#seeing the differences made over time is interesting!!

[thefrogman]

So... I'm the porn photography nerd guy now.

And a lot of people are happy to hear I am not dead.

I have not stopped posting in over a decade, but I sort of retired from the viral comedy I used to make, so I guess it makes sense that people haven't seen me around as much.

My personal tumblr is @sirfrogsworth where I post more frequently. And I have a photography Instagram here. But I promise I am still alive.

ANYWAY...

This post has made me think deeply about porn lighting.

And I thought even deeply-er about how I would actually light a porn.

I think it would be an interesting challenge but the one time I took a topless photo I was uncomfortable the entire time. I suppose that is something I'd have to get used to with experience, but I'm generally more interested in other types of photography.

But light is light, and I am always happy to help people get better results. I've even thought about starting a consulting business where I help people pick out lighting and gear and advise them how best to use it for their circumstances. I think there are a lot of small creators who could seriously up their production value with a small investment and some knowledge. YouTubers, streamers, and OF models who want an edge.

I'll try to give some general advice in this post. But if anyone is interested in a more specific solution, feel free to message me.

This post is about lighting entire bodies.

Quick review...

Large light source = soft light.

Small light source = hard light.

You can make a light larger by moving it closer, adding a modifier (softbox/umbrella), or bouncing it off a surface.

You make the light smaller by moving it farther away, adding a reflector, a grid, or a snoot.

Most lighting is designed for faces and maybe torsos. But when you need to light entire people, you are going to need more than a ring light. Ideally, you are going to want a light source at least as big as what you want to light. You'll notice a ring light is a little bigger than a face. A beauty dish covers head and shoulders. An octobox is roughly the size of a torso. After that, modifiers can get large and unwieldy, so you may have to think about bouncing light off walls and ceilings.

I was going to show some examples, but then I realized Tumblr would give me the naughty tag for this post. So I'll try to be creative about keeping this safe for work.

First, let's quickly expand on why ring lights are not ideal for photos and videos of entire bodies that are... comingling.

Ring lights are not bad. They were just designed to do something very specific. In the beginning, they were actually used by dentists to help photograph teeth without any shadows obstructing the view.

The magic of a ring light is shining light from all directions from the camera's POV in order to get a shadowless effect. You also get circle catchlights in the eyes which some people enjoy.

In order for this to work, the camera needs to be in the hole, and the light needs to be close enough to be directional.

The inverse square law says that when you move a light farther away, all of the photons start to spread out. Imagine a donut expanding inward. Eventually the hole in the middle closes up. It becomes no different than any other light at that distance. And since it has that hole in the middle, there is less surface area casting light.

Depending on the size of the ring light, you're only going to get those special, shadowless lighting properties for a head and chest photo. You might be able to get the boobies within the effect if you have a larger ring light, but it is mostly meant for faces.

Just to compare...

Ring light on the face, close up, with camera in the hole...

Ring light far away, off to the side, camera not in the hole...

You can see her. She is lit. But that ring light "magic" is no longer happening.

It's less flattering.

"Flattering" in the photography world just means that detail and textures are going to be less prominent. Flattering light is not inherently good or bad. If you want to show off a cool pattern or texture, or even a grizzled old man's face, you might actually want a hard light look. Hard light can also be very dramatic and boost contrast, but you may need heavy makeup or flawless skin (or just retouch it afterwards).

Small, hard light causes dark, crisp shadows. Think about what a wrinkle is. A fold in your skin causing a shadow. Think about what a pore is. A pit in your skin causing a shadow. The darker these shadows, the more apparent they are in the photo.

You can even enhance this effect by using "raking" light. Which is just hard light at a steep angle.

If you imagine this was a face or acne scarring or cellulite or a throbbing, veiny bicep, this might look rather unflattering.

Raking light is still useful in a lot of applications. Art conservators use raking light to analyze brush strokes on paintings.

So all types of light can be used for something cool, but unflattering light usually isn't ideal for skin without expertise on how to leverage it.

The good news... if you use your ring light straight on, even from a distance, you can minimize the crisp, hard shadows in places you don't want them. The more raking or off-axis the light, the more flaws will be exaggerated.

You can also attach a cheap shoot-through umbrella to enlarge the light source and soften it.

The bad news... small far away lights increase specular reflections. If you have shiny skin, this may cause big spots of glare. It can also reflect harshly off moisture. And if you are hot and sweaty... for reasons... you might end up looking a little rough.

John Mulaney discovered this when he gave an outdoor speech in front of a distant spotlight.

People thought he was back on drugs.

Nope!

It was just a warm night and hard light reflects sweat and moisture very intensely.

The next day under soft studio lights, he either sobered up overnight...

Or people sometimes fail to realize just how much lighting can affect one's appearance. (This was during a rehearsal so he wasn't even wearing makeup yet.)

Soft light is flattering because it reduces and fills in shadows and evens out specular highlights.

Many people think diffused light is soft light. But any large light source will produce soft light. Diffusion is just a tool to help create a larger light source.

But if you put diffusion on a tiny light...

It ain't going to be soft.

People also assume that soft, flattering light is "better" and that isn't always the case. Sometimes soft light is kinda boring.

The hard light photo is much more interesting and dramatic, but you can already see how much shinier her forehead is. If her photo was taken with hard light directly after... sweaty activities... it would probably not be as appealing.

And that is why most pornography is blasted with soft light.

If you actually ignore the porn and pay attention to the quality of the lighting, it is usually pretty boring and flat. But it is very soft and very shadowless.

I call this "sitcom lighting."

Light is blasted everywhere from all directions. Sitcoms did this because they needed every place on the set to have adequate lighting for every camera position.

I suspect porn adopted sitcom lighting for two reasons.

1.) Porn directors want you to be able to see *everything* very clearly no matter what angle they point the camera. No body part is to be mired in shadow.

2.) If you blast light from every direction, you get a super ring light effect where all shadows are minimal. So wrinkles, pores, veins, sweat, moisture are all reduced. It's super flattering but a little dull.

This is accomplished in a few ways.

Have you ever noticed a lot of higher budget porn videos take place in nice rented houses with a ton of windows?

Ted Cruz knows what I'm talking about.

That's because all of that window lighting is essentially one big light source.

Imagine those windows as softboxes. You are just filling the room with soft sunlight. But if you actually go outside, the sun becomes a small light source with harsh shadows. You need the windows to "modify" the light and make it large and homogenous.

So if you have access to a space with a lot of windows and you don't mind being naked in front of them, you're all set to porn.

The next technique is to just use huge softboxes and umbrellas all around the room.

This is my 7 foot umbrella that I got for under a hundred bucks.

I mainly use it for outdoor lighting.

But, I mean... it'd be great for other stuff too.

And then there is bouncing light. This is how you get truly huge light sources. You can shoot lights into walls or up into the ceiling. This is especially good for videos in bed.

You can combine window lights, giant umbrellas, and bounce lights if you want.

I was watching a Gerald Undone video where he toured the Gamers Nexus studio. Steve clearly didn't know anything about lighting. And so he just put lights EVERYWHERE from every direction.

He accidentally porn lit his studio.

One difference you might notice between Steve and the young woman who is innocently talking on the phone and definitely not about to have sex with her stepbrother...

She seems a little more... smooth.

A little less... 4K.

Enter soft focus filters!

Soft focus is sometimes called the Vaseline effect or the Barbara Walters effect.

This is a filter you can put on your lens to knock the detail back a bit. It keeps everything in focus, but smooths out the edges a bit.

An optical Facetune, if you will.

It tends to look a little more organic and authentic than digital smoothing. But you have to pick the right strength or you will end up making everyone seem like they are glowing like Barbara.

If I am being honest, I don't really like standard porn lighting. But it is hard to suggest something better. Video is just difficult to light artistically without a budget and a lighting expert. When you look at how movies are lit behind the scenes, you can see how complicated it can get.

So I'm afraid I can't give specific advice on how to artistically light porn. It depends on the room and the vibe and what gear you have to work with.

The best I can do is to advise you to get a very large light source as your main light. If you don't have a large white wall or ceiling, you'll want a 7 foot umbrella or the biggest softbox you can afford. And then I would add backlighting. I think that is the element a lot of porn is missing. Shining light from behind and creating nice highlights can really elevate things. You can even make the lights part of the video.

Erotic still photography is a little easier to pull off without much experience.

There are two popular forms of boudoir photography.

There is dramatic side lighting as you can see with this pussy.

And there is more environmental erotica where you decorate a room like a theater set or find a fancy hotel.

So you can make the lighting cool or the environment cool. Or both.

But if you don't have good lighting and you don't have a cool environment, there is one more aspect that can improve your nudes.

Angles and posing.

I'm afraid this is a concept lost on a lot of straight men—as demonstrated by Reece in this dick pic parody.

Finding good angles and choosing good poses can often overcome bad lighting. The easiest thing to do is copy someone else. Find a pose you like and try to recreate it.

And learn how to take pictures without holding your phone. Get a tripod or a phone stand. There are very few sexy poses you can accomplish when you are tethered to your phone. And if you move the phone a little farther away, you can avoid distortion as well.

And now for my most important advice...

NO MACRO PHOTOS OF YOUR JUNK.

If a doctor could diagnose a medical condition, it's too close.

Most people enjoy seeing nude photos in the context of your entire... you. Your eyes, your smile, your belly, and your various private areas.

Unless the intended audience is specifically into detached, close up photos of your bits and holes, it is usually best to keep things zoomed out. Communicate and verify before shoving a camera between your legs.

I'm just saying, when I can see past someone's asterisk directly into their colon... my light gets soft.

None of this answers the question... how would I light porn?

I'd probably delve into experimental lighting. There is this lighting technique where you put a black background directly behind your subject and block the light so it can only peek around the sides. It creates this perfect outline of whatever you are photographing.

This is my pocket knife sitting on top of a light.

And then in post processing, you just expand the black to the edges of the frame.

I want to try and upscale this effect to work on humans.

Okay, that's a lie.

I mostly want to try it on fuzzy cats.

But naked humans might also look cool.

And I'm just imagining if I were to make a video of two people... wrestling... it would look like two human shaped outlines were merging and separating in all kinds of interesting ways.

So the people would just kinda look like this, but it would be an in-camera effect.

I dunno, I think that would be cool.

If you want to learn more about light...

This is a really cool post I wrote about the Inverse Square Law. I know it sounds mathmatical and complicated, but I promise it is not. And it will help you improvise lighting solutions with a lot less trial and error.

In this post I explain more about hard and soft light. I also go more in depth about ring lights and what to do if you already bought one.

And in this post I recommend pro lights as well as budget lights and even some DIY lighting solutions.

In that post I link to a big round streamer light, but it is for the white version, which is not in stock yet. The black version is available right now.

I hope some of this was enlightening.

Go forth and porn.

Ironically, hard light is bad for recording sexy time.

It will highlight every pore, every vein, every wrinkle on your nutsack.

One day I will end this ring light fad. It is my ultimate side quest.

[vistovii]

OPTION THREE.

🌙hey there! last night, this vivid fantasy came to me. i want to share it with you!

p.s. english isn’t my first language, the translation of this text may not be accurate.

tags & warnings: 18+ only, fem!reader x phainon х mydei, smut (threesome, cunniligus, double penetration)

word count: 2,2k

if u read it: you're hot stuff, thanks💛

The library of the Academy Grove of Epiphany was flooded with sunlight – playful and insistent. You sat hunched over an ancient tome on star spirals, feeling the weight of two very different stares boring into you. The tension between Mydei and Phainon hung thick in the air, as familiar as the dusty scrolls, stretched taut like guitar strings.

Mydei was fire incarnate. His perpetually messy hair looked like flame-red tongues licking the air, eyes the color of burnished copper sparking with cocky impatience. He leaned against a bookshelf opposite, clad in armor and fancy gear that shamelessly left his torso bare. His grin was a challenge, his movements sharp and wide.

"Y/N, you're not seriously planning to sit here 'til sundown, choking on ancient dust, are you? The Moon Gardens are unreal tonight... and deserted. Just the two of us. Well," his gaze flicked pointedly to the third occupant, mostly.

Phainon was his polar opposite. Cool, almost icy elegance. Silver hair perfectly styled, eyes deep as mountain lakes under a winter sky. His silhouette, ramrod straight in an immaculate blue-white uniform, was still, only the tips of his long fingers lightly brushing a book spine.

Without turning his head, he cut through the quiet air, his voice precise as a scalpel:

"The Moon Gardens are suitable for aimless strolls and idle chatter, Mydei. Y/N values knowledge. And the quiet you are so persistently shattering." His gaze, finally settling on you, was deep, analytical, full of an unspoken interest carefully masked behind politeness.

Their rivalry had been an academy fixture. Each vied for your favor – Mydei with crackling wit, risky expeditions beyond the walls, and lavish (if often ill-timed) gifts. Phainon with razor-sharp intellectual talks, perfectly curated books, his quiet, reliable presence, always ready to tackle the toughest academic snags. Both assumed you'd have to pick one. But today, a different plan had hatched in your mind.

You closed the book. The thump of the cover was startlingly loud, freezing both guys, their attention snapping fully to you. You looked up, first at Mydei, then Phainon. A faint, mysterious smile played on your lips, eyes gleaming with a mix of daring and sudden courage.

"You both try so hard," your voice was calm, laced with steel, "Mydei – to sweep me into your whirlwind. Phainon – to plunge me into the depths of thought. It's dazzling... and exhausting." You paused, seeing Mydei frown and Phainon's brow lift slightly. "Why..." you stood, stepping into the center of the invisible triangle between you three, "...should I have to choose between fire and ice? Wouldn't it be far more interesting... to blend the elements?" Your words hung, charged with a new, unexpected meaning.

Mydei's usual swagger faltered:

"Blend? Y/N, what are you...?" He shot a confused, quick glance at Phainon, who, to his surprise, looked not offended, but... intrigued. Those icy eyes narrowed, dissecting you, your stance, your expression, the subtext.

Instead of answering, you moved closer to Mydei. Light as a feather, you traced your fingertips along his forearm, feeling the muscles tense beneath.

"Your energy... it's infectious, Mydei," Turning to Phainon, your gaze locked with his piercing blue eyes. You slowly raised your hand, barely grazing his cheek. The skin under your fingers was cold, smooth, "And your focus... it's so deep." The touch made Phainon flinch almost imperceptibly, a crack in his usual reserve. You saw his pupils dilate.

"Imagine," you whispered, stepping back to see them both, your voice dropping low, husky, "how fire could warm ice... and ice cool fire... not destroying, but creating something new. Something... more." You challenged them with your gaze. "Or are you scared? Scared to find out what happens if you stop fighting over me and start... sharing?"

Silence descended, thick as fog. Mydei broke it first. A rough chuckle escaped him, but his eyes held no mockery – only shock, curiosity, and a dawning hunger to take this insane dare.

"Scared? Not a chance. But Phainon..." He threw a look at his rival.

Phainon slowly drew himself up to his full height. A strange fire burned in his eyes – disbelief, interest, and something else, deeply buried.

"Fear is irrational," he stated, looking first at you, then at Mydei, holding the latter's gaze a beat longer. "But an experiment... requires specific conditions. And privacy." His words were both agreement and question.

Your heart hammered. You nodded, speechless. The provocation had worked. The door to the unknown was cracked open. You took Mydei's hand – his palm was hot, slightly damp. Then you reached for Phainon. He hesitated only a fraction of a second before his long, cool fingers wrapped around yours with surprising gentleness. Linked by this new, thrilling, terrifying agreement, you left the library. Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, heading towards your private apartment.

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The fading sunset light, filtering through sheer curtains, bathed the room in warm gold and crimson. The air smelled of dried flowers in a vase and something else – thick anticipation laced with a hint of danger and irresistible pull. Mydei and Phainon stood facing each other like duelists, yet their gazes were locked on you, standing between them at the epicenter of the energy field you'd created.

You felt Mydei's excited, slightly ragged breathing. Phainon radiate controlled power. The pattern was broken; now it needed life. You stepped forward, towards Mydei. Lifted your hands, touched his face – his skin burned. He leaned into the touch, his copper-red strands falling onto his forehead. Your fingers slid down his cheekbone, to his lips, surprisingly soft, and you felt him shiver when your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. His strong hands settled uncertainly on your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress.

"You always burn so bright, Mydeimos," you whispered, inches away.

"Only for you," the words rasped out before his mouth covered yours. The kiss was greedy, urgent, like lava flow, full of the raw desire he'd held back so long. His hands pulled you flush against him, making you drown for a second in his heat, feeling the sheer power of his passion.

Remembering the other participant, you reached back without fully breaking from Mydei, inviting Phainon. He didn't hesitate. You felt his presence behind you – tall, calm, radiating potent energy. His hands settled on your sensitive breasts – first cautious, questioning. Then firmer. His breath touched your neck, raising goosebumps in a contrasting wave.

"Phainon..." you breathed his name, pulling back slightly from Mydei's kiss but not moving away. You turned your head, meeting his icy blue gaze. You drew him in, lips meeting his.

If Mydei's kiss was fire, Phainon's was like plunging into the depths of a mountain lake – slow, exploratory, intensely focused. He moved methodically, precisely, mapping new territories of sensation. His fingers began tracing circles around your already hardened nipples, making you moan into the kiss, your head swimming.

Mydei, spurred by jealousy or excitement, found the clasp of your dress at the back. A moment – and the garment slid softly from your shoulders, pooling at your feet like a cloud.

Cool air touched your bare skin. Mydeimos froze, drinking in your curves, silent awe on his face. Then he sank to his knees before you. His hands circled your waist as his lips sought the skin of your stomach, leaving hot kisses and nips that made you shudder and press back against Phainon.

Time lost meaning. The room became an arena where bodies moved in a complex, unrehearsed, yet perfectly synchronized dance. Heat and cold didn't fight; they intertwined, amplifying each other. Mydei's touches were bold, demanding, claiming every inch of your skin. Phainon's touches were counterpoint and ally. Like a conductor, he guided your movements, anchored you during intense waves. He studied your reactions to the double assault, clearly affected himself. You saw his control fraying, his breathing growing ragged, his gaze darkening with unchecked desire when he watched Mydei touching you.

Three bodies, freed from clothes, moved in a heated tangle to the wide bed. Mydei, like living flame, pressed his hot, hard chest against your bare back, holding you tightly. One hand cupped your breast while the other slid down your stomach, towards the slick heat between your legs, his fingers teasing, preparing. His hips pressed against your ass, and you felt his arousal, pulsing heat against you through the thin barrier of skin.

Phainon stood before you, watching with desire-darkened eyes as the other man held you. Without pause, he knelt on the bed between your spread thighs, his gaze accepting this mad path you'd proposed. His lips found the inside of your thigh, kisses slow, deliberate, moving higher, towards the epicenter of your trembling. His tongue slid over sensitive folds, precise and relentless, drawing a sharp gasp and moan from you.

"Phainon..."

"This is what you wanted," not a question, a statement.

His tongue returned, more insistent now, focused on that most sensitive nub. Simultaneously, his thumb found your lower entrance, stroked over the tight ring of muscle, pressing with tender, undeniable firmness.

Behind you, Mydeimos groaned. His hands grew more demanding. His arousal, pressed against you, pulsed in time with his heart.

"Give it to her... give it to us..." his voice was hoarse with impatience.

Phainon made one last, devastatingly perfect stroke with his tongue, making your whole body jerk. Then he straightened, taking hold of your knees, lifting your hips, opening you completely. His gaze shot to Mydei – a silent command.

Mydei understood. You felt the smooth, hard, scorching length pressing against your slick, ready entrance. He entered first, sheathing himself inside your welcoming heat with one powerful thrust. A cry tore from your lips, your body arching, taking him in, feeling the full, stretching fullness. Mydeimos paused for a breath, his breathing loud, hands gripping your hips.

"Goddess," he exhaled.

But it wasn't enough. Your gaze, hazy with pleasure, found Phainon. He stood before you, not hiding his impressive size. He waited. Waited for your signal. Waited for your readiness.

"Join us, Phainon... Please..." you gasped.

It was all he needed. Phainon entered with agonizing slowness and infinite tenderness, allowing your body to adapt to this new, unfamiliar, tight embrace. The sensation was shattering: you were filled, stretched, pierced by two streams of energy. These two men became pillars holding up your universe.

You hung suspended, all three. Breath tangled in a single ragged rhythm. You felt every beat of their hearts inside you, every pulse, every inch of occupied space. This wasn't just intimacy. This was fusion. Complete. Absolute. You were the nexus, the point where two opposing stars collided.

Mydei moved first. Tentatively withdrawing almost completely, then smoothly surging back in, filling you again and again. His movements made your inner muscles clench. That clench caught Phainon, and he responded, finding his own rhythm.

At first, they moved out of sync. Mydei's thrust deep met Phainon's retreat, creating a vortex of sensation. Then their rhythms began to find each other. They found a shared tempo, a shared harmony where their movements didn't clash but multiplied your sensations.

The double onslaught was unbearable and divine. You felt their bodies fuse with yours, their energies twining inside – Mydei's fiery passion and Phainon's icy power. They were your anchor, your torment, your salvation. Moans became a continuous cry, your body arched, tensed like a bowstring.

The orgasm hit like a supernova. A wave of pure ecstasy, twice as powerful as anything you'd known, obliterated thought. Your body convulsed in the fiercest spasms, inner muscles clamping down on them both with incredible force. You screamed, deaf to your own voice, feeling your own contractions trigger answering groans and thrusts deep within. Mydei roared, his body locking tight, movements becoming sharp, involuntary, and you felt the hot, pulsing surge deep inside you. At the same moment, Phainon let out a low, choked groan, pressing his hips flush against yours in one final, deep thrust, and you felt a new rush of warmth filling you at the very core of your triple union.

Two parts of a complex equation had found their place within you, creating a perfect whole. Rivals vanished. Only you remained. Three. Bound now by an invisible, unbreakable thread.

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The first pale, tentative rays of dawn crept into the room, painting golden stripes on tangled limbs. The air was warm with mingled breath and the faint, sweet scent of closeness. You lay on your side, your back pressed against the hard plane of Mydei's chest. His arm rested possessively on your waist, fingers loosely gripping your skin even in sleep. Facing you, Phainon slept. Lashes trembled on pale cheeks, his features softened, serene. One arm was stretched out, his palm resting on your thigh. Even asleep, he radiated calm.

You closed your eyes, listening to the beat of two hearts – one loud and steady against your back, the other quieter but just as strong before you. Fire and Ice. Passion and Depth. Your provocation, your mad idea, had taken flesh. Option three hadn't been a compromise; it was the discovery of a new cosmos of sensation. You didn't know what came next, how you'd navigate this triangle under the academy's harsh daylight. But here and now, in the dawn's quiet, there was only one certainty: you hadn't chosen one of them. You'd chosen them both. And that choice, unexpected and bold, felt utterly right. The world had shrunk to this bed, to their breathing, to the soft sigh of wind outside the window, and the silent understanding hanging in the air.

[doomdaddytop]

I LOVED ONE LAST TIME!!! can we please get a thanos fic where him and the reader take the pills together?

BATHROOM & PILLS

THANOS/SU-BONG X FEMALE READER

summary: you and thanos connect by taking a small detour to the bathroom when the lights are out. just innocent talking leads to something more and helps you relieve some stress.

WARNINGS: swearing, drugs, slight smut, thanos being himself.

A/N: sorry this took so long! i started writing this part offline and i kept disappearing, so i had to rewrite it so many times. i did my best. hope you all like it :)

it was hard to ignore su-bong. he was everywhere and anywhere. he stuck out easily in a crowd, purple hair and his tall frame already familiar to you. su-bong had some kind of superpower that always made you look for him in a room full of people. even before you were introduced to him, you would always spot him, unconsciously remembering where he was or what he was doing. su-bong had a charm that was hard to ignore in a room full of boring people.

it didn’t take long for su-bong to notice you either. he was immediately all over you, blabbing flirty comments your way. you knew what su-bong was clearly trying to do, but somehow you still fell for his irresistible charms. you tried to play it cool, giving him the cold shoulder or acting like you didn’t care, but at the end of the day, he was the only person you were thinking about.

things lead to another and that’s how you ended up stuck in bathroom stall with su-bong. at first, the two of you just talked, a normal conversation about life and a lot about his rapper career. it was easy to talk with su-bong, he always had something to say. the conversation flew, but the deep feeling of dread still remained in your stomach. you were stuck here, a place where you had to survive. if you didn’t, you would die.

you were scared, maybe even terrified.your eyes moved to the cross around his neck. you knew he had drugs in them, some heavy pills that worked almost immediately. you weren’t usually very interested in drugs, you stayed away from them. but now, they seemed so appealing. you wanted to get rid of this feeling, the emotions that wore you down. your anxiety would only make this whole thing worse. why would you pass an offer to get rid of it?

“can i have one?” you asked, not even specifying what you wanted. he knew immediately, hands moving down to the cross. he slid closer to you, opening up to necklace to show you the various colors of pills. your finger moved to reach for one, but su-bong moved the cross away from you.

“you sure? this shit is fucking crazy.” he expressed, emphasizing the part of it being crazy. you didn’t care how crazy it was, you needed something to ease your stress, the pain of emotions that were swirling through you. it was easy to see how nervous you were, hands shaking and flinches at sudden movements. su-bong could tell you were struggling, and that said a lot.you eyed the necklace for a moment, thinking over your choice. die with anxiety or die happy? the latter seemed like a better choice.

your eyes moved up to su-bong’s intense brown orbs, nodding your head. he didn’t react immediately, just stared into your eyes, almost like he was thinking deeply about something. he let out a huff as he was brought back to life, his normal enthusiasm shining in his eyes again. he shifted closer to you, opening and reaching the cross over to you.

some of the pills were different colors. blue, yellow and red. you tried to think which seemed the most appealing to you. it was clear they all had the same effect, but you wanted to pick a suitable one for yourself. the red ones screamed death to you, almost like a warning not to take them. the yellow reminded you of the sun or the hot beach sand that burned your feet in the summer. blue reminded you of the tracksuits you were wearing and the overall color of this place. then it had to be blue. this pill was going to guide you through the games, giving you enough of a boost to help you stay alive. hopefully.

you took the blue pill, popping it into your mouth. it didn’t have any specific taste as you chewed it, but the sensation of it in your mouth was definitely not very pleasant. soon the pill dissolved in your mouth, a layer of its contents still on your tongue. su-bong’s eyes stayed on you, gauging your reaction to the drug. you weren’t sure if he was worried or just interested, all that mattered to you was that he was here.

“how is it? you feel good?” he asked, curiosity evident in his voice. your body almost immediately relaxed, a sigh escaping your mouth. it felt better already. the stress you had experienced before was slowly easing into nothingness. your head fell to su-bong’s shoulder, hands moving around his arm. he felt so soft, so warm. he didn’t feel this soft before.

“you know, thanos is so stupid. i like your real name better. su-bong. su-bong. su-bong. su-bong…” you muttered out, body feeling completely limp against his. su-bong chuckled, wrapping an arm around your back. you heard the click of the cross opening, eyes moving to see what he was doing. su-bong picked up a blue pill too, quickly throwing it into his mouth.

after a moment in silence, su-bong shook his head, his alive eyes moving to see you. his leg started shaking, like he wanted to jump around the place. you on the other hand just felt fuzzy on the inside, a warm feeling flowing through your body. su-bong pushed himself up from the ground, pulling you with him. you didn’t complain, his hand was still around you. his head snapped over to you, eyes trailing your body. “can i show you how much your name means to me?”

su-bong turned his body towards you, his hands finding your hips. your eyes lazily moved over his body before up to his eyes. he hungrily stared back at you, fingers tightening around you. “fine. but don’t make too much noise.”

his hands instantly started roaming your body, lips crashing into you. your posture loosened as you felt his hand travel under your jacket and shirt, his rough calloused fingers rubbing against your skin. his touch felt so good and the drug he had given you before made you feel more relaxed than ever before. it was so hard not to give into su-bong. he was like a magnet, pulling you closer.

he crashed his lips onto yours again, hands firmly tied to your hips. his body was closer to you now, letting you feel him all the way. his body tried leaning closer to you, but that only ended up in you getting shoved against the bathroom stall’s door. su-bong wasn’t still pleased with the non-existent proximity between the two of you. he pushed himself even closer to you, his hips pinning you down on the door, his hard against you.

you swore you heard the bathroom door open, though that sound barely registered in your brain. your hands moved to su-bong’s hair, pulling his purple strikes up. moans escaped his mouth, the vibration of them against your lips making your knees grow weaker. su-bong craved getting closer to you, now rolling his hips against you. his hands frantically moved under your shirt, his silver rings already warm from the heat of your body.

suddenly, your body started to fall back, the stall’s door opening quickly. thankfully, su-bong’s held onto your body, still distracted by your lips. you slowly pushed su-bong’s face away from yours, his hungry lips still trying to get closer to you. as you leaned away from you, three pairs of eyes were staring at you and su-bong. player 120, player 149 and player 222 were all staring at the two of you. geum-ja immediately moved closer to you, starting to hit su-bong on the shoulder.

“is he bothering you? how did you get into the women’s bathroom?” she asked, first you in a sweet tone and then su-bong, raising her voice at him. she hit su-bong harder on his shoulder, making him let out small yelps. geum-ja pulled su-bong out of the stall by his ear, yelling at him about behaving himself. you just chuckled, too amused to stop her.

“it’s fine. we thought nobody was going to use the bathroom when the lights were out, so i helped him get in.” you smiled to the three of them, stepping out the stall, almost stumbling down from the effect of the drug. su-bong wrapped his arm around you, seeing how much you were struggling to properly move. geum-ja backed away from him, giving him one last glare before turning away from him.

jun-hee moved away from hyun-ju and geum-ja, walking into a different bathroom stall. the room was starting to spin. your body felt light and leaned against su-bong’s tall frame. his arms gripped your hips holding you steadily up. he looked down at you, his concerned brown eyes moving over your body. it was unusual to see him worried about something or someone. your eyes closed for a moment trying to regain your sense of balance and sight.

“you better get her back to bed before i pull those ears off your head!” geum-ja threatened, hitting su-bong’s shoulder again. he just waved her off, wrapping his arm around your back again. hyun-ju and geum-ja followed behind as su-bong guided you out to the bathroom door. your legs felt wobbly, almost like jello and you couldn’t help but wonder how su-bong was holding up so well. he must have taken these pills way more than you had initially thought.

“make sure she gets some sleep.” hyun-ju said, concern clearly evident in her voice. su-bong nodded at her before opening the door for you. you the women one last smile and stepped out of the bathroom. a guard was outside, eyeing you and su-bong. he just laughed at the guard as he helped you navigate through the place. you chuckled too, not knowing at what, but to you it was funny nonetheless.

[littlefrenchiestar]

Rock and Roll🎶

Prompt: You were in a rock band and the LADS men see a video of it for the first time. Words count : 3323 Warnings: suggestive A/N: Based on this request (this was fun i hope i got the rock band vibes right 🤗)

Xavier

It was a quiet evening. You were in the kitchen preparing dinner while Xavier was lying on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He had offered to help, but you insisted on doing it yourself, he’d already cooked several times that week.

Bored, he decided to check your profile again, his eyes landing once more on the most recent photo you’d posted: the two of you at an amusement park, laughing and eating ice cream. He smiled at the memory. Then, out of curiosity, he tapped on the “tagged” section of your profile.

Most of the pictures and videos were familiar, but one older video caught his attention. He clicked on it.

There you were—on a stage, looking a little different. A different hairstyle, a bolder, more edgy outfit, something with leather and attitude.

The song seemed to be a duet you were singing with another man—way too close to you for Xavier’s liking. You were sensually getting closer to each other as the suggestive lyrics and deep bass echoed.

You slipped your hands under your “partner’s” jacket, sliding it off and letting it fall to the floor. He moved behind you, your back pressed to his chest, wrapping the mic cord around your wrists and pulling you even closer—close enough for you to sing cheek to cheek. His face nuzzled into your neck, just for a moment, during your verse.

That made Xavier boil inside even more as the crowd erupted in cheers—but thankfully, the song ended, and you pulled away from the man.

Xavier stood up.

You hadn’t heard from your boyfriend for a while, and just as you were about to ask him how his day was, you felt a presence behind you—a body pressed against your back, warm breath on your neck and a phone screen in front of you.

“So… you never told me you were in a band,” he said, his voice low and close to your ear—almost like a whisper. “I–I didn’t think it was important. It was a few years ago,” you replied with a nervous laugh, feeling flustered by his body towering behind you, your eyes still fixed on the video playing in front of you.

You felt his arm snake around your waist. “I mean, I knew you liked being tied up,” he murmured, “but I didn’t realize you were into doing it in public… and with another man, no less.”

You turned around to face him, your eyes searching his expression for any clue of what he was feeling—but you couldn’t quite read the emotion in his gaze. “It was just acting. There was nothing between him and me. You know how people are—they love drama.” You cupped his face in your hands, hoping to reassure him.

His brows were still slightly furrowed, but his features seemed to soften the moment you touched his face.

"Yeah, I know," he said, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before pulling you into a tender embrace. "So… can we reenact it? Then you can post that on your page." "Xavier!" you exclaimed, laughing as you buried your face in his chest.

Zayne

Zayne was at the hospital, and you had dropped by for a little impromptu visit. You were now waiting for him in the lobby. A few interns whispered as you walked past them, but you assumed it was just because you were dating their boss.

Those same interns gathered in a corner, out of your line of sight, to talk more privately. At that exact moment, Zayne arrived and caught a few words of their conversation:

“But I’m telling you, it’s her,” one of them said before pulling her phone out of her pocket, tapping a few times on the screen, and showing it to the others.

Curious, he discreetly moved closer, leaning against the wall and pretending to be interested in a file, while actually peeking over the intern’s shoulder.

He blinked in surprise when he saw you on the screen—sitting behind a drum set, focused and driving the rhythm of the music.

Just from listening, Zayne could tell you and your drums were the heart of the piece. Without you, the entire vibe would’ve been completely different. He never pictured you as the rock-band type of girl, but he was pleasantly surprised.

As you hit the bass drum with your foot, you took the chance to light a cigarette and bring it to your lips — a small detail that made a frown crease your boyfriend’s forehead.

You picked your drumsticks back up, making the instrument thunder even louder, adjusting your cigarette from time to time, a smile on your lips as you hummed the lyrics of the song.

You were drenched in sweat by the end of the video but clearly buzzing from the amazing show you and your friends had just rocked. After exchanging high-fives, you flicked your now-extinguished cigarette butt into the small trash can near the edge of the stage. Then, just before stepping off, you threw a playful wink at the camera.

“Am I interrupting something? ” Zayne finally said, poking his nose out from behind his fake folder. He gave the interns a cold, sharp look. “Uh, no, sorry boss, we’re getting back to work,” one of the interns replied quickly before they all hurried off to their duties. Zayne let out a small, muffled laugh before walking toward you. You had just lifted your head from your phone, and a smile lit up your face when you saw him; you stood up, going to meet him with eagerness.

“Look who’s here…” he said, smiling as he felt your hand slip into his. “How was work today?” You were always so concerned about him overworking himself—you sometimes acted protective toward this full-grown man. “Great…” He squeezed your hand a little tighter as you both walked out of the building. “Did I ever tell you how bad smoking is for your health?” He looked at you like he was about to give a full lecture. “Uh?” You looked at him with curious confusion. “Yeah, I know. Why do you say that?” “Some interns were watching videos of your old band… I guess you still have fans.” He noticed the gears turning in your head before you connected the dots. “Oh my god, don’t worry, those were fake—like the ones in some movies,” you explained, bringing your linked hands up to your chest.

“Well, that’ll save me from giving you that lecture I did when I caught you trying to smoke years ago.” He took your other hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. You blushed as you felt his lips against your skin. “Yeah, I could definitely do without that,” you replied.

“Yeah, I know, but just to be safe, I’m going to have to watch all the videos of your old band,” he tease.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Safe my ass. You just want to see me on stage.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Language, young lady. But yeah, you have a point.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a box of macarons, holding it up. “Okay... by the way, I bought macarons. We can eat them while watching my old videos.”

His face softened, squeezing your hand. “A perfect evening with you, my love.”

You squeezed his hand back, feeling warm inside as you both walk toward home.

Rafayel

Rafayel was working on one of his canvases, a piece commissioned by a local artist for an upcoming rock concert. He had set up on the terrace, researching the singer’s style as well as the different subgenres of rock. That’s when he came across a section about local bands—and to his surprise, your face suddenly appeared in one of the articles. He blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected to see you there.

It was a fun, playful photo of you and your band goofing around, and it clearly had been well-received by the press—used repeatedly in various articles about your group. Curious, Rafayel clicked on the link that led to the band’s official page. There were old tour dates, merch, and even videos.

He chose to play a video where you were wearing a light white dress looking ethereal. Your voice was both beautiful and powerful, the spotlight followed your every step, casting a soft glow on you while the rest of the band remained slightly in the background, in the shadows.

Then, the light shifted—focusing on a chair placed at the center of the stage, the very one you were slowly walking toward. You sat down, the chair positioned to the side so the audience could admire your profile. The music shifted into a softer, more intimate tone for the final verse, your voice directed toward the sky as a thin rope began to descend from the ceiling.

And on the last line of the verse, you pulled the rope, causing liters of water to pour down on you. You remained seated for a few moments during the instrumental break before the final chorus. As the first notes echoed through the stage, you stood back up, radiating a renewed energy while the rest of the band came back into the light. Your stage presence was absolutely electrifying. The way your dress clung to your body, your mascara running in dark streaks, made the crowd erupt in cheers and brought a faint blush to Rafayel’s face.

The video concludes on your band’s partners and you, bowing to the crowd and you throwing a kiss before leaving backstage.

Rafayel let his phone drop onto the lounge chair before heading inside to look for you. It took him a few minutes to find you in the bathroom, getting ready. He leaned against the wall, watching you. You flashed him a smile when you noticed he was there.

“Hey, love! Everything okay? Did you finish work?” you asked, dabbing some powder onto your face.

“No, not yet. But I was doing a bit of research on local rock bands… and stumbled across something very interesting,” he replied, walking toward you with a mischievous smile on his face. “You never told me you were in a band”

It was like you'd just been caught red-handed. You set the powder down and turned around, looking surprised.

“Oh really? I never told you?” you said with a laugh—both of you knew full well you hadn’t.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “No, darling, I would’ve remembered that.”  His voice was soft but teasing, making your heart skip a beat.

“Well, yeah, I was in a rock band a few years ago. We lasted about two or three years before we split up. Everyone had different stuff going on, but no hard feelings, you know?” You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, I get that… so I dug up some videos for inspiration, maybe you could help me?” “Oh, of course, baby. Which ones?”

The moment you finished your sentence, he slid his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you up against him, walking toward the shower. You let out a small, surprised squeal before starting to speak again.

“Raf, I just put on my makeup, and I’m dressed,” you laugh, smacking his back with a cheeky grin. He just laughs back, lifting you effortlessly into the shower, water splashing over you both as he presses you close and kisses you with pure passion. “Yeah, yeah, but honestly? Inspiration hit the moment I got a closer look,” he says with a smirk, voice low and teasing. “Especially when you’re wet.”.  “Rafayel!” cheeks flushing a soft pink, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus

Sylus was “relaxing” (which really meant cleaning his guns), when a ping from his phone distracted him. It was a message from the twins: “Look at this, boss.” “I never knew she was in a rock band.”

He clicked on the video they send, with a smile slowly creeping on his face. There you were, his girl, in a black jacket to big for you but you were wearing it so well.  

Your messy, sweat-drenched hair clung to the headset mic you were wearing. You were grinning from ear to ear during your guitar solo, while the ecstatic crowd shouted your name and that of your band. Sylus noticed you were holding your guitar in a strange way, almost like it weighed nothing.

He kept watching you, stars in his eyes, right up to the finale—when the song exploded into a chaotic, passionate crescendo. That’s when you raised your guitar as if it were a weapon of war, before smashing it to the ground like a divine hammer strike.

Sylus flinched slightly, then let out a rough, throaty laugh.

“Hey, Sy! I’m on my way back, the metro was a few minutes late but I’ll be home in like five!” you chirped through the line, the faint sounds of the city bustling behind you.

“Kitten, I didn’t know you had a thing for destroying valuable objects. If I had, I would've bought you some fine china just so you could smash it,” he said, amusement laced through his rough voice, eyes still locked on the screen.

“Huh?! What are you talking about, babe?” you laughed, confused but intrigued.

“I found out you used to be in a rock band. Funny, I thought I knew every band from the area.” His tone shifted into something lower, teasing.

“Oh, that!” you replied with a chuckle, the sound of your steps echoing now as you climbed the stairs to your building. “That was a prop guitar—I’d never hurt one of those beauties for real.”

Your keys jingled as you reached the front door, your free hand brushing back strands of windblown hair as you balanced the phone between shoulder and cheek.

“Ah, that explains the way you were holding it, then,” Sylus murmured before hanging up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as the screen froze on your wild grin mid-performance, guitar raised like a weapon and stage lights blazing behind you.

You opened the door, took off your shoes, and walked into the living room where your handsome boyfriend was sitting on the sofa. You walked up behind him, kissed his cheek, and wrapped your arms around him, looking over his shoulder. “Who sent you that?” you asked, your voice full of curiosity and warm nostalgia. He turned his head slightly to look you in the eyes, then locked his phone and let it slip onto the sofa. “That’s a secret,” he said, taking your hand from around him and kissing it, his red eyes sparkling with mischief. Then he added, “But hey, if you ever want to practice or get back on stage, don’t hesitate to come to me.” You smiled and kissed him softly. “You’ll be the first person I turn to if the urge comes back.”

He just muttered a soft, “Good,” before pulling you down onto the sofa with him. You sank into his embrace, finding him (surprisingly)comfortable, as always . Resting your head in the hollow of his shoulder, Sylus began humming a tune, gently stroking your back to help you unwind after the long day.

Caleb

Caleb was working late in his office at Sky Haven. He hated paperwork—especially when it cut into the time he could’ve been spending with you.

Still, he gave himself a break. Sitting in front of the holographic screen he usually used for work, he let his curiosity wander, occasionally using it for more... recreational browsing.

Like today, when—purely by chance, of course—he stumbled across your file in the organization’s vast database. Even though he had been by your side for most of your life, there were still things he’d missed. And that—more than anything—was what weighed on him the most.

He scrolled down the file, he already knew most of the stuff on here but one video catched his attention. You were on stage, singing into a mic, looking euphoric—like you were having the time of your life. The crowd was cheering wildly, urging you to jump into their arms. “I will always catch you!” they chanted, echoing the lyrics of a song you had written with your band—one of the fans’ all-time favorites.

You swayed your hips, taking a few dancing steps backward to gain momentum before leaping into the crowd. Caleb held his breath the moment your feet left the ground, only exhaling when he saw your body caught safely by the sea of hands. The camera angle shifted—it was now from the drone hovering above the place.

It zoomed in on your face—you were still clutching your mic, trying to sing the chorus without laughing, but failing. Meanwhile, the crowd kept chanting. The feeling was exhilarating. The video ended with you being gently lowered back down, walking through the crowd, high-fiving and hugging some of them. He closed the file with a mix of sadness and admiration.

“Sir.” Caleb jumped slightly before turning around, looking furious. “What?!” The man who had just walked into the room to do his job looked a bit taken aback. “I just wanted to let you know—your plane to Linkon has arrived.”

Caleb’s shoulders relaxed at the man’s words. “Good.” He walked past him, heading down the wide corridor toward the landing strip.

Meanwhile, miles and minutes away from the scene, you were standing on the stepladder, painting the ceiling a new colour. You had decided to do it in the middle of the evening. Missing your boyfriend was making you do some questionable activities. You were on your tiptoes, stretching to reach a stubborn spot when you felt your feet slip. You let out a small yelp, trying to catch yourself but missing the stepladder. You were now bracing yourself for the impact…

But it never came.

Instead, you found yourself in the arms of the man of your life, looking at you with a goofy smile before he softly sang the lyrics you wrote years ago: “I will always catch you, anytime, anywhere — Trust me, I will be there.” He sang it with a teasing smile, gently squeezing you in his arms. You tried to squirm away out of embarrassment but quickly gave up and just buried your face in his chest. “You saw the video,” you mumbled. “I saw the video,” he grinned. “The song’s kinda catchy… I might set it as my ringtone.”

You were blushing so hard against his chest, he probably felt it. “Oh? Are you blushing, pipsqueak?” he teased, setting you down gently before sliding a finger under your chin, making you look him in the eyes. You were, indeed, blushing. “I’m blushing because… that song was actually made with you in mind,” you confessed, feeling your face grow even hotter as your eyes tried to focus on the wall behind him.

There was a silence that stretched for a few seconds before your eyes landed on him again—and that’s when you realized he was still wearing his formal Fleet suit. You were going to explode. Your gaze trailed up to his face, where he was staring at you like you’d grown a third eye. “Surprise?” you offered with an awkward smile, trying to diffuse the… tension in the room.

You barely had time to register it before Caleb’s lips crashed into yours—a kiss you happily returned.

You let out a small moan when you felt him bite your bottom lip. “Caleb, I have paint on me”

“I don’t care,” he said, trying to shrug off his heavy jacket while still kissing you, guiding you both toward the bedroom.

[jammy-badger]

*cracks knuckles* @deanmarywinchester I'm so glad you asked! This was a special interest of mine as a kid and I still have all the books so it's my time to shine, baby!

1. Yes you can replicate the meals! They are based off Brian Jacques' parents' cookbooks he read as a kid, and there is also an official cookbook although some recipes are incorrect - the moles are based on Cornish people and Deeper 'n' ever pie is based on a Cornish pastie, but the one shown in the recipe book is a cottage pie at best. My family is Cornish and we make our own pasties and I will not stand for this. Please hit me up if you want me to send them to you!

2. Yes, the milk is made from grass - in the books it's actually referred to as 'meadowcream' and 'grassmilk' and is harvested from grass sap. How do they farm it? See point 5.

3. With so many wandering bands and conquering hordes, usually from outside of Mossflower, is it really surprising that permanent settlements haven't been established outside the major strongholds (Redwall and Salamandastron plus Brockhall and the various otter holts)? In Mossflower we see that Kotir used to be one such major settlement demanding tithe from the Mossflower population that has since fallen into disorder (especially since Verdauga Greeneyes grew too old to rule - I believe this history is actually described in Mossflower but it's been a while). Also, despite being barely canon, the original Redwall book mentions major settlements and towns far from Mossflower. So maybe Kotir was the last great major settlement in the Mossflower region?

4. The bad guys are usually attacking the Abbey because they want it as a fortress and/or to enslave the Abbey population to eat their food (they are all literally 'vermin'), which makes sense given the above point - there's very little in terms of land security and if one wanted to establish control over a region Redwall or Salamandastron are the places to control. They do ask for treasure at times though, and it's usually out of a sense of pure greed and decadence, or for a specific purpose (i.e. for the Silth Queen in Marlfox). If the bands are travelling it's likely that they sustain themselves by robbing settlements and potentially trading elsewhere? It's kind of ambiguous.

5. Food production is probably the biggest inconsistency in the series and I mostly put this down to creative license. Jacques wrote all the food scenes based on his own experience of growing up in wartime with very little food and dreaming of all the things he could eat, so the idyllic Redwall simply 'has' these resources. In-universe, there are scattered independent farms around (albeit barely mentioned, and the major mention was in the first book which is dubiously canon), and also encountered by characters (usually they haven't met these farmers before but it makes sense that they wouldn't comment on seeing local farms they already knew about I guess). Usually they don't know about the farms they encounter while travelling but you can assume that they know about some of them as there is a major road outside the Abbey used by travellers and carts, and the first book also has most people visiting from outside the Abbey so this lends to that theory. But again, probably the most obvious issue in the books. There is an orchard and herbalists are shown to forage outside the Abbey but yes, that's not really enough for the scale of food production in the Abbey.

6. Short answer is there are absolutely cross-species relationships, they just don't get mentioned because Jacques only really mentions relationships when they're related to the lineage of specific characters, and different species presumably can't breed. Or, nobody gets together unless there's potential for kids? The whole structure of official marriage barely exists outside of the first few books anyway and the only interspecies relationships I can think of are presented as 'really good friendships' and two of them are gay couples (don't fight me on this, Durry Quill and Rufe Brush were 100% an item) so yeah I guess they don't have much of a concept of traditional family-making outside of what's needed for population? I dunno, personally as an ace person reading these books as a kid I found it pretty refreshing to have barely any romance present!

7. They're all relative to human size and so are trees etc. Generally speaking 'smaller' species like mice are described as shorter than 'larger' species like otters, badgers and cats, but they're all largely standardly-sized around humans. The first book, again, is a little janky in terms of canon as it mentions livestock (and also THE HORSE which we don't talk about) and potentially the existence of humans, but judging by the scale of fruits suggested in the books (i.e. a mouse being about to pop an entire strawberry in its mouth) I'd say the animals are for all intents and purposes human-sized. They're fursonas basically.

Please ask me about Redwall books!!!!!! And if you want any of the recipes hit me up, I might make some and let you know how they go if you like?

hobbies include: close reading the Redwall series to answer my most burning questions. such as:

- can I replicate any of these delicious-sounding foodstuffs and would they in fact be delicious if I was able to

- corollary to the above: are we just supposed to read “oat cream” and “nut cheese” every time we see the words “cream” and “cheese”? I think so. bc if not, what tha hell are their livestock animals

- what is Society like? I don’t think we ever see a Mouse City or even Mouse Town though we do see castles and obviously an abbey. are we supposed to believe that most creatures are either in wandering bands or these societies based around a single structure (castle/abbey?)

- they appear to have an idea of what currency is (the bad guys always want treasure — maybe just to have, not to sell? but less ambiguous is some dialogue I just read, “acorn for your thoughts?” “you can have them for free”) but again, we never see anyone using money or making goods for the market. is this after the fall of Mouse Capitalism? are the bad guys (the idea of rat pirates gives me a headache, vis a vis the political/economic systems needed to power piracy) raiding preindustrial mouse societies for treasure/meat?

- corollary to the above: the abbey creatures have oats and wheat but we don’t see anybody farming or trading for farm goods on a large enough scale. is the abbey “orchard” really a like an indigenous forest farm of mixed foodstuffs? is that possible if you live in the same place the whole year or only if you travel each season? I have to do some googling

- both the lack of mixed-species families and the idea of mixed-species families give me a headache. has a squirrel never fallen for a handsome otter? what is the culture shock like if you marry into a subterranean mole family?

- this is the least “important” question but this read through I’ve been desperately trying to figure out What Size Everything Else Is. i’ve come to the conclusion that everything other than animals are at mouse scale, given that they can make seaworthy vessels their own size (a mouse sized vessel with real-world-sized waves seems impossible) and pick and eat apples and plums. but so far it seems like they’ve avoided mentioning how tall trees are — like a person compared to a tree or a mouse compared to a tree?

[lambiconic]

you (pt2)

murderess housewife reader x cleaner gaz (and 141) an: so glad the test of interest was a success !! dropping the second part so you guys can.. yknow keep that interest.

part one // murder, disposal of corpse + description of said corpse

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

How do people move on from this..? How do people continue life after seeing the body of a man they’d killed rolled up and tossed into the back of a truck?

How do you continue your day to day knowing that you’d killed someone? How are you expected to put on your pearls every morning after Johnny promised you if the cops came looking they’d tie your mess to someone else? How can you vacuum the carpet knowing Simon had pulled the teeth from that man’s corpse and then burned him? How can you have dinner cooking in the oven by the time your husband got home when you’d watched Price scrub the floors of your home for hours, even under blacklight?

How could you be held in the arms of your husband, your Kyle… your Gaz, when you listened to him orchestrate the whole thing? When you heard him kicking the already dead body of that man after Simon told him what he’d attempted? 

How could he still look at you like you were the reason the world spun? How could he still stand to kiss your hands every morning? How could he still hold your thighs open and slot himself between them while praising your body?

You felt like a robot, going through the motions day after day. Wake up, get dressed, kiss your husband goodbye, avoid the kitchen like the plague, stare at the knives from across the room, imagine the feeling of that man’s body collapsing against yours as you drove the knife over and over and over and over, kiss your husband when he got home. 

It was like this for weeks. For months, until your kitchen pipes burst.

Kyle would fix it, he usually did. But, he was gonna be away for a bit... just for a weekend. Business stuff with the guys, he said. But he’d be back the same day the plumber came over so you didn’t have to worry! You could stay in the bedroom the whole time, relax and process.

But you were sick of processing, you’d been processing for what felt like years. You were a shell of the woman he married and you were sick of it. You could handle talking to a plumber. 

You could handle being in the kitchen, you could handle being near the knives. You could handle this again. 

You could handle this. The skillet. You could handle this! His head. You could handle this! The sound of his skull crunching at the impact. YOU COULD HANDLE THIS! The familiar slump of his body against yours. 

This time was different. There was no fear…this time was freeing.

You could hear the sound of Kyle shoving open the door followed by four pairs of feet.  “Oh, baby doll! Me an’ the boys are here! Brought ya something to cheer you up.”

This time was different. This time you wouldn’t hide. “I’m in the kitchen!”

When was the last time you’d sounded like that? So happy, so cheerful...

You could feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your body. “Oh, baby doll.."

"Its alright.. you did what you had to." Kyle gently turned your chin to face him, his eyes lighting up as he took in your smile. That warm, loving smile. 

When was the last time you’d smiled like that..?

“Hi, honey..” You whispered, leaning into his touch. “How was work..?

There she was. His girl. You.

You let your eyes wander over his shoulder offering the three men behind him a sweet smile and a wave. “I wish I had known you three were coming, I would've made dinner– lemonade?”

“Ah!” Your husband quickly interrupted, “The boys have a mess to clean up. How about I show you what we got you..?”

Kyle carefully pulled you away from the dying man on the floor, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he led you into the living room with a firm hand on the waist. “You lot can take care of this can’t you?”

“Right away,” Johnny said with a sharp nod, already pushing up his sleeves.

“Anything for the missus.” Price confirmed, crouching down to wrap his hands around the man’s throat.

“Least there’s no blood this time..” Simon grumbled, picking up he skillet. 

// and yes, there is more coming soon (i've already written the ending so we just need to build up this middle!)

[burr-ell]

In regards to how unfitting Vax just getting rolled back into mortality was to the overall narrative he had in C1.... I recognize that it's not great to put too much weight into fanfiction letting it determine how I feel about canon story, but the thing about how Vax's return is framed as Keyleth and Vex's Only happy ending, is that I read a lot of satisfying, sweet, touchingly real fanfic where all of Vox Machina eventually pass on to meet Vax as he psychopomps them to the afterlife! It carried a very comforting and resonant sentiment to be able to believe "this person is gone, but in a world where an afterlife is tangibly proven and real, you WILL see him again" and this carrying its own happiness! So for this to be overwritten YEARS later is just.... a denial of that.

Vax's return also just doesn't gel with the other narratives about death in the CR universe. Mollymawk, as loved as he was, doesn't get to come back; Orym doesn't get Will and Derrig back; FCG doesn't get to come back, but the story keeps on going for the people who loved them. What does it say in the face of those losses for Vax to come back?

Deanna WAS brought back, and while it'd be cruel to argue she should have stayed dead and imply that her newfound life wasn't worth the value to the people she made bonds with after her ressurection, it clearly fucked her up to be effectively a pawn to someone else's idea of fixing their life! It doesn't inherently beget a happy ending! What does it say when Vax's clear choice and faith in his championhood is overruled?

Absolutely agreed on all points, anon, and I think it's telling that Matt, Marisha, and Liam agreed on this with full knowledge and understanding that Vax and Keyleth had been making unhealthy choices. The implication is that despite this, none of them could envision a truly happy ending for these characters that did not involve them being able to continue a romance, and there are two problems with this.

Firstly and most obviously, wildly allocentric to imply that Keyleth could not have a properly happy ending without her college boyfriend who died three decades ago. To give context, thirty years is almost as long as Marisha Ray has been alive. Thirty years ago was the Oklahoma city bombing and the O.J. Simpson trial. Thirty years ago is older than 9/11 and the Iraq War. Thirty years is a long time, and I can't see Keyleth still being just as angry as she was at the end of C1 as anything but a person refusing to stop being mired in grief and move on. She even acknowledges it herself in Dalen's Closet, that she can't move on if Vax keeps sending ravens and then she still asks him not to stop. And to be clear, that in and of itself is a fine and even interesting choice! Rewarding that because the alternative is "unfair", for a rather nebulous value of "unfair", is not. It's not a happy ending to grow past unhealthy attachment and wallowing in grief, but it is happy to completely overlook those behaviors for a romance and some hackneyed callbacks to the ending of a better story?

Secondly, we don't even need to look at Molly, Will, or Deanna, although those are very good examples. Elaina is still dead. Juniper is still dead. Frederick, Johanna, Julius, Vesper, Oliver, Whitney, and Ludwig are all still dead. Every member of Vox Machina, including Keyleth herself, is eventually going to die. There's something that feels almost pointed about Taliesin emphasizing in 3x121 that Percy is still going to die decades before Vex, and we know Pike and Scanlan will outlive Grog by centuries. What, exactly, is different about their deaths versus Vax's? If Vax hadn't taken the revenant deal, he would have just died immediately—he was disintegrated. Liam made a point, over and over, both in the campaign and on Talks, of saying that Vax did not want a way out of his deal. What, in the in-universe logic of this setting, makes Vax so special, as opposed to every other person Vox Machina knew and loved who died or will die and isn't going to come back?

When I've had time, I've been reading through Vox Machina: Stories Untold, and something stuck out to me in the post-C1 content. Keyleth has taken on a young apprentice, an Ashari druid named Audra. We don't see much of their actual relationship, but it's close enough that Keyleth brings Audra along to Whitestone while she and the others have a night out, and Audra is friends with Vesper, Juniper, and Wax. In other words, Keyleth still invested herself in the community she was leading and kept in touch with her friends. She had a rich, fulfilling life that did not have to involve Vax in any way. Exandria did not stop turning because one person died; it kept moving, and Vox Machina kept moving. That is a vastly superior and more meaningful story than the ending of Campaign 3, and I find it absurd to imply that this ending can't truly be happy if this character doesn't have her boyfriend.

[joelsgoodgirl]

Give You What You Like

Part 2: Just A Mess

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI

WC: 4.6k

Summary: You were never supposed to see Joel Miller again. You'd traded your body for pills years ago, and it had ruined you. Even after you'd found your way to Jackson from Boston, he'd still managed to end up back in your life.

Tags: afab reader, sexual themes, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, degradation, mean!joel, drugs for sex, alcohol use/abuse, drug use/abuse, age gap (joel is 50s/60s, reader is 20/30), joel's pov

A/N: I really wasn't going to post the second part until Monday, but f*ck it, I love these two too much to keep them to myself. Please don't forget to comment, it feeds authors! I made a playlist to listen to while you read that fits the vibe well. You can listen to it here. Each chapter is titled after a song.

AO3 Link Masterlist

You weren’t exactly prepared to face this today. Not this far into your “recovery”. Recovery from loving him, recovery from the alcohol, recovery from…life. 

You stared at Tommy like he’d told you he’d shot your puppy. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, even though you knew this wasn’t something he’d joke about. 

He gives you a nod, his expression a mix of concern and caution. 

“He’s okay?” You ask, your voice wavering a little. 

“A little worse for wear, but yeah, he’s fine.” Tommy sighs, his lips a fine line as he looks over you. “Maria told me, about all of it.”

Your heart fractures just that much more. She promised not to tell. But Tommy is her husband. You’d never keep anything from your own. “I’m sure you think less of me now.” You say dejectedly, avoiding his eyes.

“‘S not my place to judge you. My brother on the other hand…” He trails off, frowning at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

You cringe outwardly, your lips turning to a grimace. “He didn’t do anythin’ I didn’t ask for.” It comes out harsher than you mean. 

“You still love him.” He says it as a statement, not a question. 

You deflate further, a sigh ripping its way from your chest. “Yeah, well I really don’t want to, but here we are.” You snap, irritation rising as he reads you too well. 

He raises his hands, his expression placating. “He’s different now. You should talk to him.” 

“Is this why you came here? To try and fix my poor broken heart? I’m not interested right now, Tommy. I need time.” The thought of even seeing him now made you stomach turn, 

Tommy shuffles in place, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Come by for dinner this week.”

“Will he be there?” It’s accusatory, sarcastic and bitter. He’d heard what you said; ignored it. 

Tommy shakes his head, sighing heavily. “You can’t avoid him forever. I just want what’s best for you. Both of you.”

“Yeah, well I will as long as I can.” Your hand is on the door, ready to shut it. “He was never supposed to be back in my life, Tommy. I need to move the fuck on.” 

“It was ten years ago.” His voice bites back, fueling your anger even further. He was tired of seeing the sadness in your eyes, especially now knowing his own blood had caused it.

You want to scream at him, terrible words you’d never be able to take back. You settle for something less. “I was a kid, Tommy. But this is on me, too. Let me deal with my own shit and keep the fuck out of my business.” You close the door without another word. You hear him sigh on the other side of the door before his footsteps sound down the porch. 

Alone.

Again.  

He knew he’d fucked up the moment you walked out his door the first time.  But those big beautiful eyes pleading with him for an escape had made him a weak man. Those beautiful eyes with a bruise forming under one of them, a split in your lip where the blood was still drying. 

He tried to be mean, tried to get you to see this wasn’t the path you wanted to go down. Tried to give you cold looks, make himself bigger to intimidate you. But of course, it hadn’t worked. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

And then you’d kept coming back. Offering more than someone so young should be offering him. And he’d gotten weaker. 

He’d given you enough pills that he was starting to come up short on ration cards and cigarettes and booze. You’d offered him everything you’d had. 

Then you’d offered your mouth. How was he supposed to say no when you looked so desperate. He cursed himself internally as you begged. 

“Please, I want to.” You said, your eyes so wanting it made him weak. Yet his cock still stiffened in his jeans, his throat still dried at the thought of those pretty eyes looking up at him while you took him into your mouth. 

And he tries to talk you out of it; he wants to talk you out of it. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t want to taint something so innocent. But then you step closer and palm his cock and it was all over for him. 

He’d hoped his mean words would be enough to drive you off, but he watches as you shift, your pupils dilating when he calls you a slut. Like you liked it. 

He paced his apartment after you left, anger and guilt bubbling in his chest as he replays the way he’d come down your throat, the vision of your watery eyes sending another wave of lust through him. 

He didn’t want to get attached, he knew you were too young. Yet he’d still handed you those pills with the harsh reminder to have a proper payment next time. 

Next time. 

He didn’t want there to be a next time, but he did. He’d felt powerful and wanted. Not that Tess didn’t want him, but not the way you did. Tess knew too much about him and yet not enough. And he loved her in some sort of his own way, though he’d never admit it and neither would she. He craved something sharper, something with a blade instead of comfort. Something that made his gut churn and his cock harden. 

Maybe he was sick. Maybe the fungus had somehow wormed its way in without actually taking over. Making him want to be mean, be horrible. Making him want to tear you limb from limb and watch you come undone under him. But of course it hadn’t, not the way he wished it had. He wanted his lust, his need, to be out of his control. Not proof of how lost he was in the harshness of this new world. 

You fall back into the bottle like an old lover, drowning in it until you can't think. 

But you still think about him with bile rising in the back of your throat at the mere thought of him being so close. 

You were never supposed to see him again. You keep repeating that fact in your head as you tip the bottle to your lips over and over.

You’re brooding now, your lips set in a fine line as you mull over the options in your head. You could leave, but giving up the safety of Jackson was not an option. You could stay and ignore him, but knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. The only option that made sense would be to stay and confront him. Tell him you’ve moved on and want nothing to do with him. 

You stop with the lip of the bottle pressed to your lower lip, ready to take another drink. 

The sick thought of a life with Joel slams into the forefront of your mind against your own will. Being tangled in the sheets with him again, much older and wiser now. 

Early mornings, the sun barely shining through the kitchen window. You’d be at the stove making breakfast while he tends to the baby. A life filled with so much warmth it greys your memories.

You’re up and running to the bathroom before you can process it, violently rejecting half the alcohol you’d drank. You rest your head against the cold porcelain, panting heavily as your head spins. 

You don’t realize you’re crying until you have to catch your breath, sucking in a lungful of air as you sob. Every fiber of your being feels sharp, your body overestimated and hot. 

You’d never broken down like this, you’d never allowed yourself to fall into the dark hole that is your future. Especially scenarios that involved Joel. 

You try to collect yourself, taking a  few deep breaths, but the tears won't stop. 

You curse out loud, a broken and angry cry. 

You don’t want to feel this way. That weak, pathetic girl who gave into heartbreak so easily. That wasn’t you anymore. 

You push yourself up off the tiled floor, finding your balance, making quick work of brushing your teeth clean.  You make your way back into your living room, a determination you’d never felt before swelling up in your chest. 

Youpre going to talk to him. 

Today. 

Right now.

You grabbed your coat off the rack, almost angrily shoving it on as you build your courage. 

One arm in. 

You’re going to tell him what, exactly? 

The thought causes you to pause halfway putting your arm through the other sleeve. 

What were you going to tell him, exactly?

Going into this blind wasn’t a good idea. You shove your arm the rest of the way though, slowly zipping it up as the options rattle though your head. 

The sickness inside him grew the longer he used you. A darkness that consumed in him the inside out. 

He craved you. Well, not you, exactly. The release, the power, the need. He was addicted to the way you started to relax further around him. 

It made his head spin. Alarm bells in his head anytime you were around. 

Then he’d seen that look in your eyes. 

A dangerous, all consuming heat. 

The first three months were easy. Two to three days a week with his cock down your throat. On your knees with such a pathetic look in your eyes it made him sick with need. 

So sick he needed to see you undone to ease the pain. 

You fell back onto your heels, wiping the cum from the corner of your mouth as he stared down at you, his heart twisting in his chest. 

“Up here, girl.” He pats his thigh after he tucks his cock away, watching the bewildered look in your eyes as you stand on shaky legs and straddle his thigh. His hands grip your waist like a lifeline as he pushes you down on his thigh harder, pushing the muscle up into you. 

You double over, your head falling against his shoulder. The whimper you let out almost breaks him. “Needy little thing. Bet that little pussy is just drippin’ for me, ain’t she?” He mutters as you begin to grind yourself against him, your breath fanning over the thin material of his tee. 

“Gonna come just from humpin’ my leg like the dog you are?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he refused to be kind. Knows a delicate thing like you couldn’t take the kindness from him without running with it. Because despite what you were doing, he still wanted to keep some semblance of innocence. 

He rocks you back and forth, his grip tightening as you gasp and moan into his ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It unfortunately brought him peace knowing you were just as affected as he was. 

His name slips past your lips and you’re coming, your forehead digging into his shoulder blade as you cry out. 

No words exchanged after, just the baggie of pills, one less than he’d usually give you. 

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. 

Your feet carry you down the streets as you get lost in your thoughts. You aren’t exactly heading for Joel’s, you’re just walking. Thinking.

You’re lost in your own memories of the times you spent with him. You’re playing them over and over again, playing the look in his eyes over and over. He’d never looked at you with softness, never with care. 

Not until the day he’d fucked you properly the first time. You’d seen the flash of something in his eyes as he’d come, staring down at you. 

A flash of adoration, of care. A softness that jarred you so deep you had to choke back your tears. 

You swallow as you shake yourself out of the memory, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Anxiety pulling at your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You realize where you are a moment later. Three houses away from his. 

You steel yourself as you straighten your jacket, the cool summer night chilling you enough it sends a shiver up your spine. 

You march ahead, the alcohol you’d consumed early slowly leaving your system. You had a clear head now. 

You knew what you wanted to say.

You’re knocking on his door before you can think, stepping away as you hesitate. You can only hope he isn’t home. 

The door swings open, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You feel your throat tighten, your eyes widen, your stomach drop. 

He stares back at you with as much shock, his lips parting as he takes you in. Your name leaves his lips on a breath, a question that’s gone unasked. 

“Hi.” You say, your eyes flicking up to his after studying his face for a moment, your voice soft and unsure. 

“I thought you were dead.” He says, his voice sounding more angry than he means it. It almost sounds like an explanation. But all the regret and guilt bubbling in his chest made him choke on his words. 

It almost physically jostles you, your eyes flashing with a multitude of emotions. Anger, hurt, fear. A looping cycle until you can speak. “Well, huge disappointment, ain’t it.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs in exasperation, running a hand down his face. “Tommy told me you were here.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” You admit, scuffing your shoe across the coir mat in front of his door. 

He stares at you for a moment more, his mind processing finally seeing you after so many years. Of course he’d had a few days to prepare, but never did he think you’d show up at his door. 

Not after everything that happened. 

“Do you want to come in?” He finally asks, breaking the silent tension. 

You visibly relax, looking up at his face again. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to talk.” 

“S’what you deserve.” He adds quietly as he steps aside. 

Walking into his bare home felt too much like walking into that apartment all those years ago, anxiety rising in your throat. It wasn’t exciting anymore, not like it had been toward the end. 

You pause in the foyer, turning back to him as you swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry.”

The words stop him in his tracks, back turned to you, his hand still on the doorknob. When he finally turns around, his eyes don’t leave yours. “It’s not you who should be apologizing.”

You shake your head at him, wrapping your arms around your waist. You want to scream at him, want to cry. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m still gonna.”

He takes a step forward, and it takes everything in you to not do the same, your body still somehow drawn to his after all these years. “I was- I’m still an awful man, darlin’. I don’t deserve your apologies. I should be the one grovelin.” 

He sounds…broken. It tears you apart against your own will, there’s something in his voice that speaks of even greater loss than the last time you’d seen him. Expected in this world, but never an invited experience.

“Guess we both got things we regret.” You say, a slight bite to your voice you don’t mean. 

It’s like you physically watch him build his walls, his body stiffening as the silence stretches. 

“That’s not what I meant, Joel.” You say, the few seconds of silence becoming too much. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” You can feel the panic rising, knowing that if this was it, this was it. 

“But I do.” 

“You’re destroying that girl.” 

He sets his coffee cup down harder than he means to, his eyes flashing up to Tess. “I ain’t doin’ anythin’ she ain’t askin’ for.” It’s been close to six months of this mess now. And he’d had his cock buried your cunt more times than he could count. He’d claimed it had been for him the first time. And it had, but the thought of having you come wrapped around him had pushed that sickness to the forefront of his mind. He needed it now. 

Tess just shakes her head at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “You know that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” He bristles, clenching his jaw. 

She knows this isn’t a fight she’ll win, but she still needs to make the point. “She needs to start paying.” 

“She is.” He snaps, his eyes down on his cup, his chest tightening. 

“No, Joel, you are.” She practically snarls, discontent rising in her throat. “You’re gonna hurt her, Joel. Shit, you already are.” She’s watching her best friend, her practical other half, slip to a place she knows she can’t pull him from. 

His anger rises further. She’s right. He knows she’s right. But he can’t bring himself to let you go. “She’ll start paying.” He says with finality, meeting Tess’s eyes. 

But they both know you won’t. 

“I’m going to end it.” The words come out before he can stop them. “Gotta job.” He adds gruffly. “We’ll be gone at least a month. We leave next week.” 

Tess stares at him for a moment, her brows furrowing further. “You need me for this one?” 

He’s taken aback by the vulnerability in her voice. His eyes flick back up to hers, seeing that sad look in her eyes. A look of forgiving admiration. “I’ll always need you, Tess.” 

Those two little words send you spiraling in an instant, your world suddenly shifting. Your eyes flick back up to his, the same pain reflecting in them. “You don’t mean that.” Your voice is weak with tears you refuse to let fall. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t you?” He asks, his voice lowering just enough it’s almost a growl. He doesn’t know where the anger is coming from. Guilt piles on his chest like a thousand bricks after he sees your face drop. 

“I don’t.” Your eyes don’t stop searching his. “I did, at one point. Only thing I regret was not doin it right.”

“There was no right way.” He says; cracks in his walls. He steps toward you again, continuing past you to the kitchen. He’s pulling a beer from the fridge when your brain catches up and you follow him. 

“So you regret it all?” You ask, your voice steeled as you try to swallow your emotions, the conversation going a way you’d not thought it could.

His beer bottle hits the counter hard when he sets it down, his eyes landing on yours in return. “I regret the goddamn exchange. I don’t regret fuckin’ you.” He’s frustrated, you see it in the tension in his shoulders. “Christ.” A rough hand musses his curls as he threads his fingers through them. “I regret lettin’ it get so far that you got hurt.” 

His admission almost startles you, watching his forehead crease as he realizes what he’s said. “That was inevitable.” You both know it’s true, but it’s the first time you’ve heard it said aloud. 

His sigh is laden with guilt, self deprecation. “I was awful to you. I don’t get it, why’d you keep coming back?” 

It’s progress; the question. It’s talking. It’s admitting it wasn’t all about the pills.

“It was an escape. You knew that from the beginning.” You admit, shuffling a little, putting space between you again before he’s tilting his head toward the fridge, lifting his beer, your small nod enough of an answer.

He’s pulling out what looks to be a bottle of mead, the silence stretching as he contemplates your answer. You happily accept the glass he pours. 

“I wasn’t expecting it to end the way it did. I don’t think either of us did.” You break the silence as he leans back against the counter, still caught up in observing each other. 

His shoulders rise and fall in a slight shrug of agreement and acknowledgment. It’s all you get. 

“What are we doing here, Joel?” Your words are defeated, fingers clutching your glass like a lifeline. “I just want to know where we stand.” 

“You came to me, darlin’.” He points out rightfully. You had, but you were at least expecting something from him too. 

So you tell him that. 

“I don’t know what I want.” He says gruffly, his eyes flashing with an emotion you can’t identify. Something you’d never seen in him before. 

“Friendship?” You offer, but then grimace. “Sounds like we’re breaking up.” 

His answer is too quick for you, your throat constring. 

“We weren’t ever anythin’ to break up.” 

You swallow thickly, your courage swelling. “Why do you deny it? Even all these years later. We know it wasn’t just about the pills anymore.” You watch him stiffen, shuffling on his feet. 

“I’m not the type of man for that. I don’t do love, I don’t do relationships.” He’s harsh, the words biting at you and tearing you apart. 

“You did Tess.” You want to get a rise out of him, get him mad. You want him to yell, you want to yell. 

His eyes flash with something that nearly knocks you off your feet. A deep regret mixed with longing. You’ve seen that look in so many others. It instantly deflates you, your face falling in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Joel.” You mutter, sincerely. “Look, I don’t want to fight, I just want to figure this out so we can move on. I need closure. I never thought I’d get it, but I’m getting a second chance and I need you to just talk to me.” Your voice edges on desperation as he empties his glass, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“What do you want from me?” 

You heave a sad sigh, sitting down at his kitchen table, he does the same after a few moments. “I don’t know, Joel. An apology? An explanation? I know I said something I shouldn’t have said, but why’d you leave?” 

“I had a job. Took me out for nearly three months. Wasn’t supposed to be that long.” He grumbles, his eyes watching his glass as he swirls the alcohol around in it, not taking another drink. “I looked for you.” There’s a thread of vulnerability in his voice. 

Your eyes snap up to his, shock registering on your face. You’d given up after two months, sneaking out with a group to try to find a better life. It had somehow worked, it had eventually led you here to Jackson. 

“Why?” 

The question leaves him quiet for a few long moments before he finally looks up at you. “I don’t know. I still don’t. I’m bad for you, darlin’. Nothin’ good can come of stayin’ ‘round me.” A heavy sigh before he continues. “I fail everyone. People get hurt around me all the time. I can’t do it to you. Again.” 

Your stomach flips at the sadness in his voice, the way his eyes won’t meet yours. You want to reach for his hand, you want to comfort him. But you’ve never been that for him. Comfort.

You’re a mess, grinding your hips down onto his as he slaps your ass again. 

He’s got you bare from the waist down, grinding against his erection in his jeans. 

He wanted you like this, dripping and needy, begging for him to fuck you. 

And you love every second of it. The imbalance. Him still fully clothed while you’ve only got your ratty t-shirt on. 

“There ya go, good girl.” Joel growls into your ear, lips barely brushing your skin. “Know how much you like ridin’ me. Make yourself come and you can have my cock.” 

Another whimper, a pathetic little sound as your clit catches on the seam of his jeans just right, each roll of your hips skyrocketing you toward your orgasm. 

“I’m so close.” It’s mumbled against the fabric at his shoulder, your nose digging into his collarbone. 

Another slap to your ass sends you careening over the edge, practically soaking the front of his jeans. 

“There ya go, baby.” He mutters, his hands on your hips dragging you through your mess. 

You preen at his soft tone, your body shuddering as you ride your high. 

He’d gotten kinder in the five months you’d been doing this. He still held harsh words over you, but there would be flashes of moments where you saw flashes of something softer. 

There’d be days like today. 

Harsh movements and words melting into softness. He’d even started taking you to his bed. 

You curl yourself around him when he stands, nuzzling your nose into his neck as he carries you to his bedroom.

Thankful today was one of those days. 

You bounce on the mattress when you let go, trying to hide how much it was affecting you. How it made something warm swell in your chest, slowly growing with each passing day. 

You’ve got your shirt off in record time, watching him remove his clothes. He was meticulous with it, making you wait as he neatly undoes every button. 

You know he likes watching you squirm. Likes having that much power over you. 

He tuts at you when he goes to pull off his belt. “Made a goddamn mess on me.” 

You can’t help but smirk, letting your legs fall to expose yourself more to him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” 

A snort leaves him before he can stop it, a cocky smirk on his face. “Quite the mouth on you today, darlin’. Need me to stuff it full?” 

A shake of your head as you scoot up the bed while he kicks off his boxers and jeans is enough of an answer for him. He kneels on the bed, tapping your ankle. “Uh uh, pretty girl. You’re riding it tonight.” 

You waste no time clambering to your knees, too eager for your own good. 

He clicks his tongue at you again, his eyes filled with mirth. “Little slut likes ridin’, don’t she?” 

You gnash your teeth playfully, straddling his hips when he finally lays back. You sink down with no preamble, taking him to the hilt. 

It always hurts, but you crave it now. A cruel reminder of how this man was carving his way to your heart. 

He lets you move the way he knows you need, his hands finding their home against your hips. With only the sound of skin on skin  filling the room. 

You’re the first to break the silence when pushes his hips on one of your downthrusts, a gasping cry of his name. 

He grits his teeth as your pussy flutters around him, thrusting up harder into you. “That’s my good girl.” He pants, his teeth against your neck. 

You’re coming before you realize you’re about to, your head falling back as you cry out his name over and over. The single word repeating in your head through your bliss.

His. 

His good girl. 

He’s shoving you off of him before you can register, your back hitting the bed. He kneels between your legs, his cum painting your pussy and lower stomach with just a few pumps of his fist. 

He cleans you up with his mouth, bringing you to orgasm three more times. 

You both know it’s for selfish reasons you’re doing this now. 

But you don’t talk about it. He’s given you the same amount of pills for almost two months. Since the first time he’d fucked you properly. 

It’s the first time you fall asleep in his bed, curled up.

Alone.

Again.

[vamp-ress]

I had to ponder this a bit, because my first knee-jerk reaction was: I don't want to shut down new Middle Earth projects either!

And then I thought about it a little more and I have to admit ... well, actually ... I do.

I'm a LOTR-fan of (over) twenty years. Tolkien's world is inspiring to so many people, because it's such a massive world with so much depth. The books - and subsequently PJs movie trilogy - were a cultural moment. A phenomenon that seems to have happened at the perfect time with the perfect people involved.

Let's face it: The movie trilogy was a huge undertaking, and also a huge risk. If you look at what Peter Jackson did before these movies (and even after, to a point) you wouldn't think he'd be capable of spearheading a project like this. Same goes for Howard Shore, in my opinion, who's usual style differs vastly from what he delivered for LOTR. These movies were a labour of love for a lot of people who dedicated years of their lives to seeing these films made. They did it with a tiny budget in proportion to the scope of the films. They did it with interesting casting choices - pairing well-known names and fresh faces. They did it with love and dedication. And that shows on screen, even today. It shows whenever people involved in these movies appear somewhere: Be it the premiers back in the day or cons today. Life-long friendships were formed while these movies were made - and it's the same for fans after the movies came out.

You cannot simply take something as enormous as this and replicate it 1:1. But that's exactly what the movie industry is trying to do again and again - and it's failing every single time.

These movies have the following they have because they are more than people being paid for three months to stand in front of a green screen. And that shows. And as much as Peter Jackson or Andy Serkis or whoever else will be involved in the new project want things to be different: You can't repeat an experience like that. Especially not now, in the cultural (movie) climate that we find ourselves in. And I'd wish the powers that be (in this case Andy Serkis, probably) would be able to realise that, cherish the singular experience they had twenty-five years ago and let things rest.

Because let's face it, it can't be repeated. It couldn't be repeated with The Hobbit - and that was ten years ago. It certainly couldn't be repeated with Rings of Power, even though that seems to be the only driving force behind Amazon's involvement in the show. It couldn't be repeated with War of the Rohirrim, it didn't even bring in the money it cost to make. (Though, the way I understand it, a break-even wasn't the motivation for making this film.) And I'd be very surprised if The Hunt for Gollum would be able to break that trend.

Because all signs point to the opposite. 90% of what is on screens right now is remakes, sequels, prequels and reboots of existing "things". 85% of these movies and shows are slop, 90% are unnecessary. They're making the 1000th Marvel-movie. They're remaking Highlander. They're thinking of remaking Buffy. Who in their right mind would even want to attempt that? Writers as good as the team behind Buffy don't exist anymore. They finally decided to make a tv show out of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles and they turn Louis into a black pimp? What in hell ... In a culture where everything is about re-invoking a certain cultural moment and constantly failing in doing exactly that ... what would be different in this instance that would allow The Hunt for Gollum to be good?

If Andy Serkis was truly serious about this whole thing, he would have at least picked something that didn't already exist. Slobbering your own agenda over a fan-film of the exact same title (and plot, of course) that was made fifteen years ago just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It's more of the same: It means taking things that are already there and trying to make them better. But in the process people totally lose the concept of what made those things unique, killing all spark in the process.

And that's why I'm bitter about The Hunt for Gollum, about movies/shows in general. Everyone in power tries desperately to build upon something that was done better years ago. They never sit down and pinpoint exactly what made the original unique. Instead, they decide to build it with nothing but money. But if you can't figure out what the original's strengths were because all you're thinking about is that you can do better - then all the money in the world won't help you.

I don't even want to get into the question of whether they should use the original cast or not. It's just more of the same - trying to appeal to people's nostalgia without realising that they're shitting on the original experience. And I'm tired of it.

(I'm sorry that I totally derailed from your original delightful proposal. One could of course argue that I could simply not partake. And trust me, I've opted out. I haven't even seen The Hobbit. The moment the news hit that this would be three movies, I turned the other way and I regret nothing. But I'm sorry for the many fans who wish again and again for something good and who in the end get served stuff that simply isn't as good as it should be. It shows how fans get disrespected by corporations, because they're seen as nothing more than a cash cow.)

Instead of trying to digitally reverse age actors for The Hunt for Gollum I think they should abandon the script entirely and just put Viggo Mortensen in costume and film him chasing Andy Serkis in a leotard across the scenic landscapes of Aotearoa. Give Andy Serkis a head start. Viggo will probably become Aragorn several hours into the chase. Locals can aid or hinder as they see fit.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

hiiiii so i would love if you could do prompt 99 and with Lando because I am actually an Insomniac so I watch most of the sunrises alone so i would love to see reader and lando wqtching the sunrise together ❤️🤭😭 also I LOVE YOUR WORK <3

see it with you ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

prompt 99: staying up all night and watching the sunrise together

◡̈ ln x reader ｡𖦹°‧

◡̈ fluff ｡𖦹°‧

masterlist ☾☼

i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

the bedside clock flashed a harsh, unyielding 3:47 am. you moved in the bed, the cold sheets a harsh contrast to the feverish restlessness that throbbed beneath your skin. another night, another fight with the merciless insomnia. you’d tried everything: warm milk, soothing music, even counting imaginary sheep. nothing worked. a soft sigh escaped your lips as you glanced at lando, sound asleep beside you. his breathing was even, his face relaxed, a picture of peaceful slumber. you envied him, the ease with which he drifted into sleep, the quiet serenity of his rest. you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him. the apartment was silent, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator. you padded into the living room, attracted by the big windows that looked out over the city. the pre-dawn blackness was gradually being replaced by a soft, otherworldly light.

you huddled on the window seat, wrapping a soft blanket around you. the city lights twinkled below, a sea of scattered stars mirroring the ones fading in the sky. you’d always found a strange comfort in these solitary hours, in the quiet solitude of the pre-dawn. the world felt still, suspended, like time itself was holding its breath. a soft rustle behind you made you turn. lando stood in the doorway, his eyes still heavy with sleep, his hair tousled. “can’t sleep?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “insomnia,” you whispered. “as usual.” he walked over, joining you on the window seat. he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “i wish i could help.” “just being here helps,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. you watched the sky together, the darkness slowly receding, replaced by a soft, pearly light. the city below began to stir, the first signs of life emerging from the slumbering streets. “it’s beautiful,” lando murmured, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"it is," you said, your voice little more than a whisper.

the sun rose over the horizon, a gold sliver that rapidly expanded across the sky, coloring the clouds pink and orange. the city below was golden, warm, the shadows receding, the day unfolding.

lando’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. “i’ve never seen a sunrise like this,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet wonder. “it’s different when you’re awake to see it,” you said, your eyes fixed on the breathtaking spectacle. “it’s like you’re witnessing the world being born again.” he squeezed your hand, his eyes meeting yours. “i’m glad i got to see it with you,” he said, his voice sincere. you smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached your eyes. "me too," you breathed.

the quiet that came after was easy, warm with the intimacy of shared moment, the silent knowing of two hearts finding comfort in the quiet of the morning.

as the sun rose higher, spilling its golden light across the city, you felt a peace descend upon you, a still quiet that had eluded you for so long. the insomnia hadn’t disappeared, but it felt less daunting, less lonely. with lando beside you, the darkness didn’t seem so dark, the silence didn’t feel so empty. you knew that even when the night was long, there would always be the promise of a sunrise, a new beginning, a shared moment of peace.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

i'm just clearing out my drafts/inbox! i can't write x reader anymore, i'm more interested in being gay! (this is a joke, but fr, i can only do rpf now)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff ; @midnight-and-books ; @landoscarino ; @stylesmoonlight12 ;

[tawked]

So I'm reading some posts that deconstruct Jason Todd through a classist lens, whereby the primary thrust seems to be that "they made the poor Robin the violent one." Sure, I agree.

But! I think this is kind of shunting the burden of the classism of the whole text onto Jason, though. He's become unfittingly symbolic of an issue that is intrinsic to the whole work, in a way that I feel is reductive.

The whole thing, all of Batman, is classist, ableist, pro-cop, pro-prison and pro-institutionalisation.

Yes, even though the cops are corrupt. Batman is not presented as a viable isolated alternative. He is propaganda from the opposite extreme, showing a vigilante as necessary but unable to do anything about crime on scale, hence his partnership with the police.

Yes, even though Blackgate and Arkham are shown as nonfunctional. They're presented as "an imperfect but necessary answer to a horrible and inconquerable problem." What do you do with bad people? You send them to a cage where they are victimized for X amount of years. You send them to Arkham where they can be pumped full of antipsychotics and we can all act shocked that this doesn't work. Better options are not explored or discussed often enough to become part of the fiber of the work. Batman is vengeance, he is not rehabilitation lol.

Yes, even though the Wayne Foundation is not shown as a viable response to proper social aide programs. We never see those social aide programs working out either, but the Foundation scores Ws, it kept Leslie's lights on back when she was an interesting character lol, and it's constantly mentioned whenever social programs in Gotham come up. The rich all congregate in Wayne Manor for the latest gala where they mull over using their fortunes to keep the welfare moving for another month. This is such a common scene that it's practically how Telltale Batman starts lol. This is Scrooge McDuckian billionaire idealism.

So it's kinda frustrating to me when Batman criticism treats classism like an issue localized to Jason Todd as a character like

as the snow flies on a cold and grey Gotham mornin a poor little baby child is born in the ghettooo (in the ghettooo) and his mama becomes an international criminal, stealing drugs from actual humanitarian aide in a veiled statement about their futility in the ghettooo (in the ghettooo) people don't you understand the child needs a helping hand, or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day. take a look at you and meee or are we too bliiind to seeeeeeeee

In a sense, yes, Jason Todd is a classist caricature, but that's a product of the whole Batman conceit being fundamentally classist down to her roots sis. Batman particularly reflects 1950s-80s liberal beliefs about a kind of capitalist noblesse oblige that was used at the time to justify not taxing rich cunts like Bruce Wayne. It's like, Rockerfeller shit basically. Y'know, Andrew Ryan shit. Atlas didn't shrug but he was the only one who could run welfare properly so we must destroy the government and give him all the money so he can do welfare properly, efficiently, with the cold and calculating eye for success inherent in the ruling classes lol. Crazy American nonsense.

Anyway I like Jason Todd and I like that he's an uplifted poor kid who was not provided appropriate support for his trauma because Bruce Wayne, a billionaire who's trauma is fundamentally different, does not understand what he's dealing with. It kinda cuts hard against the whole capitalist noblesse oblige, rich daddy knows best concept, doesn't it? Uncle Scrooge does not know what's best for them boys and sans a Donald Duck, he gets lil Huey killed by not knowing how to speak to him. Or rather, he gets his Della Duck stuck on the moon. The moon in this case being a warehouse crowbar clown boom.

Here:

Bruce's mom and dad died and he went home to his butler and his mansion. When he's bleeding out and he decides to become Batman, he's sitting in a chair worth more money than Jason has ever seen in one place, in a room the size of Jason's apartment. His parents' death carries a finality and his becoming Batman is in defiance of that finality.

Jason's parents aren't dead, they just fucked off, and Jason's downward spiral is characterized by that difference. Bruce is unable to understand that unlike Dick Grayson, Jason isn't defying an ending and becoming something new. He doesn't have their closure, he doesn't have their answer, and Bruce doesn't understand he needs one because Bruce is defined by his answer.

Jason has nonetheless built something for himself, an identity, in Robin. Bruce strips that away, leaving him with nothing but the mother he knows, unlike Mrs. Wayne and Mrs. Grayson, is out in the world somewhere. Worse, Bruce is telling him not to find a new identity in that fact, even after taking the identity of Robin away from Jason. That's the real meat to me.

It's not that he saw a man smoke a whole crack on the stoop and lost his mind with poverty bloodlust or whatever, and it feels reductive to layer that narrative with that concept. Y'know?

BUT

WITH THAT SAID

B O Y HOWDY there are some DC writers who wanna make that reduction bruv and I do not fuck with it even a teensy bit. I understand the reactionary frustration lol.

I just think, sometimes, we're missing the woods for the trees when we talk about Jason Todd as a victim of writers hating the poor.

[nutmegtales]

Alive Again - Part 11

Cups of tea and quiet hours spent reading were lovely, and it filled a craving in Danny’s core that he’d long learnt to ignore.

But it was time to start moving again. He could feel the restlessness in Jason, it seemed to grow at night when the other would check his watch, and then pace around the tiny apartment, it reminded Danny of a caged tiger. It reminded him of himself after too long couped up in the castle.

He felt a little bad, knowing it was almost certainly because of him that the other man felt obligated to stay. If he could just get a handle on this damned human body.

Tonight though it seemed that Jason had plans. “Hey” he’d nudged Danny with a devilish grin on his lips that made Danny’s chest ache. “I was thinking tonight we could try something?”. Jason sounded so hopeful, and honestly who was Danny to deny him anything?

Danny landed on his back with a whoomph, the air escaping his lungs in a sudden burst. Oh, it felt good to breath like this! with real air in his lungs and his heart beat hard in his chest. Jason landed on the mats half a second later and tried to grapple Danny. There was still a big power difference between them even in this form, but Danny knew to pull his claws in and was thoroughly enjoying figuring out an even match to the others strength.

Danny managed to trap one of Jason’s legs, and damn weren’t they built like tree trunks -No don’t think of that, concentrate- He rolled them over so now it was Jason laying on the mats. Danny backed up quickly knowing the larger man would be up and following in a heartbeat.

They swung at each other, precise and hard. Grappling together on the mats of Jason’s sparring gym. Feeling the deep pressure and the exhilaration of the play fight.

Danny tried once or twice to tug at Jason’s Not core just to see if he could prompt some kind of power from it, but it seemed whatever it was it wasn’t in any shape to fuel Jason with anything but rage.

Now though they both had grins spread across their faces, Danny’s cheeks ached with it along with the rest of his body. He’d missed this. Ghosts need to brawl, it’s just one of the fundamental needs that they have. He’d learned from Frostbite in the early days that many ghosts he encountered would be more interested in challenging him for a brawl rather than being fueled by any real hostility. But what ghosts would brawl their King?

He realised now as he blocked a swing from Jason that maybe it isn’t just ghosts that need to brawl, maybe it’s halfas too. It would explain a lot actually.

Both of them were left panting together on the mats afterwards. It was wonderful, and Danny felt his core thrumming happily. He felt... He felt good really good. Like there was a new energy to him, a spring in his step, he felt he had a better grasp of what he was capable of in this form, and what his Anchor was capable of too.

As they caught their breath Danny’s mind turned to more thoughts of his Anchor, and his strange Not core. How did that fit in with the calm and caring man he was growing to know? What had happened to him to create such a raw and corrosive power.

The more he got to know Jason, the more curious he seemed to become.

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[fandomlit]

gif cred belongs to @taylors-a-goblin

requested by anon "A little vauge but pretty please write a Spencer Agnew x reader where the reader is a popular cast member and spencer sorta admires and yearns from afar 🥹I totally see him as a yearner oh my GOSH. A man who yearns in a man who EARNS. I love your fics/imagines btw❤️❤️"

imagine spencer agnew crushing on you from afar

"y/n, that clip of you from the last time you were on board af went viral," shayne noted and you smiled at the camera.

"and the one clip from the other time you were on board af," ian added. "and the other time. oh, that other time, too."

you just giggled. “yeah, i’m coming for the title of most clipped cast member.” you looked off stage, right behind the cameras to make eye contact with spencer. “hear that, spencer?”

in his director's chair, spencer couldn't help but smile. his brain went fuzzy the second you looked at him, and it only got worse when you said his name. he managed a, “with great power comes great responsibility.” the crew around him and cast onstage laughed.

you just shot him another grin before turning back to your cast mates. “did i just get his blessing?” they laughed again as you sat up straighter, trying to focus back on the game in front of you. “it’s not even intentional. i just don’t think before i speak.”

they chuckled before resuming the game. spencer prayed the flush on his cheeks was hidden by the dim lighting.

spencer hated how flustered he got around you. he didn’t understand why—sure, you were a popular cast member, always featured in “best moments” clips, used in many of the thumbnails, the one with the most social media followers, but that was stuff spencer was all used to. after all, shayne was one of his good friends, and he is a renowned fan favorite. so why were you different?

maybe it was because you were spencer’s dream girl. you were so popular because you were naturally funny and kind and complemented everyone on the cast so well. you were outgoing but down-to-earth in a way that radiated confidence and security. plus, you could talk with anyone about yours or their interests until the words ran out. you were the perfect balance of everything. it made spencer melt every time he was in your presence, as if your radiance was something his soul couldn't handle. but he dreamed he could.

“i think i’m just queen of games,” you nodded after your turn. “who else could handle a deck like me?”

amanda paused for a moment as tommy tilted his head. shayne offered, “i-i genuinely can’t tell if that could be dirty or not.”

“yeah, i’m going through the same thing over here,” tommy chuckled as amanda burst out laughing and you laughed out in shock. “handle a deck.. it sounds dirty.“

you leaned back in your chair, trying to school your expression. “it’s because i know how to play my cards.”

“wooow,” tommy appraised, nodding at you. shayne slowly clapped for you. “yeah, okay. queen of games, i see it.”

amanda smiled, “that was good. that’s good, i like that a lot.” you nodded humbly with a grin.

and when you looked off camera and made eye contact with a chuckling spencer, his heart immediately started hammering in his chest. he may not be able to make some kind of comment at you from off stage as he often did with the other cast members, but admiring you was just as good for him.

[yvesol]

codes & codons - PART 1

(SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X READER)

PLOT:

in the dead of the night, your computer’s webcam glows red—he watches you from another realm made up of binary roots, hoping that he will one day get to taste the sweetness of your lips instead of the static that stings his tongue.

or: the sentient horror game character au

MASTERLIST // READ IT ON AO3

—

He was never programmed to say your name. Or that he’d find you in the real world.

Bravery was never your strongest feat. From the formative age of you-don’t-remember to your adulthood, you have remained a consistent anxiety-stricken and nervous coward. Heart palpitations, cold sweat, and fidgeting were all more like familiar habits than coping mechanisms whenever anything concerning happened in your life. Including now, where you were a blubbering mess on the phone. 

“You don't–” hiccup “--get it, Gaz, the presentation is in two weeks, and I’m finding a mistake in the code now of all times.” You were heaving, trying to make sense of what your computer screen was showing you: Ghost, the video game character you oh so lovingly programmed, was saying something completely different than what he was supposed to. 

As someone deeply engrossed in what they did, you always wore your work ethic like a badge of honor, turning you into a nocturnal tornado on the computer, typing away codes for different projects, and spending hours trying to find tiny errors. You were a victim of your own discipline, constantly sleep-deprived and delirious during the day. You were sure you must’ve unknowingly changed something while working the night away. Maybe you mistook Transcendent for another project and wrote something else in its code.

“He was supposed to say that he’d wait for the player. H–how did he even say my name…I don’t understand what’s going on–”

“Hey, listen to me–”

“No, Gaz, it’s so weird. I can see my name on the screen. I never put it in the program–”

“Listen to me! Calm down. You won’t be able to think if you panic so much. Take a few deep breaths first, alright? With me, now, come on, one…” You did as your friend said, finding solace in his soothing voice. 

Gaz was a fellow programmer and the only one who understood you better than yourself. A true friend when you always needed one. Even though he wasn’t much of a gamer, He helped develop the main codes for the game, even giving you input for the story so you could make it more interesting. He was integral to you in every aspect of your life. 

“I’ll drop by your place and take a look, okay?” he reassured. There are contrasts in every duo, complementing figures. Where you lacked organization with your messy notes, there Gaz stayed meticulous with his carefully annotated textbooks, and where Gaz lacked concern about random things like bills and apartment maintenance, you stood tall with your list of worries. 

“You can’t come over tomorrow. I have to go to like, three interviews back to back. I’ll be out all day,” you say as you wipe away your snot and tears. You're finally done with your wailing now that there’s some comfort for your frenzied mind. “It’s okay. Just text me your apartment’s passcode and I’ll let myself in.”

If you agree, send him your passcode. You could feel the onset of a wave of productivity. Having Gaz in your life truly was convenient. 

You look back at your computer and sigh, the only words that are displayed sending chills down your spine and static in your ears. 

“I will find you.” 

It felt like each and every pixel of his skull mask-covered face was mocking you. 

And when you finally shut your eyes and fall into the thick cocoon of sleep, does he take a good look at you.

He takes his first breath as the webcam glows red.

–

Kate Laswell, the head of talent acquisition at 141 Games, was staring at you through her clear glass coffee cup as you chewed your wrinkled lip, waiting for her question. “I am quite impressed by your resume. Working full time while handling a side project like Transcendent must’ve been difficult.” The woman was trying to warm you up to her presence, even going as far as to conduct the interview at the coffee shop in the company building.

‘I had the idea for the longest time, and I was just so tired of waiting for the right moment to settle down and work, so I grabbed my computer and started. I’m exhausted, but I feel accomplished.” You prayed that your answer didn’t make you out to be a neglectful and distracted employee but rather a dedicated programmer.

Kate smiled at your answer, crows’ feet deepening beside her eyes as she placed your resume on the coffee table. “I could easily look at your file and figure out what Transcendent is about, but I want your perspective on it. Tell me about the game: the plot, your inspiration, how you came up with the codes. All of it.” She placed one leg on top of the other as she leaned forward a little, making the sunlight hit her brown hair in such a way that you could see the little canities sprouting. 

“Well, it’s a choose-your-own-adventure game where your choices can either give you a good ending or a bad ending. Your job as the player is to free yourself from being haunted by your dead ex-boyfriend. So you go on a journey to learn how to exorcise him. It’s scary if you get the bad ending and sentimental if you get the good ending.” 

Kate hums, her eyes watching you like you’re the most interesting person ever, a program so unique that it cannot be replicated by anyone, even if they have the codes for it. “Tell me more.” 

The interview goes better than you thought. You were interviewed by three of the most famous game development companies, but something in your heart just pulled you to 141 Games. Kate’s enthusiasm to learn not just about your magnum opus but also about your other projects made you feel validated for your craft. Also, she was the only one who didn’t force you to hand over your game to the company if you chose to work there.

Your apartment looks the exact same way as it did before you left–notebooks about programming languages strewn on your coffee table notes about Transcendent stuck on your refrigerator using some of the many magnets Gaz gets you from his business trips, and your computer screensaver displaying the time and date.

The only thing out of place was a box of donuts waiting for you on your kitchen counter. You find a note from Gaz next to it–he called them emotional support donuts. Nothing could be more fitting for the glazed confection that sent a rush of dopamine with every bite. 

With the last of the donuts in your mouth, you walked over to your computer to check if he had fixed the code, only to find an email notification from him. Surprised that he didn’t just send you a text; you read the email anyway. 

Sender: kylegazrick15@xmail.com

Time: 3:15 pm

there is nothing wrong with the code 

i think you stay up too much

What a weird message. No mention of any curiosity over how your interviews went.

Jealousy. You rubbed your temples to get rid of that thought. You had enough on your plate with job offers, new projects, and the university presentation. 

He could’ve just called you, but you digressed from texting him. The haiku-esque email made you think of it as another one of his playful moments.

Sender: progamingallnyt@xmail.com

Time: 6:36 pm

Hi Gaz,

Thank you for the donuts :)  they were delish.  And thanks for looking at the code anyway. Though I doubt what you’re saying is true. I think I’d remember if the dialogues in my own game had been changed. Also what’s with the weird texting style? are you making fun of me for the code thing?

Love,

Your best friend.

You then open Transcendent to check whether Gaz was right or not. There was already one mistake in the game; there was no way there weren’t more mistakes. 

The familiar music starts, and you start the playthrough as usual, making notes for the presentation you have to give at a local university next week. It was all going swell when you found another strange dialogue. Where Ghost was supposed to mention that he would never leave the player, he says something else. 

“1 @m com1ng. Wa1t f0r m3. Just 0ne mor#”

You whipped your phone out of your pocket as fast as you could and dialed straight for Gaz, hoping that he would pick up in a ring or two. You swore that the dialogue didn’t say that the day before. Your mind was running through every logical explanation for the situation as you waited for Gaz to pick up. You sat with bated breath, hoping that it was your friend who might’ve accidentally messed up this part of the program, too, but to your disappointment, he hadn’t picked up at all. 

Which is fine, you could just message him and then continue playing the game in the meantime. 

You found a few more mistakes in the dialogue, mainly numbers replacing letters, and sometimes, his figure wouldn’t show up in some scenes at all. You chalked up the latter to the game, not being able to load everything on time. 

You were enveloped in gooseflesh as you thought about how much work had just suddenly piled on your shoulders right before one of the most important days in your career. After all, people already had low expectations for an indie gamer like you; you couldn’t afford to make things worse for yourself. 

You decide to go on the gaming forum you’re usually active on and look up Transcendent, hoping to find out whether other people have had similar issues with the game. Still, to your surprise, the only comments you find are theories about Ghost’s past and more praise about your game.

You push your blue light glasses back up the bridge of your nose before stretching and opening up the codes for the game again. Your mind reeled over how one singular mistake could progress into multiple, checking for potential bugs, but the program was spotless. Clean as a whistle, as straightforward as typing out ‘print: hello world.’

<!DOCTYPE html>

<html lang="en">

<head>

    <meta charset="UTF-8">

    <title>Dialogue</title>

</head>

<body>

    <p id="dialogue">Player:  "You have to move on."</p>

    <button onclick="document.getElementById('dialogue').textContent = 'Ghost: \"I could never leave you”.\"'">Continue</button>

</body>

</html>

Frustrated, you shut your computer. You still had to decide which place you wanted to work at, and there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to fuss over a single problem. 

Gaz’s cryptic emails continued for the next few days till he ceased all contact. He wouldn’t pick up when you’d try to call him, and your texts to him refused to go through, with only a small error symbol appearing when you’d text him a simple greeting.

“I haven’t seen ‘im either. Rent was supposed to be paid three days ago, and he’s not responding to my calls or texts. Didn’t say anything about not being able to pay on time. The house is locked too. If you find him, then let me know, or I’ll have to call the police.” His landlord seemed more frustrated about not being able to collect rent than about Gaz’s safety. With a nervous nod, you went back to your apartment to continue working on your presentation. 

You bit your nails and thought about going to the police, but it wasn’t the first time Gaz had gone AWOL and returned as if nothing had happened. It just never happened for longer than four days. 

But you couldn’t let all these thoughts get in the way. With the university presentation and new job opportunities, your hands were tied, not to mention all the new side projects you were handling. For now, you’d just have to shut the concerned side of your brain and make it through the fog. 

You don’t see Gaz at your university guest lecture as he had promised before; so much for moral support. Surprisingly, Ghost doesn’t act up during your demo playthrough: there are no weird dialogues, and his character loads properly during different scenes. The program almost acts like a well-behaved dog. 

Your mind splinters when you watch a sci-fi movie about a robot gaining self-awareness. But you’re quick to remind yourself that sentience is not possible. It’s probably all those energy drinks you chug down like water.

You can’t help but reel at the different possibilities about his disappearance. Maybe he has finally settled down and gotten a partner, though he’d never leave you in the dark about it. He could also be very sick, probably came down with something extremely contagious–but the landlord said he hadn’t heard from him in days. 

Or maybe he’s jealous and resents you for not crediting him. 

You try to email him for the tenth time to see if he’s okay, and hours later, you finally get a reply.

From: kylegazrick@xmail.com

Time: 1:41 am

not c0ming b4ck

You try hard not to bite off the inside of your cheek, though its cushioning is the only way you can stop yourself from grinding your teeth. The man has fallen off the face of the Earth, and this is the only reply you get? You try sending a follow-up email, but all you get is an error saying that it never went through. 

You try again five times. Same result. You make a decision to go to the police if he doesn’t reply in three more days.

–

The coffee in the styrofoam cup is hot enough to turn your palms soft and red. It’s the least of your worries now that you know your friend has been missing for a week. A random junior officer was kind enough to hand over the warm caffeinated drink when he noticed your jittery state while waiting to speak with a detective. You doubted that it would help.

You jolt like a foal that has just started to stand on its twig-like legs when a large man enters your vision. His mahogany desk looks comically small compared to his frame: broad shoulders, towering height, and thick hands. His face looks aged, mainly because of stress and the way his beard has been cropped. His name slate sits tilted on his messy desk that is filled with files and a lone coffee cup that is almost filled to the brim.

“Hello, I’m Detective John Price. How can I help you, ma’am?” He sits across from you with his arms folded, making him look even more imposing. His dark circles and deadpanned face showed that he was trying to grasp onto every bit of politeness he could harness within himself.

“Hi, my friend is gone–he’s missing.” 

The crowded police station makes it hard for you to collect your thoughts. A combination of cacophonies come from all directions. An old woman loudly yelled about noisy neighbors in one corner, two drunk men argued with one another, and a group of policemen laughed while eating bagels. It doesn’t help that the desks have been put so close together that every once in a while, someone’s elbow bumps into the back of your head as they hurriedly walk past you. You ignored the following apologies after a while. 

John looks at you pensively before taking a big gulp from his cup. “How many days has it been since you’ve last heard from him.”

“About a week. Though he’s only been contacting me via emails and completely went AWOL about three days ago.” 

“So, three days?” John sluggishly pulls out a sticky note from his desk’s drawer and clicks his pen. 

“Huh?”

John sighs as he rubs his temples. “It’s been three days since you’ve actually heard from him.”

“Yes, but his number–like, I tried calling and texting for the past week, and nothing went through. I’m just really worried.” 

Though his beard covers a good part of the lower half of his face, you can tell he’s grinding his teeth. His questions say concern, but his face says frustration.

“Has something like this happened before? Not hearing from him? Maybe he’s on a trip.” 

“Yes, but–”

“There you go, there’s your answer. If he has contacted you via email, I’m sure he’ll contact you again. Don’t fret.” He’s about to get up, but you grab onto his arm. You try not to cower under his gaze when he looks at you like you’re a child begging for candy. 

“No, you don’t get it. I got this really weird email saying that he’s not gonna come back. Here, I’ll show you.”

He’s still standing up when you get on your tippy toes and nearly press your phone to his face with Gaz’s email displayed on it. He takes one look at the email and then glares at you. “Not going to come back, you say?” 

You nod with as much concern as you can show, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glossy. His large hand clasps your wrist and turns the phone back at you. “Please read this again.”

From: kylegazrick@xmail.com

Time: 1:41 am 

Hey, 

I had to go to Spain for an impromptu work trip. Network has been shit since I’m staying in the mountains. Will be back in about two weeks!

Love,

Gaz

Your blood grows cold. It was the same time, with the same email address, but with a different message. You were so sure you pulled up the right message, but you checked through your inbox again. Just to verify. “But–but–”

No sign of the original message. 

“Ma’am, I can understand that you may miss your friend, but these–” he points to the heap of files sitting on his desk “--are real missing person cases. I have to spend each second of my day running aroun’ the city, trying to find any trace of ‘em. And because of false reports like yours, I have to run on back and waste precious moments where I could be investigatin’ on consoling people like you. Now, please take your leave. I’m busy and would like to get back to work.” 

You could tell he was trying to be as nice as he could, so you obliged, not putting up much of a fight, and dragged yourself out of the police station. It’s not like you had any evidence to support you anyway.

You stare at Gaz’s strange email until you get a notification from Kate Laswell asking if you have made your decision.

–

The sound of static buzzes like a low hum in your ears, forcing you to take an Advil before leaving for work. Gaz’s disappearance still has you frazzled. So far, no one has taken you seriously. His landlord did not care about his whereabouts when he mentioned that he had randomly received a wire transfer for the rent.

Life still went on for you, though. You got a new job, choosing 141 Games as your next summit. It took a lot of contemplation, but it worked out in your favor in multiple ways: the office building was only twenty minutes from where you lived (via public transport), they always had an assortment of pastries in the break room that didn’t taste like they were a day old, and you got very high pay despite having little to no background in video game programming. 

Everything was perfect except for the hindrance of one coworker–Philip Graves. 

Most of the people on your team were very glad to have you on board, some of the smartest minds in the country crowding around you in the breakroom for a small welcome party, except Philip, who cut it short by condescendingly nagging everyone for wasting time. 

“We better get back to work if we don’t want to stay overtime, am I right?” You still shudder thinking about his deprecatory stare at you with his arms folded, judging how a little girl like you could make it to the top so quickly. 

You couldn’t blame him, though–from what you had heard, Philip worked hard to get to where he is today and was not happy to learn that you got your position simply by creating one game.

But then again, that little video game was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. And you did it all while balancing a full-time job. Though you weren’t someone who reveled in praise and constant approval, you did enjoy the occasional acknowledgment from your peers for your hard work, as a humble woman. You believe this only ticked Philip off even more, going as far as to tell the intern that you didn’t drink coffee when it came to ordering snacks for department meetings.

If you were in high school, you would’ve asked the person next to you to tell you whether big bully Philip Graves was hazing you for being the new kid. 

Things are a little different as an adult. Usually, when you seek out support, your enemies assume that you have no defense and go full throttle. It starts with no coffee at meetings, then it moves on to condescending remarks about your suggestions, often dumbing down your ideas at meetings, and then, last but not least, promotion sabotage. 

So you keep quiet, keeping your worries to yourself.

You sink into your very comfy and expensive Ergohuman chair as you gloomily wish you could speak to Gaz and find comfort in his presence. You hadn’t heard from him in two weeks. Literally and figuratively.

His strange emails went from three sentences to a single word. All random phrases got more cryptic with each email he sent. He hadn’t even bothered to ask you about how your presentation went. A part of you doubted whether he was angry because you never mentioned him in the game’s credits, even if his contribution was really all about cross-checking and maybe one or two dialogues.

Jealousy.

You’d been seeing that word a lot more lately. Your computer kept showing you ads of articles about jealousy in friendships and the workplace. 

It was almost like it could read your mind. The buzzing sound in your ears grows a little louder. You take another Advil.

You swiveled in your chair to look out the window. The bleak winter snow covered almost every roof in sight, like a white blanket over the city. You wonder if Gaz is somewhere out there, possibly avoiding you over his exclusion from Transcendent’s credits.

You’re pulled out of your wishful thinking when Farah clears her throat. She has a tense expression on her face as she places a small stack of papers. “They’re assigning duos to get work done faster. You’re in charge of gameplay engineering with…” she sighs at the expectant look on your face. 

“Graves. They’ve added more play styles, so expect to stay late tonight.” Of course, life is too good to be true. Where there are steep highs, there are also drowning lows. Farah purses her lips before awkwardly patting your shoulder. “Good luck.” 

It was obvious to everyone how much Philip disliked you. And they tried their level best to never get caught in it. But now that you’ve been assigned to work closely with him, the office has become a ticking time bomb. 

To distract yourself during lunchtime, you decide to play a chapter of Transcendent. The music brings back a fraction of the comfort you get with Gaz. The game has been your only solace lately, save for the weird dialogues that Ghost has still been saying. You start to question whether you added an AI algorithm during one of your many all-nighters. 

However, you can’t bring yourself to care as much because, strangely, the game never acted up during the presentation. Maybe it was because you lacked friends, but it felt like the game was speaking to you. 

“H3 w1LL p4Y”

Another out-of-character dialogue. You try to close the application, but it refuses to shut down. The screen continues to show you the emotion-lacking skull face. 

“D0 not Deny m3” 

The buzzing grows louder. You’ve run out of Advil. There are only so many unfortunate things that can happen to you at once. You’re afraid to go to a shrink because you just nailed down a good job, and being sent to a mental hospital amid an all-time high in your career was the last thing you wanted.

You aggressively click the close application button, but to no avail does the game shut down. You huff, trying to shut down your laptop, but it was almost like it didn’t want to. The screen continued to blare the bold white letters of Ghost’s dialogue. 

“I exi5t for y0u” 

You squint at your screen. Out of all the nonsensical things he’s said, this one has to be the most confusing one so far. You try to turn off your laptop by folding it and opening it again, but the game stays persistent. You start to think you’re hallucinating when the music sounds a little louder than you think. 

“It’s been ten minutes past lunch. I don’t like waiting.” Almost as if on cue, the game shuts down when Philip enters the break room. You sheepishly apologize, and he scoffs as you both walk over to the meeting room to work on the project together. You try your best to keep up with his fast pace, trainers stomping as he ignores a greeting from an uneasy intern. You flash them a quick smile to show that everything is good and there’s no need for them to be worried about office politics. 

He ignores you for most of the day, only ever acknowledging your presence when you show him you’re done with the tasks he had assigned you. His attitude has significantly shifted the dynamics between you two, going from coworkers to boss and subordinate. 

You think it’s because of his age. He thinks it’s because you’re a meek beginner in the tech world.

His imposing form starts to unsettle you even more than before, to the point where you’re afraid you’ll get PTSD every time you see a Patagonia vest.

Weaponizing your skittish behavior was the only way out now. Killing with kindness. 

“Um, Philip,” you mumble, shifting the equilibrium of uncomfortable silence to an even more awkward initiation of a conversation. He doesn’t look up from his work and simply hums in acknowledgment like you aren’t worth his attention. Like it was something you needed to earn. 

“I’ve been having trouble with this one particular part of the program lately. Do you think you could take a look?”

His pupils minimize as they land on you. “Is that why you’ve been so distracted at work lately?”

“Wha—no, I’m just asking for help,” you counter.

“Right. I’ll take a look at it later. Why don’t you go through the rest of the schematics for now?” Philip’s suggestion felt more like an imposition than anything.

An hour passes by, and nothing has soothed your weary mind. The amount of work just keeps piling up, and the base of your neck has begun to gore because of your posture. Your eyes burn raw with the friction of your eyelids slowly moving.

You feel like Philip is glaring at you, so you shift your gaze to him, and he immediately looks at his computer, seemingly unbothered, but you don’t miss how his lips flatten. You’ve worked with him long enough to know he’s disappointed in you. It’s one of the only body language indicators he uses with you.

“You can’t get tired already. No one said this job was gonna be easy,” he says without looking away from his computer. It irks you how every word he says reminds you that you’re not as good as your peers. He tears down your confidence one morsel at a time, savoring each bite like a starved cannibal as he stares right into your soul.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply, your speech filter fading into the abyss through every passing minute without sleep.

“Yeah, but your eyes say a lot. Go get some coffee from the break room,” his blue eyes flit to your computer before he continues speaking. “I’ll look at your code while you’re gone.” Translation: I’d like to be left alone because every time I see you, I’m reminded of how you joined our team without any significant experience.

“I’ll get you a cup, too,” you say before walking out the door. You do not hear him call out to thank you.

The office building is empty, and the fluorescent lights of the main office are switched off, making you feel like you’re in the bowels of a backroom puzzle. No end in sight. When you finally enter the break room, you feel like pulling your hair out because there’s no coffee left in the pot.

With a huff, you pull out the tin of coffee beans from the cabinet and place the filter in the machine to get the only medicine for your exhaustion. The sight of coffee dripping is almost harmonic, occurring at exact intervals. The sight makes you sleepy as you watch the pot from your seat at the table across the countertop.

You close your eyes so you can rest till the pot fills up. Philip can wait a little while since he’s determined to finish his work.

–

You can see morning light through the window when you wake up. Your heartbeat instantly picks up speed, guilt, and embarrassment fueling your sudden energy to jog to the meeting room where you and Philip were working. There’s no one at the office yet, so your footsteps echo.

His computer and workbag are gone, leaving just your things scattered around.

You begin to panic. Maybe he was right after all. Maybe you were not cut out for this type of work, and you didn’t have the grit.

Embarrassed, you walk up to your things to tidy them and head back to your desk. Since you’re already at work, you might as well leave at the end of your shift.

While packing, you notice a sticky note on your computer, and when you read it, relief immediately floods your tense mind, making you relax your shoulders.

‘Don’t worry. I finished it quickly.’

There’s no signature, but you know it’s from Philip. The handwriting is weird and blocky, but you chalk it up to his eccentricity. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t received a barrage of texts from him, shooting condescending remarks at you.

Someone calls out your name before you can text Philip an apology.

“Have you been here all night?” Farah asks. You turn around, embarrassed that you couldn’t straighten up your frazzled appearance when you had the chance.

“Um, yeah. Philip and I had a lot of work to do,” you answer, running your hands over your hair and resting them on your neck, which was even more sore than the night before because you had fallen asleep on the table.

“I see…” Farah looks away momentarily as if contemplating something, before clasping her hands together, jolting you out of your exhausted daze. “Well, you look like shit–no offense–so why don’t you stay home for today? I’ll email your assignments to you. Just make sure they’re done by nine am tomorrow.”

Because of the dry winter air, you wring your hands, and your skin feels rougher than usual. “Are you sure? I don’t think Philip would like that. I’ve just started, too,” you weakly reason, but Farah only shakes her head to refute you.

“He was making you do all that work for no reason. Speaking of which, I think he’s due for a meeting with HR for his behavior. Don’t worry too much, and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The bus ride home is bleak, but it’s just what you need to escape from the overstimulation all your senses are feeling. Your muscles ached to rest on your soft mattress, and your eyes begged to be free from the shackles of your blue-light glasses (Gaz always said that the whole science behind them was a myth, but you chose to wear them anyway).

The sight of your blanket-covered bed entices you, but you can’t help but refresh your inbox for each and every email account you have before going to bed. But still, zilch.

You even tried using different devices, but even then, there’s no word from Gaz. The morning gets chalked up to a quick shower and a nap that is immediately followed by.

[a99jazzybean]

An Old Fashioned for the Live Wire

(Part 2)

Part 1

synop: Volt asks you to stay after the bar closes, needing to have a "chat" with you. Dorian takes you out on an uncle/daughter date and discovers some truths about you he would rather not know. Out of spite, you schedule a meeting with your white haired boss. Hoping something interesting will come of it.

words: 8.3K

includes: voltxfem!reader, eddiexfem!reader, age difference, boss/employee, drinking, choking, spanking, manhandling, smut, oral, squirting, dacryphilia

a/n: I will be making a third and final part to this series. (Two Bad Bitches at the Same Damn Time). Also, this has smut. No minors!

“I need to have a word with you before you leave.” 

Looking up from stirring a drink, you see Volt watching you expectantly. Part of you was wondering when this would happen. Of course, it just so happened to be the day you felt your neck was clear enough to wear a regular collar again. With only the faintest outlines of Eddie’s marks visible. You’d have to squint to see them. 

“Of course.” You gave him a nod before handing off the drink to a customer. 

“Good.” He said lowly. The sultry voice made your thighs involuntarily clench together. 

When you looked up at him you felt a shiver up your spine. His gaze was dark, hungry. It made you feel as if you were prey being watched by a predator. You couldn’t tell if it was something you liked or not. In the end, though, there was something exciting about it. 

The rest of your time at the bar moved both extremely fast and very slow. A warring was happening in your mind.

Should you pursue Volt as well? 

Or would it be betraying Eddie in some way?

Glancing up, you spotted the dark haired man working on some type of electrical appliance. As if he could tell you were watching him, he looked up at you. The steely intense gaze made your heart jolt. You noticed it in him too, that hunger. Something that craved whatever you could offer him carnally. And he knew you had it in you. 

You hadn’t slept with Eddie since the night in the office, but he continued to tease you. His hands linger just a bit too long on your body. Whispering something hot and heavy in your ear, then leaving a small kiss on your neck. Then there was the time he teased you about the turtlenecks you had been wearing. 

Calloused fingers pulled it down when you two were alone. You held your breath as his eyes trailed over the column of your throat. Leaning in, he spoke lowly in your ear. 

“You know, I don’t particularly appreciate you covering these up.” He pulled back to watch your expression. 

Your eyes were wide, filled with confusion. 

“W-why not?” 

“How else will others know that you’re mine? Unless you’ve decided otherwise.” He let out a low chuckle. “In which case, I’ll just have to give you another demonstration. Understand?” 

Your eyes flitted around the bar. It was just you and Eddie. 

“Well?” He gazed over you, drinking in your form. 

“I understand.” You felt your throat go dry as he gave you those hungry eyes.

He leaned in, making your eyes go wide. Lips barely brushing against yours. 

“Good girl.” He mumbled, then turned away with a smirk. Leaving you behind the bar, extremely turned on and flustered. 

You shook your head of the memory, attempting to focus on your job. The task was mightier than it seemed. Forcing yourself to not look at the man that set your skin ablaze with want. If you allowed yourself to cave, you would be too flustered to continue. You couldn’t tell if you hated or loved his teasing. Hated the lack of physical attention that had you almost begging for more. At the same time you loved the adventure of it all. 

“How’s it goin’, live wire?” You hadn’t realized he had made his way to the bar. 

You felt your face burning as you turned to him. Letting out an awkward chuckle at the surprising sight. 

“Not much. Just working!” You gave him a fake cheery smile. “It's mighty busy tonight!” 

“ I can tell.” There it was again, that hungry gaze. 

“Is there anything I can get you?” You heard your voice crack. 

“Jack and Coke, please.” 

Nodding, you fixed up his drink quickly. When you placed the drink down, Eddie’s fingers caught yours against the glass. The feeling of his touch sent sparks up your arm. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Pulling away, he took a swig of the drink with a sigh. 

“Long day?” You asked. 

“You could say that, yeah.” He eyed some customers at the bar. “Though I don’t think you have time for idle chit chat.” With that, he grabbed his drink and walked off. Leaving you with a smirk and a wave. 

Letting out a frustrated huff, you clenched your fists. Releasing them with a sigh, you turned back to your work. Taking customers orders and making them to the best of your abilities. Which was fairly lackluster considering your mind kept wandering. 

Thoughts of what Eddie had done with you flooding your mind, making you shiver. Then there were the thoughts of the future. What did Volt have planned for you tonight? There was no way it was just “a chat.” From his gaze you could tell he had something planned. Though, there were many possibilities of what that could be.

The man wasn’t shy about his attraction to you. While Eddie was subtle with his advances, Volt preferred to be bold and straightforward. Sprinkling you with compliments throughout the day. Obviously touching you in a flirtatious manner. One of his hands always found its way onto you when in close proximity. His touch had you melting everytime. 

Beverly had been keeping an eye on you. One too many times, you messed up someone’s drink order. Your mind was clearly somewhere else. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but something felt fishy. After seeing your reactions around Eddie and Volt, she clocked the reason immediately. 

“Everything alright?” She asked you when you had a bit of a breather from the rush. 

“Yeah. Why?” You cursed yourself internally.

Am I that obvious?

“You just seem a bit off today. Lots of orders made incorrectly, and I know that you know what you’re doing when it comes to the bar.” She said pointedly, hand on her hip.

“I guess my mind has been wandering a lot.” Not a lie, but also not the full truth. “I’m sorry I keep messing up tonight.” 

Sighing, she shook her head. Walking up she poked you hard on the forehead.

“Hey!” You rubbed the spot on your head. “What was that for?” 

“To help you get focused. Don’t need you swooning over older men while on the job.” She smirked as your eyes widened. 

“W-what? Swooning? Older men?” You sputtered, trying to find a way to argue back.

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know their sweet on you. Especially Eddie. That man goes out of his way to not talk to anyone, then suddenly is super chipper to talk to the new girl?” She let out a scoff. “Like I’ll believe it’s anything beside trying to get into your pants.” 

Red bloomed on your face and she let out a hearty laugh. 

“Oh you poor thing.” She chuckled lightly. “Look, you’re an adult, so I can’t make life choices for you. That being said, I’d be a bit careful fooling around with your bosses.” 

“I’m not fooling around with my bosses!” Your face grew redder.

“If you say so.” She put her hands up in surrender. 

Sighing, you returned to work. Hoping your conversation with Beverly would help you push away the thoughts somewhat. It kinda worked. That was until you saw one of the mentioned men in your peripheral. Then you were flooded once more with unseemly thoughts. This was going to be a long night. 

Finally, 2:00 am hit, and you were free from the customers. The last stragglers made their way out of the bar as you cleaned up your workspace. Throughout the rest of your shift, you felt Beverly’s eyes on you. As if she was trying to get a read on what you were thinking. She was probably accurate with what she thought she saw. The woman practically slapped you in the face with her analysis of your current situation. Embarrassing, to say the least. 

“Welp, I’m heading out.” Beverly stretched and yawned. “You headin’ out?” She asked.

“Uh, no.” You felt a blush creeping up your neck. 

“Asked to stay late again?” She gave you a knowing look.

“Yeah. Volt says he wanted to chat with me.” You couldn’t look at her.

“Is that so?” She let a silence hang in the air. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Oh, actually you won’t. I took it off.” Maybe it was a good thing you wouldn’t see her immediately after this night.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll see ya when I see ya then!” She headed out of the building, leaving you alone behind the bar.

You finished up cleaning up your space, then took in a deep breath. Surely, this “talk” would be nothing. Right?

“You staying late?” Eddie looked like he was about to head out when he spotted you.

“Yeah. Volt asked to speak with me.” Your eyes looked to the floor, afraid to see what would be swirling in his gaze.

“Is that right?” There was an edge to his voice. 

You nodded quickly. 

“Ah, you’re still here!” Volt waltzed in the room, paying no mind to Eddie. “Shall we?” He motioned to the office. 

“Um…” Your gaze flitted between the men. “Yes.” You joined Volt, avoiding Eddie’s searing gaze. 

“Have a goodnight!” Volt looked over his shoulder at Eddie with a smirk. 

“Night.” Eddie said, before exiting the building. 

When you entered the office, Volt motioned for you to sit in the chair in front of the desk. 

From behind, you heard the familiar sound of the lock being clicked shut. You could feel your palms begin to sweat. Thighs clenching together. 

Sauntering over, Volt smoothly sat in the seat on the other side of the desk. Clasping his hands together, he placed his chin on them. Bright eyes studying you, made you sweat even more. 

“Are you concerned?” He asked, a smirk on his face. 

“No. More like nervous.” You admitted. There’s no use in lying, not when your expressions were so easily readable. 

“And why would you be nervous?” That mischievous grin grew as he watched you squirm in your seat. 

“Because one of my bosses asked to have a chat after my shift? That’s not typically a good sign.” You bit your lip.

“Hmm… fair enough.” He moved to crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back. “However, now that I’m thinking about it. Why would you be nervous if you have done nothing wrong? Hmm?” 

Your eyes widened, and your palms grew clammy.

“I-I well… I don’t believe I have done anything wrong.” Your gaze flitted to the floor, afraid of showing off your expression.

“I see. You don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong. So there’s a possibility you have?” Oh, he was having too much fun with this. Especially based on that smile on his face. 

“Like I said. I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong.” You took in a deep breath, attempting to steel your resolve. 

“Hmmm…” He turned to the computer on the desk, typing for a few moments. “What if I told you, I know you have done something bad?” He raised a brow.

“Well, I haven’t.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… 

“Is that so?”

Volt turned the monitor on the desk around for you to see. Immediately, your complexion went white. Looking up in the corner of the office you spotted a camera, red light flashing. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

On the monitor played a video of you and Eddie’s rendezvous. How did you not notice the camera? Did Eddie know? 

“I know what you’re thinking. Did Eddie know about the camera? Yes.” He gave an almost irritated sigh. “But, yes, there is a but. I think he forgot about it.” 

You let out a bit of the breath you were holding. A slight sigh of relief, but there were still issues to be concerned about. 

“We keep the safe in here. I thought it best to have at least a little security. Eddie thought it was a bit frivolous.” Volt rolled his eyes, remembering the conversation.  

Eddie didn’t see a point in a camera when someone would be at the bar for the majority of the day. Volt thought otherwise and got a camera installed anyways. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Volt pressed. While he was attempting to be professional, you could see a curl of a smirk at the corners of his lips. 

Chewing on your lip, you thought of what to say. Then an idea hit you. 

“Actually, I have a question.” 

Volt raised an amused brow, that smirk now fully on display. 

“Proceed.” He motioned for you to continue. 

“Why were you looking at the camera feed?” A smirk of your own was on your face as you caught the look of surprise in his eyes. 

Well played, live wire. 

“I have a sneaking suspicion you won’t believe me if I say it was a regular check-up?” 

You shook your head “no”.

“Very well, darling. You have caught me.” He let out an amused huff. “After learning about your late stays, I decided to check and see what you two were doing after hours. To my surprise, it was this.” He pointed at the monitor. It was still playing the video of Eddie ramming into you over the desk. 

The image made you recall the feeling of him inside you. You suppressed a moan, squeezing your thighs together. Volt caught the action, a hungry gaze now turned to you. 

“Does it excite you?” He walked around the desk, standing beside you. Reminiscent of how Eddie behaved. 

“Does it excite you?” You questioned back, attempting to be sassy. Ultimately you sounded nervous with a shaken voice. 

Volt leaned down, cupping your chin delicately. Turning your head, he eyed the remnants of Eddie’s marks on your neck. 

“Nice try, live wire, but I’m not flustered so easily.” His hand trailed down to your throat, giving it a squeeze that had you gasping. “At least, not as easily as you are.” He released his grip with a wink. 

Walking away, he returned to his chair. Slumping down with his legs spread wide. 

“Now, what should we do about you?” A glint of mischief danced in his eyes. 

“You’re not gonna fire me, are you?” Worry filled your voice. 

“I could, or you could take a punishment and we call it good.” He tapped on the armrests of the chair as he waited for your response. 

“And you’ll delete the video?” You gave him a pleading look.

“Darling, I’m not keeping it regardless.” He let out a sigh. “I enjoy voyeurism as much as anyone, but not nonconsensually.” 

You cocked your head in confusion, but he had watched it?

“I actually haven’t watched it in it’s entirety. I saw what Eddie started, and immediately stopped.”

“Then why show it to me?”

“I wanted to see how you would respond.” He gave you a smirk. 

Thinking about it, he had turned the monitor to face you. And when he walked to the front of the desk his eyes remained on you. What a fucking tease.

“What exactly do you constitute as a punishment?” You asked quietly, hands wringing your skirt. 

“I’d say about…hmm.” He stood up, tapping on his chin. “Twenty spakings? Yes, I think that would suffice.” He gave you a toothy grin, the hunger returning to his eyes. 

“Spankings?!” You yelped.

“Yes. Or I could fire you.” He shrugged as if it was the easiest decision for him to make. 

“This is blackmail!” You spat.

“You had sex on my desk, I think that is a fireable offense.” Volt’s demeanor grew cold, almost… jealous. “Now, choose.” His tone had you shivering. 

Fuck. You needed this job. Dorian would be pissed if you got fired two weeks in. Especially since he vouched for you. 

“Fine. I’ll take the punishment.” You grumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

“Wonderful.” He returned to his seat, legs set for you to lay over. “Now, come here.” He commanded. 

Red in the face, you walked over. Before you could lean over his legs, he cupped your chin. Forcing you to lean down, he made sure you were looking in his eyes. His expression grew serious.

“If it’s too much, tell me. I will stop.” He let go of your chin, then patted his lap. 

Nodding, you leaned over lap. Arms slung over his leg. A warm hand slid up your thigh, making you shiver. He flipped your skirt up, revealing your panty-clad ass. He hummed in approval at the pair of lacy panties you had on.

“Very nice.” He looped a finger under the band and snapped it, making you yelp. 

His warm hand caressed your back and thighs, then landed on your ass. 

“Now, you’re going to count for me. Do you remember how many I said you would get?” His voice was teasing.

“Twenty.” You mumbled.

“Good girl. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You squeaked out.

Part of you was extremely humiliated at this turn of events while another part of you was buzzing with excitement. The feel of his hand on your skin shooting sparks through your body.

The first slap surprised you, and you gave out another yelp. Volt waited for you to respond.

“One.” You said softly.

“I didn’t hear you!” He said in a sing-song voice, hand tenderly caressing the blooming mark.

“One.” You said louder this time.

“Very good.” 

This time, the slap was harder. Again, you yelped. However, you found yourself enjoying this. The sharp pain dissolved into pleasure when his hand turned to tenderly caress the damage from the slap. It was hot, really hot. 

Volt continued to spank you, with you counting. When you were half-way there you could tell your ass was going to be incredibly sore the next day. Still, you soldiered on. You completed the punishment with tears pricking at your eyes as you  soaked your  panties. The latter Volt noticed. Spotting the dark patch that had grown on the fabric. 

“I had a feeling you would like this.” He teased, snapping your panties again. 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you saw he was smirking at you. His eyes dark with want. 

The man assisted you in standing. You found your legs to be quite wobbly after the hits on your ass. Volt gave you an apologetic look followed by a shrug. 

“Let’s get you home.” He walked you to the front door. “I recommend aloe. It’ll help with the stinging.” 

“Thanks.” You grumbled.

“Don’t mention it.” He paused, then smirked. “Have a good day off tomorrow. I hope you and Dorian enjoy your day out.” He waved you off with a chuckle. Leaving you standing wide eyed.

Oh no. You had forgotten that you had taken the day off to spend with Dorian. Oh no. Your ass was going to hurt tomorrow. Oh no. Dorian would 100% notice your discomfort. Oh no. How would you explain this to him? 

Uh, you fell on your ass? Oh! Maybe hemorrhoids? Both excuses would have him concerned for you regardless. 

Fuck. What were you going to do?

By the next day, you still hadn’t come up with an excuse. As you got ready for the day, you could feel the ache on your butt. You spread aloe over your cheeks, but it only helped with the residual stinging. The aching was something else entirely. Likely something you would have to ice. 

A knock on your apartment door brought you out of your thoughts. Shit, he’s here already! You checked the time on your phone. Of course, as always, he was right on time. Damn you time blindness! 

Quickly, you made your way to the door. With a quick sigh, you opened it with a bright smile. Dorian stood with a bouquet and a smile of his own. 

“Good morning, love.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “How’ve you been?” 

“Um, pretty good.” He handed you the flowers. “Thank you! They’re lovely.” 

Once a month Dorian took you out on “Uncle/Daughter” dates. An odd title, but the man had his reasons for avoiding the father moniker. Each time he brought you flowers or a treat that you liked. It was something he started when he first adopted you as a child and he continued the tradition ever since. 

Dorian never wanted to let you down. When he became the father-figure in your life, he wore it as a badge of honor. Though he would never refer to himself as such. Claiming that your birth-father deserved the title. Thus, Dorian became “Uncle Dorian.” The man saw you as his daughter though. It was an odd relationship, but one that you had accepted years ago. There were times that you slipped up. Almost calling the man “Dad”. While he appreciated the sentiment, he was still very stuck in his own ways. So, Uncle it is.

After arranging the flowers in a vase, you decided to make some coffee for the two of you. Freshly grinding up some beans and using your French press. Alcoholic beverages weren’t the only drinks you were a bit pretentious about. You poured a mug out for Dorian and slid it over. He took a good whiff of it, then sighed with content. 

“You always know the way I like it.” He gave you a soft smile. 

“Of course. You were the one that taught me.” You rolled your eyes and nudged him. 

“I can’t take all the credit. You watched those, uh, online videos. They taught you well.” 

You giggled, shaking your head. 

“So, how’s the new job?” He asked, setting the mug down.

Your mind flashed back to your nights with Eddie and Volt. Taking a moment, you settled your mind.

“It’s pretty good. I’m glad the place actually cares about craft cocktails.” 

“Better than that college bar?” He teased.

Your previous bartending gig had you making huge batches of sugar water filled with vodka. It was disappointing. Especially when you wanted to have more fun with your drinks. With how crowded the joint got though, you understood the owner’s mentality. 

“So much better than the old bar.” 

“How’re your bosses treating you?” Dorian’s voice remained cheery, but his eyes became serious.

“They’re… fine? I don’t really interact with them all too much.” Liar.

Dorian raised a brow. Eddie? Sure that tracks. But Volt? No way he wasn’t up in your business. While he hated to admit it to himself, Dorian knew that you had grown into quite the beautiful young woman. He did his best to protect you, but could only do so much now that you were an adult. Still, he wanted to keep his girl safe. 

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Volt.” His gaze bore into you, attempting to read your tells.

“Well, I guess he interacts with me somewhat. But it’s fairly innocuous. He mostly focuses on MCing the joint and running the numbers.” You tried to shrug it off. 

Dorian wasn’t buying it. He reached for your hand, with a worried brow.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He hated when you lied to him.

In high school you had a bit of a mean streak hiding things from him. Ultimately, it was chalked up to a rebellious phase. From then on you were an open book to the man, so you closing off again was concerning.

“Of course I know that.” You patted his hand. “Volt hasn’t been weird with me, if that’s what you’re implying. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s scared of you. Likely why he hasn’t tried anything.” You poked at his nose teasingly. 

Your words seemed to have worked. He let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad, I wouldn’t want to make you look for a new job.” 

“Dorian, I can fight my own battles.” 

His expression grew serious.

“I know, but there’s always a part of me that will be your protector.” 

His words made your heart swell. You gave him a soft smile. 

“You’ll always be my protector, Dorian.” 

The rest of the day you spent going to an art museum and piano lounge that Dorian had supplied a bouncer for. As always, you ended the day at your favorite diner, Freddy’s. And as always, Freddy himself greeted you as you came in. 

“There’s my two favorite people! Was wondering what time you were coming this month.” He followed you to your favorite booth, pulling out a notepad. “What can I getcha?”

You rolled your eyes with an airy laugh.

“You know what I want, Freddy.” 

“Ah yes, the usual. Are you going to be trying something new today?” He turned to Dorian.

“You know me, creature of comfort. I’ll take my usual as well.” 

“Sounds good. Two usuals for my favorite customers!” Freddy made a big show of clipping your tickets up. 

As you sat in the booth, you shuffled around. Attempting to get comfortable despite the ache from your ass. Huffing in frustration, you slumped into the booth. Dorian gave you a concerned look that had you worrying.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes reading you again.

“Yeah!” You responded a bit too quickly. “Sorry, yes. I think I might have worked out a bit too hard the other day. Those glute machines sure are something.” Perfect! You had found a good excuse. 

Leaning back, Dorian appeared to accept your answer. You let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“Make sure you stretch out better then, yeah?” 

“Uh yeah. I’ll be sure to do that.” You shuffled more in the seat. 

Freddy returned to your table with your drinks. As you turned to acknowledge him, Dorian spotted the remnants of a mark on your neck. His jaw tightened at the sight, eyes narrowing in on the faded bruise. 

When Freddy left, you notice Dorian’s change in demeanor. Worry furrowed your brow as you bit your lip.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, concerned about the answer.

“Peachy.” He was short with you.

“It doesn’t sound it.” 

“Are you seeing anyone?” His eyes bore into you.

Your eyes widened. What started this? 

Watching Dorian, you spotted his eyes darting from your neck back to your face. Instinctively,your hand covered your neck. The action made Dorian’s eyes narrow further.

“Um. No I’m not.” 

“Really?” He leaned over the table, removing your hand from your neck. “It don’t look like it to me.” 

“It’s nothing, Dorian.” You needed this conversation to end. 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Dorian softened slightly.

“I’m not hurt.” 

“Your neck is bruised.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a hickey, big deal!” You felt like a teenager again.

“Still a type of bruise.” Dorian knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he didn’t appreciate someone marking you up like that.

“Da-, Dorian, it’s fine. I’m an adult.” 

“I know, but again, I don’t want to see you hurt.” He sighed sadly.

“I’m not hurt. I like it!” You felt your cheeks heat up at the confession. “Forget I said that.”

“You like it?” Dorian’s eyes widened. “Why?” 

“I really don’t want to explain my sex-life to you.” Again, you blushed. 

“Sex life?” Sure, he knew you were an adult that likely had lovers, but to have it confirmed? The image of the little girl he knew was shattering. 

“Again, can we just forget I said that.” You covered your face with your hands. 

“Are you at least being safe?” Dad mode had returned.

“Yes, of course.” Liar. 

“Are you actually dating this person? You’re an adult, but I’ve heard the way the younger men are treating women in those casual types…” He trailed, trying his best to come off as helpful, but only digging himself further into a hole of embarrassment. 

“Okay, this conversation is done!” You exclaimed as Freddy arrived back at your table, food in hand.

“Did I interrupt something?” He asked, eyes darting between you and Dorian. 

“No! Thank you, Freddy!” You tried to shoo him off.

“Actually, I would like your opinion on something.” Dorian stopped Freddy from leaving.

“Um, is it quick? It’s kinda the dinner rush.” 

“Dorian…” You hissed through your teeth. 

“I just want another man’s opinion.” He turned to Freddy. “What would you say if you found out your daughter was engaging with people casually?” 

“Engaging with- oh! You mean sleeping around?” He chuckled awkwardly. 

Your face bloomed bright red. “I guess I would just want them to be safe.” Freddy shrugged his shoulders, trying to avoid eye-contact with you. 

“Alright! This conversation is done! You can go, Freddy.” You had a crazed look in your eyes that had Freddy scampering off. Whipping your head around to Dorian, you gave him a glare.

“Why the fuck would you bring someone else into that conversation?” You hissed.

“Language, sweetheart.” Dorian crossed his arms, giving you an amused look.

“You did not have to embarrass me like that.” 

“I was just trying to show you that any good parent would care about their kid.”

“By announcing their sex life?!” You realized you were a bit too loud. Multiple people turned their heads in your direction. 

“Why don’t we calm down and eat?” Dorian picked up his fork, stabbing it into an egg. 

“I’m not particularly hungry anymore. Considering you just implied to Freddy that I sleep around!” 

“I did not imply such a thing.” He shoved egg into his mouth, swallowing it thickly. It was donning on Dorian how badly he had just fucked up. 

“Urgh! You can be so frustrating!” You stood up. “I’m going to the car.” 

Dorian finished up alone in the restaurant as you waited in his car. You watched as people made their way around downtown, sighing. Then, a burst of spite shot through you. Pulling out your phone you scrolled down your contact list. This could ruin you in a good or bad way, but you decided to risk it. 

Hey, I’m gonna stay after work tomorrow. Wincing, you sent the message. 

After a moment, you saw response bubbles pop up. Bouncing in your seat, you eagerly awaited their reply. 

It’s a date then. Followed by a winking emoji. Oh you were fucked up in the head. 

A few minutes later, Dorian joined you in the car. He handed you your meal boxed up. You gave him a nod, then stared forward. It was an awkward drive home, but you preferred to let him stew in his regret. 

When you arrived at your apartment, you exited the car. Dorian opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the right words. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed.

“By the way, since you care so much about my sex life. My ass doesn’t hurt because I worked out. I let a grown-ass man spank me.” With that you slammed the car door. 

As soon as you turn around, you regret your actions. Dorian watched as you made it safely inside, then hit his head on the steering wheel. Sighing, he admonished himself.

“Dorian, you fucking idiot.” 

The next day you were back at the bar. Feeling eyes burning into you throughout your entire shift. Nerves were shooting through you all night. It was very cocky of you to send that message, and you had no idea if you were going to regret it. Based on how the man was already responding to you, you had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case. 

The night went by slowly, your body buzzing with excitement. Excitement that Eddie noticed. 

“What’s got you so energized?” He studied you.

“Energized?” You feigned ignorance.

“Yeah, you keep fidgeting and bouncing on your toes.” He took a sip of the drink you just made him, steely eyes still studying you.

“Well, I guess that’s what three Monsters will do to you.” You shrugged. 

“I guess so.” He didn’t seem convinced. “You planning on staying late again?” 

Shit. The man could read you like a book. It seemed like he wanted to crack you open like one too. 

“Um, yeah. Volt asked me to.” You darted your eyes away from Eddie.

“Did he?” He watched you with an amused smirk.

“Yeah, he did.” You said bluntly.

Groaning, the man stood up then made his way around the bar. Beverly had left early, leaving you alone. The man took opportunity of your isolation, blocking you against the counter. 

“That’s funny.” He leaned in toward you. “I recall asking him if he needed any help. You wanna know what he said?” His steely eyes bore into you, looking to rip out the truth.

“No, I don’t.” You didn’t budge.

“He said he didn’t. So, did Volt really ask you to stay?” “I did.” The man himself appeared on the other side of the bar. An unamused look on his face. 

Eddie slid away from you, clenching his jaw. His hand cupped your chin, thumb at your bottom lip. Unconsciously, your tongue flicked out against it. Catching the action, he smirked.

“You remember what I told you. You know what to expect.” He gave you a heated gaze as you nodded. 

With that, he walked away. Leaving you and Volt alone. 

“You’re quite bold.” He said, his own heated gaze now on you. 

“I am?” You bit your lip nervously.

“Indeed you are.” His eyes flitted to your lips. “I’ll see you in the office after close.” 

Once closing time came around, Eddie made another stop to see you before he left. Volt was already in the office. Eddie watched as you finished mopping up the bar, arms crossed. You could feel his steely gaze on you the entire time. 

When you finished, he came up to you. Hand immediately reaching for your throat, he pulled you to him. 

“What are you?” He huffed against your lips.

“Y-yours.” You responded instinctively.

“Good.” His lips grazed against yours. “I need you to understand that. No matter what happens to you, you are mine.” His hand squeezed your throat. “Understand?” He pulled back to look into your eyes. The hunger in his made your heart rate speed up. 

With wide eyes, you nodded. To which he clicked his tongue at you.

“Try again. Say it.”

“I understand.” You breathed out. 

“Hmm. Good.” He released his hold on you. Leaving you with just the whisper of his lips. 

Now alone, you decided to make your way to the back office. Buzzing on multiple forms of adrenaline at this point. As you opened the door, you knocked on it to announce your presence. Behind the desk, Volt sat, waiting. The familiar glean of hunger in his eyes as they raked over you. 

He stood up, walking toward you. A large hand pressed the door closed behind you, then locked it. The hand moved to cup your face, he leaned in toward you. Eyes fluttering shut, you leaned in. However, he didn’t kiss you. Instead letting out an amused chuckle. The hot air of his breath fanning your face. 

“My my, how eager.” 

You opened your eyes to see him studying you. 

“Volt…”

“Yes?”

“Please fuck me.”

His eyes widened at your brazen request. He was planning on teasing you for a while, but there was something desperate in your eyes. A different kind of hunger, needy, and very very enticing. 

Suddenly, he pulled you back in. Pressing his soft lips against your own. His tongue immediately searched for yours in the heated kiss. When you reciprocated, he moaned into your mouth. God, you tasted good. 

Pulling away for a breath, a string of saliva snapped between the two of you. The sight had you diving back up at him. Messily pressing your lips against his once more. 

As you kissed, his hands wandered over your body. The touch was electrifying, making you whine into his mouth. Oh, he needed to hear more. 

Breaking away again, he ran over to a futon in the corner of the office. Quickly removing various papers and boxes off of it. So that was there the whole time… and you were fucked on a desk. Cool.

“Lay down, darling.” He pulled you over to him. “I’ll take care of you.” He kissed you again, his body pushing you down onto the futon. 

Volt’s lips pressed down your jaw and neck, in between your clothed breasts, and down to your thighs. Pushing up your dress, he groaned. Another cute pair of lacy panties. Already soaking with a dark patch. It really was easy to rile you up. 

His fingers pet you over your panties, making you keen. He watched your body respond to his touch with an amused grin. Eyes sparkling as they took in your writhing body and moans. 

“So sensitive…” He said to himself. 

Seeing your clear desperation, he decided to push forward. Sliding your panties down after receiving a nod of approval. Spreading your thighs he moaned loudly. Feeling blood rush to his cock at the sight. Your cunt glistening with need. 

His fingers returned to your sex, making you writhe and whine. He inserted two fingers, pumping and curling them against your sweet spot. 

“That feels… oh!” You cried out as his fingers continued to pump.

“Do you like that?” He purred, nipping your ear.

“Y-yes. Ah!” 

Suddenly, he pulled out his fingers. You whined at the loss as he brought them to his lips. He moaned as he sucked off your slick. 

“Delicious. I must have more, if I may?” 

“Y-yes, please.” You shook with anticipation. 

Volt shifted to a comfortable position between your legs. Slowly he pressed teasing kisses up your thighs. Each touch of his lips sent sparks through you. The burning need inside you was growing with each feather-light kiss. 

Squirming in his hold you let out a pathetic whine. He paid no mind, opting to hold down your legs as he continued to tease around your needy cunt. Lips just barely moving over your sensitive clit, making you jolt. 

“Voooolt…” The sound of your whining made his cock twitch. 

He stopped kissing your thighs. Sitting up to get a better look at you. All sprawled out on the futon, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Eyes drooping in lust as your mouth hung slightly open. Just begging to be kissed. So he did. 

The man crawling over you to press his lips against yours deeply. His tongue  prodding at your lips, begging to have another taste of you. As you felt his tongue tangle with yours you let out a low moan. Volt’s hand trailed up your thigh, fingers brushing against your pussy. With a quick slap of his fingers, he sent sparks of pleasurable pain through you. He caught your yelp of surprise with his mouth pressed against yours. 

Oh you were being so good for him. So needy, malleable . Just what he needed. 

He pulled away to look at you. Your eyes filled with a desperate want. 

“Volt, stop teasing!” You pouted. 

He nipped at your bottom  lip, then placed a tender kiss against it. 

“Is that how you ask nicely?” He asked lowly. 

His words made you shiver and blush.

“Please?” 

“Please what? Kiss you, touch you, tease you?” He hummed with an amused smirk. 

Clenching your fists, you let out a frustrated huff. 

Narrowing your eyes, you threw a glare at him. To which he let out a loud laugh. 

“We can stop. I can leave you like this.” He waved over your body. “Wanting and needy. Desperate for my touch.” He spoke lowly against your ear. 

“N-no!” You were surprised at the sudden outburst. 

“No? Then be a good girl, and ask nicely.” He grinned at you. 

“Please…” you winced at the fact that you were about to lose some pride. “Please eat me out.” 

“Now, was that so hard?” He kissed you, then trailed down your body. 

Finally his lips had arrived where you needed them to be most. He gave your clit a soft kiss that had you shivering. Tentatively, he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your hips jolted at the spark of pleasure that shot through you. His tongue began to languidly lap at your folds, making you moan with each stroke. Your thighs around his head were already shaking from his ministrations. 

Volt hummed with content as he ate you out. Continuing a slow pace as he enjoyed you. Fuck you tasted good, and you had such a pretty pussy too. He decided to treat you a bit more delicately before utterly ruining you with his cock. With you already shaking and moaning, he wondered how you were going to handle him fucking you. He was excited to find out. 

“You taste divine, darling.” He lifted his head briefly to take a look at you. Just from his mouth on you, you already looked fucked out. 

He kissed down your tummy, back to your weeping cunt. Tongue plunging in once more, sending pleasure coursing through you. It felt like you couldn’t hold back your moans. Each lick made you cry out louder and louder. Each sound made Volt’s cock twitch against the constraint of his pants. Begging to fill you up already. However, he could have some patience. Especially considering how close you were.

You could feel that familiar knot growing within you, readying itself to snap. 

Volt brought two of his fingers to your hole. Easily pressing them in as you were soaked. He groaned at the feeling of your heat sucking up his fingers. His mouth continued to flick at your clit while his fingers pumped inside you. Brushing against that spongy spot that had you crying out in pleasure. The knot was getting tighter and tighter. A buzzing energy, ready to burst. 

“Volt! Ah!” The way you cried out his name had him moaning against you. 

A final suck on your clit along with a pump from his curled fingers had the knot snapping. Thighs tightening around his head, your release splashed over his mouth and chin. Fuck, that was hot. Volt’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he continued to lap slowly. Bringing you down from your high. 

When your thighs released from around him, he stood up. Mouth glistening with your slick as he smiled down at you. The want in his eyes burning bright. 

With his fingers, he teased your overstimulated cunt. Letting out a low chuckle, he watched you squirm beneath him. 

“My, my. So messy.” He crooned at you. 

You whined when he took his fingers away, but then moaned as you watched him remove his belt. His pants and boxers followed, making his cock hit back against his stomach. He was very long, with a decent girth. Yet another delicious looking cock. 

Before you could move to sit up, Volt pushed you back down by your shoulder. 

“You really are eager.” He smirked. “As lovely as having you suck my cock sounds, I wish to enjoy other parts of you.” He licked his lips, before crawling on top of you. 

His cock brushed up against your soaked pussy lips, making him groan. Fuck, you already felt so good. All he needed now was to feel that warm and welcoming heat. He couldn’t wait and pushed into you in one swift motion. The feeling of him filling you had you moaning. Your hands reached for his arms. Something to ground you as you felt the blunt head push against your sweet spot. 

“Volt! Oooohh…” Your eyes scrunched shut. 

With just one thrust against that gummy spot, you were already clenching around him. Squirting onto the lower half of his torso. He watched you spasm around him in awe, never experiencing anything like this before. The feeling of you squeezing his cock had him groaning. It felt like you were trying to milk him, not that he minded. 

“F-fuck, darling. Mmph…” He moved inside you as your orgasm still rocked you. 

Each brush of his cock within you had the pleasure lasting longer. It was almost becoming too much as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. Something about seeing you cry had Volt’s cock twitching inside you. God, you looked so pretty. When he thought about ruining you, he didn’t think it would be this easy. 

He wasn’t even close to finishing yet. It left him wondering how many more times he could make you cum around his length. As he watched you writhe and moan beneath him, he decided he needed to find out. 

Nimble fingers reached for your clit as he pounded into you. You reached to stop his hand, but his free hand grabbed yours and pinned them above your head. Tears were now streaming down your face at the overstimulation. It felt so fucking good, but you didn’t know if you could handle more.

“Volt! It’s- ah! It’s too much!” You cried out, hips jolting as he continued to rub at your clit. 

“I know you can handle it, my live wire.” He pressed his lips to yours. 

With each circle around your clit he could feel you tightening. Another orgasm on the horizon. It made him smile as he moaned at the feeling. Oh, he could get used to this. Fucking you silly, making you cum over and over on his cock. 

Hips meeting his thrusts, you felt another orgasm shoot pleasure through you. Your pussy clenching around Volt once again. A guttural groan passing through his lips at how good you felt. As if you couldn’t help it, your hips still kept meeting his movements. Riding out your orgasm moaning over and over. 

Your pussy pulsed around his cock. So full and overstimulated. How much more could you feasibly take? Volt was going to find out. 

His hand released yours, moving to your hip. Quickly, he folded you over into a mean mating press. The head of his cock pummeling against your sweet spot. 

The pleasure was growing again, it was too much. Yet, you still wanted it. No, needed it. 

Volt was nearing his end. Balls tightening as he thrusted deep into your soaked cunt. All you could do was take it. Tears of overstimulation still flowed from your eyes as you sobbed from his continual pounding. 

The man used your body, desperate to have you cum around him one more time. Just one more, then he’d join you. Filling you up so nicely. The thought had his cock twitching, a warning that he was on the precipice of his climax. 

With precision, the head of his cock continued to pump against that sweet spot within you. Your eyes were wide as you could feel another orgasm about to slam into you. Letting out a weak moan, your pussy throbbed against him.

“Just one more, darling. I know you can handle it. Please.” He practically whimpered. 

Your pussy clenched around him tighter than before, making you scream out. He followed, filling you up with hot ropes of cum. A long moan escaped him as he was overwhelmed with pleasure. It felt like forever before he stopped pumping into your overstimulated cunt. His cock twitching and pulsing as your walls released around it. 

“Ah!” He moaned, pulling out of you. 

His eyes focused on your glistening pussy, a smirk on his face as he watched his spend trail down your thighs. His focus flitted back to your face. Boneless, your gaze was glazed over. Every nerve in your body was extremely sensitive. Thighs shaking with aftershocks of your orgasms. 

Ever the gentleman, Volt took care of you. Cleaning you up, and pulling your panties back up. As much as he could, he cuddled and caressed you on the futon, helping you come down from the experience. 

When you returned to earth, you turned to face him. He caressed your cheek with fondness, a soft smile on his face. Your eyes flitted to his lips, an action he caught with a smirk.

“Do you wish to kiss me again?” He teased, barely brushing his lips against yours.

“Yes.” You breathed out, then pressed your lips to his.

It was soft… sweet. Seemed like both Volt and Eddie had at least some softness to their rougher edges. You enjoyed the fact that you were the one that just so happened to experience them. 

Volt’s gaze moved to your neck. He grumbled to himself, realizing he had forgotten to do something. Before you knew it, you felt his lips on your neck. Mouth biting and sucking a purple mark onto your skin. Pulling back, he admired his work with a smirk. 

“Looks like you’ll have to pull out that turtleneck again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night you did in fact don another turtleneck. Beverly eyed you suspiciously, then shrugged her shoulders. It’s your life, she supposed. 

As soon as Eddie arrived at the bar, he practically beelined to you. When he saw your outfit, you noticed his expression turn cold. Steely gaze making you shiver. 

“Help me grab more ice from the back.” He practically growled at you. 

Beverly let out a scoff. Wow, he was not trying to hide anything whatsoever. As long as it didn’t affect her, she wouldn’t get involved. Let you deal with whatever drama was happening. 

Timidly, you followed Eddie to the backroom. Part of you shaking with excitement, the other with fear of what was to come. 

When the door was shut, Eddie walked up to you and pulled down your collar. His frown growing deeper at the sight of the new mark. 

“Have a fun night?” He asked lowly, eyes now locked with yours. 

“Yes.” You tried standing taller, attempting to make yourself look less afraid. 

“Do you remember what I said?”

“Yes.” You waited with bated breath for whatever came next.

“Then tell me.” He commanded, making you shiver. 

“I’m yours.” You stared back into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of something within them. 

“Good.” He sighed. 

He reached around you, pulling out a bag of ice from a deep freeze. Shoving it in your arms, he motioned for you to leave the room. Before you exited, he had one more thing to say.

“I hope you know that you’re staying late tonight.” 

[esmeefreckles]

Golden Exchange | Alexia Putellas x reader

Chapter 1: The proposal

⚠️ This story is +18 contains mature themes.

Tags: Slow Burn · Slow Build · Fake Dating · Angst & Comfort · Emotional Tension · Escort AU · Sugar mommy Alexia.

You made it through undergrad while working nights, barely sleeping, always pushing. But law school? That’s a different beast. Tuition, rent, books... it’s too much. Escorting isn’t the dream, but it pays, and right now, survival beats pride. Alexia thought retiring from football would give her peace. Instead, she’s dodging rumors, fake friends, and relentless attention. So when she sees you, her sister’s childhood best friend, at a gala, all poised and stunning, she blurts out a half-joke: "How much would I have to pay you to pretend to be my girlfriend?" She’s only half kidding. You’re only half sure you should say yes.

A/N: A huge thank you to @sswed for being the best beta reader and helping me so much.

Alexia got a text from her manager, she considered not checking it. The entire reason she gave him his own ringtone was so she'd be forewarned not to look at a message from her on a day she couldn't handle it. With a rough sigh, Alexia pulled her phone out of her clutch, keeping her gaze fixed out the car window. Right before an event wasn't an ideal time to have an interaction with her, but if she was texting her now, it might be important.

"Have you left already?"

Alexia scowled at her phone, typing out a quick,

 "Yes." 

She was thirty-three; she really didn't need her manager still micromanaging her. This was part of why she'd retired from professional football. That and the fact that she hated every second of the relentless spotlight and the immense pressure that was going to bring her an early grave. 

"Mead will be at the event, as will Hegerberg- Watch yourself."

Why her manager asked now made more sense; she wanted to make sure Alexia was already on her way before warning her. Even halfway to the event, Alexia considered telling her driver to turn them around.

"Fran, how far are we?" she sighed, looking up to the front seat of the car. 

Fran paused, tilting his head back to listen.

"Twenty minutes to the press entrance," he told her, sounding a little apologetic. Alexia sighed, glaring at her clutch as she slipped her phone back inside.

"Is Mario waiting there already?" she confirmed.

Fran nodded in the front seat. Alexia slumped in her seat. She couldn't bail on a charity event anyway, but considering they were almost there and her bodyguard was waiting, she just felt trapped. It would be good to see Marta again, but the rumors about the two of them were just starting to calm down. With Marta and Pablo broken up again, Alexia didn't doubt the top story in the tabloids would be about them making eyes at each other.

Alexia was still glaring at her phone when the next message came in.

"Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

Alexia turned her phone to silent and slipped it back into her clutch. She had thought about it, and she'd decided for and against it at least a dozen different times. Tonight was definitely going to put her back in the "for" column.

You'd been an escort for three years now, but this was your first hate-client. You weren't sure you could even call it that as you watched Marta’s gaze catch on her ex’s back. Despite the small "ugh" of disgust she released, her eyes lit up, and she was clearly interested. Marta had been blunt when she hired you, saying she wanted someone to keep her company and show her ex the kind of person she wanted to date, someone responsible, who knew how to behave in polite society, apparently.

If they weren't back together in two weeks, you'd return her fee. Well, no, you would never do that, but you wouldn't have to, because she was right. When Pablo spotted them, the actor’s eyes lit up, and he hurried over. Marta tightened her grip on your arm, and you pointedly turned to walk a few feet over to the gaggle of people that had cropped up around Marta’s latest producer.

Marta gave off a satisfied air as Pablo stopped in the middle of jogging over to them, looking crestfallen as he finally registered that Marta was hanging off someone else’s arm. The arm of someone significantly shorter than her, sure, but you were dressed nicer than Pablo, and you knew for a fact he was a millionaire, so you considered it a power move still. You turned your attention away from him as Marta’s producer greeted her and began introductions with the group.

He didn't bother introducing you, wearing a full suit and a real tie instead of the bandana Pablo was sporting didn’t make you actually matter. You were here as a buffer and a distraction. As another attempt by Marta to affirm to the public that she was, in fact, bisexual, even if she had been dating a man long-term. The rant she gave you in the car had been long but also relaxing. You had to pretend to be a lot of things for your job, so it was nice when you could just relax and be yourself a little with a client and especially be queer.

Marta seemed to enjoy your bitchiness, at least. You figured she would, or you wouldn't have busted it out. You hadn't been doing this for three years for nothing. You had a good eye for what a client wanted. Being an escort had, without a doubt, made you a better lawyer. You had learned to read people, a skill you already had but had perfected since you began the work, and you had grown comfortable in a variety of situations.

Marta tapped on your arm, prompting you to push up your shirt sleeve so she could glance at your watch.

"Hmm, she should be here by now. Do you know Alexia Putellas?" Marta questioned, raising her line of sight to meet your eyes. 

Through years of training, you did not let your eye twitch, your expression impassive as you nodded. 

"She probably got trapped at the front door. Go fetch her for me. Tell her you’re with me," Marta told you, a clear dismissal as she dropped your arm. You nodded, giving a short bow before turning to find Alexia.

You hadn't looked up the event before agreeing to this job; you knew if Alexia wasn't going, you could take it comfortably, but if she was, you wouldn't have been able to make yourself accept the job. You were in your final year of your J.D. You needed the paycheck from this event to pay for your tuition. You'd done some uncomfortable things for your job before, and running into your ex-crush shouldn't rank that high on the list, but of the uncomfortable things you knew about in advance, it was pretty much at the top.

There was always the chance Alexia wouldn't recognize you. 

You comforted yourself as you slipped through the crowd. If you hadn't known for the last fucking decade that Alexia had forgotten about you since she signed for Barça, that thought wouldn't be a comfort. But you already knew you were unimportant to the girl you were in love with. What you wouldn't be able to stand was Alexia recognizing you and still putting on a PR smile.

Marta’s prediction was accurate. Even with the rich and famous attendees at the charity gala, Alexia drew a crowd. You drew yourself up, projecting uninterested confidence as you walked past the gaggle forming around Alexia. You ignored every single one of them, focusing on Alexia as you swept up to her side.

Alexia spotted you a half-second before your eyes met, raising an eyebrow in challenge as she offered her arm without greeting. It was a power play; everything was with crowds like this. Alexia’s eyes widened slowly, her pupils dilating even as confusion clouded her expression. Some part of her recognized you, which honestly floored you, considering the decade of radio silence and the colored contact lenses you were sporting. Clearly, she wasn't sure of her recognition, though. You cleared your throat as the dozen people surrounding watched on with interest.

"Hey, Alexia," you greeted her, because if Alexia could begin to recognize you even with color contacts, then maybe your voice would be enough to push her over into realizing who you were.

The moment you echoed your old flirtation, Alexia’s eyes widened further, her breath hitching as she took your arm without hesitation.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I have an old friend to catch up with," Alexia said, almost as an afterthought, not looking at anyone but you. 

You managed to keep your posture perfectly still, throwing the group a smirk to show just how collected you were as you pulled Alexia away. She followed, still staring at you. You didn't know why. Yes, your appearance here was undoubtedly surprising, but you didn't know why Alexia bothered to even remember what you looked like.

"A contact?" Alexia asked, her voice low, as you led them. 

You glanced over, intending to make quick eye contact, but you caught Alexia staring at your pupil, which should be blue. Alexia nodded, seeming to have confirmed to herself that she was right. You knew if you looked close enough at your eyes, it was possible to spot the ring of blue peeking out from the edge of the contact, as well as the slight difference in shade and texture from your truly green eye. You cleared your throat, looking forward again.

"Yes, Marta sent me to fetch you," You told her.

Alexia startled a little, turning to stare at you, but you had caught sight of Marta again, so you ignored her. Marta hadn't stayed put, and she was talking to her ex now. You were glad Marta didn't even question your policy of being paid at the beginning of the night. Letting her get cornered by the ex she was trying to teach a lesson, even if she sent you away first, was the kind of thing a bitchy client would call a failure of service. You had your policies for a reason.

At your side, Alexia let out a long breath as she spotted Marta.

"Thanks for not saying her name in front of the crowd. She’s a good friend, but…there are rumors about us," Alexia said, a little sheepishly. You gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. Yeah, you knew. Unlike Alexia, you kept up on what your friend was up to.

Marta spotted them, glancing down at your intertwined arms and looking amused. She raised her eyebrow as you dropped Alexia’s arm and returned to Marta’s side. You sent Pablo a challenging look as Marta took your arm again. Pablo looked a bit deflated, but at least Marta looked like she was having fun before you showed up to rescue her.

"I fetched her for you, darling," you told her, in the sweet voice you perfected in high school that Alexia used to know meant "fuck you," but who knows, because it was convincing as hell at this point, if you said so yourself. 

Alexia was a little flushed, her gaze still locked on you, though she looked calculating rather than wide-eyed now.

"Figured you were getting swarmed. Thought I’d send rescue, but I didn’t think you’d take my escort for yourself," Marta told Alexia, seeming amused. 

Her voice was low so as not to be overheard, but you still felt a ball of dread in your stomach. You couldn't take watching Alexia realize what you did. It was a fucking charity event, but you weren't a charity case. It was a job. Your job.

Alexia’s eyes went wide at the same time that you narrowed yours at her. You looked away, not wanting to see whatever pity bloomed there. You knew the perception of your night job, but you made good money, enough to pay for law school. You didn't need Alexia, with all her unlimited money and fame, suddenly feeling sorry for the girl she left behind without a care.

"Rule number two of hiring an escort is not telling people that’s what they are," you pointed out, your own voice low. Marta snorted with amusement, sending you a glance.

"Alexia helped me put my bush out when it caught fire. She’s cool," Marta said. 

You blinked, but part of your job was not asking questions, regardless of how badly you wanted an explanation for all that. You could also point out that Pablo was, at best, five inches away from her and definitely heard that, but he also didn't seem surprised.

You were hired after he embarrassed Marta one too many times in public, meant to be an example for the kind of behavior she was “actually interested in” but apparently, Marta meant for him to watch and learn. You moved up your mental timetable on them getting back together for the next forty-eight hours.

In front of them, Alexia cleared her throat. You had undergone a lot of training, largely under trial by fire, in remaining impassive, but you couldn't hide your slight wince, at least not to Alexia.

"Where are you seated?" Alexia asked, despite the way she was still looking at you.

Marta seemed amused, glancing between the two of you. She probably just thought her friend had the hots for her date; she couldn't be more wrong. You put on a stunningly impassive bitch face. If you had to deal with Alexia for the entire event, this was going to be the hardest you had ever had to work for a paycheck in your life.

"Near the fountain in the middle, not all of us get front row," Marta said, with a vague wave of her hand. Alexia deflated and you barely bit down on your sigh of relief.

Alexia should have been more subtle, probably. It was going to be all over the tabloids how she couldn't keep her eyes off Marta, but the truth was Alexia had hardly looked at her friend once. No, she'd been far more focused watching you. Alexia had recognized you immediately and felt a bit insane, given that your eyes and hair were wrong. It wasn't until she was able to look closely and see the contact that she truly knew.

Alexia hadn't seen you since she was fifteen. Despite not realizing her true feelings for you until they were apart, Alexia had been hung up on you ever since. She barely got a few minutes with you, impassive and polite, not acting like yourself, before they were being called away for the ceremony.

It was Alexia’s own fault for showing up so late, but she hadn't wanted to socialize. She only stepped into the limelight again for charity events like this, and she wanted to minimize her exposure. She intended to show up, greet a few people, make a quick appearance, and leave. Instead, she spent the entire ceremony taking any excuse to glance back in Marta’s direction. 

You were professional. Alexia could tell because there was hardly any trace of you in your actions as you played the perfect gentleman for the entire night, chatting with Marta during the lulls and intermissions, casually fending off others attempting to make conversation with the bored actress, and maintaining an engaged expression throughout the entire night. 

When it came time for Alexia to stand up and make her brief speech about the charity, the kind of speech she always gave, and the absolute last thing she personally wanted to do, Alexia had to keep her eyes fixed on the front of the crowd. If she saw you making that faux-interested expression in the face of her performance, no matter how much she disliked public speaking herself, Alexia didn't think she could take it.

She looked when the speech was finished, though, as she took her polite bow and reminded the audience of the importance of the cause. You were leaning forward attentively, though Alexia couldn't see your expression from there. Alexia swallowed as she departed the stage. The rest of the night was torture. As part of the ceremony, she had to hang back and give one last endorsement to the cameras. When she was finally free, she couldn't spot Marta or a familiar face amongst the crowd. Alexia deflated, but she hurried towards the entrance now that she had confirmed you were already gone.

"You look even worse than I was expecting," Mario greeted when Alexia rejoined her event bodyguard. 

Mario didn't give a shit, and that was why Alexia liked him. He had said she might be her favorite client because he never had to coddle her. Alexia had been careful to cultivate a group of people who were more likely to avoid her for her status than seek it out.

"The tabloids are going to be terrible," Alexia returned, already opening her clutch to pull out her phone as Mario escorted her back out to the limo. 

There were reporters waiting, there always were, but Alexia ignored them. Mario just grunted affirmation. His entire job was protecting Alexia from the reporters and fans; he knew just how rabid they could be.

Alexia didn't dare to pull up her conversation with her manager until Mario had seen her into the limo, waving goodbye to him through the window as Fran peeled away from the venue. She didn't need anyone to catch a photo of what she was about to send and print it.

"I’ve thought about the proposal. I’ll do it."

You peeled off your suit the moment you got back to your dorm. Stupid mock trials and archaic legal precedents that hadn’t been used in decades would absolutely get overturned in a real courtroom, but no, Mr. Simmons let it stand in the classroom and declared your case lost. 

You were muttering to yourself as you changed into sweats and didn’t even bother with a shirt. You were so frustrated. You knew what you needed right now, but you wouldn’t even be thinking about it if it weren’t for last weekend.

You hadn't collapsed into Alexia's arms after a long day to receive comfort and reassurance in a decade, but one stilted conversation with your ex-friend, and you were craving it. You put your hair up in a ponytail and flopped down on your bed, yanking your laptop into your lap and ignoring the restlessness you felt. Checking your website while you were already in a bad mood was probably a bad idea, but right now you actually wanted a handsy client, if only to feel some contact, even if it wouldn't be real affection.

No one had ever had affection for you, though. You thought Alexia might feel the same when you were kids, but the second she got swept off to the glamour of football, she didn’t give enough of a shit to even call you. 

Sometimes, handsy clients made your skin crawl; other times, you just accepted it as the closest thing you were ever going to get to feeling wanted. Love was a dream that died a decade ago. You knew these thoughts weren’t healthy, but even with your night job, you couldn't afford fucking therapy.

You could hardly make your tuition payments as it was. Your website was subtle and understated. It was possible to look at it with an innocent eye and not realize what you truly did. 

Well, it would be if the majority of your clients weren’t referred to the site by the agency you paid to list you in a private database, where clients knew the truth. Publicly, you advertised minder services for events, offering to watch and corral clients who might get swarmed by others or get a bit too drunk for their own good. 

Until you got to the booking form, there wasn’t even a mention of your one-on-one services. You were an escort, but you didn’t need creeps coming to you, and if what you did became public knowledge, it risked undermining your legal career before it even got started. You covered your most defining feature and used a fake name, but you still had to be careful. It was a balance between advertising enough to get work and not getting caught. You hadn't gotten any new offers since the charity event a week ago.

The best part of your job was how well it paid, the worst part was how sporadic that pay was. You kind of needed another client in the next few days, or you might not have enough for your tuition payment, even with the ridiculous amount Marta paid you. You made a nice profit, but college was expensive. You opened your inbox and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw an offer there. A one-on-one, which wouldn’t pay as well as an event, but it would lower stress.

You caught sight of the name on the booking.

Part of Alexia wondered if you were even going to show up. 

You hadn't seemed interested in talking to her at the event, and despite Alexia's purposefully leaving parts of the booking form blank, you never reached out for clarifying details before accepting the appointment. Granted, you had less than two days to do so, but Alexia still left a lot of blanks, barring her phone number, and heard nothing. She'd already put two hundred dollars down as a deposit, and even though that was only a tenth of the full price, waiting for you, should you show, it might be enough.

It would certainly be a clear "fuck off," and you always loved dramatics. 

Alexia got your contact information from Marta the day after the event, while Marta ridiculed her mercilessly for getting hot for her escort, but that was far from the truth. Well, okay, Alexia had been hot for you always, but she also never thought she would get to see you again. She couldn't let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

Despite Alexia’s worries, you arrived exactly ten minutes before your “date” was supposed to start. You seemed wary as you were led into Alexia’s private room in the back of the restaurant. You were wearing suit pants and a black satin button-down, a bow tie undone loosely around your neck. 

It made Alexia relax a little to see you in something closer to what you used to be comfortable in. You were dressed appropriately fancy for the restaurant, a slate waistcoat buttoned over your shirt, but one of the blouses Alexia had left was the desired attire. She smiled hopefully as she rose from her seat, the hostess giving a short bow as she quickly backed out of the room to give them a private moment.

"It’s good to see you," Alexia told you, cautiously stepping forward within hugging range. She had no idea what the protocols were for this. You were wearing your contacts again. Alexia could see calculation in your gaze as you appraised her before you raised your arms.

Alexia breathed a sigh of relief as you hugged her. It made warmth flood through her chest, a relief she hadn't known in years.

The restaurant was stupid fancy; you figured that out from a quick Google search, a search you had to do given that Alexia provided no dress code. Alexia had one of the private rooms with a balcony overlooking the street below. The door to the balcony was firmly closed, and the gauzy privacy curtain was drawn over it. Someone on street level might be able to tell there were people inside the room, but that was about it.

You had no idea what to do. You hadn't felt this unsure since your first client. It wasn’t just because you were meeting with Alexia, you had been given next to no instructions. Alexia lit up like a goddamn winterfest display when she saw you enter the room. She went to hug you and you allowed it, partially because Alexia was paying you two grand just to have dinner with her, and partially because, alright, you missed it. 

You had no clue why Alexia would hire you after not attempting to reach out for a decade, but from the plainly joyful expression on her face, you suspected that Alexia just wanted to catch up. It was the only theory that really made sense anyway. You were friends before Alexia became richer and famous. She was probably sick of the way people treated her now and looking for something "down to Earth" or some bullshit.

"Please, have a seat. Take a look at the menu. We can catch up once we’ve ordered," Alexia told you, confirming your suspicions. 

You straightened your shoulders a little, nodding as you slipped into the appropriate persona for the evening, dialed back a few degrees. You might be bitter, but you could bury your feelings and work for your paycheck. You could pretend to be whatever vague recollection Alexia had of the “friend” she left behind. Alexia, to your surprise, frowned.

"Don’t do that. I want it to be us. No bullshit," Alexia told you as she returned to her own seat, a plush chair directly across from yours at the table for two. 

You could keep it up. If you dropped the persona, you might end up just cursing Alexia out, and you couldn't risk that before you had collected your fee. Alexia continued to surprise you, sending you a pleading look when you didn’t relax for her.

"Why the fuck did you hire me, Alexia?" you had to ask as you slid into your seat, unable to hold it back any longer. 

It had been more than 10 years with no phone call, no lyrics vaguely directed at you, no allusion to missing someone in the press. You would watch interviews, hoping for a hidden sign Alexia never gave. You could guess that Alexia was sick of fame leeches and she basically said as much in her retirement announcement, but Alexia wasn’t ready to deal with no bullshit you anymore.

No bullshit you were hurt and angry at being utterly abandoned by the one person you thought actually gave a shit about you, much less saw you for who you were. You raised an eyebrow, expecting Alexia to take back her "no bullshit" immediately. To your surprise, Alexia lit up, smiling as she relaxed back into her seat.

"How has your week been?" Alexia asked, smiling easily. 

She was really smiling, not the fake PR smile you usually saw her give. You shifted a bit uncomfortably as you flipped open your menu, if only to have something to do. You were good at this because you were a good actress and liar; you hadn't anticipated Alexia wanting honesty, and you were not sure you really remembered how to give it.

"Good," you finally responded, despite how it was a lie. 

Alexia frowned, deflating a little. You sighed, looking away. That was supposed to be a test, and Alexia was supposed to fail it. She was not supposed to actually want honesty, or to be able to tell that you weren't giving it.

You accepted a long time ago that fame had changed Alexia; she gave fake smiles to every camera, and she dressed in clothes that cost more than a car. You weren't sure what to do with the knowledge that, despite everything, Alexia still knew you. She wasn’t willing to call, but she apparently hung onto the knowledge of your calls for some reason.

"What do you really want from this? The request was blank, Alexia. I know you must have no idea how this works but usually I’m an unlicensed therapist for my clients that will also stroke their egos," you told her, carefully looking to the left at a gently swaying plant decorating the corner of the room. It was an orchid, healthy and vibrant. 

There was a moment of silence.

"I want to catch up. I never thought I’d see you again. We can talk business after," Alexia said softly. 

Your eyes snapped to Alexia. There was a lot to unpack there. What business Alexia wanted to talk about probably should be at the forefront of your mind, but "I never thought I’d see you again" was ringing far too loudly in your ears for any other thoughts.

"You know, there is a solution to that and I was trying to reach out even once before I turned eighteen. You knew where I fucking lived, Alexia," you told her, slumping back in your seat a little. Alexia’s eyes went wide, and you flinched. 

You hadn't even collected your fee yet, despite your policy being upfront payments, and you let your bitterness get the best of you.At least the deposit would more than cover your cab ride back; you were probably going to be forced to call one in the next five minutes when Alexia decided this wasn't what she wanted. She already decided she didn’t want you once anyway. You weren't really expecting things to be different this time around. 

Alexia swallowed, staring at you with blatant surprise.

"I did," Alexia protested, her voice a little weak. 

You stilled, your gaze boring into Alexia’s as you searched for the lie. You didn’t find it. Alexia just looked sad. 

"A few weeks after I got into Barçs, my manager let me call the school. Someone told me that you got in trouble after I left and were transferred to a home for troubled youth. She couldn’t legally give out details because you were a minor," Alexia explained, her voice a little unsure, almost like she didn’t believe the words she was saying anymore.

That absolutely sounded like a lie they would tell, but you couldn't believe that Alexia just accepted it unless she wanted to find a reason to leave you behind. 

"You fucking fell for that? I was there until I aged out at eighteen, Alexia," you asked, despite how you knew it wasn’t fair. 

Alexia was always gullible. Her expression crumpled, and your breath stopped short when you saw tears had pricked at the corner of Alexia’s eyes. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

Alexia didn’t really have any choice but to believe them. It was just easier to stay mad than to deal with the fact that both of you were powerless back then. Alexia had a family, money, and fame, but you had suspected for a long time how little agency Alexia gained when she signed for Barça. 

“I assumed she pinned something on you so she could get rid of you. She let me call because she knew I missed you but once she heard you were gone, that only made things easier for her. Everybody was telling me you were gone," Alexia told you.

You blinked at her across the table, your leg thumping a nervous rhythm against the seat.

It still hurt, it was going to keep feeling raw for a long time, you suspected, but Alexia did try. Alexia thought about you, wondering if she would get to see you again. You had been mad at Alexia for loving and leaving you for so many years. Not an ounce of that anger dissipated with Alexia’s words. You swallowed, sitting forward in your seat.

"Let’s try this again?" you asked, your voice quiet. Alexia looked a little heartbroken still, but she nodded. 

The damage had been done; it would be hard for it to go away in one conversation after more than a decade of feeling this way, but the hurt was a little eased, and now that you knew Alexia reached out, you wanted to take the chance to talk to her again. You could work on shifting your anger to the appropriate target later.

Your attitude towards Alexia made a lot more sense now that you’d cleared the air a little. There was definitely more to catch up on there, but you had actually relaxed now. You picked out your meals together. When you had both chosen something, Alexia tried to subtly encourage you towards the lobster and felt satisfied when you agreed to try it despite cringing at the price tag, you rang the bell for the waiter so they could deliver your orders.

As the waiter left with your menus under his arm, Alexia pulled out her phone, laying it on the table so you could see her screen without asking, as Alexia sent the rest of the payment over using her banking app. You flushed as she did so, but you nodded and leaned back in your seat as Alexia slid her phone away into her pocket.

"Tell me what you’ve really been up to in the last fifteen years?" Alexia requested, trying to move past the awkwardness of how she set up this meeting. 

You were going to get there eventually, even worse, you were going to get her proposal eventually, but for the moment, she really just wanted to meet the girl she lost so many years ago. Your eyes twitched, your cheeks dusted pink, but you launched into an abridged explanation.

"I was at home for most of high school. I was able to go to a college upstate for free. I fell into the political science program somewhere along the way," you explained. 

Alexia nodded, your conversation falling into a lull as your waiter arrived with the complimentary opening dish while you waited for your real meals. Your eyes went wide when you realized it was crab cakes.

Alexia specifically picked this place because of its amazing seafood, in addition to the privacy. She grinned at you as she popped one in her mouth. You rolled your eyes, but you practically melted when you took a bite yourself, a low hum of contentment escaping your lips that had Alexia gasping and you blushing furiously.

"Not a word," you hissed, flustered, even as you took another bite. 

Alexia mimed zipping her lips shut, but she couldn't help but stare at you, relaxed and a visible warmth spreading through you across from her, your eyes soft and slightly unfocused with pleasure as you blinked slowly, looking between the food on the table and Alexia. Alexia knew that happiness was for the delicate crab cakes, but she was willing to let herself have a brief delusion.

"Tell me about undergrad," Alexia requested. 

Your website mentioned you were a law student under your "conversation topics" header. You paused, taking another bite as you considered it.

"I took an obscure political elective freshman year, and somehow that just turned into my major. By junior year, I was looking into law school after graduation since political science doesn’t have a lot of job opportunities, but, well, I needed money to pay for it," you explained with a shrug. 

Alexia nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. From the way you shifted uncomfortably and looked away, she knew you had failed. Alexia leaned back in her seat. She had begun to lean on the table as you talked, naturally swaying closer to you.

"You're comfortable? And safe?" Alexia had to ask. You scowled a little, still looking away as you folded your arms. Your fingers drummed restlessly against your bicep.

"I can more than defend myself, Alexia. I have rules, and if a client doesn’t respect them, that's why I make them pay up front," you told her. 

Alexia hated that answer because it meant that clients hadn’t respected them in the past, but she already knew that was an inevitability in this line of work. Your fingers dug into your biceps, a sharp, almost defensive posture in the dim mood lighting as you gripped your crossed arms. Alexia sighed.

"Some of the charities I work with are dedicated to supporting sex workers. I know it is a job, even if I worry about the risks," Alexia offered, as diplomatically as she could. She didn’t know if you even went that far with clients, but she would bet some clients had tried. Besides, if you were willing to agree to her proposal at the end of the night, it wouldn’t matter.

"I know you, Alexia. I don’t need saving or whatever else you’re thinking right now. This line of work has the best pay for the lowest time commitment, and the hours don’t conflict with my classes. I don’t want pity. I’m happy with my job," you told her, shrugging a little with your arms still crossed. Alexia winced. The thing was, yes, part of Alexia was trying to get you to quit, but she also very much wasn't.

Alexia had been miserable for the last decade, but she had more money than she knew what to do with, and she felt guilty that you had to deal with unwanted come-ons from clients while Alexia was settled in her penthouse. Still, she wasn’t coming at this from a place of judgment. 

The idea was there before she even met you again.

"I never said you weren’t happy? Look, I didn’t exactly know how else to get in contact with you. This isn’t…. I’m not trying to save you, I’m trying to hire you," Alexia returned. 

She knew the judgment you had to have faced about your job, but she would have thought the fact that she had already hired you for the night would make it clear she wasn’t judging you for that.

Your brows furrowed, and your lips parted slightly. You finally turned your head to look Alexia in the eye again, your expression confused. Alexia could see the disbelief written across your face. 

"I don’t believe you," you told her, your expression challenging. 

It wasn’t ideal, but Alexia felt herself smiling as she relaxed in her chair again. Despite not believing her, you were not defensive now, although you seemed confused by Alexia smiling.

"I missed the hell out of you," Alexia explained, shaking her head a little, all fondness, but she didn’t care how obvious she was. 

"We’ll catch up, eat dinner, and then we can talk about what I actually want to hire you for, okay? If it makes you uncomfortable, you can just leave then," Alexia offered, gesturing at the table between them. In truth, she couldn't stand scaring you off so soon, but she also didn't want to make you feel trapped. 

You considered her for a long moment.

"Fine," you agreed with a sigh, like you were doing Alexia a favor. Alexia just beamed at you.

There was no reality in which the Alexia you knew would actually be okay with defining you as a sex worker in her head, but it had been fifteen years. You thought fame had changed Alexia, but even if it turned out Alexia wasn’t a stuck-up prick who forgot you, there were still differences. As you talked, sharing stories from undergrad and law school while Alexia gave anecdotes of the moments from her life that didn’t make it into the tabloids, you discovered a more disillusioned Alexia than you once knew. She was far from cynical, but the absolute innocence she had was gone.

Maybe that should be expected, but her innocence managed to hang on through all the abuse she endured, so it still surprised you. None of the stories Alexia offered had anything to do with her football career achievements. Just as you didn’t mention your night job, Alexia didn’t mention her day job.

"Tell me about what you do now," you prompted softly, as dinner was winding down.

Alexia blinked in surprise, pulling out of the reverie of the story she was telling about the day she did a photoshoot on a farm. No part of the story was about the photoshoot; she was mostly gushing about all the animals she got to pet that day. You remembered that photoshoot, and you felt jealous over the goat Alexia was holding in a more candid-style shot.

Alexia paused, glancing out the covered balcony doors. The lights of the city at night could still be seen through the thin curtain. Eventually, she sighed.

“I don't want to complain cause I made all my dreams come true. Being at Barça was everything to me, the dream I'd worked for my whole life, but the biggest issue was my manager pressuring me to leave Barça for a bigger paycheck, even though I loved playing there. It was a huge problem throughout my career. Back then, I worried he might turn me down and destroy everything I was building, especially the 11 foundation," Alexia told you, shrugging. Her expression was conflicted, bitter, and guilty.

Your entire job was to comfort and assure clients, even when you just wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves. You comforted a manager on a dinner date once when he was upset because an employee that he fired called him a bloodsucking leech. You agreed with the employee, but you needed your paycheck, so instead you slid a hand onto his chest and softly murmured to him that he was doing what was good for the company. In this moment, though, you didn’t want to offer empty comfort because you were angry, and not at Alexia.

"That bitch exploited the hell out of you," you told her. 

Alexia startled, turning to look at you with wide eyes. After a moment, Alexia relaxed into her seat again, shrugging a little, but at least the guilt was gone from her face. She didn’t want to complain about being famous.

"Maybe. He knew what he was doing when he set up my earnings trust to release at twenty-one instead of eighteen, but he was a decent man. He could have easily kept the money for himself. I mean, he made plenty off of me, don’t get me wrong, but so many child athletes get nothing," Alexia told you, shrugging. 

You scoffed, but you didn’t push it. It was still exploitation, but you knew there were far worse ways Alexia’s life could have gone. Still, you had a realization looking at the resigned expression on Alexia’s face.

"I didn’t ask what you used to do, Alexia. I want to know what you do now. What makes you happy?" you settled on saying. 

Alexia let out a breath, sending you a look bordering on thankful before taking another bite of her food, stalling as she thought her response over.

"The part I did like was the charity work. I also gained a lot of experience from managing my own career, especially over the last two years when I was able to set boundaries with my manager. Now I work for an organization that helps private companies and large donors find charities to work with. We help them decide who to donate to and how much of the donation budget they get, arrange event organization, do their PR promotion, that sort of thing. The charity gala last weekend was one of ours," Alexia told you, shrugging.

You knew Alexia’s official job title; it made its way into the tabloids, but it was the reason you wanted to know. Alexia released a public statement saying the charity work she had managed to do over the years impacted her and led her to this career change, but you knew there was a deeper story to it. Alexia finding it as the one bright spot amongst all the stress made sense.

"I fell into political science because of what I went through in the system. I wanted to change it," you said quietly, offering a piece of yourself in exchange. 

Usually, when you did this, it was carefully curated and not necessarily truthful, but this was Alexia. Alexia’s expression softened as she nodded at you from across the table.

"And now? What do you want to do with your law degree?" Alexia prompted you. 

You had shared plenty of stories, but you weren't really talking about the future, just how you ended up where you are now. You paused, looking down at your empty plate. Alexia’s was basically empty too, you were just talking now, all courses finished with the possible exception of dessert. Technically, dinner was over. It didn’t feel like stalling, but it probably was.

You had relaxed a lot over the course of dinner. You had suspected in the past that Alexia wasn’t given a choice in contacting you, either by her manager or by her sister, but often you pushed it aside in favor of bitterness. It was easier to be mad than to acknowledge how hopeless your positions had been. Now that you had it confirmed, you found talking with Alexia surprisingly easy, despite your bitterness and the matter of business hanging over you.

"At first, I wanted to fight the system from the inside, but those cases don’t pay well, and they’re depressing. I switched to focus on civil suits. I graduated with my J.D. in May, but since I changed focus, I want to go for an extra year to get my master of Laws degree so I can really focus on it before taking the bar," you told Alexia, shrugging. 

You expected it to go flying over Alexia’s head, but she seemed to follow well enough, nodding along as you spoke. You shifted a little in your seat. You could keep talking all night, probably, which was the last thing you expected when you walked into the restaurant a few hours ago, but you still had a question.

"What is the business you wanted to talk about?" you asked. Alexia immediately winced, looking off to the side. Her eyes caught sight of the bell to call the waiter, and lit up.

"Do you want dessert?" Alexia asked, already leaning for the bell. You scoffed.

"No and you’re stalling," you returned. The fact that most desserts were heavy in sugar and thus inedible for you hardly registered on your list of reasons for declining. Alexia sighed, dropping her hand to instead fidget with her fork.

"You know, I get proposed to a couple times a year? And the amount of guys who hit on me thinking they’ll be the exception…just don’t get me started. The tabloids are the worst part. I can’t have lunch with a friend without there being all these predatory articles written about us together," Alexia rambled, waving her hands vaguely. 

You cocked your head, looking between Alexia’s waving hands and her pinched brows. Alexia caught your expression, flushing and looking away. She drew in a deep breath.

"I want to pay you to be my girlfriend," Alexia finally admitted.

You were staring at Alexia. She flushed harder, hunching down in her seat a little. 

There were a thousand ways to word it that didn’t make it sound like that, but Alexia kind of got caught up in herself this evening. It sounded like she meant it because she did. You and Alexia still clicked the way you used to. The whole thing was supposed to be fake, at least it was when her manager proposed it, but now Alexia was envisioning more than a few public dates.

Now, the idea of you kissing her because you were paid to was almost bad enough to outweigh how badly she wanted to kiss you, but it wasn’t, and she was still making the offer. You were just staring, though, all but gaping at her in surprise.

"Like, a sugar mommy thing? I can’t date anyone. I have yet to find someone who actually gave a shit about me. I know the speculation about my love life will never stop entirely, but it is starting to affect my business now. There were rumors about a charity getting a grant because I was sleeping with their director. I’ve never even met her, but the media found out she was a lesbian and decided she was my type. That was an uncomfortable meeting with my boss," Alexia explained, slumping a little in her seat. 

You were still staring at her, Alexia bit her lip.

"I’m not trying to save you, that’s not what this is. The idea of hiring someone was floated during a PR meeting, and then I ran into you, and… I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I could be with you. I’d pay you each week, and you would still have plenty of time to focus on your studies," Alexia tried. All she knew to do was dig herself deeper into a hole as she waited for your reply.

You finally managed to close your mouth, which had fallen open in shock. You were still staring at Alexia, though. Alexia fidgeted with her napkin, laid across her lap to cover the expensive dress she was wearing. Looking down was easier than looking at you. All she could hope was that when you said no, you were still willing to talk to her again. Maybe you could go the rest of your lives without mentioning the time when Alexia was so desperate to stop the media from hounding her that she tried to pay you to kiss her in public.

"You can’t act to save your life, Alexia. You barely manage a PR smile. How the hell do you think this would work?" you asked. 

Alexia flushed, chancing a glance up to find you still staring at her, but at least the shock seemed to be wearing off now, even if the confusion hadn’t faded.

"I know I can’t act, that’s why it has to be you. Someone I actually click with. I would be dating you, not you with a contact lens and whatever the hell you did to your hair at the charity gala. You would have to take down your website or the media would find it, but I know a hacker who can take care of it," Alexia explained, still fidgeting, but watching your face closely. 

You flushed, your gaze darting away as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

"You know this just sounds like a ploy to get me out of sex work, right?" you returned. Alexia paused. At least you didn't sound mad.

"You know I’m hiring you for sex work, right?" Alexia shot back. 

You huffed, sending her an annoyed glare. For some reason, seeing you tense, your shoulders squaring in defiance, relaxed Alexia. You weren’t calling her a creep at least, even though she was having to dig this hole even deeper just to get you to believe her. You bit your lip, narrowing your eyes out the window.

"I’m not saying yes tonight," you settled on saying. 

Alexia let out a slow breath, nodding and forcing her body to relax. It wasn’t a no, and moreover, it wasn’t a ‘get out of my life.’

"You have my number. Think about it. If you’re interested, we can meet up at my place to talk about the details. And…" she cut off, her gaze darting away as she took a breath to rally herself,

"I’ve missed you a lot. I want to be friends again, even if you don’t want to do that," Alexia told you, looking back at you sheepishly. To her disappointment, your face fell.

"I use the contact and the fake name to avoid people knowing about this once I start practicing, Alexia. If I were spotted with you, people might still find my website no matter how I’m dressed. I’d be ruined before I even took the bar," you told her. 

Alexia did her best to stamp down on the heartbreak that flared at that, but she knew she had failed from the way you winced.

"Right, of course. I don’t want to do anything that endangers your future," Alexia managed to agree, though she had to force it out in her business voice. 

Alexia looked away, glancing towards the clock on the wall as she did so. She kind of wanted to go to her car to cry now. 

"Alexia, I do want to talk again, it’s just.. hard with the media," you told her, softly. Alexia let out a slow breath, her gaze still fixed on the clock.

"Trust me, I know. That’s the whole reason I ended up here. I can’t trust anyone to actually want something to do with me. The best I have is other celebrities but even then, you don’t know if they’re just trying to boost their own careers until it is too late," Alexia returned, bitterness in her voice.

“You were right.” She forced down her unwarranted hurt. If you could get over thinking Alexia abandoned you, she could accept the real reason you were turning her down.

After a moment more of gathering herself, Alexia looked back at you. You looked unsure and conflicted. Alexia sighed, reaching for her purse to pull out her phone.

"Let me call you a cab and walk you out? It’s getting late. My driver has probably been here for the last hour," Alexia offered. 

You relaxed, nodding a little as you both stood. Alexia followed through, paying for your cab as it pulled away and waving you off with anxiety rioting in her chest. She knew a way to get in contact with you now, at least, and you had her number.

Alexia just had to hope you would call.