and flooded with too many emotions to properly process. But even in the thick of it, it feels like you’re back in law school the night you got drinks with Matt—light and utterly in love. You’re absolutely breathless when Matt pulls back and the kiss breaks, but he helps steady your racing heart with how he continues to hold onto you. 

“Meet me back here when you get off of work,” he breathes. “We can go back to my place, and I’ll explain everything you want to know. Have a few drinks.”

“Last time we had a few drinks, I ended up in your bed,” you say softly, brushing your nose against his. “And you shouldn’t be mixing the pain killers I gave you with alcohol.”

“Whoops,” he says with a lopsided grin. “Sounds like you’re just the right person to stick around and keep me in line, though.”

You brush your nose against his and smile softly. “Damn right I am. And I’m not going anywhere.”

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[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Bleeding for Gold, pt 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

CW: restraints (standing cuffs), blood, bruises, beating, noncon (non-sexual), knives, institutionalized abuse. Please let me know if I missed anything.

.....

Day 26

The office is different than Ian expected, warm and inviting.

At the front desk, Ian inquires after Spencer.

The secretary types into their computer.  “I’m sorry,” they say.  “He’s currently with a client.  May I take a message?”

“I’ll wait,” Ian says.

“It may be a while.”

“Fine.  I’ll wait.”

Ian sits in a velvet armchair.  Three minutes pass.  He gets up.

“What does it mean to be his client?” he asks.

The secretary gives a big sales smile.  “Being a client here allows you to safely explore all parts of yourself so you can discover your truest self.”

“Right.  So.  What does that mean?”

“It all depends on you.”  The secretary continues smiling as if they are delivering life-altering information.

“What office is Spencer in?”

“He’s new, so technically he doesn’t have an office yet.  His workspace is downstairs until he gets a promotion.”

Ian nods and heads towards the stairs.

“Sir, you can’t interrupt the meeting!”  The secretary calls but makes no move to stop Ian.

Ian doesn’t break his stride.  He follows the stairs two flights down until he reaches a hall lined with brightly painted doors.  It feels like stepping into a nursery or grade school with its die cut labels and vague motivational posters hanging between the rooms.

Ian stands awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs until a uniformed woman appears.

“First time here?” she asks.  “Who were you matched with?”

“Spencer …”

“He’s already with someone at the moment, perhaps we could -”

“We’re together.  I was running late.  I’m sorry.”

“Of course, of course.  Life happens.  We’re glad you could make it.”  She adopts the same sales smile as the secretary.  “Last door on the right, Mr. …”

Ian is already walking away.

He stops at the scarlet door at the end, knocks once, and enters without waiting for a response.

And he freezes.

Spencer is in the center of the room, cuffed wrists pulled high above him by a chin attached to the ceiling.  Deep cuts and multi-colored bruises cover his torso.  His shirt is neatly folded in the corner.

“ - the hell is this?”  A wiry man appears from behind Spencer.

“I was going to ask the same thing,” Ian says.

“Ian?”  Spencer  looks around, eyes bleary.

“I still have an hour left,” the client says.  “I was promised full privacy.”

“What are you doing?” Ian asks as the client presses his hand into a purple bruise on Spencer’s side.

“I’m within my rights,” the client says.  He presses deeper, and Spencer groans.

“Stop!” Ian protests.  “You’re hurting him.”

“Yeah.  That’s sort of the point.”  The client scoffs.

“Ian, just leave it,” Spencer says quietly.  “Please.”

“Spencer …”

“You heard him.  Leave.”  The client puts his hands on his hips.  “This is a private session.  If you want a turn, you can pay for time like everyone else.”

Ian longs to tackle the man and show him how he really feels.  Instead, he clenches his fists at his sides.

“Where are the keys?” he says, stonily calm.

The client tilts his head.  “Keys to what?”

Smug bastard.

“To the cuffs.”

“Not here.”  Smirk.

Ian does hit him then, one swift jab to the face.

“Ian, please stop.”

The client keeps smiling.  “No, no.  By all means, keep going.  This could be more fun than I thought.”

Ian steps back, more to spite the client than for Spencer.

“Let him down.”

The client laughs.  “For the next hour, in this room, I’m in charge.  And he’s not getting out of here until I decide I’m done.”

“I’m not going to leave without him.”

“Don’t worry,” the client says, deeply condescending.  “He’ll make it home to you.”

In any other context, those words could have been reassuring.  But the client pulls a thin knife from his pocket and waves it in Spencer’s direction.

“We have business to finish,” he says.  He adopts a thoughtful look.  “You can stay, under my conditions.”

Ian clenches his jaw.

“If you stay quiet, I’ll be gentle.  Otherwise, I’ll have to call security and then your friend and I will have some real fun.”

Wordlessly, Ian nods and moves between the client and Spencer.  He is close enough to feel Spencer shiver when the client runs his hands across Spencer’s back.

Then it begins in earnest.

Spencer cries out as the client slides his knife through his skin, smaller hurts made worse with open palmed slaps and full bodied punches.

Ian bites his tongue to keep from lashing out at the client.

The client doesn’t seem to tire.

Ian absorbs each blow that Spencer takes until Spencer’s cries turn to whimpers and Ian is the only thing keeping him upright.

Finally, the client stops.  He comes around into Ian’s line of sight.

Ian doesn’t move for fear of jostling Spencer.  He only glares at the client’s self-satisfied smirk.

“It’s been fun,” the client says.  “Could make it official next time.”  He reaches into his pocket and tosses a set of keys at Ian’s feet.  “Sign up.  I’ll see you again.”

He gives Spencer one last smack before he leaves.

…..

Ian drives them back to the apartment in silence.

Spencer refuses help to clean himself and to tend to his wounds.  He passes out on the couch and sleeps deeply all afternoon and all night.

Ian doesn’t sleep at all.

[leiawritesstories]

aelin’s job includes talking on the phone a lot (receptionist? idk) and at the worst moment possible her daughter says she wants to be a call girl just like mommy

i hope you feel better soon! ❤️

the way i WHEEZED when i saw this thank you so much maria 

word count: 1,406

warnings: minor language, major misunderstandings 

Enjoy!!

Just Like Mama

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“All right, I have you booked for next Thursday, the tenth, at eleven o’clock. See you then!” Aelin clicked the button on the side of her headset to disconnect the call and released a muted groan. 

Gods. 

Sometimes she hated working as a receptionist. 

But the pay was good, she got to spend time with her dear friends Lysandra, Elide, and Manon, who co-owned the spa, and she got free or super discounted facials and massages, so she wasn’t complaining. Out loud, at least. They often had picky clientele, the kind of people who wanted things done a certain way and would put up a grand fuss if it wasn’t done the way they envisioned it, and Aelin was known for her ability to soothe ruffled clients and meet their needs without messing up her friends’ carefully constructed routine. 

Hoping for a moment between calls and check-ins, she glanced down at her phone to see a text from Rowan. 

>I’m waiting for Lana to come to the car. 

>Still planning to drop her off with you, yeah? Rowan had a more flexible schedule than she did, as his job allowed him to work part time in the office and part time at home, so he tended to pick their daughter up from school. He did have an important meeting this afternoon, though, so they’d agreed that Lana could stay with Aelin at work for the hour or so until the evening receptionist arrived. 

<Yep. Things are starting to wind down (hopefully) so it’ll be fine.

<Plus Lys and El and Manon spoil her every chance they get. She’ll barely have a moment to be bored. 

>I really should have remembered that. 

<Yeah, you should have. 

>Menace. 

<Your menace 

She could practically hear his soft chuckle. 

>My menace indeed

>Okay, leaving now. Love you. 

<Love you more

Rowan’s car pulled up in front of the spa building fifteen minutes later and a small, blonde-haired, green-eyed girl hopped out of the backseat, a Little Mermaid backpack hanging off one shoulder. She blew a kiss at the car before running into the building, grinning broadly at the way the automatic doors swished open when she approached. 

“Hi Mama!” she called, waving wildly. 

Aelin grinned at her five-year-old daughter. “Hi Lana.” She walked around the desk and went to meet the little girl, smiling as she scooped her into her arms. “How was school today, baby?” 

“Not a baby!” Lana protested. 

“All right, all right, big girl.” 

“School was fun!” Lana opened up her backpack and rustled around in one of the folders inside. “Look! We made handprint turkeys!” 

Aelin almost started crying at how utterly adorable her daughter’s little brown handprint with the bright orange and red feathers and the lopsided googly eyes was. “I love it!” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “We can put it on the fridge when we get home.” Lana beamed. 

Another call rang in on Aelin’s headset. “Caraverre Spa, how can I help you?” She went through the motions of booking another reservation, smiling her customer service smile so the nasal-voiced lady on the other end would think she was being pleasant. “You’re very welcome, have a lovely evening!” she chirped, disconnecting the call. 

There was a tug on her leg and she looked down to find big green eyes staring pleadingly up into hers. “Mama?” 

“Yes, Lana?” 

“I gotta go potty.” 

Aelin glanced at the clock. Shit. There was a client coming in three minutes and she couldn’t go to the bathroom with her daughter. “Do you know where the bathroom is, lovey?” 

Lana nodded. “Uh-huh. I go down that hallway and turn left and the bathroom’s right there.” 

“Okay...” Aelin considered. Manon was free for a little bit longer, so she paged her. The platinum-blonde masseuse appeared almost immediately. 

“What d’you need, Galathynius?” 

“Will you walk Lana to the bathroom? We’ve got a client in two and I have to be here to check them in.” 

“Sure.” Manon grinned at Lana. “C’mon, little princess, if you wash your hands like you know you should, I’ll let you pick out a nail color.” 

Lana was hurrying towards the bathroom in seconds, Manon following. 

Aelin chuckled to herself and then turned towards the entrance, seeing the next client coming in. She checked the pair of ladies in, then accepted another call and was talking into her headset when Lana reappeared and tucked herself into a chair by her mother’s side, her curious eyes sneaking glances at the new clients. 

The ladies noticed the little girl and smiled at her politely, their smiles turning rather sour when they saw that she kept stealing glances over at them. 

“Child needs discipline,” one of them whispered, probably thinking she was speaking too low to be heard. 

The other nodded. “Poor thing, her mother there probably barely has time to teach her anything if she’s at work all day.” 

“Which is why mothers should not have jobs,” the first lady sniffed. 

Lana, of course, had heard the entire conversation, as had Aelin, who was still on the phone. Lana’s eyes narrowed and she jumped out of her chair and stood in front of the desk, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed in an expression that was one hundred percent Rowan. “Hey!” 

The ladies stopped whispering abruptly and turned to look at her. “Are you all right, little one?” the first lady asked condescendingly. 

“You don’t talk about Mama like that, it’s mean!” Lana frowned as hard as she could. “And I’m glad Mama has a job. I wanna be a call lady just like her when I grow up!” 

The ladies’ mouths dropped open in horrified shock. 

Aelin ended her call just in time to hear her five-year-old refer to her as a “call lady.” She nearly lost the grip she had on her humor right then and there. 

“Well I never!” huffed the first lady. 

“Such an example!” the second agreed, bobbing her head. 

“Lana,” Aelin said smoothly, “come along back here and finish your worksheet, it’s almost done.” Lana settled, she turned her customer service smile on the whispering ladies. “I do apologize for my daughter’s bluntness, she has a tendency to speak before she thinks.” 

“I’ll say,” the first lady scoffed. 

Aelin’s eyes went steely. “She also has a tendency to refer to people by what she sees them doing, hence ‘call lady’ instead of ‘receptionist.’” Her smile turned vicious. “Or, as another example, ‘gossipers.’” She waved her hand dismissively. “Instead of whatever profession you two enjoy, one that I am entirely certain allows bountiful time to discipline any children you may or may not have.” 

The ladies were stunned into prissy silence. 

Lysandra strolled into the waiting area, flashing Aelin a private little grin. “Good afternoon, ladies,” she greeted the clients. “Please, come this way.” 

“Have a lovely afternoon!” Aelin chirped, smiling pleasantly. She loosed a heavy sigh once the ladies were out of earshot, turning to ruffle her daughter’s hair. “Lana, lovey, haven’t we talked about not yelling inside?” 

“Sorry, Mama,” Lana mumbled. “But they were mean.” 

“I know.” Aelin kissed Lana’s head. “But sometimes, it’s better to not say anything and let your aunties handle the mean ladies, okay?” 

“Okay,” Lana reluctantly agreed. She stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the hour, just looking up with her big green irresistible eyes whenever another client checked in. 

At four-thirty, Aelin pushed away from the desk, switching off her headset. She tapped a few keys on her computer to clock out, then ruffled her daughter’s pale blonde hair. “You ready to go home, lovey?” 

“Yeah!” Lana put her coloring book into her backpack and popped out of her chair, bouncing on her toes. “Can we make pancakes for dinner, Mama?” She widened her eyes, pleading. “Pleeeeease?” 

Who was she to resist her daughter’s puppy eyes? “Of course, but Dad makes better pancakes than I do.” 

Lana squealed happily, running to the car. The faster she could get home and have pancakes, the better, in her mind. Aelin smiled fondly as she helped her into her booster, closed the door behind her, and drove home, turning the radio on for background noise. And to keep Lana engaged, rather than letting her fall asleep on the ride home. 

Unbidden, the term Lana had used popped back into her mind, making her snort with laughter. 

Call lady. 

Yeah, that one would crack Rowan up. 

[wolfbang97]

Caught red handed

Sub!Jisung x !Dom Reader

Warnings: NSFW!!, fem pronouns (she/her) are used, AFAB, Masturbating(male receiving), degrading, uses of names such as whore, honey, puppy, etc, vouyerism, dacryphilia, slight pet play, pillow fucking, panty sniffing.

Word count: 2.7k

It had been a long day, a long day without her. Her sweet scent, her voice, her touch. These were all things he missed after a long day in the studio, only to come home to an empty apartment with a sticky note on the kitchen counter. He picked up the note, which read “I'll be home a bit later than normal, I’m meeting with a new client today. I love you Ji, can’t wait to see you later!”Jisung couldn’t help the small smile that crept on his Lips as he read over the last part a couple times. “I Love you Ji”. He always adored that nickname, or maybe he just adored the way you would say it, Either way, he couldn’t wait for you to be home to call him all the cute little names you had just for him, in person. He groaned as he ran his hand through his hair before heading to your shared bedroom, basically throwing himself down on the mattress as soon as he got in. “What am I gonna do with myself? ” he mumbled as he laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes fell down to the floor after a while, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he got up off the bed. He made his way around the room, before picking up a pair of pink Lace panties that had been left on the ground. He stood there like that for a while, panties in hand, chewing on his bottom lip as he debated with himself internally. Without thinking any further, he brought the flimsy fabric up to his face, practically burying his nose into the crotch part, inhaling desperately. He nearly whimpered out at the scent, before moving back to the bed. You probably wouldn’t be home for at least another hour right? That would be plenty of time. He laid his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes as he let his free hand travel down to where he needed it most. He took another big whiff of your panties, keeping them shoved in his face as he started to palm himself over his sweats. “Fuck…Y/n, smells s-so good” he whined out, bucking up into his hand slightly, rubbing over his slit with his thumb through the fabric, hissing slightly a the contact.

Hesitantly pulling your panties away from his face, he brought both of his hands down, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his sweats, squirming to try and slide them off before eventually managing to do so. As he sat up slightly, his elbow bumped one of the pillows next to him. But this wasn’t just any pillow, it was your pillow. It probably even smelled like you, right? You held it so close every night, there's no way it didn’t. Jisung knew he was perverted for even considering doing what he was thinking of Doing, But he couldn’t help it, you made him such a horny little puppy. Without any more hesitation, he slipped off his boxers, before sitting up on his knees, reaching for your pillow before positioning it in between his thighs so it firmly pressed up against the underside of his cock. “Sorry Y/n..” he muttered under his breath, before hunching over slightly, rolling his hips experimentally. A shaky gasp left his lips as his sensitive cock head just barely brushed against the fabric of your pillow case. Without wasting anymore time, he desperately reached for your panties, shoving them back in his face as he started to rut his hips into your pillow at a fast, yet sloppy pace, desperately trying to get off on your scent, and the thought of the fact that you would sleep tonight, on the very pillow he was fucking right now, and not know a thing. He knew it was disgusting that this aroused him, not to mention a lot, but he couldn’t help it, you were just so perfect, and smelt so good. how was he supposed to resist?

You sighed contently to yourself as you got up to the level of your apartment, dropping your grocery bags to your feet as you fiddled with your key to unlock the door. As soon as you did, you picked up the grocery bags and brought them inside, setting them on the kitchen counter, before furrowing your brows as you looked around and didn’t see han waiting for you. Most of the time when he knew you were gonna be late, he would take it upon himself to hang out in the living room and wait, so he could greet you as soon as you stepped foot in the door. “Honey? You here?” You called out, cocking a brow as you shrugged your sweater off, hanging it up next to the door before walking through your apartment, continuing to search for your boyfriend. You eventually reached your bedroom, confused as to why the door was shut, most of the time it was left open, simply because neither of you cared enough to close it. Curiosity got the best of you as you pressed your ear to the door carefully as to not make a sound, trying to listen in, seeing as this was the last room, and he had to be in there. As soon as you heard a sound, your heart dropped. He wasn’t doing what you thought he was doing…right? He wouldn’t do that. You reached for the door knob, ready to open it and see that it was all just a big misunderstanding, until you heard it. You heard him.

“Fuckkk- Y/n…please I’m so close, please let m-me- please let me-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you burst the door open, staring down at the scene in front of you with wide eyes. Your boyfriend's sweaty body, naked from the waist down, slouched over a pillow… wait. You took a quick glance at the empty spot on the bed… on your side of the bed, where a pillow belonged. Your gaze instantly shot back to jisung, jaw dropping slightly as you realized he was using your pillow to get off, not only that, he was sniffing your panties as he did so. You could see the color leave his face as he realized he had been caught. “Poor hannie, couldn’t wait for me to come home hm? Are you that fucking desperate?” You spat out in a mocking tone, before slowly making your way over to him.

You watched his desperate attempt to cover himself, climbing off of the pillow and holding it over his lap, tossing your panties behind him.The bed dipped as you sat down on the bed next to hin, bringing your index finger under his chin, tilting it up so he couldn’t hide from your burning gaze. “What happened to my good boy who followed the rules, hm? Where’d he go?” you whispered, looking down at him as you slowly pulled your hand away from his face, before sighing dramatically, getting up off the bed, which visibly confused the other. you walked across the room, before sitting down on the lounge chair you had in the corner of the room, crossing your legs. “If you want to be a bad puppy and disobey me like this. So be it.” You said with a shrug, before leaning back in the chair. “Keep going, show me how a good puppy fucks his pillow.”You said in a low seductive tone, keeping your expression to a bored one as you stared at him expectantly.

Hans heart was beating at a million miles per hour, He was almost sure it would pop out of his chest if he didn’t get his breathing under control. His eyes followed you as you sat down in the chair, exhaling shakily as he heard your words, he wouldn’t lie, they really got to him. “You want me…y-you’re just gonna watch? You aren’t gonna touch me?” He said, in almost a pouty tone. He knew he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to be touched, but his inner brat was very upset. “Please just- I’m sorry ok? Just please come touch me…feels so much better when you do it” he whispered in a breathless tone, it was obvious he was still trying to calm down from getting so close to an orgasm earlier, until you had interrupted him. He could see your expression change into a darker one, your eyes being clouded with lust. “I could hear you panting like a bitch in heat from the other side of the door, so to me it sounded like you were doing just fine. Rutting your pathetic little cock into my pillow And sniffing my panties like the disgusting whore you are.” You spat as you cocked your head, before continuing. “Unless…don’t tell me you're shy now baby, Come on, show me how much you missed me yeah?” all jisung could do was stare, he was at a loss for words. He felt his cock twitch against the soft fabric of your pillow case, whining a bit at the sensation, subconsciously bucking his hips forward, seaking more friction. You chuckled condescendingly as you watched him. “See? I know you can do it. Be a good boy, be my good boy.” You said with a smirk as you chewed on your bottom lip, hoping it was obvious how much this whole thing was turning you on. Just seeing how desperate he was for you, got you so fucking wet.

With a shaky exhale, han started to rock back and forth, leaning forward slightly to place his hands on the mattress in front of him to steady himself, looking at you with watery eyes and parted lips. “Is-is this good? Is this what you- is this what you wanted y/n?” He mumbled out softly, his voice laced with embarrassment. It was clear he was humiliated, wether it was from the tears in his eyes, or the way he stuttered out every sentence while avoiding eye contact, you knew he was, it was obvious. You chuckled at the way he searched for approval, even though he knew you liked what you saw. “Yes baby, being such a good boy for me, showing me how dirty you are” you spoke, before letting your eyes fall to his cock, which was now bright red and dribbling pre cum onto your once clean pillow. “One thing Ji, take your shirt off for me, wanna see all of you” jisung quickly nodded at your command, bringing his hands up to tear his shirt away, before instantly bringing them back to the mattress to support himself as he started to speed up a bit, shutting his eyes and looking away, before parting his lips to speak. “Can I..can I..fuck” he muttered under his breath, trying to build up the courage to ask for what he wanted. “Can I please use the panties again..please..?” He all but squeaked out, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he looked away, continuing to rut into the pillow at a fast pace, making sure to coat his juices all over your pillowcase, wanting to taint it with his arousal, all for you.You cocked your brow, leaning forward in your chair as if to examine him closer. “Oh? You’re asking me now hm? You didn’t bother to ask me earlier. poor thing, too fucking stupid to think with your head, always thinking with your cock, yeah? Isn't that right?” All he could do was nod in response as his pace started to grow even messier than before, one hand moving up to grip the pillow to be able to fuck into it better, chest heaving heavily as soft moans left his lips. “I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer.” You said sternly, before looking up at him, knowing he was getting close by how sloppy his hips were moving. He exhaled shakily, tears welling up in his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the humiliation. “M’sorry…m’so stupid..always a-ah thinking with my mmh my cock!” He hiccuped out, a couple stray tears falling down his cheeks as he spoke, before quickly reaching for your panties, not caring if you didn’t approve of his request. He shoved the fabric in his face, inhaling as much as he could of your sweet scent as he desperately rutted away into the pillow, swollen cock becoming even more sensitive as time went on. “M-m not gonna last, need to cum..p-please let me cum m’so sorry, I’ll be your good boy, yeah? Best boy for you j-just, fuck! Please l-let me cum” he cried out, more hot tears streaming down his face as he looked up at you, cock still fucking away into the pillow at a rapid pace.

You finally got out of your chair, stretching slightly, before slowly, teasingly making your way over to Your boyfriend. “Oh? Do you think you deserve to cum? Only good boys get to cum, and you haven’t been a very good boy today, have you.” you said, trying to seem disinterested as you leaned down so you were crouching right Infront of jisung on the floor. “Tell me, do good boys break the rules?” You asked, awaiting his reply as always. You waited a bit, before your ears were met with a barely audible “n-no ma’am..” not wanting to torture the boy too much you let it slide, judging by how red and angry his cock was, he wouldn’t last too much longer at all. You sigh. Before roughly grabbing his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Normally, I wouldnt let this slide, but, seeing you this desperate and crying all pretty for me…fuck, need to see my puppy cum for me. Hands behind your back, and I’ll let you cum.” You say, before leaning forward, licking his soft pink cheek, collecting his salty tears on your tongue before pulling away, letting go of his face roughly as you walked back to the chair and sat down. Jisung swore he could have cum right then and there when he felt your tongue on his skin. It was all he needed to be pushed over the edge. He quickly put his hands behind his back, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as his pace grew faster and sloppier by the second “th-thank you, m’gonna cum so much for you- y-your puppy’s been waiting all day…been so needy all day- fuck! M’gonna cum, s-so close- so- ah!” Before he could finish his string of nonsense, he came with a broken cry. His cock twitched, before shooting his load all across your pillow, and the panties he had left sitting on top of the pillow. He continued to buck his hips, riding out his high with soft whines, hissing as he started to fuck himself into overstimulation slightly. Once he had pulled away, panting heavily he toppled off of the pillow, rolling onto the mattress, stretching his arm out for you. You chuckled softly, before kicking your shoes off, moving over to crawl onto the bed, moving into his embrace. “I missed you too baby…you did so good for me, such a good boy” you whispered into his ear, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp just like you knew he liked. “You ok?” You asked softly, humming as you looked down at him. Jisung looked up at you with almost what you would call puppy eyes. “So good. Sorry I-sorry I couldn’t wait” he said with a nervous laugh, chewing on his bottom lip, before leaning up slightly to place a kiss right under your chin. “M’ so tired, change and hurry back to cuddle me yeah?” he said with a whine. “Baby, Cmon gotta get you cleaned up first ok? Just lay here, I’ll take care of you” you whispered, placing a kiss to his temple, before getting off the bed to get a damp rag.

“I Love you, y/n” he muttered as he curled up to your pillow, not even seeming to care about the mess that was left on it, as he started to fade off into sleep.

“I Love you too Ji” you said, a smile taking over your lips as you looked down, staring lovingly at the sight of jisung half asleep waiting for you. “More than you’ll ever know.”

[quickspinner]

Indelible Ch 18 - Outline

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | AO3

I’m too tired to make it to the bunker today so I will be lying defenseless face down on the kitchen floor and can only say please don’t murder me for Luka’s suffering 😂

“You know Couffaine,” Crusher called from where he was laying on his back in the dirt, halfway under the van, “I got into music so that I could quit doing this kind of shit.”

“I know,” Luka groaned from where he leaned over the open hood. “It’s not my idea of a good time either.” 

Crusher’s response was only partly intelligible and largely consisted of swear words, so Luka ignored him until he heard the word done amidst the babble. 

“Try it again, Ding,” Luka called, straightening up and stretching his back. A moment later, the engine roared to life, and settled into its usual sputtering rhythm. Luka closed the hood. 

“Let’s get in and get as far as we can before the next time it craps out,” he said, offering Crusher his hand as the bassist wriggled out from under the van. Crusher snorted and let Luka pull him up. 

“You owe me a new pair of jeans,” Crusher complained, rubbing filthy palms on his already-dirty thighs. He didn’t wait for a response, just climbed back in the van. Luka sighed, and got in himself up front next to Dingo. He didn’t even have the door closed before Dingo was pulling back onto the highway with a squeal. Luka didn’t have the heart to chide him. He just buckled up and let his head rest on the window with a sigh. With luck, they’d meet up with Jagged only a little behind schedule, and at least then they’d be guaranteed a few days of things going smoothly. 

Luka had known this tour would be a learning experience, but the harshest lesson so far was how easy he’d had it, riding Jagged’s coattails for his first shows. Jagged himself might be a disaster, but Penny kept a tight, highly organized ship, and she had managing around Jagged’s eccentricities down to a science. Jagged had the clout and the money to get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. 

Luka, on the other hand, was still considered a gamble by the label, and barely more than a nobody by venues and service companies. While Jagged’s support and Luka’s success as his opening act had gotten Luka advantages that first timers didn’t usually get—including a boost to his touring and advertising budget—well, it was very different than traveling with Jagged’s circus, that was for sure. Lucille was a great agent, but she had other clients to manage and she wasn’t onsite 24-7 like Penny. When stuff happened on the road (sometimes literally, thanks to the ancient van the rental agency had given them), Luka had to handle it himself. 

Sitting down with Lucille and looking at the real numbers of a tour had been a harrowing experience, and Luka was well aware how much he and his bandmates would be on the hook for if they couldn’t turn enough of a profit to cover expenses. His association with Jagged had greased the wheels, but it was up to Luka to make sure they didn’t crash and burn. 

Which honestly felt like a distinct possibility every time they got into this damn van. Luka occasionally had nightmares of the trailer detaching on the road and rolling down a hill to demolish all their instruments in a fiery explosion.

Luka sighed. They had enough money for the really important stuff, but he had felt pressured to keep costs down as much as he could. There had been a lot of long hours with Lucille discussing what was really necessary and what they could live without. Some of those choices had worked out, and some hadn’t. After weeks on the road, rushing off to play their own shows in between gigs opening for Jagged, Luka was starting to regret rejecting Lucille’s offer of a tour manager, but at the time it had seemed an unnecessary expense for something he felt he could handle himself. 

He was handling it, but it was wearing on him. Their shows were actually doing good numbers, but the little expenses that kept hitting them at every stop had him nervous. The last thing he wanted was to end this tour in debt, or, even worse as far as Luka was concerned, to have to pay back the label with their cut of Jagged’s shows. That would be humiliating.

Not to mention the band not getting paid. They all knew it was a possibility, and they had all chosen to take the risk along with Luka, but he knew he’d never forgive himself if they walked out of this without any payoff. As it was, he wasn’t sure Crusher would ever forgive him for giving up the cushy job of opening for Jagged even if they did get paid. 

“Quit it,” Dingo said, reaching out to slap Luka’s hand. Luka hadn’t even realized he’d started to chew his thumbnail.

“Sorry,” Luka muttered, reaching for the spinner necklace around his neck. He hooked his thumb in the chain and flicked the spinner with his index finger, trying to focus on breathing. He wished he could talk to Marinette. She was so good at this kind of thing, surely she’d have something helpful or at least sympathizing to say. God, he missed her. 

The first couple months on the road had been almost a relief after everything that had happened. It felt like everyone at home was mad at him, even though he knew it was all out of concern. To be honest, he was a little mad himself, when he thought of how they had all kept pushing and hinting and nudging him into reading more into Marinette’s feelings than were there. It was a big emotional complicated mess and he really needed some distance from pretty much everybody at this point.

Throwing himself into the tour planning between the gigs they had set up around Paris, and then dealing with the chaos of actually getting on the road, he’d had so much on his plate that he didn’t have time to overthink things. There was always something to occupy his mind whenever he got too close to spiraling. Now, though, the chaos was routine enough that his thoughts kept drifting to her whenever he had a quiet moment. He checked his phone, contemplating time zones and where she would be right now, but it was pointless to even try calling her from the van. What few conversations they’d had were slowly getting less awkward, but not enough that he wanted witnesses. 

Especially since Luka could practically feel the hostility radiating off of Crusher in the back seat, as if all of this was Luka’s personal fault. Jenna was quiet and stoic, but her lips were tight, and she’d given up trying to read and was just staring out of the dirty window with her arms crossed. Dingo was bouncing them all over the road, but that was better than him bouncing all over the van. At least being behind the wheel kept Dingo’s attitude aimed at the other drivers on the road, and not at the band. 

Luka sighed in relief when they finally rolled into the hotel Jagged had booked for this set of shows. The doors were opening before Dingo had even fully stopped, and Luka leapt out with the other two, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Dingo yelled “Oi!” behind them as he put the van in park.

Luka let Crusher and Jenna head to the check in desk first, opting instead to pop into the little concession shop. He grabbed a soda and a couple of candy bars full of chocolates and nuts, paid, and went back to the desk, shoving the treats at Jenna just as she turned away from the desk, keycard in hand. 

Jenna groaned and snatched one of the candy bars. She ripped it open and shoved it in her mouth, and then took the other things from him, mumbling a garbled thank you around the bar in her teeth as she shuffled towards the elevator. 

At least one of them was easy to placate, Luka thought, as Crusher brushed past him without a word. 

“Mate, if we don’t find another bassist after this tour I’ll quit myself,” Dingo bitched as Luka stepped up beside him to check in. 

“Not in public, Ding,” Luka reminded him with a sigh, and a weary smile for the concierge. “We good?” 

“Yeah.” Dingo handed Luka the second keycard to their room. “It’s not fair that they get their own rooms and we have to share,” Dingo complained, as he always did. 

“When you’re paying, you can rent your own damn hotel for all I care,” Luka replied, as he always did. “Besides,” he added, “the alternative is we switch off. You really want to room with Crusher, even every other stop?”

Dingo snorted. “One of us wouldn’t make it, mate.” 

“Exactly. I don’t have the budget to bail either of us out of jail.” 

“You are such a fucking buzzkill lately,” Dingo complained. “Can’t you talk about anything else for ten fucking minutes? Let me at least fantasize about murdering him in his sleep and shoving his body out of the van in the middle of nowhere without having to listen to you bitch about money.”

Luka winced. “Sorry.”

They were silent on the ride up the elevator, Dingo staring up at the ceiling while Luka stared at the floor. 

“You don’t suck at this,” Dingo said finally, right before the elevator buzzed and the doors opened. “Quit stressing yourself before we end up an emo band.” He hauled himself and his bag through the door, and Luka trailed behind, blinking suddenly stinging eyes. 

“You can shower first,” Dingo said without looking at Luka as he unlocked the door to the room. “We’re in Penny’s hands for a couple days. Take a load off and try to get some fucking sleep, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Luka rasped, and then cleared his throat. “I will. Promise.” 

Luka tossed his things on the bed, grabbed what he needed, and shut himself in the bathroom before he could lose it any further. Not that he was particularly embarrassed about crying in front of Dingo, who’d seen far worse. Luka was tired and stressed out and he knew Dingo understood, but he didn’t feel any need to spread the misery. Dingo was right, things would go smoothly for a few days, so Luka had the luxury of falling apart a little bit.

So he cried under the hot water, leaning his forehead against the tile, until his body felt heavy and the post crying jag calm descended. Luka straightened up slowly, and began to actually wash up. He glanced at the name on his torso, but it was too much to think about right then, so he shifted his gaze away. It was paler than it had been, but that was to be expected, with the distance between them now, not helped by their busy schedules and occupied minds. It was just something he was going to have to trust to time. He didn’t really have it in him right now to do anything else, anyway.

He still wished he could talk to her though. 

Luka dragged himself out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam that made Dingo swear (“I said shower, not fucking parboil yourself!”) and got under the cool crisp sheets of the hotel bed without even bothering to dry his hair. 

Maybe he could talk to her, he thought, closing his eyes. He’d tried to stick with texting and let her call him when she wanted to talk, but even if their conversations weren’t totally back to normal, it should be okay for him to call her, right? Privacy was hard to come by, but he didn’t really need privacy, he just needed…space. Space to handle this one thing his own way without feeling watched and judged. Surely he could find that now that he was back under Jagged’s umbrella for the week. Surely Penny could find him some space if he asked. 

Shame stung him, and Luka sighed, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. He felt like a joke, like a poser. Here he was, supposed to be breaking out on his own, showing the world he didn’t need Jagged, and yet he was so fucking relieved to be back in the place he was trying to get away from. Hell, maybe Crusher was right and Luka should just accept his good fortune without trying to push for more. 

Luka rolled over, shaking his head a little to try and stop the spiral. He was too tired to think rationally now anyway. Focusing on the weight of his body on the mattress, listening for the sound of the ocean waves in his own steady breaths, in and out. His body responded quickly to the familiar routine, relaxing further, and he was finally able to lose his thoughts in sleep. 

Fiction Master Post

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

No One Can Hear You

There were some people, rare people, who were fairly skilled at keeping their private affairs well…private. 

He found those individuals to be engaging, because it was still a challenge to get to know what was going on behind the curtains, to find out what was really going on in their lives, if he ever needed to. And he always did enjoy a challenge.

And then there were the people, like Kylian Levieux, who thought they were being sneaky. Who thought they were able to keep what they were doing under wraps. And instead, all they were doing was parading their poor choices out for all to see. 

It hadn’t taken much - a few questions here, a couple of gil there, a smile, a listening ear, and an afternoon’s worth of attention - and the man’s wife had been more than happy to share all she’d known. Details about his business practices, clients who were displeased with his services, and jilted ex-lovers, as well as some handy little details about the man. It seemed she’d simply been waiting for anyone who’d been willing to listen. 

And Ricard was willing to listen. 

It was a welcome reprieve from the maelstrom of thoughts and questions that currently enveloped his own personal life where all he could do was wait and see what happened.

What he was not willing to do was wait for very much longer on Kylian Levieux…especially when that was what he had been doing for the last half hour.

“I’m starting to wonder if your man is going to show up…”

Ricard’s gaze shifted from the timepiece in his hand to Delwyn Baines, the Highlander man leaning heavily against the doorway, turning a small vial between his gloved fingers. 

“He’ll show up. He’s too money hungry and he’s been abandoned by too many clients in recent days to afford not to.”

“Mmhm. Something I’m sure you had nothing to do with.”

No verbal answer was offered, Ricard simply smiled giving an easy shrug of one shoulder. “Did you get what I asked you to?”

“Aye. Don’t want to know what it's for either. Anything else before I head out.”

“Just make sure those documents are delivered as instructed.”

“First thing tomorrow morning. Don’t cause too much trouble, boss…”

A scoff followed the Highlander out of the room. Ricard exhaled slowly as he tucked the vial Delwyn had delivered away carefully, his gaze once again cutting to the door as he heard voices down the hall, one sounding decidedly agitated.

“...I don’t care how long he’s been waiting, I’m bleeding clients left and right because someone has been telling my clients that I’m taking a bit of their money for myself and most of them don’t seem to take kindly to it. I wouldn’t be late if I wasn’t busy trying to save my business.”

There was a low hum as Ricard lifted his coffee cup, taking a long sip as he listened for Delwyn’s response - he could almost hear the eye roll from the room he was in.

“Look, sir, what ever issue you’ve got - it’s not with me. Take it up with mister Blythe. But to be perfectly blunt, if you were taking money from me, I’d kick you to the curb too. And I mean that in a literal ‘boot up the ass’ sense. Suggest you get in there before he calls the whole thing off. He’s not much the ‘waiting’ sort.”

“W-why I…you utter brute!”

He heard the stomping footsteps, not unlike those of a petulant child who’d just been told no, and leaned back in his chair gently tracing the edge of his cup with his gloved hand. It didn’t take long for Kylian Levieux to appear in the doorway all snarls and glares, attempting to appear intimidating…and he might have succeeded, had his audience been anyone else. 

“Looking a bit flushed there, Mister Levieux. We can’t say it’s because you were in a hurry to arrive for this meeting, seeing as you’re almost forty-five minutes late…but given the current color of your face it does seem as though it might benefit you to sit down and have a drink, maybe a scone, take a deep breath or two…”

“Giving out medical advice now, in addition to financial advice, Mister Blythe?”

“Simply pointing out the obvious, Mister Levieux.” 

“The obvious? The obvious?!” The man grabbed one of the scones off the table, taking a bite as he paced the room in front of Ricard. “The obvious is that someone shared details regarding my practice with my clients, details that they shouldn’t have had any knowledge of. And I’m curious as to how they came to know about those details.”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what details you’re talking about. Also, given that this is my first meeting with you, Mister Levieux, how would I know about your business practices?”

The older man’s eyes narrowed as he took another bite before continuing his pacing. “You mean to tell me that you - one of the other financial advisors within this city who would directly benefit from these clients leaving my services - had nothing to do with encouraging these clients to seek out other providers?” He coughed, brow furrowing for a moment as his gaze cut to the scone in his hand for a moment before quickly shaking his head and turning to Ricard once again.

“Is that something that you might have done, Mister Levieux? Because I have no need to employ such shady behavior to find and maintain a successful business. No, the way I heard it the rumors of your business dealings have been coming from unhappy clients. Problem?”

Again the man coughed, attempting the clear his throat. “What…what were these made with? Do you know?”

“The scones?” Ricard hummed, dumming his gloved fingers against the table. “They’re strawberry I believe…but I think they mentioned there might be walnuts in one or two of them…why? You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to nuts, would you, Levieux?”

He saw the man’s eyes widen for a brief moment as he tossed the half-eaten scone onto the table and frantically started to search his pockets.

“I suppose now would be a good time to go visit a healer, which you might’ve been able to do if they hadn’t all closed down for the night thirty minutes ago.”

The man’s breathing was beginning to be panicked as his frantic search of his pockets came up empty. 

Ricard ran his tongue across one of his canine’s lazily. “But…fortunately for you, I happen to have something for allergies right here…” He pulled the vial Delwyn had delivered just minutes before, holding it out between his thumb and index finger. “And I’m willing to exchange it for a bit of assistance from you. You see…I do have a client who is a former client of yours…last name Gray.”

He turned, pulling out a few documents and a pen, setting them down on the table. “You still maintain control of her financials, and that really is just unacceptable. But let’s do a little business, shall we. You sign over control of her financials, and I give you this lovely little vial and you get to continue living. Sound like a deal, Mister Levieux?”

Levieux reached for the vial, which Ricard pulled back, “Nuh uh, sign first, vial second.”

The man, now clearly panicked and turning red, grabbed the pen and signed frantically, tossing the pen aside before grabbing the vial from Ricard’s outstrched hand and downing it’s contents quickly. He started to sigh in relief before slowly turning back towards Ricard slowly. “That…wasn’t.”

“Bitter Foxglove. A gift from your wife, funny enough. Who is also the person who has been telling your clients about your…scummier business practices. And the one who sent your lovers letters to let all of them know about one another. It was all quite amusing to watch play out.” Ricard stood, pulling a knife - a well-sharpened blade - over and making sure Levieux could see it. 

“The Bitter Foxglove will take five to ten minutes to kill you outright, and it will be a rather painful process…your allergy will, of course, cause you to suffocate, or you can go ahead and end things yourself. You can try to scream all you like, no one can hear you.” 

He turned, picking up the pen and rolling up the necessary papers, confirming the signatures were in place. 

When he turned back, Kylian Levieux was seated, knife in hand and held at his own throat. Their eyes met for a brief moment, the older man’s full of pure panic, his hand shaky as he managed to hold his hand still long enough to pull it across his throat, the knife clattering to the floor as he fell limp.

“Coward to the end.” Ricard shook his head as he turned an exited the room.

The next morning the staff would find Kylian Levieux’s body, the knife, the vial, and the half eaten scone. A few weeks later there would be rumors that his wife was taken into questioning. 

And in the background, a simple letter was sent along with a contract bearing Kylian Levieux’s signature releasing his control of his hold on his previous client’s financial holdings.

Lady Gray,

It’s been taken care of.

-RB

Mention - @promethea-silk

[my-name-is-jefferooni]

Talking about the Chaotix Again at very very late hours in the night

It’s about to be midnight and it’ll probably be close to 1:00 AM by the time I finish this but I got a brain blast and it could not be left to die in my brain overnight as I slept so I’m bringing this motherfucking idea to light when I should very much be sleeping so I hope yall appreciate what I’m doing because only God knows how wrecked I’ll be in the morning or how long I’ll sleep in for.

(Pssst! Also check out my previous Chaotix analysis/ramble of sorts from like. A month ago. Still relevant to this post and acts as some extra context too.)

So, I decided to watch Adrenaline Dubs’s issue 17 dub, and there’s one thing I noticed during an exchange between Vector and Espio… I’ll get into the specifics of the exchange when I get to it because I gotta get to the additional context first!

The Chaotix, as I’ve pointed out beforehand in my previous analysis, are kind of just your average everyday family. Think Spy X Family, but they don’t really have any super secret identities to hide from each other and they’re all just young and dumb detectives trying to pay the bills. Thinking of them like this puts the Metal Virus into a much more tragic perspective than before, where they would’ve just been some of Sonic’s friends who just so happen to be the only ones who know the struggle of a shitty economy. Because now, if you take into account the fact that before meeting everyone in Heroes, these guys were just… A family. A ragtag, run-of-the-mill, silly and goofy family. Not related by blood, sure, but their bond was strong enough to call themselves a family even when they first met way back in Knuckles Chaotix! And ever since Heroes, they’ve just been trying to balance life, work, and fighting motherfucking eldritch horrors, demons, gods, mad scientists, and the like. Suffice to say, they ain’t really used to things such as the Metal Virus.

So, when it hits…

Their first reaction is to be skeptical or to panic. Charmy’s a very straightforward kid. He takes everything to heart and is way too pure for his own good, so naturally, he begins to panic! Espio also begins panicking, in his own way, as we see him begin to sweat and start thinking heavily about all the possibilities within like. Five seconds. Seriously, this mans needs therapy, his brain is working too fast for his emotions like Jesus Christ. And Vector… Well, Vector’s trying to stay calm. He’s not too worried, suggesting that they should all just wait for their next client, because the possibility of Eggman already being at their city was far too slim! While Charmy and Espio are so focused on the negatives, Vector is trying his hardest to not let this crisis get to his head. Because they surely have some more time, right? Surely, Eggman can’t already be here, right…?

He’s sorely mistaken when a Zombot then starts kicking down his door.

And suddenly he realizes that this is something much bigger than he initially anticipated.

Espio and Charmy immediately go on the offensive, but Vector stops them in a panic. His voice is tinged with terror and fear, something raw and sad in his voice that the other two can’t pinpoint. He grabs onto Charmy’s leg and screams at him to not touch the Zombots! If he does, he’ll be infected too, and that is the last thing Vector wants for his kid. Meanwhile, Espio is stricken with confusion, wondering why his kunai had no effect on the target…! Because that… That should’ve worked! It always worked! Even against Eggman robots! And then that’s when he realizes, when they ALL realize… That this isn’t just Eggman this time.

They run out of their home in fear, masking their terror with the noble deed of finding survivors. “Finding survivors…” They’ve never had to even suggest doing such a thing before.

Look at Vector right here. Yeah, I know, he looks pretty goofy holding that stop sign like that. But that’s kinda it, that’s the point! Vector is now resorting to ripping state property out of the ground, and using it as a weapon! Previously, he would’ve just used brute force, but now? He’s taking this seriously. Way more seriously than before.

And now we get to the exchange I mentioned at the beginning. Where Vector claims the docks are the best option. There’s an air of seriousness to it all, a clear lack of his usual goofiness and “Yeah sure it’s just Eggman” attitude. Vector genuinely cares right now, but most importantly, he’s taking it 100% seriously. Like he’s in a horror movie.

And, well, isn’t he? Aren’t they all technically in a horror movie at this point? So why not play the role as the heroes of the film? Why not act like the world is crumbling around them? Why not act like angsty, brooding teenagers in the 80’s? Why not pretend like they know what they’re doing?

The Chaotix are not used to any of this at all. They’ve never seen the horror films they watch actually come to life. It’s why they’re being so dramatic, like the world is ending right in front of their eyes, like they’re in a movie trailer or something! They’re putting up a front, pretending that it’s kinda like a movie of its own, and that the credits will eventually roll again.

They don’t have much hope, but they’d be damned if they didn’t use every last ounce of that hope to make it out of this alive. For Vector. For Charmy. For Espio. For each other. For Team Chaotix.

—

OKAY THANK GOD I GOT THAT DONE IN ONLY A HALF HOUR CUZ I DIDNT FINISH WATCHING THE DUB AND IM SURE THERE’S MORE TO COVER SO I CAN STILL DO IT TOMORROW LET’S GOOOOOO

Thanks for reading! Hope that was enjoyable! I’m having fun with adding all these screenshots to my analysis, it really adds a lot!

[pookha]

Dead Inside Chapter 3

Welcome down to my planet hell -Tuomas Lauri Johannes Holopainen

Amity can't take going back and forth between the realms anymore. She doesn't want to do the long distance thing anymore. She can't anymore. It's over, all over.

Rated M TWs: drug addiction, suicide attempt, breakups.

Amity comes through the portal just on time and is only a little surprised when Vee’s not waiting for her. Ghost meows, confused. Vee’s usually very punctual, but lately her new bakery is taking up more and more of her time and she’s missed weekly dinner with Camila more than once. Amity takes out the phone she uses in the Human Realm and texts Vee.

where u?

She walks the short distance to Camila’s…Mom’s house. Camila’s not home, so she lets herself in and gets a glass of water. Her phone pings. Ghost goes to curl up near a heater vent.

sorry held up at work mixer blew up and had to make an emergency stop love you see you later when i can get away will text u

Amity sighs, slams the glass on the counter. It cracks and she swears.

Her phone pings again.

♥️ 💋

She looks at it, and decides to leave Vee on read for a bit to let her know how it feels. Then she thinks better and texts back.

Love you, too. See you when you can.

She looks at the schedule on the fridge. Mom won’t be off work for two more hours. She goes up to the bathroom and takes a long, hot shower: they’re so much better here than they are at home. Mom’s bought some lavender soap that she knows Amity and Vee like. When she comes out of the shower, she sees her phone light blinking and opens it, sighing internally because she knows it’s another excuse.

repairman can’t make it for another four hours i won’t make dinner tonight but look forward to dessert on you. I mean on you on you, wink wink

Amity laughs then sighs again. She decides to go to the clinic to meet Mom there. She leaves her big bottle of Abomination goo and just takes a small vial for emergencies.

She passes by Ghost and pets her. Ghost opens one eye.

“I’m going to meet Mom and we’ll be back soon.” Ghost head-bumps her hand and closes her eye.

She walks the long, slow way to the pet clinic. Gravesfield isn’t a large town and it won’t take long to get there, so she strolls, enjoying the cool air and the sights. She stops at the turn she would take to go to Vee’s bakery and dithers for a moment before heading to Camila’s clinic. The last time she’d shown up at the bakery unannounced, Vee was pleasantly surprised, but immediately had to go back to work because she had an order of cakes for a wedding that had to be finished. A quick peck on the cheek and then when Vee came home to her apartment, Amity was already asleep and neither was in the mood. In the morning when Amity woke up, Vee was already gone, catching the early morning doughnut crowd.

Amity pauses outside the clinic. The parking lot is mostly empty, since it’s technically closed. Amity knows that Camila will be doing paperwork and calling the pet owners with the results of tests until it’s time to go. Amity pauses again outside the door, deciding whether to knock or not when Carmen spots her. Carmen waves, holds up her hand to show it’ll be a moment. When she’s done on the phone, Carmen comes to unlock the door.

“No Luz today?” she asks and Amity shakes her head.

“She’s busy at the bakery with an emergency.” Amity comes in and Carmen locks the door behind her.

“Dr Noceda tells me that’s happening more and more.” Carmen tsks and Amity likes her even more.

“Yeah,” Amity says noncommittally.

“She’s in the back on the phone with clients.” Carmen moves back behind the computer and starts working on what Amity assumes is billing.

“I’ll go to the laundry room and take care of some towels and rags,” Amity says and Carmen nods. Laundry always needs to be done and any extra help with it is always appreciated.

Amity takes a load of laundry out of the dryer and puts a load in it from the washer, then starts another load of rags. She folds the rags and towels and puts them away, then sits down at the table to wait for the next load to be done. She puts her head in her hands and dozes off, waking up only when the dryer buzzes. She sits up, startled, her hand dips into her emergency goo bottle before she realizes where she is. She takes the next load out and puts it away. She looks at the clock and sees she can’t start another load of wash, so she just throws the last load into the dryer.

Only a few minutes later, Camila pokes her head in and says, “Oh, thank you, Amity.”

“You’re welcome, Mom,” Amity says, thrilling as always to call her mom.

“Where’s Luz?” Camila asks, making sure to call Vee that since Carmen is still around.

“She had an emergency and can’t come.” Amity can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. Camila notices.

“Things okay?” she asks as Amity stands up and comes to hug her.

“I don’t know,” Amity says. “Can we talk about it over dinner?”

“Sure. I’m too tired to cook and if it’s just the two of us, how about we stop on the way home and get something?” Camila tousles Amity’s hair like she’s a young child and Amity laughs as she breaks the hug.

“Something spicy?” Amity asks. “Habañero lime chicken from Devi’s?”

“That’s a bit much for me, but I can get ropa vieja.” Camila pulls out her phone and orders for them.

They head out to the parking lot. Carmen hurries ahead of them to get out before Camila locks the door.

In Camila’s car, Amity leans her head on the window.

“I don’t know if things are okay,” she says quietly, maybe to herself, maybe she means for Mom to hear.

“What is it?” Camila asks.

“Lately, I’m not able to get away as much and when I can, Vee’s busy with the bakery. I understand she’s trying to make it work and things come up, but we just don’t see each other much anymore.”

She sighs and turns to Camila.

“We made the long-distance thing work for three years, but it’s becoming too hard. I don’t know if Vee feels the same way because she hides her feelings sometimes.”

Camila nods and pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot.

“Yeah, she hates conflict and avoids it if she can.” Camila reaches across and squeezes Amity's hand.

She goes in and gets their food while Amity waits in the car. Amity pulls out her phone and texts Vee.

Getting food now and going home. Meet at your apartment or Mom’s?

She stares at her phone the entire time Camila’s inside the restaurant, but Vee never texts back; Amity doesn’t really think Vee will, but she still stares. She opens the driver’s door for Camila and takes the bags of food.

“How’s work?” Camila asks as she drives away.

“It’s okay. I wish my dad trusted me more, but he tries his best.”

“Is it what you want to do?” Camila asks, not for the first time.

“I don’t know,” Amity answers after a pause. It’s the first time she’s admitted that to herself and Camila.

“What do you want to do?”

“I thought I wanted to work with my dad, do abomination research, but building automatons isn’t really as fun as I thought it would be. I know work doesn’t have to be fun, but I also don’t love it like my dad does.”

Camila looks at her briefly.

“You talked about teaching once, and I know you like children.”

“I…I don’t know if I can anymore. I don’t have that…optimism, I guess.” She sighs and stares out the window some more.

“Have you talked with anyone in the Demon Realm about it?”

Amity shakes her head, realizes Camila can’t see it and says, “no.”

“You should talk to Willow or Gus,” Camila says after a beat.

“They both know what they want, though. I thought I might talk to Lilith. She and I are a lot alike. We both used to not be good people and she ended up going into the Emperor’s Coven even though it didn’t suit her. She didn’t find what she wanted to do until later in life.”

“Is it odd that she scares me more than Eda?” Camila says with a laugh.

“No. She was the one who cursed Eda after all, but people can change.” Amity looks down at the food bags in her lap, but doesn’t really see them.

“I guess I changed. Luz changed me.” Tears leak out again and she curses inwardly. Always tears.

“Luz wasn’t the only reason. You changed because you’re a good person; you’re not your mother.” Camila’s paying attention to traffic and doesn’t see the tears. Amity wipes them away before she can.

“Thank the Titan,” Amity says and Camila makes a sound of agreement.

They pull up to Camila’s house and head in. Amity gets plates, but they both end up eating out of the styrofoam containers. Camila has a glass of wine with hers and then a second. Amity declines the alcohol. They talk about light things while eating: Carmen’s daughter is at university and Camila saw the cutest guinea pig at work today. Willow and Hunter are already trying for children. Emira and Viney keep trying to set up Edric with dates.

When they’ve finished and the leftovers are in the fridge, they go into the living room.

“I don’t think Vee and I have much time left,” Amity says when they sit.

“Oh mija, I’m sorry.” Camila lets Amity lean on her shoulder.

“I do love her, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live part-time in each world and I can’t ask her to, either. I love her so much, and I know she loves me, but I don’t think either of us thinks the other is their life partner.” Now she doesn’t mind the tears, here in Camila’s arms, at her home in the Human Realm.

“I wish that it could have been different. I always worried what would happen.” Camila strokes Amity’s hair.

“You never said,” Amity says.

“I hoped it would work, but I knew Vee didn’t want to go back full-time and your home and family are there.”

“Except you,” Amity says and squeezes Camila.

Now Camila is crying, too. They hold each other on the couch for a long time and both jump when Amity’s phone pings. She sighs, wipes her eyes on her sleeve and pulls her phone.

cleaning up heading home after 2 hours you still up for dessert on you on you wink wink i can bring whipped cream?

Camila blushes and Amity knows she was reading over her shoulder.

“Sorry you saw that,” Amity says and goes red. The only time they talked about sex was when Camila tried to have ‘the talk’ with Amity, but Amity knew more about witch and demon sex than Camila did. Camila did give her great advice about emotions and when you should listen to them.

“I just assume your sex life is fine, since neither of you have ever mentioned it. It is fine?” She’s blunt and Amity sees where Luz got it from sometimes.

Amity’s blush deepens and she nods. They’d waited for almost a year and half; they both wanted it, but didn’t want to rush. When they did start, they were compatible right away and Vee’s shapechanging added spice.

“That’s never been the issue,” Amity says.

“It’s always been about emotional availability. When we’re together, it’s fine, but when we’re not, Vee’s hard to pin down. She never wants to rock the boat.”

Amity hugs Camila again, then stands.

“I’m going to go clean my face and then go to Vee’s apartment.”

Camila watches her walk to the bathroom and close the door behind her. She sniffles, then wipes her face with a tissue from the box on the side table.

It only takes Amity a moment in the bathroom and she comes out and gets her bottle of Abomination goo and straps it to her belt. Ghost runs down the stairs from wherever she’d been sleeping and leaps onto Amity’s shoulder. She headbutts Amity, who scritches her under the chin. Camila can hear the purr all the way across the living room.

“Want a ride?” Camila asks. Amity shakes her head.

“Thanks.” Amity walks to the couch and hugs Camila from behind it.

“I love you both,” Camila says. “You’re both my daughters. I’m sorry it’s not going to work out. If you need me for anything…”

She emphasizes ‘anything’ by squeezing Amity’s hands.

“...anything, you call me or just drop in. Okay?”

Amity squeezes her again.

“Yes, Mom,” she says and kisses Camila on top of her head. She leaves and Camila goes to get a third glass of wine, but shrugs when she gets to the kitchen and just grabs the bottle.

Amity lets the cool air play over her as she walks to Vee’s apartment. Ghost raises her nose and smells all the interesting odors of the Human Realm.

Amity lets herself into Vee’s tiny one-bedroom apartment. It’s not the safest part of town, but Amity’s never been worried for Vee’s safety here; she can take care of herself when she needs to. She opens the windows to air the apartment out, but keeps the blinds down. She looks at the clock on her phone and scrolls mindlessly on the human news sites; she only understands just more than half of what she reads. Her phone pings.

on way now 🍦

Amity texts back

I’m here already. Waiting in kitchen.

She closes the apps on her phone and sits at the table. Less than half an hour passes before Vee comes in. She immediately changes from Luz to her basilisk shape when she closes the door. She glides across the kitchen and kisses Amity who returns the kiss stiffly. Vee’s arm tightens and she drops the bag she’s carrying on the floor.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” She asks and shifts to her preferred human form. She sits on a chair across the table from Amity. Amity loves watching her change shape. She loves this human shape. It’s so different from Luz.

“Not angry; disappointed. Not at you,” she says quickly when Vee’s mouth tightens.

“I know things can’t be helped.”

Amity scoots her chair around to Vee’s and takes her hand.

“I’m disappointed because we’re coming to the end.”

Vee starts to say something, then snaps her mouth shut.

“Yeah,” Amity says, noticing Vee change her mind about what she was going to say.

“You know it’s true, too, don’t you?” Tears again. Fuck.

“I’ve thought it for a while,” Vee says finally. She turns to face Amity and kisses her gently.

“We hardly see each other anymore and when we do, we’re just…”

“Fucking?” Amity supplies and Vee laughs.

“Yeah, fucking,” she agrees.

“I think if either of us could live in the other’s world, we’d get through it, but I can’t live here and you can’t live in the Demon Realm. I can’t go back and forth anymore. I love you, and I’ll always love you, but I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

Amity’s tears fall hard on the table now and Vee holds her tight. Amity feels Vee’s tears on her hair, mixing with Camila’s from earlier.

“Mom’ll be upset,” Vee says and Amity nods.

“She is; I’ve already talked to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Vee says and Amity is suddenly so tired of people saying ‘sorry.’

“So am I.”

Amity breaks Vee’s grasp and picks up the bag from the floor. She opens it and pulls out a can of spray whipped cream. It’s still cold. She shakes it and Vee’s eyes widen. Amity rips the cap off and squirts some directly into her mouth, then leans over and kisses Vee, smearing the whipped cream messily onto both of their chins.

“You sure?” Vee asks when they break apart. She licks cream from her chin with a long forked tongue.

“One last time,” Amity says and squirts the whipped cream into Vee’s mouth. This kiss is even messier. Ghost opens an eye from her place on top of a cupboard and watches for a moment, but then closes her eye and goes to sleep; she’s seen it before.

Amity’s alarm goes off at seven and she wakes up slowly. She showered afterward, but she still feels sticky. She gets up and pats Vee’s spot in the bed. It’s cold. It has been cold a lot lately. She showers, digs out clean clothes from the dresser and gets dressed. She pulls a magicked bag out of her pack and puts the rest of her clothes in it, then throws away her toothbrush in the bathroom. That seems like the most final thing to her and she sits on the bed and tries to cry again, but the tears are all gone for now.

She goes into the kitchen and feeds Ghost from a can of Human Realm cat food. Ghost doesn’t need it and it’s probably not good for her, but she loves it and so Amity lets her enjoy it. There’s a note on the table. Amity leaves it for now.

“Last time,” she tells Ghost, who merps like she understands. She probably does; Palismen can read their witches' emotions.

Amity takes a couple of mugs from the cupboards and puts them in her pack. She makes one last pass of the apartment and puts in a couple of knick knacks that Vee had bought for her. She pauses over a photo of the two of them at Christmas last year and takes it, too. Vee has a copy of it in her scrapbook. She goes back to the kitchen and takes the note. She doesn’t read it because she knows if she does, she might not leave at all. She stuffs it into her pack and opens the door. Ghost jumps onto her shoulder. Amity closes the door firmly, locks it, then slides the key under the door. Now it’s permanent and the tears come back. She cries as she walks. She passes the intersection to decide: the portal and Mom’s house; or the clinic. She turns toward Mom’s house and the portal without hesitating.

When she gets to the portal, she does turn and looks at the Human Realm for a second, ten seconds, a minute. She enters the portal and goes back home. Her Pensta chimes a bunch with missed messages, but she just deletes them all, then DMs Willow.

I need to talk ASAP. Broke up with Vee.

She sees the … of Willow typing right away and nods to Ghost, who forms into a staff.

I’m home, come now

She mounts and flies toward Willow’s home. Her home with Hunter. Her home with all the plants and Flyer Derby equipment. Maybe Hunter and Willow will let her stay for a while. She knows she can’t just go home to Dad right now. He’d say the right things, but he won’t understand like Willow will.

[bog--unicorn]

it turns out working 14 hour days 7 days per week for 6 weeks with no end in sight is actually soul killing, who’d have thought

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,” he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Introduction To Hank (Connor X Fem!Andoid!Reader)

Characters: Connor X Fem!Android!Reader

Universe: Detroit: Become Human

Warnings: Swearing

Request: Heyyyy~ How y’all doin? Er, so I see requests are open? And if you don’t mind, could you write for Connor from DBH with a very high fashion android gf (aka reader) working in the fashion industry. When Connor introduced her when she visits the station everyone is like “?!? He has a girlfriend? And how do they even meet??? Their jobs are completely different”. And because I’m such a lazy assh*le, could you make up a back story on how they meet? Or if not you could just end it there and make it a goofy moment where everyone’s just shocked that Connor even has a girlfriend. I’m just... very sorry.

“Lieutenant?” The call of the android right behind Hank made the man jump, nearly knocking over the coffee on his desk, flailing but succeeding in catching it and steadying it in time.

“Jesus! Connor, don't scare me like that!” Hank complained, turning to face the android to give him a lecture and a reminder of the fact that he was stealthy and he needed to learn to not be, when he noticed that the woman stood behind Connor, smiling over his shoulder, he stopped. “Sorry- Connor, who’s this?” He asked, lowering his voice, cooling himself off. 

“My bad Lieutenant, I should have announced we were here- this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Lieutenant Hank Anderson who I told you about.” Connor introduced you, taking a step to the side, letting you step forward, allowing Hank to properly see you. He immediately identified that you were dressed in a Cyberlife Android attire, further proven as he looked closer, seeing the glowing blue LED on your temple. Your outfit was quite beautifully designed, everything seeming to fit you perfectly with lined designs across it almost creating an optical illusion, and it gave him a very clear image of what your job was. You were a high fashion android, originally made to be a walking mannequin to show off clothes and free labour when models were overworked and also capable of adjusting clothing in record time for clients, but now the role had shifted into actually talking with customers, making your own sales, and actually having working hours and time off. He’d never been in one of those stores, but he’d passed by, though he never paid attention to the faces, so he didn’t recognise you. 

However, that wasn’t his main focus. What he focussed on was how Connor interacted with you. As he stepped aside, his hand found its way to your back to gently push you forward to meet him, something that Connor never did. Ever. 

“Nice to meet you. Connor told me all about you!” You greeted warmly, a kind smile on your face as you shook his hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you too… hope you don’t mind me asking, but how do you two know each other?” Hank inquired, looking at Connor mostly for the answers.

“Oh, well the brand that Y/N works for is partnered with Cyberlife, and they make and repair the clothing of androids, so when I got a rip in a jacket, I took it in to have it repaired, and Y/N was the one who served me. We found out we get along quite well.” Connor explained, and you nodded along. 

“After the 6th time of him coming in with rips, burns and stains on his clothes, I actually asked Connor if he was doing it to see me, and when he confirmed he was, I asked if he’d like to go for a walk after work.” You explained further. Well, that explained why Connor was so friendly with you- you were his girlfriend!

“Wait- you’re dating?” Hank asked, the pair in front of him nodding excitedly. 

“How the fuck have you managed that?” The other voice made you and Connor turn, being met by Gavin, looking between the two of you. “No, like seriously, you have no personality, plastic-” 

“You must be Gavin.” You interrupted him. Hank got up from his seat, manoeuvring around you so he could properly see your expression as you interacted with Reed. He noted you had slightly tlilted your head, a kind but synthetic smile on your face, and your hands clasped in front of you, professionally. Oh, Hank knew what you were doing. Customer Service. “Connor talked so much about you!” You expressed. 

Oh yeah, Hank bet he did. 

“He did?” Gavin asked, glancing at Connor, who didn’t react, but when Hank looked closer, he could see the very, very faint smile on his face that he was trying to hold back.

“Yes! I have to thank you though- if you hadn’t had thrown your coffee on him that one time we wouldn’t have gone on our first date! In a way I have to thank you for helping me find the man I love!” You gushed, wrapping your arms around Connor to pull him closer, resting your head on Connor’s shoulder. Connor’s hand instinctively wrapped around you too, resting his head on yours. It was so lovey dovey it made Hank almost want to be sick, and it was enough to make Gavin uncomfortable, but also a little guilty for being cruel to Connor. 

“Uh… yeah.” He stuttered before making his exit. With him gone, you giggled, pulling back on the affection, but remaining connected with Connor as you focussed back on Hank. 

“Anyway- I wanted to let you know about us being together because you two are two of the most important people in my life, and I wanted you two to meet.” Connor explained. Hank looked at you. Your Customer Service smile was gone, now back to a real one as you looked at Connor. Hank relaxed his shoulders. 

“How’d you feel about dogs, Y/N? I imagine the shedding is a nightmare for you.” He asked. 

“Actually, I love animals! We have a section where we actually make clothes for pets, and it means I get to interact with them often and fuss them. We also collaborate with local vets and groomers, so if you need a discount, I’m sure I can get that sorted for you.” You offered to him. 

“Oh, Sumo definitely needs a groomer, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” Hank agreed, before turning to Connor, pointing to him. “You better keep in her good books.”

“Of course Lieutenant.” Connor grinned, giving you a little squeeze, before he excused you both to walk you back to your work as Hank mumbled about him being a puppy for you.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @ssa-uglywhore27 @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible 

[blackwidow-bby]

Positions - Marvel Ladies x Fem!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're a sex worker and you've been hired by a new client for a "group activity".

genre: smut(18+)

pairings: Maria Hill x fem!reader, Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, Carol Danvers x fem!reader, Yelena Belova x fem!reader

warnings: D/S dynamics, face slapping, spanking, strap on use, degradation, orgy, big ole lesbian train, oral, throat f*cking, name calling, degradation, thigh riding, fingering

AN: I am...well not a pro at writing dirty things especially not with multiple people but I hope you all enjoy regardless!

I don't own any marvel characters!!

Your assistant had just called you into her room. Your week had been slow but fruitful. Normally, it would be a regular client for the month, nothing to sweat over. Your thoughts started to run over who it could be. Maybe Mr. Dean, he usually calls on a Friday but you could've sworn you saw him two weeks ago. That didn't leave a lot of your regulars left to be requesting you as you knew their schedules like the back of your hand.

As if she could read your mind upon entering her space, she spoke, "Y/N, you have a call for a new client. Something about a friend requesting your services? The only thing is..." She hesitated almost thinking if she should tell you the rest of the details before she proceeded. "Well, it's for a group. You don't have to take up the offer if you're uncomfortable with that. I can call her back and let her know you declined."

To tell the truth, the thought of it being a group of strangers did make you uncomfortable, but your assistant wouldn't put you into a situation without going through the proper protocols first. She knew a head count of how many, roughly where they all worked, and several phone numbers. It always helped to be extra safe in these situations where you could be overpowered.

"Who inquired?" you asked interestedly. "She goes by N.R., gave me a headcount of all of her friends that would be attending. There's not going to be any men there, but I guess 'more power in numbers' is still 'more power in numbers'." In all honesty, women gave you way less shit about certain things than men did. Hopefully they'd be way more understanding if you didn't want to do specific activities.

"Call her back and tell her I'll take the offer. Do you know how much she's paying?" Your assistant slid a little sticky note over to you as she dialed the number of one 'N.R.'. You swear you almost choked when you saw how much she offered for you. That was a lot of zeros compared to usual. You walked away to get a water from the mini-fridge while you vaguely listened in to your assistant's phone conversation.

Good.

Perfect.

Okay, I'll tell her to meet you there at 6:30.

Extra clothes, yes ma'am. Have a nice day.

"Hey Y/N, I've written down the address, floor, and room number. It's uh...a really high end hotel in New York City. She also said to bring an extra change of--" you interrupted her, "Extra clothes? I overheard." you started wondering what for? Dinner? Go out? "Uhm, yes, she said extra comfy clothes." Comfy? Was she expecting you to spend the night? You looked down at your watch to see how much time you had to get ready. 2 hours. It wasn't enough but you could make it work. "Alright then, I should go freshen up."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour and a half later had found you briskly walking toward the extremely tall and very expensive looking hotel in the Upper East Side. You lived in Queens and while the distance wasn't very far, paired with the traffic, the feeling of unsettlement about being late to such a client was enough to make you almost hurl.

You made your way inside the lobby, barely looking at your surroundings. You wanted to get up to the room as quickly as possible without being noticed. "Excuse me," Could you ever be so lucky? "Are you here for Ms. Romanoff?" Who? That must be your clients last name. "She said she was expecting a guest soon." The lady was being extra kind to you, she had an inviting smile. You almost wanted to never lie to her. "Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Romanoff." you replied quietly. It felt like your voice would echo too hard around the warmly lit lobby. You thought it would break you to hear your own voice shrill around such a pristine room.

"Very well, I'll show you to her room." Your nerves began to spike more the higher up you went. It was as if every floor number on the elevator was the level of anxiety you started to feel. Your palms were sweating and you could've sworn your back was too. The lady just kept her eyes forward with a meek little smile. It took every fiber of your body to not explode your feelings all over that elevator.

Ding

The elevator stopped, of course she was in a penthouse suite. You rolled your eyes as how predictable this situation was playing out. The kind lady, who's name you definitely forgot to get, remained in the elevator as you walked out. "There's a number for room service if you ladies need anything." She sung out. "Thank you."

The walk to her door seemed to never end. Your feet were dragging like gravity was doing everything in its power to keep them on the ground. The air was getting hotter as time slowed in the short distance it took to reach her door. You rang the little buzzer and a melodic voice called beyond the frame.

"Coming!"

You could hear the light patter of a single set of feet. The knob then turned and revealed a stunning short redhead with bright eyes. You were certainly gawking at the sight of her but there was nothing you could do to pull your own attention away. She had a smirk on her face when she saw you staring but not saying anything. "You must be Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Come in and lets get you introduced to everyone."

She reached out her hand to you and you took it gently. her palms were much colder than yours and her fingers were long and slender. her hair was shoulder length and fire-y. The room was massive, and clean. She had all of the blinds closed to keep any natural light and eyes from entering the den. Scanning the room some more you noticed a couple items around the room. Non-traditional furniture. It was going to be one of those events. There were also four other heads aside from the host's. She turned around once reaching the main room and faced you. "My name is Natasha, over there is Wanda," another read-head standing behind everyone else with a glass of wine in her hands, she lightly nodded, "...that is Carol in the middle," a blonde woman with a bright and bubbly smile. She seemed taller than the rest but she was also sitting down on a piece of equipment that will no doubt be used in a different way by you. Natasha gestured to a brunette, "...this is Maria," another tall and slender woman, didn't offer a smile but a simple wave to your direction. You were scared of her the most. "...and this is Yelena." A second blonde who's face was much more stoic than Maria's. You take it back, she scared you the most.

Natasha's hand unhooked from yours and made its way up your back to settle on the back of your neck. The pads of her fingers added slight pressure to the muscles there as if she could feel all of your tension in waves. You felt her lean in closer, her hot breath fanning your ear. "There's a bathroom in the hall to the right. I got a cute little outfit waiting for you." You could feel her soft lips smiling against the curve of your ear. the feeling made you shiver. You managed to follow her eyes and swiftly walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You looked around and found the outfit in question. It was sleek all black leather body suit with a halter neck. You lifted it up in your hands and rubbed the material under your fingers. Next to it sat a bottle of lubricant no doubt to get the body suit on. You got to work shedding the current clothes you had on and began to slide on the little leather number. It wasn't too tight but certainly snug against your frame. The only thing out of the ordinary besides the material was, you noticed, a tiny little zipper in between your legs. If unzipped would reveal your very private essence. The thought made you blush a little to yourself. After cleaning up, you made your way back to the room where the women had sat prior.

Since you calmed down a little, you took the opportunity to fully take in your surroundings. The hall was adorned in art more than likely as expensive as this room. Everything seemed darker than when you arrived. To your surprise when you entered the living room area, the room lighting was red as opposed to the normal LED lighting.

Natasha held her hand out to you again for you to take. You obliged her and she pulled you close into her side. Natasha's deft fingers traveled up and down your ribs before finding purchase on your backside. "You look like the most delicious treat. None of us can wait to eat you. Would you like a drink before we start?"

The other women started moving closer almost circling you like sharks. "Yes please." Natasha poured you a glass as she went on, "We should go over some rules before we start. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, anxious, or hurt, the safe word is 'Heart'. We all stop what we're doing and will help you. If at any point you are gagged, two taps to the closest person will get all of us to cease as well. Because of those rules you will not be bound and gagged simultaneously...at least not this session." She ends her rules with a wink toward you. All of these women truly were stunning and it piqued your interest to know what they could possibly be capable of.

Wanda came closest to you first, she pulled the wine glass away from your lips and replaced it with her own lips. Holding your hand with the glass close to her chest and cupping your cheek with the other. Her lips were sinfully soft as was her kiss. She felt delicate and gentle against you, she almost seemed to not match any of this situation. Natasha took your wine glass away while you continued to make out with Wanda, who let her hands roam lower down your body. Your own hands moved behind her neck. Another set of arms wrapped around you from behind. "You're such a pretty kitten." They nibbled on your ear making you separate from Wanda to see who it was. Carol smiled down at you and found the very lips that left Wanda. You moaned into her mouth at feeling how she controlled and dominated the kiss, very different from Wanda's passion. Wanda moved down to kissing your neck and shoulder.

You could hear other giggles in the back. Natasha kept her eyes trained on you as Yelena and Maria began to touch each other in the mean time waiting for you. After a few minutes of watching her friends have all of the fun, Natasha made her way over to you, Carol, and Wanda. She pulled the other red-head back by her locks and pressed her lips to hers in a searing kiss. You heard Wanda moan out into the other woman's mouth next to you causing you to release your own into Carol. This made the blonde swiftly lift you up and wrap your legs around her waist. She brought you over to a nearby bench and kissed you harder. All of the sounds you were making began to rile her up.

"I'm not sure which one of us is more excited to have you here, pretty girl. All I know is I can't wait to ruin that pretty pussy of yours." You moaned at her words and yanked her back down into another kiss. Her words went straight to your core igniting a fire that had been waiting to burn. You made a mental note to find whoever recommended you to these ladies and thank them heavenly. Carol sunk her hips between your legs and began grinding against you seeking the friction she wanted so badly.

Even though the leather was a new material to you, you could still feel the faux member that rested in her pants; Carol was packing. This caused you to move your hands down to her pants to tear the buttons away. The tall blonde grabbed your hands and smirked, "Allow me." She stood to her full height and slowly removed the black jeans she was wearing and revealed her long, girthy strap she had been hiding. Your eyes widened which made Carol giggle. She sunk to her knees where she seductively pulled the zipper on your suit down. She held your eye contact until you saw them shift to behind you. Natasha and Wanda had pulled away long enough to see what Carol was doing and decided to join again. The two red-heads began to undress themselves where Natasha also sported a rather large strap but not Wanda.

In your distraction upon noticing the other women join in, Carol took to opportunity to shove he face into your pussy. You moaned out loud at the contact. Her tongue quickly lapping at your clit and sinking lower to curl inside you. Her ministrations were making you squirm on the bench. She reached up to hold your hips down. "Stay still kitten. Gotta get you ready for our cocks." Eating you out was an art to her. Every move she made, made you more and more wet. Natasha slid her fingers into your open mouth. You sucked on them harshly slipping your own tongue in-between her fingers and coating them in your saliva. Nat removed her fingers and started to rub them between Wanda's folds.

"Eat her out for me, malysh." Natasha requested. You looked up at Wanda as she slowly lowered herself over your wanting mouth. Your head went fuzzy upon seeing all of the quiet red-head's intimacy. Your tongue immediately poked out to welcome her to you. She let out a soft moan and slowly began to grind herself against your mouth. Carol was growing impatient watching you eat out the other woman and feeling you grow more aroused in her mouth. The blonde stood to position the tip at your entrance rubbing the head up and down your slit before she slammed her length in all at once. You yelped against Wanda's soaked cunt sending vibrations straight to her clit.

The whole scene was turning Natasha on more and more so she began stroking her own member, hoping to find some friction. The other two women walked over to join the rest of the group partially feeling left out. Carol continued to slam into you at a rather fast and rough pace. The tip of her strap hitting that blissful spot inside of you with every thrust. All of your moans and whines brought Wanda closer to her orgasm. She came hard in your mouth before she got up and was replaced by Natasha's own cock.

"Suck kotenok. Mommy's getting restless." Carol did not stop chasing not only her own high but yours. You could hear her grunting from below you. All of this attention was turning you on more than you think you've ever been in your life. Even though one hand wrapped around Natasha's strap and the other gripped Carol's wrist on your hips, you were finding it hard to keep blowing Nat. Carol moved her other hand down to your clit. "You better cum for me you little slut."

And you did; hard.

Carol continued her pace and upon watching you come undone, did so herself. Three quick thrusts and she was spent. She released the most guttural moan before her body was replaced by another blonde. Yelena had this look in her eyes like she wanted to make you pay for every wrong you never committed. She removed her clothing and sat right on your bent leg. At this point Natasha was fucking your mouth deeper and deeper. Needing to ground yourself you wrapped your hands around her thighs. Yelena began to rub herself against your thigh. You could feel how wet and warm she was, her hand sliding up and down your slit collecting your cum to rub your clit in tight circles. Your whines didn't stop especially when you were already beginning to feel another orgasm approaching. Yelena slipped her fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with accuracy. With every thrust of her fingers she hit that same spot over and over. tears started to run down your face with the feeling of Natasha in your mouth and Yelena in your core. Natasha gave one last thrust before she pulled out.

Maria shoved three of her fingers to the back of your throat. She giggled when you gagged around them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at being finger fucked by the two women. "You're not allowed to cum before I do, else Natty here give you a nice punishment while I ride your face." Yelena only made the threat to turn you on more, but part of you was hoping it was true. It was hard, Yelena knew exactly what she was doing with her fingers but you could feel her slick slide down the sides of your thigh. God you hope she was close because you certainly were. Maria replaced her fingers with her lips and she kissed you hard sliding her tongue along yours. The brunette smiled against your lips when she felt your whimpers in her mouth. Yelena just kept slamming her fingers harder inside of you and rubbing herself quicker. Her breaths got faster and more shallow and as she came, a couple seconds later so did you. Your body shook with the most intense tremors, but Yelena couldn't fault you. She did cum before you, and something about it being in close tandem with hers turned her on a lot more than she would admit. You let out a soft whine when the coolness of the air hit your soaked thigh.

Maria left your mouth and moved between your legs. She put one leg over your left and the other under your right and brought your centers together. "You're a pretty little slut. I want to ruin you so bad." Maria started out ruthless. Her grinding was fast and hard as if she had been waiting to cum for weeks. You felt her in her entirety sliding against your own. The feeling started to overwhelm you. Carol took your face in her hand and rubbed her thumb along your bottom lip. "Open up you little slut."

You obeyed her and opened your mouth sticking your tongue out. At this point you were a blubbering mess and all the ladies were loving it. Carol spit into your mouth before shoving her cock in. "I saw you taking Nat like a pro, so I know you can take me." At least her pace wasn't rough but it certainly was quick. Your gags around Carol was making Maria closer to her release. She leaned forward to angle herself differently against you and put her hand around her throat. She could practically feel Carol's cock fucking your face. Sweat was running down your forehead and your hair clung to every part of your body it could touch. You were close to being spent and you never looked more beautiful this way. Maria's hand tightened, her grunts were heavy. "Such a good little fuck toy. I'm so close baby." You didn't think it was possible for Maria to go any harder but she did. She came with a loud cry and slowed her hips down to ride out her orgasm. You felt her wetness mix with yours. Maria's hand stayed for a couple more minutes, entranced by feeling Carol deep in your throat. The tall blonde slapped your face a couple times before she pulled out. You were too busy catching your breath, you didn't see Natasha move by your feet. She lifted you up and turned you over on your stomach with your legs and arms hanging off the bench. Just when you were hoping it was over, you forgot that Natasha never officially had her turn with you. She rested her strap on your lower back as she ran her cool hands in an attempt to soothe your burning skin. Almost mocking you for being the one to give you the final blow. Wanda walked up to you again. She ran her soft fingers in your hair and moved the stuck strands out of your face. Your breathing was heavy and your body was trembling. Wanda's fingers moved down to cup your jaw and she lifted your head. Tapping the side with her pointer finger, you got the silent request to open your mouth for her. In unison, as Wanda brought her cunt to your mouth, Natasha slid her strap inside you completely bottoming out. Nothing but incoherent noises left your mouth at being filled so sinfully. Wanda gripped your jaw harder as she rubbed her intimacy against your mouth for a second time. You lazily kept your tongue out to try your best to accommodate Wanda's wanting. Natasha on the other hand, had been waiting very patiently for her time and now that she got it she was going to make the best of it. She grabbed your hands in her own and pulled them behind your back to make it easier for her to pound deep into your cunt. When you felt her hit somehow deeper your eyes rolled back. Wanda picked up her pace just as Natasha did, both red-heads moving in perfect synch at opposite ends of your being. A jolt of paint hit your right asscheek igniting a new spark and effectively waking you up even if only for a minute. With every thrust administered, Natasha rained a hand alternating each side of your ass. All of this was sending more and more feelings to your core. You will not be lasting long if these two kept going the way they were. You could feel Wanda fumbling, she was about to come for the second time tonight. Natasha continued to get more rough inside of you until you felt the knot inside of you burst. You came hard around Natasha groaning against Wanda's own cunt. The sight caused Wanda herself to not be able to keep her composure and she came with a scream against your tongue. You felt her pussy pulsing with her orgasm on your mouth. As soon as Wanda backed away from your face, Nat yanked your arms back harder to push herself deeper than you thought was possible. You were screaming, a sweaty broken mess, absolutely spent in this five star hotel. Every thrust pushed harder against that spongey spot inside you. You could feel another earth shattering orgasm approach hoping it would be the last. Natasha's thrusting didn't let up, she was desperate to cum. She was moaning over you with every hit. You yelled her name as you came harder than you had before that whole session. Watching you absolutely spent around her

member, Natasha came just as hard with her final thrust. She stayed inside you to ride out the rest of her high before she carefully pulled out. Looking down she could see wetness all over the bench and her legs. Nat smiled to herself at being the one to make you squirt everywhere like a silent victory. Allowing you to lay and collect your bearings, the red-head began to clean up the room.

There wasn't much you could make out in your state, but you could partially hear Natasha thanking all of the women for coming over before hearing the door open and close through the ringing in your ears. Your were shaking, your whole body felt blissfully weak. The red-head padded over softly to your spent and soaked body and picked you up carefully to place you in her arms bridal style. Your mind was in a war with yourself between wanting just a little bit more or to just go to sleep. You couldn't even open your eyes at this point.

Natasha had brought you to the bathroom to help you clean up and as she moved about, she kept you in her arms. She made sure to hold you as she turned on the faucet and sit on the edge of the tub. As the water filled the tub, Nat moved between rubbing your back and gently caressing your cheek. Once the tub was filled up enough for the both of you, she picked you up again and cautiously lowered the both of you into the hot relaxing water. You couldn't do anything but mumble and cursed yourself for the state you were in even though it wasn't your fault. You desperately wanted to think your gracious host for a life changing night but nothing could come out. Natasha shushed you sweetly. Her time wasn't done until you were well taken care of in her company.

You don't know how long you were in the bathroom, hell you don't even know when you fell asleep as Natasha washed the night away from both of your bodies. Clearly still in no position to be able to make it back to your home, the red-head dried both of you off and brought you to the large bedroom. You had come back into partial consciousness long enough to feel the soft sheets and the plush comforter of this heavenly bed you were being gifted to rest on.

Natasha lowered you down and climbed on the other side before pulling you into her. She lifted your head to lay on her chest so she could easily hold you and play with your hair. She stayed awake until she heard your breathing even out again, signaling that you had fallen asleep again since the bath. She placed a soft kiss to your hairline before succumbing to sleep herself with a blissed smile on her face.

She'd definitely be requesting you again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Not sure how I feel about this but yeah this is my wack attempt at something extra dirty.

[earlgreydream]

tame.

| zemo x reader | smut |

anon requested. bratamer!Zemo or something with Zemo and spanking

cw: spanking, whipping, degradation, gagging

“Turn it down, draga!” Zemo snapped, throwing his office door open to reprimand you.

You were stretched out on the couch, starburst candy in your mouth as you kicked your feet to the beat of loud bubblegum pop music.

You’d already been told twice to turn it down, and Zemo was at his wits end with your obnoxious behavior. He was in meetings, the underlying bass of the songs interrupting his important business.

“I did turn it down.” You rolled your eyes, practically sneering at Zemo.

“You keep up this attitude, and you’re on your way to my wrath,” he warned.

“Whatever,” you turned onto your back, draping your head off of the side of the couch.

He stared at you, trying to let his fury simmer down. He finally pulled the plug on your stereo, plunging the room into silence.

Zemo ignored your glare, unable to put up with your bratty behavior any longer. He returned to his office, apologizing to his client. They finished the meeting, and Zemo had his secretary cancel the rest of his schedule.

.

Meanwhile, you were tanning on the deck, completely bare. His clients got an eyeful as they passed your nude body on their way out, making Zemo seethe.

Before you could say something coy, Zemo’s hand wrapped around your bicep, dragging you inside.

“Helmut-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve disrespected me, and yourself, and I’ve had enough!” Zemo snapped.

You dug your heels in, putting up a fight against his manhandling. You were in a mood, and you wanted to rile the stoic sokovian. Household staff avoided looking at your body as they passed, each person who got a glimpse of you— of what was his— only angered Zemo further.

“You think you’re earning yourself a good fuck, yes? That’s what you want?” Zemo snapped, practically throwing your body up against the wall, getting in your face.

You glared at him, caught in the truth. That was exactly what you wanted— Zemo to fuck you thoroughly. He made a noise of disdain, as if your very existence disgusted him.

“You selfish little brat.”

The blood in your veins turned to ice, and you started to panic, realizing you hadn’t earned the reaction you’d hoped for. His dark gaze frightened you, and you dreaded everything that was beginning to unfold.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you tried to backtrack, tears welling in your eyes.

“You will be sorry,” Zemo hissed, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

He offered no sympathy at the sight of your tears, knowing it was a ploy to get him to lighten your punishment. He wasn’t falling for it, not after how you’d repeatedly pushed his buttons and been disobedient.

“Don’t cry. I haven’t even hurt you yet,” he held your jaw in his hand.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips, and he dragged you down a side hall in his extensive mansion, to a room you detested. Both of your wrists stayed trapped in one of his hands, while the other pulled a key from the top of the doorframe.

“No, I don’t want to go in the playroom,” you shook your head, struggling against his grip on your wrists.

He said your name in an eerily calm tone, dark eyes boring into you.

“Stop struggling.”

A strained whine caught in your throat, and he pushed you into the room ahead of him. The lock clicked behind you on the door, and your arms went around your naked body. The black marble floor was cold under your feet, contradicting the shame and dread that burned through your skin. Your eyes danced along dark walls, covered in instruments and toys hanging from hooks, to a large bed in the corner.

His hand pressed against your lower back, leading you to the middle of the room, under a honeycomb structure attached to the ceiling. He threaded red cords through it, barely looking at you as he did so.

“Give me your hand.”

You miserably placed your hand in his. Red cord was bound around both of your wrists, tied to the ceiling with just enough pressure to leave your muscles straining, and your feet unsteady.

“Zemo-”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your slutty mouth unless it’s red.”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, falling silent. He walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling out tiny clamps from one of them. You squirmed even before he approached you, the chords rattling against the grate.

You couldn’t escape him, you could barely move even a few centimeters. Your lips were parted, shallow, anxious breaths being exhaled softly. Zemo carefully monitored your reactions, listening to the pained squeak that came as he closed the clamps around your nipples, the sharp pinch biting into your hypersensitive skin. A chain hung between them, and he tugged lightly on it, just to see your toes curl in pain.

You gave Zemo a wounded look, struggling to stay quiet. You knew the rules, making noise and protesting would only land you in deeper trouble. Zemo was angry, and it was not the time to test him. He traced his fingers up your side, smoothing over the curve of your body.

He broke away from you, walking over the wall where different paddles were hanging from hooks. You squirmed in dread as he took a woden one off of the wall, tiny holes in it because he knew it was the one you found the most painful. He reserved it for when you were particularly bratty, or just downright disobedient.

“Stand still,” Zemo broke you out of your spiral of pity.

You exhaled, letting your feet settle on the ground. You didn’t need to be told to count, a quiet “one” falling from your lips as he struck your ass with the wood. Your numbers got progressively more strained until you were sobbing them out, trying not to lose count as your ass burned completely raw. 

Your arms ached, held above your head as you struggled not to teeter, your feet unsteady on the cold floor. Zemo had ceased spanking you, letting you hang there. A cracked whine slipped out when he roughly pulled the nipple clamps off of you, sending a split second of blinding pain through your chest. 

“You don’t have to count these,” Zemo’s voice broke the silence, making you open your eyes. 

You shook your head, another round of tears slipping down your cheeks as he pulled a brown leather whip down. He waited for your safeword, but you didn’t speak, crying silently and turning your face into your arm. 

The leather cord cracked against your already painful skin, welts raising and making you scream into the gag Zemo had placed in your mouth. You bit down on the fabric, sobbing as he whipped you for what felt like hours, though in reality it was likely only a few minutes.

He said your name, calling out to you, but you hardly heard him over your heart pounding in your ears. Zemo pried the gag out of your mouth, tilting your head up with both hands. You blinked slowly, gasping as he released your wrists from the restraints. You collapsed, but he caught you easily, ready for it.

You were shaking in his arms as he carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed, easing you to rest on your stomach. He kissed down your spine, laying his hand on your side. You turned your face into the pillow, ashamed of your behavior, and him seeing you so vulnerable. 

“Draga, it’s alright,” his voice soothed your insecurities, and you relaxed as he tenderly massaged cream into your burning skin. 

You sniffed softly, wincing as he gently pulled some silk shorts up over your bum. He buttoned the matching top around you, earning your thanks. You twisted to look at him, pulling him to lay down in front of you, still fully dressed in his suit.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he pulled you into his chest, letting you snuggle against him.

“I know, my love. It’s perfectly okay. All is forgiven,” he promised, kissing your head. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly for as long as he let you. He kissed the protests off of your lips when he stood up, promising he was just changing and then coming back. 

You laid in the white sheets, waiting for your lover to return. He slid into bed next to you, watching the way your eyes lit up at his arrival. He pressed a kiss against your mouth, smiling as you curled up to rest under his arm. 

“My darling.”

.

“Zemo?” you called, walking with a slight limp into the kitchen. 

“I’m here. You didn’t need to be up so early,” he said, looking out the window before kissing your cheek. 

“I wanted to see you,” you answered, happy you’d caught him before a day of meetings.

“See me? Why wouldn’t you?”

“Work...” you answered, looking up at him as if he’d forgotten. 

“I’m off today. What would you like to do?” he asked, turning around and placing a plate of pancakes in your hands. 

You gazed up at him, his smile reaching his dark eyes. He’d felt guilty with how much time he’d spent working. He knew that was the real reason for you acting out, and all he wanted was to make up for it and spend some extra time with you. 

“Would it be wasteful to watch films? And eat these?” You asked.

“That would be perfect,” he helped you onto the couch, making sure you were able to sit comfortably. 

You giggled as he forked a piece of pancake into your mouth, kissing the syrup off of your lips. You ate and watched the movie, gasping at the scary parts and laughing as Zemo covered your eyes. 

“I love you, you know?”

[thedummysdummy]

The Fight

“Do you want to go to dinner today?” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay! I’ll come to your office then when I get off work. Make sure that you get all of your work done so I don’t have to wait for you!” The girl finished the message with a winking emoji and slid her phone back into her bag. A smile crossed her face and she hummed to herself as she tapped away at the keyboard. 

The two had been so busy lately that she hadn’t seen Victor in over a week. It started with her business trip to film a promo, then Victor’s trip abroad, and before she knew it the entire week had slipped away. Texts and nightly phone calls really didn’t fill the void in her heart or the spaces between her fingers, and she itched to see him again.

By the time five pm rolled around, the girl had packed everything up and was practically beating down the door to leave. Truth be told she could have left at any time, but the guilt of leaving her employees to work overtime while she flitted off to have dinner with Victor kept her in her office. A knock at the door shot her head up and she leaned back in her chair to see Anna standing in the doorway. “Don’t stay too late, boss,” she teased, leaning in the door frame. “I heard Victor is back in town.” 

“Let me guess. Kiki was being a gossip again?” the girl laughed, and Anna joined in with a nod of the head. “Don’t worry. I was just waiting for all of you to finish up before heading over to LFG. I have a week’s worth of reports to turn in.” 

“And a fiance to see,” Anna teased, causing the girl to blush slightly. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to be so shy about it! We all know about the engagement and it is perfectly normal for young couples to be excited after some time apart. Why don’t you hurry on over there? I’ll lock up.” 

The girl nodded and picked up her bag, placing a hand on Anna’s shoulder as she passed. “Thanks, Anna. And you tell Kiki that she’s a creepy stalker!” 

Anna’s laughter followed the girl as she hurried out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. Excitement was pulsing in her brain and she could practically feel his warmth on her skin. The entire ride to LFG was spent fiddling with her phone, wondering why Victor had not replied to her last message. 

She burst from the car and while she did not run through LFG’s hallways, she was sorely tempted to do so. Come on, come on, she muttered as the elevator carried her upwards at what felt like a snail’s pace. The doors opened and in her haste, she found her face coming into contact with a suit and tie. “Vic-” she paused, her eyes glancing upward, “Goldman! I’m so sorry. I was just in a bit of a hurry to see Mr. CEO.” 

“I could see that,” Goldman chuckled, stepping back and straightening his shirt. “The boss said you’d be by soon, and he asked me to intercept you. He’s currently with a client and said to have you wait until he’s finished.” 

A shadow fell over the girl’s smile and her shoulders slumped. “Oh, okay. Do you know who the meeting is with or how long it will be? I had wondered why Victor hadn’t replied to me since this afternoon.” She allowed Goldman to lead her to his own office where he offered her a cup of coffee. “Thanks,” she murmured and took a sip. 

“I would suspect the meeting should be over soon. This woman has been coming by every few days, meeting with Victor for an hour, and leaving without saying a word to anyone. I believe she’s a representative of some modeling company that wants to get funding from LFG. They’ve been at it for years, but keep getting turned down.” 

A flashback to the first day of meeting Victor played behind the girl’s eyes, and she nodded slowly. “I seem to remember something like that from my first trip here. The company must be very persistent if they’re still trying!” 

Goldman nodded and sipped his own coffee, a frown on his face. “Yeah, and I really don’t like this woman. She comes and goes, sometimes showing up multiple times a week and others going missing for months at a time. I figure she shows up whenever they lose a sponsorship elsewhere or something, but that’s just a guess.” He shrugged, the shoulders of his suit coat rising and falling in a dramatic fashion. “Personally, I wish Victor would just ban her from the building already.” 

The familiar sound of Victor’s office door opening entered Goldman’s office and the girl jumped up, finishing her coffee in one swig. “Thanks for the coffee and chat, Goldman. I’ve got a date with Victor tonight and this time, I’m not going to be late!” 

As she exited Goldman’s door, a familiar form approached. She was tall, thin, and blonde...and definitely the woman that had exited Victor’s office that day. Chik. Chik strolled down the hallway with her nose in the air, pausing only briefly when she noticed the girl standing there. Chik shot her a dirty look and kept on walking, with just a hint more swagger in her step. 

The girl felt a strong wall of emotion rise up in her gut and color her vision. With a sneer in Chik’s direction she turned and barged into Victor’s office, feeling relieved at finally being able to see him. 

Victor hardly looked up from the paperwork on his desk as the familiar sound of the girl’s presence filled the office. “Well, I see you’re on time today,” he quipped, turning the page. “Did you have our dinner plans settled?” 

His nonchalance took the wind out of her sails and the girl sat down on the couch in the corner where she always sat. “Yes. I thought we could go try the new dishes at Delicioso. I’ve heard they’re very good.” She leaned toward him, hoping to gain more of his attention, but Victor remained focused on his paperwork, humming in acknowledgement. A sigh slipped from her lips and she leaned back, frowning. “So much for getting everything done so there was no waiting.” 

“Sorry.” 

And that was it. For the next thirty minutes Victor continued to work while the girl grew increasingly upset. He didn’t seem in the least bit excited to see her, despite their time apart. She leaned on her elbow and watched his slender face, those dark eyes impassible and his expression unreadable. The clock ticking away on the wall became the enemy, reminding her of each second passing by. 

Finally, Victor looked up from the report and rubbed his eyes. “Alright, let’s go.” The papers were packed neatly into the briefcase in one hand, his hat went on his head, and he picked up his jacket with the other hand. “Goldman will drive us to the restaurant.” Out the door he went with the girl trailing close behind. She longed to reach out and take his hand, but they were both full and he showed no sign of reaching out for hers. Even more gloom settled into her stomach. What was going on? 

The walk down the hallway, ride in the elevator, and stroll to the car were all completed in silence with Victor staring off into space and the girl searching his face for any sort of clues. It was cold, proud, and distracted as ever and provided no finger holds for deciphering his mood. He leaned over slightly to open the back door for her, closed it behind her, and sat in the front himself. “Evening, boss. Good to see you without a page in front of your face,” Goldman greeted, receiving only a nod and grunt in response. 

Goldman and the girl made casual conversation as they weaved through the evening traffic on the way to the restaurant. Victor was glued to his phone, messaging someone in what seemed to be a constant conversation. Despite her desire to lean forward and peek at his screen, the girl forced herself to remain with her back against the seat and her eyes on Goldman. They pulled up to the restaurant and Victor finally put his phone in his pocket, exited the car, and offered his hand to the girl. 

With relief washing through her body and chasing away the paranoid thoughts, she took Victor’s warm hand and waved goodbye to Goldman. “Do you know what you want to order?” Victor’s voice was mild and he gave her hand a squeeze, leading her through the doors and sitting down at one of the closest tables. 

Dinner was...well, dinner. The girl chatted away about her week, while Victor nodded and picked at the hot pot they had ordered together. Eventually she ran out of things to report and looked him in the eyes. “How was your trip? You haven’t said anything about it yet.” 

Victor frowned and shook his head. “It was a waste of time.” She waited for him to elaborate, but when it became obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it, her shoulders slumped and she went back to eating. If he didn’t want to engage in any meaningful way, she knew there was no way she was going to change his mind. They finished in silence and Victor paid the bill. “I have to go back to the office. I’ll call you a cab to take you home.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, but instead frowned and nodded. “Alright. I guess I’ll see you another day, then. I can get my own cab.” She pulled out her phone and walked away from Victor, leaving him standing in the middle of the restaurant watching her back disappear into the darkness. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she took deep breaths in an attempt to keep them from growing and falling. 

It was this moment that Victor realized that something had gone wrong. His eyes narrowed and he thought about their night, trying to pinpoint exactly what had upset her. Did she really want to hear more about his trip? Was she hoping for a gift from his travels? No, neither of those really seemed in character. She had seemed normal up to this point...hadn’t she? He frowned and pulled out his phone, seeing that he had ten unread messages. With a sigh he scrolled down to his conversation with the girl to see if he had missed anything in her previous messages. Nothing. She must be in a mood...Victor shrugged and returned to the other messages, replying to them as he waited for Goldman to return with his car. 

By the next morning, Victor had not received any more texts from the girl. She hadn’t answered his good night phone call, either. He stalked into the office and everyone immediately felt a chill. They put their heads down and ensured they looked like they were working hard, though Victor didn’t even glance at anyone on his way up to his office. 

Even Goldman got the cold shoulder. He had suspected when Victor got into the car last night that something had happened, but they’d been friends long enough that the assistant knew better than to mention it. Once the office door closed it did not open again for hours and the rest of the building slowly relaxed. 

By the end of the day, Victor had only emerged once to use the restroom and return to his office. While this wasn’t entirely unusual, the few unfortunate souls who had to knock on the door were firmly sent away. Rumors flew around the office in hushed whispers that Victor had gotten into a fight with his fiance, though nobody seemed to know who started the rumor nor did anyone have any evidence. 

Meanwhile, Victor spent his day checking his phone and growling every time the new message was not from the girl. Again the screen lit up and he picked up the phone, only to see yet another text in the other conversation. The phone was slammed down on the desk in frustration and Victor held his head in both hands, eyes closed as he regulated his breathing. 

Night had fallen. The office whispered with air conditioning and the hum of back up lights, but no feet or voices remained to give humanity to the atmosphere. Victor’s office was lit only by the single lamp, which cast long shadows on his face and made his eyes appear even darker than they had been. The clock began to chime, nine long tones breaking the silence. Victor stared at the dark screen of his phone, somehow expecting the usual call.

But it never came. 

He set aside his pride and tapped through to the girl’s contact pinned at the top of his list. With the phone on speaker sitting on his desk, Victor stared at the picture on the screen of the pair of them. The girl held a tiny kitten up to his face, grinning and holding his hand firmly. The memory of that day broke slightly through the drizzle that had dampened his day, though the sound of her voicemail brought a new downpour. 

“Fine. I’ll show up at your door, then.” Victor picked up his keys, flipped the lamp off, and stalked down to the car with his face cold and stern. He didn’t even entertain the idea that she might not be home; where else would she be? There were no reports due for over a week, and her last filming session had been today. Logic said she would be on her couch with a snack and a cup of tea, watching some banal movie on the television. Probably a sappy girl movie to wallow in…

As he pulled up, his eyes went automatically to the window of the girl’s apartment. As he expected, a soft glow lit it up. He put the car in park and picked up the small package he had picked up from Souvenir on the way. Despite having no idea why the girl was upset, he absolutely knew what to do to win back her favor. 

*Knock knock*

*Knock knock* 

Silence met his knocks and Victor pulled out his phone. “Hey, it’s me at the door. I know you’re home because your lights are on.” He pressed send and waited. Thirty seconds later the lights clicked off and Victor sighed. Really mature… “Too late for that. I saw you turn off the lights. Just open the door, dummy. I brought you something. And turn the lights on or you’ll fall flat on your face.” 

This time he could hear the sound of his text message arriving on her phone, followed by a sigh of exasperation. The lights clicked on and her shuffling footsteps came up to the door. A click announced the lock disengaging and the door opened just a few inches to reveal the girl’s eye. “Just go away, Victor. Go back to whoever has been blowing up your phone since you got back.” She closed the door and her footsteps retreated, but Victor did not hear the lock click. 

He stared at the doorknob for a long time, trying to decide if she had left it unlocked on purpose. Go back to whoever has been blowing up your phone… The girl’s words echoed in his mind, and an image of the issue began to form in his mind. Victor took hold of the handle and turned it.

The door opened with a soft creak. Victor stuck his head into the apartment and spotted the girl sitting on the couch, her knees pulled close as she hugged a pillow to her chest. She looked up for a brief moment before returning to staring into space. “Do you mind if I come in?”

She did not respond, but Victor took that as an invitation and opened the door wide enough to slip inside. He pulled his feet out of his shoes and put on the slippers she kept by the door for him, then cautiously approached the couch. “I brought a peace offering,” he said, holding out the small package. When she did not make any move to accept it, Victor placed the gift on the table and sat down on the far end of the couch. He sighed and reached out to take her hand, but she pulled it away. 

The simple movement was like shards of ice to his heart. Victor’s eyes softened slightly and he folded his hands in his lap. “Dummy, what is wrong?” His voice was tender and he leaned toward her despite her closed off body language. “I’m not a mind reader, after all. That’s more in your Evol’s realm.” 

His joke fell completely flat, failing to lighten even a little the oppressive feeling in the room. She tucked her face into the pillow and her shoulders shook just a little. Victor was at a loss for what to do, his hand extended toward her but afraid to actually touch her. They sat in silence for a long time, until the girl’s soft voice broke it. “Did you even miss me at all?”

Eyebrows narrowed, Victor scooted closer. “Of course I did. Why in the world wouldn’t I?” The girl’s eyes peeked up over the edge of the pillow, filled with anger and sadness. He again reached out for her hand, but she shook her head. 

“You had no interest in holding my hand or talking to me yesterday, so why are you so concerned tonight?” Her words held a sharp edge which cut through Victor and made him wince. Had...he really come across that way? Going over yesterday’s meeting, he did remember his hands being full on the way to the car, and their silent drive to the restaurant… Her voice broke him out of his thoughts again. “You spent the whole night texting someone. It was Chik, wasn’t it?” 

Surprise filled Victor’s eyes, which only seemed to infuriate the girl more. “Yes, but-” 

He was cut off by the girl throwing the pillow at him and rocketing up from the couch. Without another word she ran to the door and put on her shoes, disappearing into the hallway before Victor could even register what was happening. He stood for a few seconds, staring at the broken pudding that had been knocked off the table and onto the floor. *What are you doing? Go after her, you idiot!* his inner voice screamed, and he immediately jumped into action. He put his shoes back on and grabbed her keys from the hook, locked her door to avoid any unsavories from entering while they were gone, and ran down the hallway shouting her name.

The girl had made surprisingly good time. In the few seconds between her door slamming behind her and Victor emerging in the hallway, she had completely disappeared. He ran down the staircase, emerging in the lobby just in time to see her sprinting out the front door. Out of reflex he activated his Evol, only to remember that it didn’t work on her as she disappeared again into the darkness. “Damnit!” he shouted, restarting time and hurrying outside after her. 

He burst into the cold darkness and looked down both sides of the street, trying to figure out which way she had gone. A shadow passing beneath a streetlight half a block away caught his eye and he took chase, his feet pounding the pavement. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed her number as he ran, not expecting her to answer but at least hoping that her screen would light up and make her easier to follow. 

The ringing ended and her voicemail message played. “Please! You have entirely the wrong idea! Just come back so I can explain!” His words were ragged as he spat them out between breaths, wondering how and when the girl had gotten so much faster. At the next corner he again paused to figure out which direction she had gone. His breath came out in fluffy white puffs, drifting upwards in the cold. 

Annoyance and concern turned to panic as he realized that the girl was running around in the dark and cold in nothing but pajamas. “Dummy!” he shouted, releasing the last of his frustration to make room for the fear. Where had she gone? She couldn’t stay out here too long or she was going to end up with hypothermia...he felt the sweat on his own body evaporating and leaving him with chills beneath his heavy suit coat. 

Victor called the girl’s phone over and over, listening carefully in the silence of the night as he wandered up and down the nearby streets. She wouldn’t have run super far, would she? She was impulsive, but not entirely stupid. Surely a block or two away she would have run out of rage and found a place to sit, right? Operating on this thought, he activated the flashlight on his phone and continued walking, redialing, and listening in between calling out her name. 

He was growing increasingly desperate. Had she gotten lost somewhere? Fallen and injured herself? Was she freezing? His eyes scanned every nook and cranny while he wracked his brain for other ways to locate her. Until, however, a sniffle caught his attention. He stopped dead and closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing. Another sniffle from slightly ahead and to his left hit his ear and he walked up cautiously to a bench. He sat down and caught his breath, facing the street with his phone in his hand. “You are going to freeze to death out here in pajamas,” he texted her, hearing the vibration of her phone directly behind him. 

No responding text came, though he suspected she wasn’t sure if he had seen her. Victor sighed and put his hand behind him, reaching through the slats of the bench toward the girl. “I know you’re there. Will you please come out so we can talk?” 

She did not respond and Victor again sighed, standing up and removing his jacket. He slipped through the bush to the left of the bench and settled down on the ground next to her, dropping his coat on her shoulders, still warm from his body. She moved only slightly, pulling the fabric closer around herself. 

Victor wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him, feeling her entire body trembling. Whether with cold or the tears streaming down her face, he was not sure...but he held her close to him either way, his strong arms holding her against his still-heaving chest. He gently pressed her head into his shoulder and she did not resist, burying her red cheeks against his neck. “I believe there has been a huge misunderstanding,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “I think I know where your mind has gone, but don’t you think we should probably go back to your apartment where it is warm? I’ll make you a cup of tea and we can talk about it.” 

The girl shook her head and wrapped her arms around Victor’s chest. “You didn’t seem at all excited to see me yesterday,” she whispered, her breath on his exposed, cold skin feeling particularly hot. “I saw Chik come out of your office and Goldman told me she has been around a lot. What conclusion would you come to?”

He remained silent for a long time, frowning at her words. “Did Goldman not tell you that she only comes to continually harass me for an investment? She’s the kind of woman who thinks if she flaunts herself enough and persistently enough, a ‘no’ will turn into a ‘yes.’ But unlike a certain dummy who is equally persistent, her company holds no interest to me. Between her constant stream of annoying text messages and the absolute failure of a business trip, I wasn’t excited about much at all yesterday.” Victor shifted to sit cross-legged in the dirt and pulled the girl into his lap, lifting her chin to look her in the eyes. “Do you really think so little of my loyalty that such paltry ‘evidence’ shakes your faith in me?” 

Silence met his question. She didn’t seem to know what to say, and either did Victor. Instead he pulled out his phone and opened it to Chik’s contact, shifting the screen so the girl could read the conversation. 

“We did exceptionally well this quarter! Wouldn’t you perhaps reconsider your decision?”

“Surely you know that fashion is a booming industry! You will regret not taking part in it! We only need a few million to build the new studio!” 

“My most recent blog post was trending on ‘Fashion Weekly.’ Doesn’t that mean anything to you investment types?!”

The more she read, the dumber she felt. She looked away ashamed, burying her face in Victor’s neck and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears again falling from her cheeks and soaking into Victor’s shirt. “I’ve been the biggest dummy ever…” 

“Yes, yes you have,” Victor replied, slowly stroking her back. “It hurts me that you would immediately jump to a conclusion of infidelity when I’ve made it so very clear that it has always only been you. No one else has ever interested me in the least. Through all the trials and years of searching for each other...it has always been you.” He squeezed her tightly until she squeaked from all the breath being pushed out of her lungs. “Come on, let’s get back to your apartment before we both get hypothermia.” 

He rose with the girl in his arms and began walking toward her building, not bothering to worry about putting her down. She didn’t seem inclined to leave his arms, anyway...not with hers wrapped tightly around his neck. Victor carried her all the way to her apartment building, where she finally released him and slipped his coat from her shoulders. Victor moved to refuse it but she shot him a sharp look and he put it back on. Hand in hand they returned to her apartment and sat down on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and closed their eyes wearily. 

Before long the gentle ticking of the clock lulled them both off to sleep, wrapped up in the embrace of the one who kept their world turning.

[youngerdrgrey]

you're it, you're the ultimatum AU // a wildmoore fanfic, chapter 2

summary: in short, Kate gave Sophie an ultimatum, and Ryan gave Angelique one, and soon enough, Ryan and Sophie will spend three weeks in an 'accelerated' marriage for this reality show.

chapter summary: Sophie's pre-show jitters lead her to the gym, but she's not the only one looking for a workout. Time to meet Ryan. + read on ao3

🦇

Two months. Sophie can do this.

She paces the moment that she and Kate are alone in their room. Julia reminds them that she’ll be outside if they need anything, or that a production assistant (“Or P.A., they’re everywhere”) can call her if she’s headed off. No leaving without express permission. Enjoy their final night together as a couple. 

Sophie’s fists clench at the thought. Final night. One night in this gorgeous suite with a California king mattress and a beautiful view of the city. One night with the girlfriend that she rearranged her whole life for already. One night and—

“Soph?”

“One night, and everything we know changes,” Sophie says, picking up right where her thoughts left off. She stills her steps. Darts her eyes to where Kate lounges on the bed before looking ahead into the suite. Sophie’s already tried to relax. She changed into her workout clothes. Did a few stretches. But she keeps coming back to one thought: “How many people will see this?”

Kate shrugs. “I don’t know — couple thousand?”

That’s a conservative guess. Reality shows bring in tens of thousands of viewers, not to mention a queer season of a reality show will bring in extra support from the LGBTQIA+ community, hate-watches and boycotts and subsequent additional press from the homophobes, and then there’s the typical fanbase for dating shows that live for the drama.

Sophie shakes her head. Jordan’s going to watch this. The women at her mom’s church will hear about it. Then her mom will watch it. Then there’s Kate’s family and — Sophie’s head snaps up. “What if our clients watch it?”

Kate sighs from the bed. “They’ll be fine. So long as we make sure to paint the Crows in a good light, then we’re all good.” She finally climbs off the bed and crosses the room to where Sophie’s standing. She takes Sophie’s hand to turn Sophie towards the giant mirror on the wall. It could be romantic, or sexy, if not for the deep set crease between Sophie’s eyebrows. Or the grimace on her lips.

Kate adds, “It’s good press for Gotham too. This way the rest of the world gets to see well-adjusted people, not just criminals and caped crusaders.”

Sophie’s frown deepens before she forces her facial muscles to relax. “I don’t want to have the Batman fight again.”

“I don’t want to have it either. I want my gorgeous girlfriend to come to bed with me.”

For the last time. Definitely for four weeks and possibly forever. 

Sophie shakes her head. “I…. I’m too wound up. And don’t —“ she glares at Kate before stepping out of her hold “— don’t say you can help me unwind.”

Kate drops her hands to her side with a sigh. “I’m not going to the gym, Soph.”

“Then I’ll see you when I get back, alright?” Sophie heads for the door without waiting for a response, then doubles back to give Kate a quick kiss on the lips. She pulls back before her girlfriend can even think of deepening it.

“One hour,” Kate tells her, as Sophie walks back to the door, “If you stay for two—“

“I won’t.”

“I will go to sleep.”

“And miss our last night together?” Sophie taunts.

“Gotta make you miss me somehow, right?” It’s said with Kate’s normal confidence, but there’s a hint of fear underneath it. A vulnerable underbelly that almost makes Sophie turn around again. 

But they’re only here because Kate wanted to do this. Kate thought an ultimatum would force Sophie into an engagement, just like Kate thought that running off together just before graduation was the right thing to do. Kate does not make the decisions here. Sophie does. And Sophie is going to the gym.

🦇

More accurately, Sophie is waiting outside of the gym. There’s a cameraperson a few steps back, and Julia talks in a hushed voice with another producer. His name’s Luke. One of the few other Black people on the production. He seems level-headed, if not a bit jumpy, as he glances back into the large windows of the gym.

“My girl needs more than a few minutes,” Luke tells Julia.

Julia says, “Mine’s pacing holes in the carpet, so we’re gonna need to compromise here.”

Clearly they’re not meant to interact with other participants yet. This section of the hotel’s been closed off from most of the general public. The whole operation honestly makes Sophie itch for her Crows blazer and earpiece. She can handle a protective detail. She can smile and wave for the cameras if that’s what they need. Just let her into the gym.

Sophie steps forward to say as much, and a quick flash of movement catches her eye. On the other side of the plexiglass is a blur of a woman. Curly black hair, warm brown skin, toned arms that flex with each quick hit of her fists to the speed bag suspended from the ceiling. The woman shifts her stance. She drops into lunges, and her full picture snaps into focus. Her body, her clear comfort and command of each muscle in it.

Yeah, no, Sophie needs to get in there before she leaves.

“Hey,” Sophie uses her commander voice to get the producers’ attention. Everyone’s eyes snap to her. “Can’t you just bring a camera in? Ask us questions or something. We’re supposed to meet tomorrow anyway.”

Luke and Julia split a glance. Julia’s smirk looks amused, and Luke’s troubled, but as Sophie holds firm in her stare, Luke wavers in his. 

“Fine. But you will absolutely need to be on camera, and we are asking questions.”

He steps to the doors and opens it. Calls out, “Hey, Ryan! Cameras coming in. You’ve got a friend too.” He holds the door open. The camera crew slip in first. One going further back and closer to Ryan, one staying close with their camera clearly pointed at Sophie. 

Julia goes in next, already walking backwards and offering that amused smirk to Sophie. “You’ll introduce yourself. Ask if you can join her. You’re already mic’d, so we’re all good. Just be yourself, but you know, open. Approachable.”

Sophie’s never been approachable in her life. She nods anyway. Luke does not give the same speech to his participant. As Sophie looks back over at her, Ryan meets her eye immediately. 

God, her eyes are so big. And brown, and already laughing at Sophie. But then Ryan smiles, and Sophie gets why Luke doesn’t have to coach her. That smile could… raise the dead, probably.

Sophie leans back on her training. Offers a polite grin and crosses the space between them to hold her hand out. “Sophie Moore, nice to meet you.”

Ryan takes the hand, even though hers are already wrapped for boxing. Warm and a bit sweaty, like the rest of her. “Ryan Wilder. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow?”

Sophie’s sarcasm rears up immediately. “Oh yeah, ran down here to meet you. Huge fan of… what do you do?”

“I teach. Martial arts.”

That explains the muscles and the evening conditioning. “Are you any good, or is this a ‘those who can’t do’ situation?”

Ryan laughs. She lets go of Sophie’s hand. “Pretty good. I can show you, if you wanna pick up the pads.” She nudges her head to where a few pads are. Sophie hops over to pick them up. Ryan calls after her. “What about you?”

Sophie slips the small padded circle onto her left hand. “Oh, I’m more than good.” She uses that to help secure the right hand before making her way back to the center of the mats in the room. “Go for it.”

Ryan throws a soft punch towards Sophie. Sophie catches it quick. Nods for Ryan to go again. They start off slow — mostly giving Sophie a chance to see Ryan’s flow and go along with her. Words fall away as the main sound becomes the thud of Ryan’s fists and their feet shuffling along the floor.

Julia cuts in after a minute or two. “Keep talking. Why are you here?”

Ryan rolls her eyes subtly, which gets the first relaxed smile out of Sophie. Sophie parrots Julia in a tone that’s only a little bit mocking. “So, Ryan Wilder, why are you here?”

“In the gym, or?” Ryan punches with the deflection. She chuckles right after. “I asked my girlfriend on the show so that she would know how serious I am.”

“Oh, so you’re the one giving the ultimatum,” Sophie says. Ryan nods. “How serious are you?”

“Pretty damn serious.” Ryan cringes. She looks to Luke. “Can we cuss here?” He nods. “Great. Pretty fucking serious.”

Sophie laughs. “You have to be to come here, right?”

“Absolutely.” Ryan throws a punch a little faster than Sophie’s ready for. “What about you?”

Sophie shifts back a step to readjust the glove against her thigh. It buys her a moment. Simple answer, long answer. Simple answer? “I’m here because my girlfriend wants a big, gay wedding that I am…” a sigh slips from the depths of her soul “…not ready for.”

Ryan doesn’t make a big deal out of it though. “Which part? The big, the gay, or the wedding?”

Sophie stares down at the mats. “Who knows? All of it?”

Ryan finally breaks her fighter’s stance to stand level. “I’ve been ready for a long time, but Ange.... So I waited, but the longer I waited, the more I felt….” 

Felt what? Trapped? Because sometimes, Sophie feels like the walls are closing in and her life is getting away from her. Like she’s second in command to the father-in-law that she doesn’t even have yet, and her life is Kate’s life, and Kate’s life is the only one that matters.

Ryan finishes, “Powerless.”

Sophie cringes. That sounds a lot better than what she was thinking. She doesn’t think that way often. She really doesn’t. She loves Kate. Kate’s the love of her life.

“So this show, this is you taking back your power?” Sophie asks.

Ryan nods. “Hell yeah,” but the certainty isn’t there. “It’s… kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Sophie hums her agreement. “There are at least three cameras recording us talk right now.” And tens of thousands of people waiting to see how this goes. The thought makes her throat clench. She shakes her head. “Alright, arms up. You don’t have to just punch. I can take it.”

Ryan quirks a brow at that. Her lips tick up too, and she licks them in a way that’s probably instinctive. A natural reflex from someone who has no clue what that can do to a person. Sophie rolls her eyes, which only makes Ryan smile wider.

The shorter woman circles her jaw once before pushing forward with a new combination. A quick set of punches that Sophie deflects easily, then returns, as Ryan dodges from her onslaught.

“See, you’re so close to the ground—“ Sophie jokes. She doesn’t get to finish that before a well-timed kick from Ryan knocks Sophie down to the mat.

An “ooph!” from Luke and an “ah!” from Julia remind Sophie of their audience. Ryan beams from above her, still standing. “What was that about the ground?”

Sophie goes for a cheap swipe of her feet, but Ryan anticipates it, jumping back just as Sophie kicks for her. Ryan smiles even wider at that. Sophie has no choice but to get up then.

“Alright, Wilder, it’s on.”

Before Ryan can respond, they’re back into a fresh round of sparring. Dodging, circling, grappling, laughing — their producers say something in the background, but neither of them listen. Too focused on getting one over on the other. 

At one point, Ryan nearly gets Sophie down with a move to the back of Sophie’s knees, but Sophie uses the newfound leverage to all but throw Ryan down onto the mat. The slam is so satisfying that Sophie can’t help the laugh that slips out. Ryan groans for a moment. Chest heaving as her eyes burn in a competitive glare. She starts to get back up when Julia practically yells.

“Guys, the mics!”

Sophie cringes. Mics are definitely not cheap. She turns to give an apology to Julia, which gives Ryan the upper hand to lock her legs around Sophie and essentially yank Sophie down to the mat too.

“Fuck!” Sophie snaps. Ryan cackles.

“That’s two-one.”

Luke steps onto the mat. “And that’s it. Ryan, we should get back.”

Sophie vehemently shakes her head. “That was a cheap shot. I wasn’t even looking.”

Ryan unwraps her hands. “Get me back next time then.”

Julia’s quick to shoot that down. “You’re not sparring again. If you get injured—“

“We won’t get injured,” Ryan says, at the same time as Sophie says, “It won’t happen.” They catch eyes again, almost like a challenge.

“Nope,” Julia crosses the room towards them, “I don’t like that look. You’re not getting me in trouble because you’ve got a death wish, okay?” She stops beside Sophie and offers her hand. “Now say goodbye to your new friend.”

Sophie lets Julia pull her back up. Luke had said that Ryan had to leave, but Sophie could probably head back now too. At least some of her anxious energy is gone. Now if she could just get one more flip in.

Ryan laughs as she gets up. “Wait until I tell Ange I found somebody to spar with.”

Luke hesitates. “You sure you want to tell her that?”

Ryan’s face scrunches. “Why wouldn’t I?” Luke’s gaze jumps from her to the cameras and back to Sophie. Ryan laughs again. “‘Cause of the show? She’s not like that. She’s not gonna get weird about it.”

Luke meets Julia’s eye over Ryan’s shoulder. His doubts clear on his face. “Alright, if you say so. Can we just get one more shot of the two of you? Shake hands, parting words, and then we’ll call it a night.”

He and Julia back out of the frame and over to the doors. Sophie’s already been facing Ryan, so Ryan’s the one to turn this time. The one to cross the distance and hold out her hand.

Her eyes really do sparkle. “See you tomorrow?”

Sophie slips her hand into Ryan’s. “I’m getting a rematch.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.” She takes her hand back and turns again. And Sophie probably should’ve just said something normal the first time. Just a quick thanks, or a ‘see you tomorrow.’ Something non-combative. Something approachable, or charming.

“Hey Ryan?” Ryan glances back over her shoulder. Sophie shrugs. “I’m glad I didn’t wait. Until tomorrow.”

The slow smile that spreads across Ryan’s face — it’s worth the embarrassment of feeling like tens of thousands of people are watching her. It’s worth the sting in her shoulders and the ache in her side from the mic pack. Because this smile brightens the whole room, and it doesn’t ask for anything more than what Sophie’s willing to give.

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes out, “me too.”

🦇

Julia is buzzing when she and Luke get into the producers’ bay that night. Absolutely frenetic. Her leg bounces in her seat amongst the collection of desk chairs and the endless monitors of footage.

“You saw that, right?”

Luke nods. He nods again. He laughs a laugh so full of genuine relief that his glasses shake. “Holy shit.” He spins his chair back to his laptop. “What do we have on them again?”

None of their files are ever truly out of sight. He knows as much as possible about Ryan and Angelique. But Sophie, he honestly could know more. He starts scanning as quickly as he can. Homophobic mom, younger rebellious sister, white ex-husband (but not bisexual is underlined twice after that).

Julia still hasn’t stopped bouncing her leg. “I’ve gotta stay on her.”

“Who her?” he asks without looking up.

“Sophie. She’s got a type.”

“White?”

Julia grimaces, but her eyes don’t disagree. “Rigid, unavailable, simple. All signs point to Renee.”

Luke groans. “Shit. They’ve got the cop thing too.”

Julia pushes her chair further back. “You know the fact that I did security made Sophie just... unclench on day one. If there’s an easy out, the shorthand with Renee might cut these two at the knees.”

Luke pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mmm, okay, but, come on, you saw these two tonight. Uh, what about… Kate and Renee. They can bond over how much they hate Batman and love getting drunk. It… it fits.”

“Okay, then we try to direct them towards each other. Keep Sophie out of it.” Julia gets up to grab the pictures from the giant whiteboard along the wall. She plucks Sophie’s from beside Kate’s and brings it next to Ryan’s. “Keep these two talking. Flirting. Fighting. Because these two… they could be our standouts.”

“Maybe even more than that. They’re the story.”

🦇

end chapter notes: Talk to me, Gotham. What's working for you? What are you looking forward to?

read chapter three here!

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Capriccio (Chapter 4)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow whose ask box is always open for questions, comments, and anything else about this story as well!

Catching the small flames of romance, starting to get turned on higher. They have a tour to do, right? Not spend all their time making goo-goo eyes at each other.....unless?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 8274

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fedorable-killjoys

***

"Thomas," Y/n stared down as he entered the bus. "When I gave you my personal number it was meant for emergencies, not you texting me because you forgot what "sempiternal" means in the middle of the night. What were you reading anyway?!"

"Nothing." Thomas looked up at her from where he was sitting, wide eyes, feigning innocence.

Y/n shook her head, not believing the guitarist and his horrible poker face, but not being bothered enough to question him any further either. “Well, next time you have a question like that in the middle of the night, ask google instead.” She gave him a warm smile and a little pat on the head as she passed him by, moving down the hallway of the tour bus.

It had become a routine for her to stop at the stove first, starting the coffee for everyone, then having a look around as she was waiting for it to boil. Damiano was slumped over on a couch, his head in his hand and still half asleep. She wondered how little rest he had gotten last night, after meeting him out on the balcony at 2 am.

Had he stayed awake for hours, like she had? Had he been thinking about her, the way she had been thinking about him? He had flirted quite heavily last night and she wasn’t sure whether to attribute it to his sleepiness, or if he had meant it at all. She wasn’t quite sure what she was hoping for either. He was insanely attractive, and the attention he gave her made her heart beat in ways no other man had managed to do before. But this wasn’t the time or situation to turn into a bundle of nerves because of a boy.

Even if her brain had decided to play fantasies of him storming into her hotel room last night. Demanding to kiss her. Holding her face in his hands. Looking at her with those dark, hazel eyes, like she was the only person in the world. Probably smelling of sleep and cigarettes and all that made him inherently Damiano. She knew the smell well, it had been haunting her all throughout this whole fucking tour. But the fantasies kept coming, imagining him in love with her, even if she never truly believed in it. It was a nice idea, nothing more.

The sharp hiss of the coffee pot pulled her out of his thoughts and woke up Damiano from his half-slumber. Tired eyes trying to make out the source of the noise, smiling slightly when realising that caffeine was coming his way. Y/n quickly moved to get his cup ready, preparing it the way she had already learned he preferred. He readily held out his hand for the beverage, fingers briefly touching. She almost dropped it as sparks ran through her. She wasn’t sure if he had felt the same or simply hid it better. But as soon as the cup was safely in his hands, she turned back around. Back to the stove to take a deep breath and continue her morning routine.

I need to get over myself. This is a job. Getting fluttery over your boss is not gonna help get the job done. Ignore him. He didn’t feel anything. You need to work. Not imagine something that is never gonna happen. It's not gonna happen, Y/n.

She made quick work depositing the other mugs to Victoria and Thomas, before finding Ethan in the very back of the bus. Drum sticks in hands and absentmindedly tapping a beat on the table in front of him.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, thank you,” he answered, absentmindedly. “Hey, Y/n, does this sound good to you?”

Ethan started to play out a beat, effectively ignoring the cup that had been placed on the table, as she sat down beside him to listen.

“I’m no musician, but it certainly sounds good to my ears!”

Ethan gave her a proud smile, putting his drumsticks to the side for a second to take a sip from his drink. Y/n, grabbed them immediately, beating randomly on the table.

“You know what? I may have to take you up on your offer of teaching me to play. Love how you guys always have stuff around, you’re just constantly thinking about music. I wish I knew how to play," she sighed.

“I can show you a bit of drumming right now, if you’d like?” He offered. “Just a bit of a rhythm on the table right here.”

He moved closer to her, taking her hands in his as she kept holding onto the sticks and tried to get her to play a little, easy beat, but the angle was awkward and her wrist was bent too much to properly tap along.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” he laughed. “Would you mind, um, moving between my legs?”

Y/n could feel another blush coming on. It may be just Ethan, but it IS Ethan and Ethan sure is pretty. She studied his face, unassuming, nothing but a welcoming smile. But she felt odd. She had only been working for this band for a few days, yet she’d already grown closer to them than any other client she had worked with before. Normally she’d do her job, get a quick thank you on the way out, and then just retire somewhere. Do uni work, wait for further instructions. This whole thing was new and as much as she was enjoying it, she wasn’t sure if she was crossing lines she shouldn’t as a personal assistant. Then again, what was the harm in a little lesson? It wasn’t like there was anything else to it. This wasn’t him trying to flirt with her, this was him trying to be a friend. She could do with a friend.

With a quick nod, she moved and sat down on the floor in front of Ethan. Nestling between his legs as he held her hand. Helping her get into position before backing up a little to give her more space. Grabbing her hands again with the sticks to demonstrate how she was supposed to hold and then hit the table. He leaned over her to watch what she was doing. She understood quickly, getting the hang of it and before she knew it Ethan had let go of her hands as she was successfully keeping the rhythm going.

“See? Natural talent,” he laughed behind her.

Neither of them had noticed Damiano walk down the corridor towards them until he stopped in the doorway.

“Ah, Dami! Look what Ethan taught me!” Y/n starts repeating the little rhythm with the biggest smile on her face, proud of herself and what she’d learned in such a short time. Ethan leant back, watching her with a smile.

“Good job, Y/n. Keep going and you might replace Edgar soon,” Damiano said, ducking into the bathroom with a laugh.

Y/n watched him disappear. Her heart fluttered as he left her sight. If he could just not be my boss, that’d be fucking great…

She stood back up to sit next to Ethan on the couch, shaking the thought off. “I see why you like drumming, it’s fun.”

“Thank you, I think so too. You enjoy being our assistant, by the way?” Ethan asked, looking at her inquisitively while finally continuing to drink his coffee.

“Actually, yes. Best job I have ever taken. I know your manager is an absolutely wonderful woman. Didn’t know she planned this position for me originally though, kinda scared me to be honest.”

“Are we scary?”

“No, no. You’re all lovely. You are the biggest group I’ve worked for so far, so there’s that. But…” Y/n moved to sit on her leg now, leaning closer to Ethan, starting to feel more comfortable around him. “You four are indescribably amazing people. My mum would probably call you ‘people after God’s heart’,” she imitated her mother’s Northern accent, making Ethan laugh.

“Shocking, I know, that we’re normal!”

Y/n smacked his chest.

“No! You are far better than anyone- no one on this bus is ‘normal’.”

“Even the driver?”

“Especially the driver.”

***

Damiano hadn’t meant to listen in, but standing behind the slightly closed door of the restroom, he couldn’t help himself, even if it was killing him. Ethan and Y/n would probably be really good for each other… The thought flashed through him. No. It wouldn’t happen. Not under his watch.

Last night had been a blessing and a curse. After finishing his smoke, he had stood out on the balcony for a little longer, imagining the conversations they would have been having if she had stayed out with him. Under the moonlight. Måneskin. Her hair down, she would probably go get another glass of wine. Coming back out to see him.

“What about you, amore mio? Working on more Shakespeare?”

“Yes. Always. I work hard for things I want, you know me. All work no play makes Y/n a happy girl,” she would snicker into her wine glass.

“What if I wanted you. What would I have to do? Never been shy about ... hard… work, either…”

“Why don’t you come and find out, the door is unlocked…”

With a heavy sigh, he moved to the sink to splash some water on his face, raking it through his hair. It was only early in the morning, he didn’t need to unscrew his head just yet. She was just a girl. Just some girl that worked for them. There were so many people on the team, she was simply one of them. But she was also a woman, with wants and needs and desires, and oh, how he would love to attend to every single one of them… Maybe I could be a need for her, for the beautiful woman just one room over. He screamed internally. He was done for.

***

By the time Y/n left Ethan to his coffee, Damiano was back on the couch with a pen and paper, gears visibly turning in his head. He didn’t even look up when she entered. See, just a guy, Y/n thought. Victoria was busy bickering with the driver about wanting to stop at a service station within the next hour. Thomas was scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly.

As soon as Vic had finished her conversation, she walked over to where Y/n was sitting, letting herself drop onto the seat next to her heavily, laying her head on her shoulder. “Y/n I want snacks.”

“I bought snacks, they’re in the cupboard.”

“But, fun snacks! Like you,” the bassist winked.

“As much as I love the compliment, Victoria, I am sure the driver will take us to the next petrol station after hearing your plea.” She kissed the top of the blonde’s head. “You can survive a little longer without sugary snacks.”

Victoria looked up at her with big blue eyes, wrapping her arms around the assistant. “But what if I can’t, Y/n,” she whined, pulling a dramatic pose. “What if I waste away without fun snacks.”

“Vic, love, nothing here will make you die because you haven’t had food. I provided all of you with breakfast - it was your decision to let Thomas eat yours.”

“And I don’t regret a thing!” Thomas shouted from his seat, all three of them breaking out into laughter. Y/n grinned, eyes falling back onto some of the papers in front of her, ready to get back into work. Victoria’s arm looped around Y/n’s as she snuggled into her shoulder with a pitiful sigh.

***

Goddamnit, not her, too.

Damiano had meant to start writing some more, lyrics and words and images flowing through his head in a chaos that needed to be tamed by pen and paper. But as soon as he had sat down Victoria had started moaning about snacks and her little interaction with Y/n had taken up all of the brain space the lyrics should have. His eyes kept focusing on the closeness between the two of them. The way Vic leant her head on Y/n’s shoulder, the way she in turn kissed the bassist’s head. So far he had only considered Ethan to be a concern. But now the thought of Victoria herself meddling was increasingly growing. So she might have had a boyfriend but that had been, what? Years ago? She had said? And the guy had been a dick. What if she’d just given up on men completely, deciding to exclusively date girls from now on? Fuck.

Staring at the way Victoria was now cuddling her, his thoughts ran wild. Was this still friendly? Was the smile she was giving Vic flirty? Maybe she hadn’t been returning his flirtations the way he’d been hoping because it was Vic she was interested in, not him?

Dwelling on these thoughts wasn’t going to help. Jealousy, envy, insecurity… as interesting as they would be as drag names, they weren’t going to solve the issue. Damiano felt stuck. Making heart eyes at a girl who was three feet away while she was none the wiser. Yet it was Victoria latching onto her arm. He wasn’t surprised. She was gorgeous, and funny, and cared about people. And Vic had a lot of good qualities he himself didn’t possess. Maybe it’s the boobs? His brain mused, but he shook it off. That wasn’t it, he was sure of it.

***

Victoria studies Damiano. His face would have been unreadable to anyone else, obviously lost in his thought. But she knew him well enough to understand that the look on his face was one of insecurity and upset. Not necessarily at anything in particular, just upset. Her eyes softened. Raising a brow at the singer. He simply shrugged, shaking his head, then taking the notebook he was carrying everywhere. Opening it up, staring at the words written there, but not adding anything. Yet his eyes never stopped flicking away to everyone else around him, obviously restless. What was up with him? If there was one thing Victoria hated it was one of her friends feeling off and her not being able to do anything about it. But she knew Damiano, and she knew it could be hard to get him to budge if he didn’t want to talk.

As their eyes met once more, she took the chance to mouth at him, “You alright?”

His eyes flashed at Y/n for a split second, he probably hadn’t even noticed it himself, before nodding with a tight-lipped smile, then looking back down at his pages. That was when it finally clicked in Victoria’s mind. It was about her. And from the looks he kept secretly giving her, the problem wasn’t dislike.

***

“SNACKS!” Victoria and Thomas all but yelled as the bus pulled into the parking lot of a little petrol station. The band ran out of the bus, stumbling over each other like a hoard of kindergartners, and Y/n couldn’t help but smirk at their behaviour. Following them in a much more composed manner.

By the time she entered the shop, all four members of the band had dispersed into different corners. Trying to figure out what to buy. Damiano was holding up two chocolate bars, obviously trying to decipher what the difference was with no knowledge of Swedish whatsoever, before shrugging his shoulders and taking both.

Y/n was still in the doorway, grabbing a basket and consulting a little list on her phone. As much as she loved to let them run wild, she would not completely have them overdose on sugar. No matter how much they wanted to. She still felt responsible for their wellbeing, even on their days off. Juice felt like a sensible choice.

Suddenly, she saw a hand appear from behind her, casually taking out some orange juice from her basket. She turned around in surprise, only to be faced with Thomas looking at her with wide eyes, obviously feeling caught.

“No healthy stuff from the petrol station!” He suddenly shouted, grabbing her whole basket now and running away with it.

“Thomas!” She flew after him before she knew what she was doing, almost running over Ethan as she chased the guitarist through the little store. With not much space available, they ended up going round and round one of the shelves, until Thomas unceremoniously crashed into a cooler when he didn’t manage to take a turn in time. Trying to bite back a smile, Y/n walked over, breathlessly asking him if he was alright, as laughter still bubbled out of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Victoria, giggling away, phone pointed towards them.

“Oh no, you’re not putting that on the internet!” Y/n pointed a finger at her in what she hoped was an authoritative gesture, but Victoria wasn’t impressed.

“Too late!” She squealed as she skipped away, out of reach, to pay for whatever she had picked out.

Thomas had gotten back up on his feet in the meantime, contents of the basket still spilled all around him, sporting a pout.

“Stop it with that face,” Y/n scolded, but she couldn’t keep the smile at bay. “Go pick out your favourite snack, you can add it to my basket.”

Thomas happily skipped away as Y/n quickly picked up the mess, then moved to another aisle finding Damiano there. He seemed to be debating over the crisps now, having moved on from the chocolate bars.

She stood to the side, her eyes flashing over him a couple more times than necessary. He was just too pretty. It was simply impossible to look away. Even now, no fancy clothes, no stage makeup, no grand performance, he was mesmerising.

Her brain couldn’t help itself, images and ideas flashing in front of her eyes. Going to a petrol station on road trips with their future kids. Them bouncing around, chasing each other over a candy bar. Her and Damiano trying to get them not to cause a mess, slightly annoyed, but always laughing along with them.

She looked at him again. In a blink, the daydream changed.

It’s past midnight. He’s in the same sweatshirt he’s wearing right now. Her arms wrapped around his torso. Looking up at that beautiful face of his. Him picking up condoms from the health section. Winking at her with that certain glint in his eyes. Smacking her arse on the way to the cashier. Filled with giggles and flirtatious glances and knowing what the night ahead would entail. The anticipation crackling around them.

Oh, to be that girl. The girl he looks at with lustful eyes. The one he wasn't to make a baby with. Not the one to be ashamed of.

***

Damiano had chosen what kind of crisps to buy long ago. He simply was too busy staring back at Y/n, who seemed to be lost in thought. Eyes focused on him, yet apparently not noticing him looking back. He could basically see the gears in her head turning, mouth slightly open, far away in her mind.

Whatever enraptured that beautiful mind of hers… He wanted to know - could he be that very thing someday? Be so involved in her thoughts that it caused her to finally slow down? Get her to relax. He kept daydreaming about the massage he had given her the other day. How she had melted into his touch. He wanted that again. But more. He wanted her sighs and her moans as he worked her body in any way she would let him. Hell, he’d be her personal roadie if she wanted.

Fuck, he was smitten. She was always so strong-willed, so passionate. That night on the balcony had done nothing to help his fantasies. Her teaching him how to dance? Bodies close to each other, breathing the same air… Whatever perfume she used, he wanted to drown in it.

***

Victoria had been on the way back out, snacks acquired, Instagram story uploaded, and ready to head back to the bus for the last two hours of the ride. However, she stopped dead in her tracks when Y/n and Damiano caught her eye. Both of them were staring at the other, yet neither seemed to realise it. Just lost in their own worlds. Vic frowned, not oblivious to the dreamy look on Y/n’s face or the way Damiano’s eyes kept flicking up and down their assistant’s body. Something was definitely going on here and she was determined to find out what exactly it was.

After Y/n had finally moved again, paying for the snacks, Victoria caught up with her outside the shop. Their driver was having a smoke, surely had more than enough time left for a little talk.

“Y/n, wait up,” Vic quickly jogged up to her, taking the shopping bag out of her hand and carrying it into the bus ahead of her.. “Let me help you.”

She was counting on the guys to be staying outside for a little longer, probably lighting up a cigarette each as soon as they were done snack-shopping.

“So…” She started, putting away the snacks alongside Y/n. “Saw you staring at Damiano in there.”

Great, this wasn’t subtle at all, she scowled at herself. Tact had never been her strong suit in these situations. She was far more likely to rush into a conversation, head first, too open, too honest, too soon.

“I- uh- I don’t know what you mean. I was probably just staring off into space.”

Okay, she was getting flustered. Victoria knew she was onto something here, but it wouldn’t be easy to get anything out of Y/n. She was way too professional and… uptight for that. And they didn’t exactly have any red wine on tap to get her to open up.

“You know, there’s no harm in it. He’s a very attractive man,” she said, playfully nudging Y/n’s side. “Pretty sure everyone’s had the hots for him at some point.”

“Well I haven’t, it's very unprofessional.” Y/n stubbornly replied and Victoria almost laughed out loud.

Sure, she hadn’t. That’s why she was staring at him like he was a drink of water in the middle of a desert. Or why she was getting all flustered every time he touched her. Or why she always seemed to gravitate towards him, whatever she was doing. But that wasn’t what Vic was going to say. It wouldn’t get them anywhere. She had learned that much about Y/n.

“All my friends used to have a crush on him in school,” Vic laughed, remembering their beginnings. “They’d just hang out whenever we were rehearsing, making heart eyes at him and complimenting his every move, but he never cared. He never even looked at them, just giving them a polite hello. Never paid them any attention because he was way too focused on the music we were making. He’s always been like that. Music has always come first. It’s why I think it’s so peculiar how interested he is in you.”

If Y/n had been flustered before, she was full-on blushing now, rapidly opening a random cabinet to hide her face, but Victoria had seen. Her eyes got wide, as if she had been struck by lightning.

“He’s not interested in me, don’t be silly. I work for him just as I work for you and we all get along. Nothing is going to happen if that is what you are worried about. I would never jeopardize the tour or our friendship. He doesn’t even see me like that, anyway, so it’s fine. It’s not like I’m his type, and like, I mean-”

“Hey,” Victoria turned more serious now. As much as she enjoyed teasing her new friend, she felt like she needed to let her know that she wasn’t kidding in this case. She put a tentative hand on her shoulder. Having the other turn around to have Y/n face her. “I’m serious though. I know it’s early days, but if you feel something for him? I’m not going to stop you. Neither is anyone else on this tour. He’s a great guy. And I’ll personally punch him if he isn’t. And I think you’re great Y/n. You deserve good things.”

For a second, Victoria could see a flicker of Y/n’s softer side, of her vulnerability. She felt compelled to pull her into a hug, but she feared making her uncomfortable, so instead, she simply pretended she hadn’t seen. Just like she pretended not to hear Y/n’s voice breaking just the tiniest bit when she said, “Thank you.”

***

The old town of Malmö was full of cobblestone, canals, and adorable old houses. When Y/n led them into the restaurant she had reserved for the evening, Damiano made sure to ask for a table by the window, enamoured by what looked to be the main square of the town and the people hurrying along. As he turned back towards the table, he noticed Y/n with a similar look on her face. Chin held up by her hand as she leaned on the table, watching the world pass by outside. A serene smile played on her face and he feared he was mirroring her expression when Victoria kicked his foot from under the table. Giving him a knowing smile and a raised brow. He shook his head, quickly grasping the menu to distract himself.

“Oooh happy hour!” Victoria squealed. “First round of cocktails is on me!”

Damiano almost let out a sigh - knowing fully well that when it came to an evening like this, they would not stop at a round or two. He was to be proven right.

About two hours later, the sun was on the verge of setting. There was a nice buzz going on, dinner eaten, while the drinks kept coming. Thomas was retelling a story Damiano had heard about a hundred times. Excitedly waving his hands around he only just managed to grasp one of the glasses before the guitarist knocked it over. Y/n was listening attentively - the only one out of the bunch to not have heard Thomas’ retelling before. Damiano couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks were slightly flushed, a sure sign that she’d had a drink. He thought she looked adorable. She’d look just as adorable under me. He quickly put the thought away, blaming it on the alcohol he had consumed. Apart from Y/n - who had been responsible enough to switch back and forth between cocktails and water - they were all on the edge of being drunk, laughing too loudly, talking too excitedly, being a little too affectionate.

It’s what he blamed his behaviour on, when he found his foot searching for hers under the table. Giving her just the slightest, playful kick to get her attention. She looked at him immediately, raised eyebrows, obviously wondering if he had touched her by mistake. So this time, he fully smirked, holding eye contact, as he nudged her again. A timid smile appeared on her face and he was convinced that she would be awkward. Pulling back, possibly scolding him any other time. But her slightly intoxicated state seemed to leave her more open to his teasing. He barely believed it when she nudged him back. Maybe we’re actually getting somewhere here.

“Um, excuse me?”

The whole table looked up at once at the timid voice. Only to find two young girls awkwardly and uncomfortable standing next to them, faces as red as tomatoes and eyes wide.

“Are you Måneskin?”

“We are, actually!” Victoria beamed, immediately getting up. “Do you guys want some pictures?”

The girls didn’t seem to manage anything but hectic nods, too excited and overwhelmed. Damiano smiled. It didn’t matter how big they were getting - having people coming up to them to ask for photos, so obviously in love with them. Still made his heart beat like crazy. He’d do anything for the fans.

Quickly, getting up from his chair as well, he pulled the other two along with him, taking a few photos with the two, exchanging some words and thanking them for their support. Looking back at Y/n, he noticed she was getting a bit nervous.

“Guys, we should probably move back to the hotel now,” she said and it was only then that he took a look around and saw the amount of people staring. Talking and pointing phones at them. It was obvious none of them were actual fans - just hoping to get a glimpse of something to put on their social media. Damiano nodded, rounding up the rest of his band and leading them out of the restaurant, ready to call for a taxi as Y/n went to settle the tab and then followed them outside mere seconds later.

“Right let’s get you back to the hotel,” Y/n decided as they finally managed to flag down a taxi. “But don’t worry, the night’s not over yet - bring your swimsuits, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

***

Y/n was perched on a little tiled bench, laptop with work opened at her side. A bluetooth speaker ready nearby. She’d slipped the girl at the reception a little money and a signed picture of the band, which she had gratefully taken, to make sure they’d have the hotel pool to themselves that night. Y/n was aware that the band tended to really enjoy a nice dip in the water and she was determined she’d get them to let loose and relax a bit before more gigs were coming their way.

She didn’t notice that everyone had arrived until a flash of blond ran past her and jumped into a pool with a massive splash. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Thomas would announce his presence like this. She still flinched for a second. Ethan followed not much later, with Victoria opting for the stairs ‘for hair-related reasons’ and Damiano pushing her in anyways. Following swiftly himself, as she grabbed his hand as she was falling. Y/n shook her head, amused at the four, and turned on some music as she watched them.

She couldn’t help but smile at the way they all acted like little kids on a pool day. But behaviour was one thing - the way they looked was quite another. Water was running down their bodies… okay, one body in particular. She would be lying if she said that Damiano swimming around in nothing but his little shorts wasn’t… well, breathtaking. Tattoos on full display, hair wet, glistening skin. He was smiling, laughing, trying to outswim Thomas. The way his physique moved through the water… He was in formidable shape. What she would give to be manhandled by this man.

Him pinning her to a wall, smirking, looking down at her like he was going to eat her. He rightfully just might. Telling her all the dirty thoughts he had when on stage. Making her look away in a blush, but grabbing her face. Tsk-ing, ‘no, no, no, good girls look at who is speaking to them’.

But no. Work called her name, just loudly enough to pull her out of her fantasy.

***

Opening the laptop, she immediately seemed to get immersed in her work. Damiano watched her with a frown on his face. This was so like her - making sure everyone else got taken care of and was having a good time, only to withdraw and bury her in her work again. He wished she’d take more breaks to just enjoy.

Every now and then she looked away from the screen, watching what everyone else was doing and contently smiling to herself. He couldn’t help imagining her watching over him the same way with their kids. His head was running away with the idea.

Him splashing around with the children. Her watching over them, staying on the sidelines, smiling the way she was now. Making sure everyone was safe and happy. Snacks in hand. Their daughter climbing out of the water, running over to her. The way her eyes would light up, arms open wide, not caring about getting wet as she hugged her. He knew she’d be the most perfect mum, just from looking at her. Nothing had ever been as obvious to him.

A splash of water over his head pulled him out of his thoughts. Apparently, Ethan had caught him staring. He shrugged it off.

“Y/n! Come swim with us!” Victoria called, moving to the edge of the pool. The assistant did nothing but raise a brow at the request, shaking her head.

“You kids go have fun,” she laughed. “I’m fine here, doing a bit of work. Just because you got a day off, doesn’t mean I do too!”

“Ah, you’re no fun, Y/n. One night won’t kill you,” Thomas groaned, diving back under the water.

“Well, I didn’t even bring my swimsuit, so it’s out of the question anyway. Now let me do some work.” She tried to sound strict but the giggle bubbled in her voice anyway, still tiny traces of intoxication in her speech. Damiano grinned at the thought of her still being tipsy, slightly wondering if it’d give him the chance to get her to let her guard down the way she had done the night before.

“Oh, rubbish, you party pooper!” Vic shouted back. “Your underwear will do just fine, it’s not like anyone is here to tell you off.”

Y/n shot a look at Victoria. A blush that definitely wasn’t caused by alcohol crept onto her face.

“I’m alright, you have fun.”

Damiano’s head spun, looking at Y/n sitting on the bench. The sheer idea of her joining them like that? Potentially seeing her undress? He was more than glad the water was hiding the lower half of his body.

“Get over here now or we’re dragging you in!” Thomas threatened, already halfway through heaving himself out of the water.

Oh, no way I’m getting out of the water right now, not like this.

“Oh fine! Fine, fine. If it will make you all stop worrying about me ‘not having fun’,” she laughed.” She rolled her trousers up as she moved to the edge of the pool, kicked off her shoes, and let her legs dangle in the water as she sat down. “Happy?”

“For now,” Vic laughed. “But don’t think you’ll always get out of things this easily!”

“Oh come on guys, leave her be.” Ethan decided to be the voice of reason once again. He swam up to her, hair all piled on top of his head in a bun. “Sorry about them - they don’t know when to quit.”

Y/n giggled at his comment.

“It’s cool, nice seeing everyone have a good time though.” Y/n tilted her head for a moment, looking at Ethan. Slowly she raised a hand to hold his face still, the other hand pulling something out of his hair. “There you go. Can’t have fuzz in those luscious locks of yours!”

A scowl appeared on Damiano’s face. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the way she was looking at Ethan right now, that soft touch, made all the fantasies in his head shatter for a moment. Why wasn’t she fixing his hair instead. Fuck, he was being stupid. His attention was drawn away from the pair as a loud squeal escaped Victoria, who was currently being wrestled in the water by Thomas.

“Don’t you dare dunk me!”

Damiano didn’t even have to watch to know what happened next. A second later, a spluttering Vic emerged, a murderous look in her eye as she dunked Thomas in return. Their little fight turned chaotic, ending with the top of her bikini slowly floating away from her.

“Aw Vic, do you always have to be topless?!” Thomas laughed loudly.

“You dick! You untied it!”

Y/n instantly covered her eyes, avoiding Victoria’s half-naked body at all costs, looking down at her lap.

“Um - maybe someone should, uh, give her her top back?” She stammered.

Vic looked at the blushing girl, a smirk growing on her face as she whispered something at Thomas, pointing at Y/n, obviously hatching a plan. She swam up to their friend, gently grabbing her legs under the water.

“You are the only one that seems to mind, amore… Do you not like my tits?” Victoria teased, cocking her head to the side as she tried to catch Y/n’s eyes.

“No! No, I mean- That’s not what I mean. Um… I don’t know - is it just me or is it hot in here?” Y/n was a mess, tripping over her words.

“The only one that’s hot here is you, Y/n,” Thomas grinned, swimming off to retrieve Vic’s top, which he handed to her as he came back. The blonde held it up to her boobs in a fake-clumsy way, big eyes looking up at Y/n.

“Oh, I think I’m going to need your help with this, Y/n. Mind tying me up?”

Y/n looked like she was about to explode, her face once again covered in a deep red. With slightly shaking fingers, she moved forwards as Vic turned her back towards her, fumbling with the strings around her neck and her back to tie them up.

“Thanks, babe, you’re a doll!” Victoria grinned, taking the assistant’s hand and leaving a little kiss on her knuckles. It was the point at which Damiano decided he’d definitely need to protect her from his bandmates. If anything, it was his time to bother Y/n now.

As Damiano swam over, Y/n was still bright red. Her head was still lowered, picking at her nail polish, as she squeaked out a “hi”. You’ve got to put on the charm now, you can do it, he said in his head, hyping himself up as he looked back at her. He didn’t want to bring her into even more of an awkward situation, but his hands were on her legs before he even noticed, slightly stroking along the curve of her calves under the water.

“Don’t mind those fools,” he told her in a voice low enough that they wouldn’t hear. “They’re just trying to rile you up because they like seeing you blush. It is a nice sight, to be fair. Seeing you blush.”

“Well, it’s not like I have control over that. Um. Y-you look cool… I mean - good. You know? … fucking hell.” She buried her face in her hands, stifling a flustered chuckle. ��I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I apologise, I will just hide now, forever.”

Yet, the smile on her face hadn’t left since Damiano had arrived. She bit her lip nervously, looking at the singer. Staring at him, maybe trying to figure out what his intentions were. He wished he knew. “Your, uh… eyes… they’re pretty.”

“Don’t even think about ever hiding that face from me, yeah?” He pulled her hands back down as she once again attempted to cover herself. He briefly forgot his hands were wet, until she giggled and patted her own dry on her shirt as he let go. “Your eyes are really pretty too, Y/n, so don’t deprive me of them.”

She blinked a couple of times, taken aback by what he had said. “Alright, I can do that.” She barely noticed they were holding hands. Rubbing her thumb over his skin softly, keeping herself grounded in place by the heat his body gave off under the water. “You just gotta step in when they start taking the piss again, yeah?”

He moved in closer now, only letting go of her hands to grasp onto her thighs, trying to keep himself above water. He was desperate to move between her legs, but he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by taking it too far. Not yet. “Of course. But amore mio, what if I wanted to, uh, ‘take the piss’?”

She smirked. “Oh! Then that’s fine.”

Damiano was sure his heart wasn’t even beating anymore, it was fluttering. There was something about her… every time he watched her, talked to her, he felt like he was looking at her for the first time. Finding a new side to her. He wanted more, constantly craving to get closer, and in moments like these. When she let him in just a little bit, made him feel like he was just one small step above the others, he felt like it was all going to be worth it. The slow way he was working himself into her heart.

“Y/N HAS A TATTOO ON HER ANKLE!” Thomas suddenly shouted, popping out of the water and pointing at the assistant. Damiano was pushed out of the way by Victoria, who grabbed Y/n’s leg. Hoisting it up in the air, turning it to show her ankle. A black outlined hand giving the middle finger with long black nails stared back at the band.

“That is really pretty,” Ethan said softly, but Victoria scoffed

“Pretty? It’s fucking cool! See,” she turned back to Y/n, “you are rock ‘n’ roll!”

Damiano stared at the little drawing on her leg, fascinated to have found yet another side to her he hadn’t seen coming. He wondered if she would let him tattoo her one day, letting him grab her leg, smoothing over the skin, putting that kind of trust in him. He was determined to find out, sooner or later.

“I mean... you think you’re the only ones with tattoos?” Y/n smirked, almost in a cocky way. It was a good look on her. “That one hurt like a bitch-”

“That one?” Damiano threw in. “Does that mean there’s more?”

Looking over at him, she simply smiled, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s late, we should be going to bed soon. I know - I’m not trying to parent you, but somebody’s gotta be responsible here!” She stood up, fixing her trousers, putting her shoes back on, and grabbing towels to pass around. “Come on, out of the pool. Comply and I will get you something special with your coffee tomorrow!”

***

After everyone had retired to their rooms, Victoria decided she needed another talk. Moving along the hotel corridor, she stopped in front of Damiano’s door, softly knocking. He opened hastily, his face dropping ever so slightly as he saw her.

“Not who you were expecting?” She asked with a smirk as she pushed past him into the room. She was glad they’d all gotten their own rooms for the night and didn’t have to share - no need to involve Ethan or Thomas in the little conversation she was aiming to have with Damiano. Victoria dropped down onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and getting comfortable, as the singer followed.

“What can I do for you?” Damiano asked, shutting the door behind her.

“How about explaining why you were all over Y/n in the pool?” A grin spread on her face. She knew she’d have to be much less careful with Damiano than she had been in the conversation with Y/n, but still needed him to know this was good-natured teasing. “Pretty touchy, if you ask me.”

“Well, we were talking. Don’t need to tell you everything I do.” He flopped onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to smother his face into. “Why?”

“Yes you do, I’m one of your best friends!” She didn’t hesitate in grabbing the second pillow to whack him over the head, before putting it back behind herself to lean against. “Just interested to know what you think of her. You know, because I’m your friend and I care. And I’m nosey, so spill.”

He started groaning into the pillow.

“If I told you I think I like her, would you shut up about it?” He turned his head to the side to look at the blonde. “I don’t know, Vic, she walked into our lives and…” His eyes grew distant as he thought about her.

“Wait, you actually like like her? I was thinking you were just attracted, you know the thrill of the chase and all that. Fuck, Damiano!” Her smile came back tenfold. “I love this!”

He shot up from his lying position. “No! No, you don’t love this! I don’t love this! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing! She is so sweet and kind and sensitive and I can’t stop thinking about her, it’s turning me into a brain-dead zombie. I could never actually win her over, I fuck up so much and- … I talk too much don’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so flustered!” Victoria remarked in amazement. “You’re actually, properly, crushing on her! You should tell her.” She almost added if only for my amusement but decided against it. This was obviously tormenting him already, no need for her to rub it in.

“I’m not gonna tell her shit! She’s our assistant, for god’s sake. I already could be in so much trouble if she took something I said wrong. I could fall flat on my face and- … Vic, I know that you care and you want me to be happy. Which I love and appreciate. We are best friends, we really are. I would do the same thing if you had a crush on someone, but I just don’t know what to do,” he moans, falling back onto the bed. “I haven’t been like this since school.”

Victoria patted his head in sympathy as he buried his face back into the pillow. She wasn’t quite sure what to advise him in this situation. Sure, she would love to see her friend happy. And there was definitely something cooking under the surface of Y/n’s feelings. And, honestly, the thought of the two of them together? She was basically swooning at the thought. But she also knew it wasn’t her place to meddle. Right?

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I don’t wanna scare her away.” He looked at Victoria with pleading eyes. “Has she talked to you at all? Have you picked up anything from her? Any hints?”

A sigh escaped her lips, but she knew she couldn’t help but give him at least a little push in what she hoped was the right direction. “Look, Damiano. I’m not gonna pretend like I didn’t notice she fancies you. Honestly, no surprise there. But I think we both know she’s not exactly the type to jump right into bed with someone. So take it slow. Show her you care. Woo her.”

“Woo her?! Like an old Italiano romance? I can do that… I think. Okay, what does she like… Y/n, what does she- She doesn’t really talk about herself that much, does she..” Victoria could see the gears turning in his head. “This was so much easier when I wasn’t invested… Why do I have to be invested, Vic?”

He looked at her with dopey eyes, before jumping up and pacing around the room. “Argh! She is making me go insane! I tried writing lyrics, but nothing is working. I just can’t focus when she’s around. She gets this look, especially when talking about her work and language.. At the pool, did you see how she looked at me?”

“You’ve written lyrics?! Now, you really got it bad, my friend,” Victoria shook her head in amusement. “But yes, I did. I told you, she’s interested. Can’t tell you how deep that runs, I’ve only known her for a few days myself and she is working for us, no way to ignore that. So maybe take a step back until you figure this out?”

“Yeah, you’re right. She works for us. That’s… that’s a giant, neon ‘no’.” He stopped walking, looking out of the window. “I need to cool it, don’t I? We’re on tour. What am I doing! We have fans and people who are looking forward to seeing us. We have gigs to play! Fuck.” He sighed, staring off into the distance. “We should probably sleep. No long drive tomorrow, but lots of interviews, right?”

“Don’t get in over your head about this,” she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t expected this kind of outburst when she had knocked on his door earlier. “It’s the first week of tour. You got three more of seeing her literally every day. Concentrate on the job, then on her, yeah? Now let’s get some sleep. And I mean it - no pondering and smoking all through the night, you gotta rest!”

“You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking. Thank you.” He pulled Victoria into a hug. “Thank god you’re here. Wouldn’t know what to do. Goodnight.”

She gave him a little wave as she left his room, only just hearing him mumble, “I have music to perform…”

***

As the night grew to a close, Y/n found herself in her own room, snuggling into a pillow. Glad that the next day would leave less free time. Drive to Copenhagen. Get everyone settled it. Maneuver them from interview to interview, although this time around Victoria would be a great help since she knew Danish. Then off to soundcheck, light dinner, the gig, sleep. No time to get lost in silly daydreams for once.

Yet, as sleep slowly crept up on her, she couldn’t help one last thought entering her mind.

I wonder if he is thinking of me.