#this was my first bang and it was really fun

[lovieku]

TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

“I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject���

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

���Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

[aggieharkness]

Have i earned it, mother? Chp. 3

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: You had never thought you would get to have a date with Avis, much less that it would be on New Year's Eve. No matter if it wasn't entirely perfect it would still be wonderful because she was with you and you were with her.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), tit play. Romance, fluff, confessions, lingerie... I don't know what else needs to be added.

Authors note: Merry Christmas!!! It has taken me a bit longer than anticipated to finish this, but it's fucking long and my poor little neuron has been working overtime, still I hope you like this new chapter. The song that plays in the car is "Time after time" by Frank Sinatra and the ones from the restaurant are from the album "Love me the way I love you" by Jerry Vale. Please, do tell me if I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something... you know I accept constructive criticism. If you want more, tell me. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

This is my Christmas gift to you all, so I hope you like it!! 😊🎄 Thanks to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader, you are a God send. Also shoutout to those who didn't make it, I still appreciate you @dont-blame-me-she-made-me-crazy @4theluvofsapphos @celestemoon-9 @renafisher27

Chp. 1 Chp. 2

Word count: 26K (I'm very sorry but also not that sorry. I am aware that it's long as fuck.)

You made me love you

The music from your old record player echoed throughout the house, bouncing off the walls and into every room of your tiny apartment. With no neighbours around you, there was no issue with the volume, or with the way you banged the doors of your wardrobe as you fretted around your bedroom. Swaying to the beat of the trumpet, your body glided barefoot from the bathroom over to the bed, your sweet voice harmonizing with Fats Waller’s vocals as he sang “Ain’t Misbehavin’”, your hair curled, brushed, and pinned on the back of your head. Tonight was special and you wanted to look and feel as glamorous as all those girls at the studio that would be going to private or big parties, even if your plans were much simpler. With a beautiful deep black lace strapless corselette hooked around your figure and a pair of nude stockings secured by the clips that hung from the garment hugging your frame you stood observing two dresses. They had both cost you a fortune but thanks to Avis’s raise in your salary you had not had to ask the cashier if you could pay for them in three different transactions, you had just wiped out the cash and paid them in full. You had felt so rich, even if it had been just for a moment. Observing the gown on the left you took in the off-shoulder shape of the top, the tight draped bodice and the lightly ruffled and puffed skirt, a beautiful translucent lilac tulle around it complimenting the darker purple shade of the dress itself.

 It was more of a ballgown than anything else and you had nowhere to wear it, but it had been too beautiful, and back at the store you had thought that one Christmas gift to yourself wasn’t so bad, not when you hadn’t bought yourself something just for the fun of it in years. Moving onto the gown on the right you felt a smile creep up on your lips. It really was smashing, strapless, with a tight bodice and skirt that would certainly hug every single curve in your body, a slit on the right side that reached about mid-thigh. Touching the fabric with your fingertips you could not help the shiver of happiness you felt at the feeling of the midnight blue velvet. It had to be this one, since the first instants you had laid eyes on it, on that faceless mannequin back at the boutique, you had known it would be the dress you would wear to take Avis out on New Years Eve. Without giving it another thought you opened the back zipper and pulled it over your legs, around your hips until it finally covered your body, your arms and hands battling to get hold of the zipper to close it up. After a two-minute struggle that included jumping senselessly around your bedroom, you finally managed to zip it, smoothing the fabric and rushing to look at your reflection in the mirror. You could knock anyone’s socks off with the way your breasts practically spilled out and your leg peeked out from under the sea of velvet.

Giving your back to the mirror, in your tiny room where there wasn’t a place for a vanity, makeup pilled on your nightstand and over the bathroom sink, you made your way to the jewellery box that laid open over the covers of your bed, hands rummaging among the few pieces you owned. There was a pair of pearl earrings that you were not going to wear, Avis was a pearl sort of gal and you didn’t want to clash with her, two pairs of golden rings, a matching necklace, and a lovely sapphire set that you had been given years ago by a an aunt that you could not remember anymore but that your parents had said did questionable things for a living. Who didn’t at the end of the day? That set matched your outfit perfectly, the golden chain that wrapped along a string of rounded sapphires and crystals feeling terribly cold as you placed it over your collarbone, clasping it in the back. The earrings were small and didn’t seem to be heavy as you put them on, the final piece left being a simple ring that you slid on the middle finger of your right hand; somehow it didn’t feel right to place it on either of your ring fingers. The last touch that you needed to complete it all was your shoes, that you searched for all over the room, panicking for a second when you couldn’t find the box before taking a relieved breath, hand on your chest, as they had been under the bed. You must have accidentally kicked them while jumping to get the dress on. In that box, wrapped in a beautiful silk tissue, in all their glory, were a pair of black Balenciaga stilettos that had swallowed the last bits of your salary once all bills and amenities had been paid, of course. They were gorgeous, you were in love with them and once you put them on, fitting your feet like gloves, you took one last look in the mirror, the dark cherry red lipstick shade you wore complimenting the palette beautifully.

Checking the clock that rested on your nightstand, between the bottle of lotion and translucent powder, it read a quarter past ten. To you, it wasn’t that late, but Avis was probably absolutely famished by now, and you still needed to drive for over ten minutes to get to her place. You practically skated from one side of the bedroom to the other, spraying some perfume and grabbing the lipstick from the bathroom before rushing into the hallway, putting keys and other essentials in your purse, and yanking your old coat off the rack. Getting yourself a fancy one would have been pushing it a bit too much. Out of the apartment you stopped midway to the stairs when you realised you had not turned the music off, huffing in frustration and running back to your door, unlocking it and unplugging the record player. Rushing wasn’t going to get you anywhere if you had to come back every five seconds to turn shit off, so you made a leap through your apartment turning off lights and other appliances before locking the front door and heading down into the street. The sky was clear, full of stars that the streetlights would cover up as soon as you began to drive through the main avenues, the temperature cold but thankfully not as freezing as it had been that night, still you took a moment to breath in the crispy air and gaze at the universe above your head. Nature was beautiful every day of the year.

Returning your gaze to the street, right in front of your building was your beautiful burgundy car, waiting, a smile painting your lips. You could still hardly believe Avis had got it for you, sure after three hours of fucking each other at her place and after she had assured you she would, her frame relaxed and utterly satisfied as she signed the check without thinking about it twice and handing it to Mr. Russell, but it still thrilled you to no end. The memory of the both of you walking into the dealership with two completely different outfits, the men glaring and Mr. Russell rushing to greet you both made your smile even bigger, wondering if he had noticed the change of clothes and had simply decided not to mention it.

Unlocking the vehicle, it still thrilled you whenever your fingers touched the leather, that smell of new car lingering alongside Avis’s perfume in every crevice and stitch. It was the perfect combination. With your old one it would have taken you about three tries to get the engine up and running, this one was ready to go on the first try, moving smoothly onto the road and down towards the Amberg residence. When you had suggested to Miss Kincaid during a coffee break the possibility of going to the studio’s New Year’s Eve party, you had been excited, after all, it had taken you a whole morning to finally bring yourself to make the decision. But that little bubble of happiness had been burst upon hearing her say that it would not happen this year, at least not the way it always had been, at Mr. Amberg’s residence with every actor and actress in existence, but mainly with a very drunk Avis trying to be pleasant to all those idiots she had told you a thousand times she didn’t give a shit about. Mr. Samuels was hosting it instead because Mr. Amberg was going to some party at his Gentleman’s Club or something. You hadn’t wanted to press the matter too much as not to draw much attention to yourself and have Miss Kincaid asking questions. The initial disappointment had melted into nothing when you had come across Avis at the studio barely fifteen minutes after your conversation with Miss Kincaid and had blurted out if she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with you, expecting her to smile politely and decline the offer by saying that she had to attend the party with her husband. Your knickers dropped though, metaphorically that time, when she agreed, sounding almost excited at the prospect of spending time with you and only you. That same evening you had found yourself looking for the perfect outfit in every store you could find, except the really expensive ones, you didn’t fancy the idea of selling a kidney for a dress if you could find a stunning one somewhere cheaper.

Dinners all over Hollywood had ended hours ago, people singing and dancing out in the streets as they headed to bars or private celebrations, drinks in their hands or in flasks deep within their purses and pockets. Your eyes observed it all, the bright lights, the sounds that the New Year was bringing as they mixed with the song playing on the radio. It sounded like Frank Sinatra, perhaps it was a new release or something, either way, it blended quite nicely with the world around you as Sunset Boulevard wrapped its atmosphere around your car. Taking a side street, you drove up a road filled with palm trees on either side before coming to a stop in front of the Ambergs’ gates. You didn’t have to wait this time, the old gentleman had seen you arrive and was already unlocking them, waiving to you excitedly as you drove the vehicle in and parked it on the side. He was wearing a bright red bowtie you noticed as you stepped out of the car, pulling your coat tighter around you, and had tinsel on his uniform hat. You made a mental note to ask him his name the next time you came over, he was far too kind not to engage him in conversation at some point. Locking your car, you flashed him with a genuine smile and an energetic wave before making your way to the front doors and ringing the bell. There was a wave of sounds on the other side, Gertie’s muffled voice saying that there was someone at the door, almost as if it was a code, and Avis’s panicked voice answering with something you did not quite catch. A few moments later the doors creaked open, the maid showing you into the entrance hallway, your eyes noticing that she was wearing a pretty dress instead of her usual uniform, a touch of rouge and lipstick on her face that suited her quite well.

-She will be right down miss. Would you like a drink while you wait?

-Oh, I’m fine, no need to go to all that trouble Gertie. You look very fancy, going somewhere?

-Welcoming the year with some of the ladies of my Bridge Club, miss.

-Well, I hope you have fun. I know I will.

She chuckled at the comment but didn’t say anything else, simply smiled knowingly before heading for the kitchen. Before you could begin to observe the room around you the sound of someone clearing their throat made you whip your head towards the stairs. You choked on the air you were breathing, sputtering quietly for a second. Holy shit. Angels could not shine brighter nor be more beautiful than the image your eyes were taking in.

The sight at the top of the stairs was right out of a fantasy novel where ethereal beings walked among simple mortals, mixed with those movies that captivated your heart with all the romance and glamour. Waves of red cascaded over her shoulders and framed her perfect face with such volume and shine that not even Rita Hayworth would be able to make your eyes stray. Those gorgeous deep brown eyes staring back at you through thick black eyelashes that seemed to be longer and more sensual tonight, her magnificent cheekbones adorned in gentle hues of pink and peach rouge. You could not help it, your eyes travelled down to her mouth, her usual shade of Victory Red perfectly applied. They seemed fuller and plumper tonight, sending a shiver of desire down your spine. Her long neck and enticing collarbones were exposed by a plunging square neckline that defined the top of her breasts exquisitely, her arms wrapped in translucent satin the same shade as her dress, an absolutely pristine white. Her curves, as hypnotising as river bends, were hidden under gentle drapes of silk that met at her waist, her legs peeking through the skirt as if folded on the side of her body, her hand holding the fabric to make sure you would be able to see the nude stockings that she was wearing underneath, her right foot resting on the edge of the first stair. Your eyes racked and ate at her long shapely leg, tongue running over your lips, her dainty feet dressed in matching pristine white heels that peeked from under the hem of her gown.

Avis was beautiful every day of the week, every second of every minute all year long, but the Avis that stood at the top of the stairs was a vision so divine, so sublime in every single aspect that you had to put your hand on the doorframe, your knees having grown weak. Licking her neck with your eyes you were glad you had forgone the pearl earrings, as she was wearing her own pair, much more expensive and beautiful than yours, and a matching necklace that rested gently over her collarbone, right under the hollow of her neck. With each breath she took her breasts rose and fell, drawing your body towards her as your eyes went back up to her face, locking with hers. For a moment you tasted chocolate on your palate. She took one step forward letting the skirt fall back into place, walking down the staircase slowly, absolutely delighted in the way your pupils had dilated and practically undressed her while also simply adoring her. Her hips swayed from right to left with each step, her right hand on the railing, tracing the banister with her fingertips. Even in the few feet that still separated you, you could already smell her positively elegant and rich perfume, dizzying your mind as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for the moment when she would reach your arms, allowing you to sweep her off her feet. One more step and she stood half a foot above you, your head lulled back slightly to keep on staring. Had you blinked since hearing her? Her index finger traced your jawline until it rested under your chin.

-Hello, dear.

-Hi… Hello.

-You seem a bit flustered. Do you need a glass of water? – she was teasing, of course, her voice low and sultry but sounding delighted to see you, and well, she was not entirely wrong; you were cursing yourself and wished you had asked Gertie for a drink after all, your throat suddenly dry.

-No, no. Just… Wow.

-I take you like it then. I got it tailored and ready for the festivities yesterday.

-It’s beautiful, but it’s you, as a whole, that makes it absolutely extraordinary. – she blushed a deep red at your compliment, her finger moving to toy with your necklace as she dropped her gaze, an embarrassed smile on her red lips. – You’ve even let your hair down.

-That was Gertie’s suggestion. Said that you would appreciate it. – she pushed the perfect waves over her shoulder. The initial idea had been to wear a different updo to her usual ones and call it a day, but that blessed maid of hers had mentioned how the style nowadays was more along the lines of letting the hair free. Avis had thought about it for a moment, wondering if you would actually like it or not. By the way you were practically eating her with your eyes she was glad she had followed Gertie’s suggestion.

-So she knows?

-We fucked for three hours the other day, honey. There was no way in hell I was going to come up with something to cover that up.  Don’t worry, she’s alright with this, us.

-I hope it’s due to the fact that I make you happy and not because you could fire her.

-Fire Gertie? Never, the house would fall apart. She’s simply happy that I’m happy because you make me happy.

-The word happy just lost its entire meaning after repeating it so much. – it took you a moment to build up the courage to touch her as you didn’t want to stain the gorgeous gown; she was a vision in white that you wanted to keep in your mind forever. Your hand went straight to her shoulder, caressing the side of her neck while twirling a lock of her hair. It was so soft, and it smelled like orange blossoms, an aroma you had mentioned you adored as it reminded you of home. She had taken notes. - But it’s okay, I think I can come up with a whole new meaning for it.

-What would it be?

-What I feel when I see you, when I’m with you. – you were enthralled by the way the lock of hair in between your fingers glided effortlessly, speaking in hushed tones while breathing her essence into your lungs, never wanting to stop. - One can be happy about a book or a dish, but what goes through my mind and heart when I lay my eyes on you cannot be simply referred to as happy, one must give the word a brand-new meaning to understand, to express.

-Could you… - her lips were hovering over yours, her right hand resting on the banister while her left one travelled to the back of your neck, but she didn’t take the next step to close the gap between you, she wanted to hear you. -Could you tell me? Make me see what you see?

-The night is young Avis, and I don’t want to spill all my secrets so soon. I promise that I’ll tell you, tonight, but if you need a little bit of help figuring it out on your own, just think about how your heart races when I’m with you, of all the little details you’ve left for me around my office, like little breadcrumbs that take me directly to you. No one has ever left me flowers or a sandwich with a note simply saying “Eat”. You take care of me even when you are not there, so I know you know the true meaning of the word, even if I never told you, even if I carried that secret to my grave. – your voice dropped into a whisper, eyes locked with hers now, your lips nearly touching. - You’ve even made yourself smell like home for me.

Is this how she had felt when she had married Ace? She could not remember her heart ever leaping in her chest at the sight of him, nor her breath hitching in her lungs when he smiled. She might be married to that man, but he made her feel like she was nothing, fuelling only hate and hurt in her heart. Your breath tickled her nose, your hand drawing out goosebumps all over as it continued twirling beneath her ear. Everything about you made her feel alive, not even the boys at the gas station could draw out the pleasure into care; they came, fucked her and left with a hundred dollars in their pocket, but you had come into her life without her having asked and you had stayed out of your own accord. You wanted her in your life as much as she wanted you in hers. None of the things you did to or for her were to earn a promotion or for Avis to connect you with higher ups in the industry like she had had happen with others before, you did all those things for her without expecting anything in return because you wanted to make her happy, as simple as that. Hearing you speak to her with such emotion, your eyes shining with a feeling she had not seen in such a long time drove her chest to constrict under her corselette, the prospect of hearing you say what she wanted you to say making her heart race, her eyes glistening with unexpected tears that your thumb wiped gently as they fell, not wishing to smudge her makeup. No, you are the only one who could make her feel like this, utterly desired and cared for. So loved.

-Why are you crying? Have I said something to upset you?

-No, darling, you haven’t done anything wrong, I’m just… happy.

-Just the way I like you then.

Finally, she pressed her lips onto yours, softly, treading carefully into your space while moving her left arm around your neck fully. It felt like coming home. She did not make an attempt to enter your mouth even when you parted your lips slightly to grant her access, she basked in the feeling of your mouth simply being pressed against hers, the taste of your carmine on her tongue when she traced it. You didn’t need to ask her what she was feeling after your conversation, her lips were giving you enough information with the way she pecked and gently nibbled, pouring everything into the kiss. Parting after a minute to fill both your lungs she pressed her forehead against yours, her soft red curls falling around and over her face, caressing and slightly tickling your cheeks. She gave you a few more pecks before pulling back needing to feel the skin of your face, your warmth, needing to know that this was not a dream and that you were indeed solid and real under the palm of her right hand. There was desire in everything the two of you did, but there were too many things to do tonight, people expecting you both and you had gone to all the trouble to do this for her, so Avis pushed the need to take you upstairs to the back of her head for the time being. Ace had dumped her to go partying with his friends, and probably a hooker or two, thinking she would be moping around the house like a sad drunk housewife, not thinking that Avis was resourceful and had a beautiful lady in her arms who had planned the perfect night. She was dressed to kill, and she would have the best fucking New Year of her life. About to give you another peck, Gertie accidentally broke the spell by crossing the threshold, coming from the kitchen. Both of your heads turned to look at the woman.

-I’m sorry to interrupt Mrs. Amberg, but Miss Kincaid has phoned in quite a state asking if you would be so kind as to go to Mr. Samuel’s house.

-Is she alright? – Avis pecked your cheek before setting foot on the entrance hallway, the silk flowing like water around her body with each step she took towards Gertie, her voice dressed with concern.

-She seemed… worried, perhaps angry as well ma’am and she was adamant that I tell you that she needs you to go to Mr. Samuel’s house.

-But she didn’t explain to you why?

-I’m afraid not ma’am.

-It’s okay Avis, there’s plenty of time until twelve. – the relationship Avis shared with Ellen Kincaid was long and comforting, but also frustrating and caring, and anything that woman said to Avis always helped her somehow, without fail. You had seen the Kincaid magic at work a few times since you had begun working as her secretary, calming shouting spells or angry huffs. You also knew Avis would do anything for her and had given Ellen plenty of advice about various topics throughout the years, so having her call reinforcements like this meant that someone or something was going on that only the mighty Avis could handle. You walked over to her, placing both hands on her arms, rubbing the soft fabric and the skin underneath in a comforting motion. - We won’t lose our reservations just because we are little bit late, and Miss Kincaid needs your help

-As long as you are sure about this and don’t mind driving to Dick’s house, I guess it’s alright. I can give Ellen a call though and see what she wants, save us having to go at all.

-I swear I’m fine with it, Avis. If you are worried about people seeing me with you, I’ll just stay in the car.

-What? No! I don’t give a shit about what they think, I just don’t want your plans to go down the drain.

-They won’t, I promise. We go, see what the problem is, fix it if we can and then leave. Easy plan.

-You say that now, when you are not amongst drunk actors and producers. We’ll go in but we don’t know when we might come out.

-I’ve survived shopping on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I can take a few drunks just fine. Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll leave. - She groaned a little but followed your cue, grabbing her black stole from where it laid over the railing, throwing it over her shoulder, and picking up her purse from the little table next to the front doors. Gertie wished you both a good night, winking discreetly in your direction as you opened those big wooden gates for Avis, letting her walk into the night. You rushed over to her when you heard the click of the doors behind you, watching the lady as she stomped towards your car. – Hey, hey. Avis, wait, stop. – she halted her motions, turning around with a questioning look in her big eyes. You took her free hand in yours as soon as you reached her. – Don’t be mad, Ellen is your friend, and she might be in real trouble.

-I know. I’m not mad at her, nor you, I’m fucking pissed at Ace for not giving a shit about traditions and dumping the party on Dick. His house is not as big as ours and some of the people that get invited turn into fucking monsters when they’ve got a couple of vodkas in their system. I’m worried about Ellen, sure, but I don’t want to subject you to any of that. I don’t want you to be in harm’s way.

-I love that you want to protect me, Avis, honestly, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Ellen is our priority, and if something does happen to me while we are there, I’ll scream the house down or stab people with my heels, whatever it takes to ease your mind. But we will cross that bridge if get to it, okay?

-If someone lays a single finger on you, I’ll destroy them. Their lives, their careers, maybe even their bodies. – her eyes were dark as she stepped back into your personal space, pulling you against her frame with the hand that you were still holding, feeling the way her breasts brushed against your coat through her gown with each breath. The rush of desire that you had first felt when she had stood at the top of the stairs returned full force, the air around you both charged and hot. - They’ll remember who Avis fucking Amberg is and that she will take drastic measures when it comes to you.

-Holy fuck, Avis.

-I very much intend to do so to you, honey, but after we rescue Ellen. You’ve made a good case in her name, and you promised me a date, so get your ass in that car.

-Yes, ma’am.

-No ma’am tonight, Y/N. Until dawn, I’m simply Avis.

-Avis. – it was as if you were rolling her name in your mouth, seeing how it sounded, how it tasted on your lips and tongue, her eyes darting to the way you traced your own lipstick at the sound of it. – A most beautiful name. I can’t wait for it to be the first word I say when the New Year arrives, a name I won’t stop uttering until the very first rays of sunlight break through the sky, hopefully.

Two could play her game, you thought. She was so close to your mouth, she only needed to end the few inches gap that separated you and you would be hers to do as she pleased with, and yet she pulled away, dropping your hand and beginning to walk towards your car, hips swaying in the night. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts and calm your horny self down a little, pulling the keys from your pocket and unlocking the vehicle with shaky fingers. Avis stood on your side of the car, tracing the white top with her hand before walking behind you to round the vehicle and sit in the passenger’s seat. She took the chance though and spanked you as you bent to step inside the vehicle, a surprised yelp escaping your lips as your head wiped to look at her, an innocent expression on her face but a naughty smirk overtaking her eyes. How could you not freaking adore her when she tempted you like this! The action left a delicious sting on your ass that sent a shiver to your core as you sat down and waited for her to settle beside you. If she started behaving like his you would have to end the date earlier than anticipated so you could have your way with her. Engine on and with the car back on the road you followed Avis’s directions, her hand signalling when to turn and what exits to take. You had never been to Mr. Samuel’s residence, not that you could recall anyway and to be honest you wished that the trip wouldn’t have to be under these terms, you would have simply loved to accompany Avis and have a quiet dinner with friends, holding her hand and pecking her cheek as a thank you when she handed you a drink while engaging her friends in conversation. Things that Ace didn’t do with her because he was a fucking idiot.

Through the corner of your eyes, you saw Avis’s knee bouncing up and down, a sign that she was nervous, your right hand shooting to rest over it gently, tapping and rubbing it over her dress in calming motions. You could not take all that nervousness out of her chest, but you could try and make her feel a little bit happier and little bit less stressed. Feeling her hand on top of yours, her warmth seeping under your skin, was a delightful and quiet moment just for the two of you, her fingers playing with your ring, her free hand turning the knob of the radio up a little to hear the music better, humming to the tune. The lyrics were unfamiliar to you, but she seemed to be enjoying herself even if her leg would bounce every once in a while; you weren’t expecting her anxiety to vanish just because. And upon being pointed towards a house, cars parked everywhere with hardly any room to drive or manoeuvre your vehicle into a safe spot, you realised she had not been kidding. Mr. Samuel’s house was by no means small, compared to your tiny ass apartment, but it was small if you took Avis’s place as the standard size for a mansion. People were also everywhere, out on the street, in the garden, on balconies, literally everywhere. You were sure that if you waited for a minute someone would go up on the roof. Turning the car off Avis pulled out a cigarette from her purse, taking a deep drag before puffing the smoke into the cabin, the nicotine in her system calming her nerves a bit more. You waited though, until she was ready to step out, after all, you were doing this at her own pace, throughout the entire night you would be following her cues, never pressing, never asking or doing things she would not enjoy. A minute passed before she stepped out of the car with you in tow, flicking the butt of her cigarette onto the floor, her hand grabbing yours and pulling your body close as she made her way to the front door, smiling at people as they greeted her but never slowing her steps.

If you dropped a pin in that house, over a dozen people would get stabbed before it reached the floor, if it reached the floor. The music was blasting from the record player, people were screaming and laughing loudly, and the filters they would usually have when sober absolutely gone, the smell of alcohol floating in the air along with overwhelming perfumes that made you scrunch your nose. And Avis had to attend this sort of parties all the time? No wonder she drank, there was no way in hell a sober person could stand more than two minutes in there before going nuts. Trying to move in between all these people was a sport in itself, and trying not to bump into people’s drinks or elbows was something impossible to achieve, as you very well realised when you tried to squeeze past two men with Avis pulling on your hand and a random sharp pain had rushed up your back, making you hiss. Avis’s eyes were searching furiously for a head of blond hair belonging to Ellen, but all she could see were fake brunettes and red heads and many bald spots as she walked up a couple of stairs to get a better view and a wider range of heads. This was definitely worse than shopping at Christmas or Thanksgiving, at least you could make it to the door then. A group of over five men walked past you from upstairs, whiskeys in their hands, eyeing you both as if you were dishes on a menu. You glared, not because they were looking at you, you still had your coat on, but because they were looking at Avis, and they were not being discreet or gentlemanly about it. One of them lifted a hand, your eyes watching in slow motion how it rose up in the air and turned, fingers extended, as it went straight for Avis’s ass, though you were quick and grabbed his wrist before it collided.

-Touch her and I’ll rip your fucking hands off.

-Wow, wow, calm down sweetheart. We were just having some fun. – upon the sound of your voice, venom spewing from each word, Avis turned her head to look at you and the men she had not even taken notice of, her eyes on your hand as it still held his wrist right above her buttocks before lifting her gaze to your face. If glares could kill, they would already be dead by the way you were murdering them with your eyes.

-How much fun do you think you could have if I rip your limbs off, eh? Sweetheart.

His smile dropped, muttering “bitch” as he freed his hand from your grip and walked down the stairs with the other four twats following him. What the fuck was wrong with men thinking they could do whatever they pleased with women? It was a tale as old as time, getting catcalled, pushed away from jobs because one happened to have something that wasn’t a dick in between one’s legs, getting called emotional or hysterical when you were just fucking done with all their bullshit. No wonder ladies preferred the company of other ladies, at least if one was being a bitch, there was a good reason for it and not because a man was trying to get his hands under your skirt and you just wanted him to stop. The surprised and yet loving look that Avis was throwing your way caught you off guard, her lips mouthing a “thank you” under all the noise around you, the hand that was still holding onto yours giving a gentle squeeze. Did she think you were going to let anyone, be it a man, a woman or a fucking alien touch her without her consent? No fucking way. You reciprocated and returned the squeeze. A woman’s voice called out Avis’s name, forcing you both to break your gaze and turn to look at the foot of the stairs, Ellen standing there, wringing her hands on her chest. Avis pulled you down with her to meet the other woman, noticing a big red stain in her usual pristine blue suit.

-Thank God you are here. This is madness Avis

-What’s wrong?

-Just look around! I don’t know who half of these people are, and you know I usually don’t mind, but there was a fight not twenty minutes ago and Dick got a bottle smashed on his head! – the usually collected woman was two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, and maybe, just maybe, you thought, the stain on her jacket might not actually be wine. A shiver of fear ran down your spine, all the anger and lust you had been feeling in the past five minutes jumping out the window. Maybe these sorts of celebrations weren’t you cup of tea after all. -Doesn’t Ace usually hire security for this sort of parties?

-Of course, I gave Dick the list with all the phone numbers.

-Well, either they got murdered in the back and we just haven’t found them, or he did not hire them.

-Alright, alright, calm down Ellen. Where’s Dick?

-In the living room. He’s got a nasty cut on his forehead, but I cleaned it up and bandaged it. Henry was with him the last time I checked, keeping an eye on him.

-Okay, let me talk with him. Y/N, you stay put. Don’t move from here at all, I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.

Before you could protest, she had let go of your hand, the crowded room swallowing both her and Ellen. And there you were, alone, standing at the foot of the stairs looking like an idiot with your hands in your coat pockets without knowing a single person around you. They were all glammed up, with expensive suits and gorgeous dresses that you had only seen in magazines everywhere, blinding in the lights of the chandeliers, the ceiling fuzzy under a cloud of smoke from pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Even with the doors wide open the atmosphere inside Mr. Samuel’s house was stifling, almost choking with all the heat and the smells. Without thinking twice, you untied your coat and pushed it off your shoulders, folding it over your left forearm, the relief of not cooking in your sweat a welcome feeling, resting your back against the railing. Whatever song was playing now you could not make it out over the loud conversations, not that you had much chance of trying to as you felt the touch of a hand on your waist and a glass of something transparent right on your face. The drink was being held by a manly hand, so obviously this wasn’t Avis tempting you, and following the arm attached to it you found yourself looking up at Mr. Amberg’s lawyer, Lon Silver. You had never talked with him except for perhaps a few times as you directed him into your boss’s office and the formal greetings that one was supposed to give, but it did not go unnoticed by you how his eyes remained on your chest for a few seconds too long.

-Well, Miss Y/L/N, I wouldn’t have taken you for a party girl. Here, have a drink.

-Good evening, Mr. Silver. I have only accompanied someone, so I will be leaving shortly. Parties are not my thing, sir.

-Drop the formalities, please, it’s New Year’s Eve. Go on, drink, you feel rather tense.

The grip on your waist became uncomfortably hard and rough, the strength he was applying close to being painful, his hand pushing the drink onto yours. People inside your personal bubble was always a big no-no for you, except for Avis, she could do whatever she desired, so having Lon that close to you, his strong aftershave mixing with the alcohol of his breath made all sorts of alerts just go off in your head. Your eyes moved from the glass to his face observing how dark his eyes were along with the smirk on his thin lips, your body taking a step back. That seemed to both anger him and excite him because his smile dropped completely, the glass being pushed into your arms all while his grip on your waist became nearly bruising, still you did not grab the bloody drink. The sound of glass shattering was hardly heard in the crowded hall, but it seemed to echo in your head, reverberating as the drink crashed against the tiles and Lon pushed his body closer, his other hand now holding onto your wrist. It was as if your mind was frozen in place. This was Mr. Amberg’s lawyer, he could destroy you in the blink of an eye, but you did not want him, at all. That fear that had overtaken you not that long ago after hearing Ellen’s words was reaching the panicking peak now, heart racing, blood pumping in your ears.

-Sir, please, let go.

-It’s always the same with you young girls, isn’t it? You dress like this, to draw the eye but when a man looks at you, you all become frigid bitches.

-Mr. Silver, please, you are drunk.

-So what? That hasn’t stopped me from fucking others before.

-Please, stop, let go of me. I’m sure you would not do this sober.

-Wouldn’t I? I would have done unspeakable things to you already if I had had the chance. Which I do now, so don’t be a bitch. We’ll both enjoy it. – his head was in the crook of your neck, smelling you in. You only had two options, you thought, pray that someone would come to the rescue or step on his foot with your stiletto hoping that he would let go and you could run for your life.

-LON! – fate had chosen for you, thank God.

Avis’s voice carried from under the living room threshold with such ease, the redhead having screamed practically at the top of her lungs, startling everyone in the hallway. The man she addressed in particular jumped in his spot, letting your wrist go but not your waist, turning to face the woman. His face was contorted in a fake smile and a sweet greeting.

-Why Avis! Aren’t you supposed to be with Ace? Oh, right, he’d rather spend his time with someone else.

-Oh, Lon, still behaving like a fucking pervert, I see.

Her steps were so hard against the floor that you thought one of her heels could snap at any moment, but you did not care much right now. Your body had sighed with relief upon hearing her, even if you were still in Mr. Silver’s grip and could not wait for her to say something so he would let you go. She was beyond angry, you could see it in the way her body moved, her fists closed, her eyes hard and cold under her eyelashes. Reaching you both she did not hesitate, everyone staring at them, the noise having died down a little, thankfully, and grabbed his crotch with her right hand, nails digging hard into his flesh. He screamed loudly and painfully and dropped both his hands to hold her arm, freeing you, almost as if he thought her capable of ripping his junk off with one quick motion. Thinking about it for a second you thought she could actually do it by how furious she was. Pushing yourself off the railing you rushed her way, standing behind her while rubbing your wrist a bit trying to soothe the red spot that had covered your sensitive skin, body shaking as the adrenaline released into your bloodstream.

-Who the fuck do you think you are?

-Avis, let go!

-Why should I? You did not let go of her, did you? Did you?!

-No! No! Jesus, Avis, let go!

-I’m saying this one time and one time only. – her grip became harder, her knuckles white with the effort, Lon turned into a ball of whimpers and whines of pain as his eyes filled with tears. – If you touch her again, even so much as breath near her again, I’ll blow your dick and balls off with a shotgun.

-Alright! Alright!

-No, I don’t think you get the message. Would you like a demonstration, cause I’m sure I can get my hands on a gun.

-NO! FOR FUCK’S SAKES AVIS, LET GO! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Satisfied with the tears that ran down his cheeks she finally let him go, the man dropping to his knees with his hands covering his crotch, whimpering pathetically. He was like a little baby, curled on the floor. Neither you nor Avis felt a touch of sympathy for him and his pain though; he was lucky in fact, she could have done horrible things to him in that hallway if she had had the weapons, and no one would have known what had happened as they were all too drunk to even stand straight. Her hands shot to your cheeks as she turned around, her eyes roaming like crazy all over your body to make sure you were alright, the hatred and fury that had glazed them now completely changed over to concern and worry. It did not go unnoticed the way her eyes lingered on your dress, but she was quick to shake herself out of looking at you with lust, she still needed to assess that that man had not harmed you in any way. This was what she had feared, not him in particular, but anyone who could have seen your pretty face and decided they wanted you for themselves. This time she had got lucky and had intervened right on time before he could have done anything truly horrid to you, but that did not shake the feeling that she had failed you, out of her chest. In your head the only thought that was going around and around was that she had saved you, that the entire ordeal was over and she had saved you, which overtook every feeling of fear that man had imposed on you. After all nothing had happened to you, he didn’t get the chance, and you were not going to let him ruin your and Avis’s night.

-Are you okay? Has he hurt you? You are rubbing your wrist; did he twist it? Do you need a doctor?

-I’m fine, Avis.

-But its red, it probably hurts. – her warm hands moved from your cheeks to your arm, holding your hand gently to inspect the redness that was already vanishing.

-I’m fine, Avis.

-I’m sure there’s a doctor somewhere in here. Let me ask Ellen sh-

-Avis! – she stopped her rambling at the sound of your voice, her eyes locking with yours, her movements still at last. – I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, my lady in shining armour came to my rescue and made sure of that. I’m fine.

-You are fine?

-I’m fine.

-Alright, I believe you. But at the slightest thing I’m taking you to a doctor.

-If it leaves your mind at ease, I’ll let you drag me all throughout Hollywood.

It was lucky Lon was already on the floor because Dick had stepped out into the hallway searching for Avis, her voice having carried well into the street, and he would have flipped at the sight of her with her hand on Lon’s crotch making him cry. Ellen stopped him from approaching either of you, whispering in his ear while pointing at the ball of flesh on the floor and you two, chuckling silently at the socked expression on his face. What a party, he thought. Avis’s hand was back in yours, fingers intertwined, pulling your body towards the front door all while asking Ellen if there was anything else she needed to do, to which the blond woman answered with a no. She blew a kiss at both of her friends while wishing them a good night and a happy New Year, still walking towards the street, only to stop for an instant when she heard Lon yelling that he was going to end her by telling Ace, at which she did not even bother to turn around. She didn’t need to see his face to answer him.

-Fuck off, Lon.

With Avis beside you now, it was easier to move on from the fear and craziness of the entire situation, laughing after a moment or two, your hot breath turning into translucent steam in the cold air of the night as you let Avis carry on pulling you. Only a few handful of people would remember this party, and it was both a good and a sad thing, but at least you could enjoy the hilarious points of tonight right there and then as you unlocked the door of your car, stepping inside it after throwing your coat on the back seats. God, the look on his face… you should have taken a picture. Avis was surprised at your response, thinking that maybe the adrenaline had overtaken you, and this was your body’s reaction to such a crazy thing. Still, she chuckled lightly before beginning to laugh alongside you as if she had been infected by it, her forehead on your shoulder, both bodies shaking uncontrollably. It was always joyous to hear her laugh, her body relaxed against yours, her voice loud and melodious echoing against the car top in absolute glee. You thought she didn’t get to enjoy herself like this often and she deserved it, even if the motive right now was less than pleasant. Wiping a tear that had gathered at the corner of your eye, you took a few calming breaths trying to stop the nearly continuous chuckles that melted along with Avis’s as she pushed herself against the door. When you finally caught your breath, it was impossible not to smile at the reddish blush that had spread over Avis’s cheeks, neck, and chest, her hair framing her face, complementing it beautifully. Even the light from the streetlamps seemed to be working in her favour tonight, making her eyes shine like rich molten chocolate and her hair like fire against her olive kissed skin skin.

She was doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet your body was on fire once more, the last few minutes forgotten in the back of your head. Perhaps it had been the entire act of saving you and the consequences that it had brought upon Lon, maybe it had been the way she had thanked you for protecting her from those jerks. Maybe it was the balance, the union of making sure you were both safe, you could not be sure, but you did know that you wanted her, here and now, and by the way her smile moved from simple relaxation and fun to desire, she had thought the exact same thing. It was not as if the car was a stranger to the two of you fucking in it. But this time it didn’t feel like you were simply lusting after her as you knelt on the seats, crawling towards her until her back was pressed firmly against the car door, your hands resting beside her hips but without touching, you face inches from hers, it was love. Her dress had fallen open as her legs parted to accommodate you, those firm and shapely legs dressed in nude silk that could drive you insane. Your tongue traced and licked her half-ajar lips, feeling her hot breath on your mouth, the carmine like a drug that could drive you wild. Pupils were blown wide, breaths rapid, nearly coming in pants when your hands moved onto her legs, fingering the fabric of the clip on her left thigh, feeling the way her skin rose in goosebumps, a quiet moan escaping Avis’s lips, those utterly desirable lips that were brushing against yours, those lips that had fought for you, threatened for you, pleased you and taken you to the heavens. Those lips that you claimed against yours.

It was rough and messy, but it also held a loving nature that made Avis sigh against your mouth, both your tongues battling for dominance, her teeth scrapping your upper lip. Both her hands had shot to the back of your head to keep you firmly pressed against her, chest against chest. Your hands moved from her stockings to her inner thighs as slowly as you could, drawing out whimpers and whines that were muffled by your kisses, teasing the edge of her knickers. That simple motion made her gasp loudly, one of her hands holding onto your wrist to prevent it from moving away from where she needed it the most. You let her guide you, fingers swiping against the lace feeling how wet she already was. Had her playing saviour turned her on?

Her head fell back against the window as your fingers worked on her through the fabric, whimpering when you removed them completely only to scream an instant later when you pushed the offending garment aside and plunged two fingers deep inside her. As much as you wanted to trail kisses down her exposed neck you did not want to risk staining the dress cherry red, so your lips remained upon hers as your fingers pumped in and out of her, curling to hit that spot. Avis had not had this in mind at all when you had both left the house, but she was not going to complain when you were working her into an orgasm that she could feel building in her core, like a fire that had begun to sparkle and was rapidly growing and blazing. Her hips thrust to meet your movements, your free hand using one of those moments when her hips were up in the air to remove the dress from underneath her, the feeling of the leather under her ass enticing her even further.

The whines and whimpers were growing into pants and moaning gasps. With your thumb you rubbed her clit, the surprised yelp that escaped her throat swallowed by your lips, the speed of your fingers never faltering. She was mumbling in your mouth, but you could not make out her words, not that you needed to, her body was signalling that she was close with the way her walls were clenching around your fingers. After giving her clit a hard rub her orgasm overtook her, catching you both off guard, her head lulled back as her back arched off the door forcing your kiss to end as her voice rose in high pitched gasps. Even in this cloud of pleasure, she was trying so hard not to scream your name at the top of her lungs, there were too many people that would be able to hear her, her juices all over your fingers, walls and thighs trembling, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders for dear life. You slowed the pace of your fingers, rubbing her calf with your other hand to bring her gently down from her high, her body slumping against the car door after a moment, her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress as her breaths returned slowly to normal. Her eyes were closed as if she could savour the pleasure you had given her for a bit longer like that, opening them when she felt you pull your fingers out. She watched mesmerized how you took a handkerchief out of your purse to clean her up as gently as you could, her body twitching whenever you brushed her swollen clit, returning her underwear to its initial position once you were satisfied with your work. Bending forward you gave her inner thighs a gentle peck before sitting back on your knees.

-What was that for? – her voice was quiet, a lazy smile on her lips, fingers playing with the chain around your neck basking in the afterglow.

-For saving me, for being my lady in shining armour, for nearly ripping Mr. Silver’s balls off… For simply being you, Avis.

-For being me? You know you don’t have to do this every time I do something for you.

-Trust me, it was no effort on my part besides, it is my most sincere opinion that you should always be shown just how wonderful and perfect you are.

-I like that you seem to not be bothered by my many faults. Ace would have gone insane had he seen what I did to his precious lawyer.

-Good thing I’m not Ace. I know when I have the most extraordinary woman in front of me, and instead of taking her for granted, I take her to dinner. If you still want to.

-Of course! You worked too hard for this; I won’t let my own lust and desire ruin your plans. This orgasm can last me until midnight, so surprise me Y/N, take me wherever you want.

-To the Heavens then.

-Oh, you soppy girl.

-No, the restaurant is called the Heavens, I swear.

It was stupid, an absolute nonsense that made you both laugh, a little quieter this time. This is how you wanted to spend every minute of your life, with her, not a worry in the world. Avis moved to sit properly on the passenger seat, draping her skirt back over her legs and pulling a cigarette out as you settled yourself behind the wheel. The ride was completely different this time. The air around you was calm, relaxed, and contented, the tune on the radio suddenly a song you knew like the back of your hand, humming quietly as Avis began to sing. You had never known she possessed such a beautiful voice, sweet as honey, gentle like a breeze with a pitch so perfect you wondered if she had ever done anything that wasn’t simply perfect in her entire life. It was outstanding, to say the least. 

Your breath hitched in your lungs at her words, stunned by the emotion that dripped in between the music, her hand searching for yours where it laid beside you on your seat, intertwining your fingers. She didn’t need you to tell her how you felt, she knew, in everything you did, in every glance, every smile, every kiss, and every word that left your lips. Singing her feelings to you was the best way for her to let you know how she felt, that in her life Ace was the other woman. This was what the meaning of the word happy meant to you, what it had brought to your bleak and monotone life, and dressed it in colourful clothes and astonishing sunsets.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

Many nights you had dreamt of that, opening the door to your apartment to find her curled up on the couch, waiting for you. You hadn’t wanted her to spend the evenings alone in that big house, you had wanted to be beside her, no matter what people thought. The lights of the side streets weren’t as bright as the main avenue, but that gentle hue seemed to agree with Avis, watching her sway her head at the beat of the music, her eyes closed. How could light play such games that with a full moon over your heads its glow always bathed her at the perfect angle making you melt in your seat. She looked like she belonged in a movie, her body gently bent over a balcony railing letting the moon wash over her as her love serenated her.

So lucky to be

The one you run to see in the evening

When the day is through

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

You had parked in front of a colourful restaurant, nearly hitting the trunk of a blue Lincoln that was stationed in front of you as your eyes had been bewitched by Avis, loud voices surrounding the car from the people that were either leaving or going into the restaurant, but they were nothing but background noise to you. Avis’s eyes locked with yours, you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight, singing the words directly at you, never blinking. Your heart fluttered in your chest, once more her mouth telling you that she was so lucky to be loving you, her voice dropping from singing to speaking the last line, stating a fact. And your greedy heart accepted it because to you the meaning of happy was Avis. The rest of the song went by in silence, both of you lost in each other so deep that the world could have vanished around you, and you wouldn’t have taken notice, your lips pecking hers, foreheads pressed together. If time could be stopped, you would have done so right there and then never wanting to move on from this. The next song on the radio was a cheerful Christmas song, but the change in tune did not break the spell, it only seemed to enhance the joy of the moment as you turned the engine off and stepped out, pulling her towards you into the street.

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

The atmosphere was contagious, people singing off-key and dancing clumsily over the pavement. Pulling Avis against your chest you joined in the simple bliss of the moment, swaying from side to side with one hand on her waist while the other held onto hers, twirling among the people. It made her laugh, following your steps that seemed to be getting closer to the restaurant door, an older couple clapping as you twirled Avis under your arm before pressing her against you, dipping her. Her laughter only became louder, gleeful, with her body arched towards the floor, her precious red waves falling free. Returning her to her feet as she caught her breath, she let you guide her and open the door so she could go in first. What a lady you were. She was taken aback by how beautiful that place was, the entrance hall covered in frescos that reminded her of the Sistine Chapel, a gorgeous semicircular arch in white marble dividing the entryway from the dining room, the lights dim but not so much that one wouldn’t be able to see where they were going, adding to the mystical atmosphere. A young man approached her dressed in a black suit with a name tag on his lapel, greeting her kindly and asking if she had made a reservation. Avis nodded, turning her head in your direction as you let the door close, stepping inside the restaurant. The man’s eyes suddenly shone in recognition, greeting you excitedly, smiling down at Avis so she would not feel pushed aside or left out.

-Y/N! We were all worried you weren’t coming!

-Hello, Marco. We got caught up in something, but we are here now. How is your father?

-You know, in the kitchen. He’s been asking me for the last hour if you had arrived.

-You can tell him now that I’m here, and that I’ve said to leave you alone. – Avis watched the exchange with curiosity, the boy’s English good but with a very thick Italian accent, his hands gesturing as if they had strings and were being controlled by an external force. There was a comforting glow on your face at the sight of the boy, as if you had been lifelong friends, perhaps as if he were a brother. Your eyes drifted towards her, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of your arm, smiling sweetly at her. - Oh, Marco, this is Avis Amberg, my dinner guest for tonight.

-Pleased to meet you, Signoria Amberg. Y/N has spoken so much about you.

-Good things, I hope.

-Of course! She’s taken with you. Please, follow me.

She had never been to this restaurant before, but it had clearly been there for a while now, the dining room absolutely filled up with people. The walls were covered in stained glass windows, the ceiling decorated with gorgeous chandeliers, the floor made out of white marble as pictures and paintings of beautiful landscapes dressed the empty spots on the walls. It had a wonderful homely touch in every detail, names carved on the pillars that were disguised as columns, like something one would find inside temples, old photographs of people that were clearly simple folk from somewhere outside glamorous Hollywood in every corner. The conversations were loud and buzzing with excitement, children laughing and playing, old couples holding hands, smiling at each other. This place was so different from those fancy places that she frequented with Dick and Ellen or that she would take producers and actors to butter them up. This place was wholesome, it had a history seeping through every crack and corner, and Avis could not think of a better place for her to be than here with you. Marco guided you both through tables, speaking with some of the guests in Italian, switching to English as he addressed others, the gentle sound of music in the background in a mix of songs from both countries that pleased the guests. Coming to a hallway he opened a black door showing a spacious room with a table in the back, in front of a huge stained glass window.

-Here you are Signoria Amberg. Y/N – he bowed his head before closing the door, leaving you alone. Avis was shocked not only because the room was even more beautiful than she could have imagined, walls dressed in white wood, the ceiling filled with images of fields of lemons and olive trees painted al fresco, but because she knew how hard and how much this sort of rooms cost.

-A private booth? Y/N, this must have cost you a fortune, I would have been alright with a table in the main dining room.

-I know, but Marco’s father never gives me one. This room is my room whenever I come here, so he doesn’t actually make me pay for it. “It is yours until I die,” he says to me, so I’ve stopped fighting.

-How long have you known these people? You seem like part of the family. – she was looking around the room, her hands tracing the shapes of the columns, feeling the warmth of the tinted wood under her fingertips. She clearly liked the place, the lump that had formed in your throat when she had first stepped inside the restaurant vanishing. You had been worried there for a moment that she would not like it and would ask you to take her somewhere else, but her eyes shone with excitement and her frame relaxed, so there was nothing to worry about in the end.

-Well, when I came to Hollywood a few good years ago I came across Marco who needed help with the restaurant as they were building it, so I offered a helping hand. I’ve been a part of the family ever since. It’s not an exciting story I’m afraid.

-Not every story needs to be exciting to be good, don’t you think? You were alone and now you have them… and me. That’s the best story in my opinion.

-Bimba! – the doors practically flew off their hinges at the force the man standing under the threshold used, his frame tall and big frame, rounded stomach, and hairy face filling up the room, that deep rambling voice tainted with a thick Italian accent, just like his son, bouncing off the walls. It startled you both, Avis practically jumping on the spot, a graceful hand on her chest.

-Jesus, Giuseppe, you nearly killed me there.

-Ah, nonsense! It’s good to see you again, you have been away for too long.

-I came by three days ago!

-As I said, too long. Ah, who is this bellissima signoria? – in two big strides he was towering over Avis, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, a gentle blush spreading over her cheeks at the gesture. If this weren’t the two people you knew the most in the world, you would be jealous, but Avis would never leave you for him and he would never leave his wife for Avis, of that you were sure, still you glided to her side, placing your hands on her shoulder to look up at the big man.

-This is Avis Amberg.

-She is the woman you never shut up about?

-Giuseppe!

-What? It is you who talks about her, not me. So, Avis, may I call you Avis, nah, I will call you Avis, how do you like our Y/N?

-Giuseppe, please. – Avis thrived in the way you hid your face in the crook of her neck as if you could run away from the embarrassing conversation, both your bodies shaking lightly with Avis’s laughter. God, she wished she could see you, you would probably be the most delectable shade of red.

-Since you asked, I like her very much Mr…

-Call me Giuseppe. So, you like her, and she likes you… Ahhh, l’amore. So beautiful. When I met my Teresa, I thought she was horrible. She had a temper that could make her fight in a war, but when I talked with her, I knew I wanted her to be yelling at me forever. So, I married her. Now you have found your Teresa, Y/N, and I hope she yells at you exactly like you dreamed she would.

You didn’t quite want Avis to yell at you, more along the lines of you making her scream, but in a way he was right. You had found the woman of your dreams, you just had to make sure her husband never found out. Lifting your head from Avis’s shoulder, the orange blossom aroma of her hair filling your lungs, making you feel all warm and fuzzy, Giuseppe caressed your cheek with his big hand. He was a second father to you and his main project in life was to make sure all his kids were happy, including you, and although he did not understand in full why you would prefer a woman over a man, he could see the light in your eyes, the pink on your cheeks, how your days had moved from repetitive boring documents to finding a purpose. But what he could see most of all was that this older woman that you had in your arms shared that same light. Two perfect halves that had found each other, complementing the other, seeing the angles that the other person couldn’t, protecting and loving each other without a doubt, without expectations. He patted Avis’s hand gently before guiding you both to the table, pushing the chair to let the older woman sit first before moving on to yours, two menus already waiting on top of the table. He made his excuses to allow you to look at the dishes, closing the door and leaving you alone once more.

-He’s quite something.

-He’s passionate. He wanted to be a painter, a writer, an actor, anything and everything, so he feels things quite deeply. He did not offend you, did he?

-No, not at all. One would think that living surrounded by actors you should be used to this sort of thing, the passion, the art, but no. They are superficial boring people, most of them anyway. This Giuseppe has the heart of an artist, the emotions. It is a change from parrots that vomit scripts in front of a camera. – her eyes drifted onto the menus in her hands, looking at all the wonderful dishes that were written. - So why is he a chef?

-Because of his Teresa. She taught him all the things his mother could not, and he learnt, quite fast.

-Because he loves her.

-How could he not? She came into his life when he was down, broken, tired and bored of doing nothing with his life and she brought him spice, and sex, and happiness and how could anyone say no to the person that changes them for the better? How could he say no to his Teresa? How could I say no to you?

Her heart did not leap, it somersaulted, in her chest upon hearing your words, unsure if the first part was how you had felt before she had walked into your life or if it was indeed how the man had felt. It was true on both accounts. Her eyes drifted to look at you over the menu, seeing that you were looking back at her, the moment still in time. Avis had cried for too long about her life, her marriage, about how alone she felt as if she were just an accessory to Ace’s life destined to do nothing, be nothing. But suddenly you were there, and all that pain and hurt from the past decade or so had vanished into nothing, care and love blooming, feeling like she mattered for the first time in her life, and all the credit was yours to take. You had picked up her pieces and instead of gluing them together temporarily like Ernie had been doing for years, you were actively fixing her. There was no transaction, no contract to be fulfilled, no promotions or brand-new careers to begin, it was just little you giving little Avis what her heart needed the most.

Marco came back a couple of minutes later to take note of your drinks, informing you that the kitchen would stop serving warm dishes thirty minutes before midnight. Checking the clock on the wall you saw that it was fifteen minutes away from eleven thirty, so hurriedly you took Avis’s menu and began pointing at dishes telling her which ones were good and which ones were a little bit less good, earning a chuckle from Marco, making mental notes whenever she said that she didn’t like an ingredient for future dates. In the end, you settled on a two-person parmigiana di melanzane, a side of ruschette, which Giuseppe knew you adored, Eggs in Purgatory, and a bowl of chicken pastina. It was a lot of food, you knew, but there were just so many things you wanted her to try, so perhaps you had gone a little bit overboard, not that whatever was left would go to waste, no, Teresa would wrap it for you so you could take it home, maybe even make some extra bits here and there so Avis could take them home as well. True that she was nearly their age, but Teresa was a mother to everyone, be it a three-year-old or a fifty-year-old, and leftovers were leftovers in Hollywood and Italy. Marco wrote it all down before excusing himself, the sounds of the main dining room seeping into your booth for a moment before it all turned silent again. An idea popped into your head. Standing from your chair you made your way to the left corner of the room, next to the door, where a record player rested on top of a small table along with a box filled with vinyls. Avis rested against the back of her chair, lower lip in between her teeth, one leg crossed over the other allowing her knees to peek through the opening of her dress as she observed you flick through the disks, your curvaceous body moving gently, pulling one out after a minute.

She did not quite catch the title of the album, not that she was paying much attention when there was so much of your skin exposed for her to feast on, her eyes raking and drinking in every inch of flesh, waiting for you to finish settling the disk, placing the needle on top and turning the machine on. There was only the sound of the needle scratching over the vinyl for a moment before the soft chords of an acoustic guitar began to play. Of course you would choose a love song, you just couldn’t help yourself, but she did not mind at all, she hadn’t felt like a lovesick teenager in far too long and how could she ever be mad at you when you were walking towards her with you palm extended asking her to dance. She took it without hesitation, letting her body be pulled towards yours, her hands resting over your shoulders while she felt the warmth of your palms around her waist. The song was quiet, gentle in its tones making the words the centre of attention, a confession that was so close to slipping out of your lips, right at the tip of your tongue. You began to sway slowly, your feet not moving from the spot in the middle of the room, a place just for the two of you, no Ace, no studio, no Ellen or Lon, just Avis and you. You had both danced many times in your life, but nothing could compare to this private moment.

-I have not told you yet, but you look beautiful. That dress looks exquisite on you.

-Did you forget to compliment me and are trying to fix it before midnight? It’s alright if you did, we’ve had a hectic night.

-I did not, I was too in awe of you that I could not find the words. Saying that you look beautiful feels like such a weak compliment, perhaps I should say that you look bewitching, stunning, divine… I could go on you know.

-I wouldn’t mind if you did. – you just couldn’t get enough of her, be it her perfume, her gorgeous red lips, the way she looked at you with those big brown eyes of hers that made your legs grow weak. You would never understand how her husband did not fall to his knees every time she set foot in a room, it was madness. - It would be a change from only complimenting me when I’m in my underwear.

-As if you don’t do the same.

-No, I compliment you when you are not in your underwear, it’s different.

-And would you want me in nothing but my pearls if we were somewhere else? A chance to make sure I’m not in my underwear?

In the light of the chandelier, you could see how her pupils were blown wide, nearly overtaking the brown of her irises, the grip she had on your shoulders harder than before, her short nails scraping the nape of your neck. A quiet groan slipped out of your lips at the feeling, goosebumps all over your skin, her lips brushing yours but never truly kissing, the music still guiding you both around the room. The grip on her waist was harder, fingering the fabric, surprised that you could actually feel the lace of her corselette through the silk of her gown. God, you wanted her so bad, but it would be far too inappropriate to take her on top of the table when anyone could come in and call you out on your behaviour, you would just need to wait. Not that this foreplay was a bad thing, your eyes counting all the freckles that were exposed on her chest, licking your lips as the swells of her breasts rose and fell. Avis’s head was spinning, your berries shower gel powerful enough that she could almost taste it on her tongue along with your cherry lipstick, your long neck so tempting. She could bend and leave her mark right on your collarbone, make sure everyone knew you were hers, but she could not subject you to a reprimand from these lovely people you had learnt to love as family. She would have to wait.

The next song came, filling the space with violins that echoed off the walls, allowing you to take her hands from your shoulders so you could actually twirl her around the room, her skirt swaying in fluid motions around both your legs. You were quite the dancer she realised, feeling her body follow your cues with such ease, not bothering to stop when the door opened and in came Marco with Avis’s martini and your French 75. If he had wanted to comment, he had thought better than to actually say whatever had crossed his mind, keeping his lips tight and slipping out of the room as quietly as he could, not before letting his eyes linger as you spun Avis around, pressing her back against your chest, her hair flying around her like the fire she could make you feel with just a look of her adoring eyes. It was utterly delightful to have this woman that you had never in a million years thought would even look your way, in your arms absolutely relaxed. A moment later Marco came back with the bowl of pastina and the Eggs in Purgatory, assuring you the main course would be out soon along with the bruschette, your eyes twinkling at the sound of that. You hadn’t realised how famished you were until the delicious smell of tomato sauce and chicken broth filled the room, Avis’s stomach growling right on cue. She chuckled, placing a hand on her abdomen as you guided her to the table, the music still playing in the background.

It looked delicious and tasted even better once you had both settled on your chairs, napkins on your laps, forks digging in the eggs. Avis moaned loudly as she took the first bite, her eyes closed and her head lulled back, triggering an utterly indecent response in your body, your knickers pooling at the sight. How could everything this woman did be so positively sexy, no matter what it was, it was an entire research you were willing to perform yourself, no help needed. You imagined a drop of sauce falling right on top of her breast, your tongue aiming to please as you licked it off her skin, several times, to make sure she was perfectly clean, pushing the top of her dress down to reveal that she was indeed wearing nothing, a dream to think she could ever do that. Your thighs pressed together, shaking your head to try and vanish the image so could enjoy the food before Avis had it all. And the eggs were indeed delicious, the acidity of the sauce and the sharp flavour of the garlic mixing with the softness of the egg. By George, Teresa was an angel in the kitchen. In only a few minutes both plates were cleared, though you did not eat much, Avis’s moans were far too distracting, perhaps it was all a ploy so she could actually eat the whole thing while also working you up, killing two birds with one stone. Breaking your gaze from how she was now cleaning up around her mouth with her middle finger, you glanced at the clock. Only twenty minutes until midnight. This time it was Giuseppe who came in around five minutes later with the parmigiana, placing a tray with several bruschette in front of you along with a big ball of mozzarella dressed in olive oil and some basil and salt, giving you a kiss on top of your head. His deep voice spoke to Avis -Buon appetite- before bowing his head, slipping back into the kitchen. You picked up your drink, tasting the gin on your tongue with your eyes on her as she took in the food.

-How was the pastina, Avis? I think I only got to smell it.

-Ha ha, very funny. Do you want us to divide this meal?

-And miss hearing you enjoy them because I’m too busy eating? I don’t think so. Here, try this, I’m sure you have never had anything this good in your life.

The mozzarella dripped beautifully on the plate as you sliced it open, the cream inside the perfect consistency. Picking up a bruschetta from your plate, returning a fallen tomato to the top, you picked some of the mozzarella with a spoon, draping it over the bread before bending over the table with one hand under it to catch any crumbs. Avis bend slightly to meet you in the middle, opening her mouth and taking a bite, her eyes never leaving yours, her lips touching your fingers before she pulled away tasting your creation. The moan that she produced was loud and sensual, like the ones she had made when you had been in the car, her finger picking up a fallen drop of the cheese over her lips, licking the tip without breaking eye contact. The room was stifling now, her hand grabbing your wrist so she could take another bite of the bread, her tongue wrapping around your fingers to lick them clean. She sat back against her chair basking in the way she had you wrapped around her little finger without having done so much as to use her mouth, something that she was very good at judging by your reactions. Picking up your drink you downed it in one go needing to lubricate your throat, the cracked ice cooling your body a little, but only a little.

As much as she was enjoying tempting and driving you mad like this, she wanted you to eat, so she picked up some of the Parmigiana and placed it on your plate before serving herself. Taking her cue, you dived in, the aubergines perfectly cooked, the melted cheese making a beautiful pull as you took a bite, needing to use the fork to break the string. Her exquisite palate had tasted the best champagne, the most expensive caviars, imported meats, and exotic fruits and yet the meal presented to her tonight was the best of them all. It was homemade with love, with care, and maybe the products didn’t cost a fortune, but they were still good, perhaps grown by Giuseppe and his wife. Next time she had to plan a lunch date with Ellen, she would bring her here. You ate calmly, engaging Avis in conversation every so often though the silence that sometimes filled the room was never deafening nor uncomfortable, the music still playing in the background. With the table now filled with empty plates and both your stomachs satisfied there was nothing else to do but wait; only five minutes left until midnight.

-So, what was wrong with Ellen? We got caught up and I never really asked.

-It was pure miscommunication. – she brought the martini to her lips, leaving a red mark on the rim. - Ace usually hires extra security when we do parties at the house, so when I gave Dick the list of phone numbers, the company we usually use was there. Well, Dick did phone them, but they got confused and ended up not writing the address, so when the time came to send the guys down there was nowhere for them to go.

-And didn’t they call to ask where the party was?

-They say that they did but I’m not sure. Dick says that the phone hasn’t rang all afternoon. Anyway, I gave them the address and told them to get their asses over to Dick’s place immediately or we would go without their services in the future.

-But why was Ellen so distraught?

-Didn’t you see the bandage on Dick’s head? The woman was a minute away from needing an ambulance after the fight happened. It’s a miracle she didn’t call the police.  But everything’s alright now, I hope.

-If it isn’t they will have to fend for themselves, because I didn’t tell anyone where I was taking you.

-I’ll drink to that.

The rest of the martini went down her throat, the glass on the table just as Marco came back with an empty tray. Avis was the one to talk with him this time, telling him that the food was magnificent, to give her most sincere congratulations to the cooks as he picked up plates, staking them along with the empty glasses, a gentle blush on his cheeks as he thanked the woman. It wasn’t as if Avis had any trouble communicating with people, her charisma and outgoing personality helped her in that department, but it warmed your heart to see that she was trying her best to connect with your adopted family. None of the boyfriends or girlfriends you had brought here had even bothered to talk with them, probably one of the main reasons you had sent them packing. You didn’t even get the chance to open your mouth though before Giuseppe burst in with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and two bowls. He was talking a mile a minute, mixing Italian and English in a gibberish that neither of you understood, but he was excited and didn’t care, a short woman with deep emerald eyes and dark hair popping her head through the doors calling for him. She blew you a kiss before pulling her husband out the door, Avis observing with an amused expression how you laughed as you said hi to Teresa. She understood the reason behind the champagne, but she missed why there were two bowls of grapes on the table.

-Y/N, honey, what’s with the grapes? I thought the usual Italian dessert was tiramisu.

-It is, one of many, anyway. No, the grapes are a tradition from my home. – she sat a little bit straighter on the chair, resting her head on her hand while listening intensely to your explanation, her big eyes taking in every word that left your lips. – In the last twelve seconds of the years you are supposed to eat twelve grapes.

-Isn’t that a bit of a choking hazard?

-Yes, but it’s much more fun than it sounds. Eating them all before the New Year arrives its supposed to bring good luck, but now it’s more of a fun game. You just look around and see who’s laughing even before they’ve started eating, who goes hysterical with a mouthful of them, who’s like in a corner eating them without a single emotion in their system, you know, just have fun with your friends and family eating twelve grapes. Some people are pros and finish the bowl way before the twelve seconds are over and then there’s the people who watch that laugh after the New Year has arrived.

-I had never heard of such a thing. I’ve been to so many places and I’ve never bothered with anything that wasn’t boutiques or fancy restaurants. We really do have our heads up in our own asses, don’t we?

-I wouldn’t say that. You are a woman of the world, but I don’t expect you to know everything about every single place you’ve been to, and I know there’s so much I don’t know about your home, Avis but you don’t punish me for it. There’s plenty of time to learn. What I do hope is that you’ll share this tradition with me. I promise the grapes are small.

-Anything for you, honey. And if I do choke, I’ll have you to resuscitate me. Come over here, let me see if you know how to do mouth-to-mouth.

Who were you to deny her proof? Standing from your chair you rounded the table until your body was towering over hers, bending so that your hands were resting on the chair, your mouth inches from hers. Finally, she rose a little from her seat to meet your lips, relief washing over your body like a wave, allowing you to relax in her grip as her hands rested on your hips, drawing you to sit on her lap. Upon feeling her teeth nibbling on your lower lip you opened your mouth, granting her the access she desired. Both tongues battled against each other, yours more lazily than hers, after all, she was the one who thrived in having control over you. Slipping from the top of the chair your hands threaded in between her soft locks, pulling gently. She groaned in your mouth, the grip on your hips harder, pushing you closer to her. Parting after a moment, lungs screaming for air, you heard the commotion outside the room growing bigger, Avis’s eyes looking at the clock over your shoulder. A minute she whispered in your ear. Plenty of time for you to share another kiss you thought, drawing her face back to yours for a few more seconds, tracing her lips with your tongue, removing what little she had left of her carmine.

Not moving from your spot in her lap after breaking the kiss you handed her a bowl before picking up yours, eyes glued to the clock. Thirty seconds. Your heart was racing in your chest with excitement, just like when you had been a kid, waiting with trembling fingers. Twenty seconds. Avis could not help the smile that painted her swollen lips at your enthusiasm, watching as you did a quiet countdown. Fifteen seconds. You picked up the first grape, motioning for Avis to do the same. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve! You popped the first one in, then another, and another, all while chewing as fast as your jaw would allow, eyes focused on the bowl otherwise you would start laughing. Four more grapes went down the gullet but there were still a few seconds left; you could make it. Another one in, and another one and you were practically swallowing them whole, but you were almost there, just three grapes left. Just when you had finished chewing and swallowing the last one the clock struck twelve, howls filling the air around you. With the brightest smile in the world, you tilted your bowl to show Avis only to be made a fool when she showed you hers, lifting the hand that had been on your hip with four fingers stretched.

-Avis! Four seconds to spare?!

-What can I say, I’m a pro.

-Next time I’ll get the big ones.

-And you think I haven’t had anything bigger in my mouth? – God, she really knew what to say to turn you on even further, the fire that had been growing steadily all night practically blazing. - Now my turn for a tradition, American style. -Her lips crashed against yours, her hand on your back pressing you impossibly close to her body. The kiss was bruising but oh so erotic and delightful and you never wanted it to end, but there was a toast still waiting and in that joyous moment when everything was perfect you wondered what she would taste like after having had a glass of champagne.  After a few instants Avis broke the kiss, panting slightly. – Happy New Year Y/N.

-Happy New Year, Avis.

Hurriedly you stood from her lap, pulling her to her feet as you picked up the bottle Giuseppe had left, rubbing the cork before turning to look away from her, a loud pop reverberating along with the record player that was still working, foam and the sparkling liquid pouring out onto the floor due to the pressure of the gas. Avis had both glasses in her hand waiting for you to pour the drinks, watching the foam fill it up and spill slightly, handing you your glass once you had returned the bottle back to the table. Crystals clinked, bringing it up to taste the delicious liquid on your tongue, bubbling up your nose and down your throat. Now was the moment. Once Avis had swallowed her sip you grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down for another kiss, a surprised yelp that soon turned into a quiet moan muffled by your lips as you pushed your tongue inside her mouth without a fight. She was utterly delicious after drinking champagne. The spell was broken by the sound of fireworks, a gleeful look on Avis’s face as she broke the kiss, pulling you out of the room and into the street, the glasses still in your hands. It was beautiful. The night sky was filled with colourful forms and sparkly rainbows, flying over everyone’s heads every second. Both your gazes were glued to the firmament up above, but that did not stop you from taking her hand in yours, fingers interviewed as the sky filled up with golden glows. Nothing had ever been more perfect, nothing would ever be more special, her eyes travelling down to yours watching in the reflection the blue glittery traces that crossed the sky. She had waited enough, and dessert was due. She moved her head to the crook of your neck, her lungs filling up with the gentle traces of your floral perfume, whispering in your ear for only you to hear.

-Take me home and make me feel like a thousand stars. Fill my life with fireworks Y/N.

Her tone sounded almost as if she was pleading, a pang of sadness stabbing your heart, watching how her eyes were filled with both an imperious need for you and a softness that spoke to you in so many levels. Walking backwards into the restaurant, the sky still painted by the colourful display, you did not have to use any kind of force to guide her back to the private booth, the restaurant empty as everyone was out on the street. The record had ended by then, the only sound inside the room being the needle as it scratched over the vinyl, but that was superfluous to you, every ounce of your attention was on Avis. She took on last sip of her champagne, leaving it on the table next to yours, her stole draped over her shoulder and her purse in her empty hand. Your eyes were locked never wanting to break contact, never wanting to stray. You wished to lift her in your arms and leave everything behind, take her to the ends of the world and love her for all eternity, but life was nothing like one’s dreams and yet this moment felt just like one. You pulled out a fifty and left it on the table, thinking that you would not get to see Giuseppe or any of the others before leaving, but just as you were crossing the main dining room Teresa called your name. You turned, but the woman did not ask you to join them for drinks or to wait a bit longer before leaving, she simply approached you, kissed you on the cheek and wished you and Avis a happy New Year, handing the older woman a brown package. There was something in the way Teresa was looking at the two of you that made you think that perhaps it wasn’t so bad to take that leap of faith you had been so scared of, that it was worth taking this risk, to fall in love at last.

You promised to visit soon, telling her that the dinner was marvellous, like always and that it was paid before blowing her a kiss as you still pulled Avis out the door. Getting to the car was no effort, it was as if fate was guiding your every action and aiding you in reaching the final goal, slipping into the drivers sit. People were all around you, but you needed her to know that her every wish was your command and so you twisted your body to meet her lips, a hand resting on her cheek. She melted under your touch, under your kiss, feeling every emotion that you had promised to tell her passing from your lips to hers. She felt renewed with energy, love and lust and everything in between bursting from every pore of her body, not wanting to separate from you, but it had to happen, your body returning to its original position before you turned the engine on. You had considered for an instant taking her to your place, but you had left things everywhere and you did not want to have to tidy up before taking her to your bed, not unless you wanted her to grow cold on you, so you swerved into a side street and drove back to her place. She was confused at first, but upon seeing the determination that had glazed over your eyes, she sat back and relaxed letting you do what you had to do. The gates were closed but not locked, upon Avis’s order, but with a gentle jab from the hood of your car they shrieked and opened, not a soul in sight as you parked right next to Avis’s black Cadillac.

It felt quite familiar to step out of the car and meet over the stone path that led to her front door, but everything about this time was different. There was no hurry, no element of surprise that could interrupt and end it all, it was just you and Avis under the front porch, her hand in yours. The cold air of the night was raising goosebumps on your skin, a shiver shaking your frame, but you did not falter in your stand, taking her hand and placing it on your cheek, kissing her palm. Had this been twenty years ago Avis would have stood under the tiny porch light kissing you before you had to turn and leave her behind, thinking about how she would have had to go to bed alone in that big empty dark house, but it wasn’t the 20s and it wasn’t a random scenario in her head. She could kiss you still under the tiny porch light, gentle nibbles and pecks making her melt against your body, her hands snaking round your neck to keep you in place. She could moan in your mouth as your hands travelled from the shape of her waist down to her hips and then her firm ass to pull her closer to you. And after the kisses ended and you were left standing there panting and incensed, you wouldn’t have to go away, she opened those big doors and pulled you inside. The house was warm and quiet and so very dark, only a few rays on moonlight breaking through closed curtains. Avis knew her home like the back of her hand and she guided you slowly to the staircase, walking upstairs with her hand in yours.

She stopped in the middle of it though when she felt your hands around her waist. She trusted you to not let her fall as she let her weight press against your chest, your head in the crook of her neck. She smelled delicious and you could not help it, you run your tongue the length of her neck up until you meet her ear, kissing the spot behind, your teeth gracing her earlobe. With one hand on the railing for support the other went to the back of your head feeling the curls and pins under her palm, a quiet moan echoing in the dark room as you pulled gently on her ear. She tasted divine, that saltiness that was so her mixing with the champagne from your drink. Her eyes were closed taking in every sensation that you were giving her as your hands teased her breasts through the silk, finger on the hem of the neckline. The way every single peck and caress set her alight was beyond her comprehension, her heartbeats a little bit elevated against her ribcage, her knickers getting wetter by the minute, but there was no rush, she could take far more than what you were giving her; she wanted to burn in your arms. She moved her head to the side, scratching her nails on your scalp, to grant you a better access, a gasp falling from her lips when she felt you tongue licking down her neck and the junction with the shoulder, following the same path back up until your lips curled and sucked on her pulse point.

Her hips buckled to meet yours, her round firm ass pressed against your pelvis, earning a grunt that became muffled by her skin. As much as you were both loving this there was a growing need to reach the bedroom, so much to your dismay Avis pulled herself from your grip, not before turning and taking both your hands. Walking backwards was hard but walking up the stairs all while in the dark was ever more difficult and yet Avis pulled it off beautifully, reaching the landing without tripping not even once. Her eyes had never left yours even if among the shadows there was very little chance of her seeing just how dilated your pupils were, how they were burning with a fire that only she could put out.  The door to her bedroom was just there, not more than three feet from you, but it felt as if you had gone without feeling her for far too long and so you pressed her against the wall, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. You sucked on her lower lip never growing tired of hearing the way her throat vibrated and her body shook ever so slightly as moans travelled through her open mouth for to swallow, chest pressed against chest, your right hand grabbing and pulling her leg upwards, free from her gown. The lacy hem of her stockings was an obstacle for you, that delectable skin of hers hidden underneath but that did not stop you from fingering the clip that kept it in place before grabbing the back of her thigh to grind against her pelvis. Her response was a curse, the fabric of her knickers drenched in between her legs, but you did not let up, watching as her head lulled back against the wall, her entire frame bobbing up and down as you moved.

She wanted you, needed you to fill her up, to touch her and eat her and love her and make her scream so loud she wouldn’t be able to speak for three days, but the movements that you were doing were just not fully cutting it for her, as sublime as they were. This time though she did not have to push you away, you lifted her off the floor, her legs wrapping around your waist as her arms did the same around your neck, giving a surprised yelp. She had not considered that you could be so strong, carrying her through the threshold of her bedroom, your foot closing the door, her lips pecking every inch of skin she could find around your face, avoiding your lips should she make you lose your grip on her. Your brain was telling you to throw her on the bed and take her, no time to remove clothes, but you let your heart guide you on this, gently placing her over the covers, pecking her lips before stepping back. All the air in your lung vanished as you took in the scene before you. The curtains weren’t drawn letting the silvery beams of moonlight bathe the woman before you with its pearly glows, her olive kissed skin seeming like porcelain under its touch, every freckle, wrinkle and beauty mark glowing like beacons that were calling you home. Her dark fiery locks were untamed, dishevelled from where you had threaded your fingers, framing her as they cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, her lips swollen and so very enticing even without her signature lipstick. That glamorous gown she was wearing had moved slightly around her body, glowing like pure platinum as the top of a black corselette peeked from under the neckline, her breasts practically spilling, bouncing with her rapid breaths. Her body, propped up on her elbows, was spread before you since the skirt of her dress had fallen to the sides, leaving her legs right there for you to feast on and oh Lord, were you going to. But there was another idea in your head that you wanted to do for her before you could satisfy your own needs.

In a slow twirl your back was presented to her, a hand grabbing onto the zipper of your dress, painstakingly pulling it down to let your underwear begin to seep through the garment. You could hear Avis’s breaths picking up at the way you swayed your hips to shimmy out of it, feeling the velvet brush your legs as it flowed to the floor. With graceful movements you stepped out of it, bending so that your ass was in perfect view for Avis, turning your head to look at her while picking up the dress from the floor. She groaned at the sight of your body, her mind racing as her mouth turned dry before it began to water, hypnotised by every little movement you made, from bending to standing back up after leaving your dress over the chair of her vanity. Her heart began to race with each step you took towards her, spreading her legs even further to accommodate you, your body bending over hers, face inches from hers. She rose to kiss you, but you were quick and pulled back, a naughty smirk on your lips when your fingers began to trace her jawline, neck, chest and swells of her breasts, your mouth following the same path though your fingers could not help exploring the skin underneath her corselette. She was plump and soft, and you had buried your head in between her tits many times before but could not get enough of them, feeling her stiff peak with your fingertips. Her noises were positively sublime, deep and rambling in her chest before they made their way out of her mouth in quiet gasps. You moved close to her ear, whispering huskily.

-I believe, my dear lady, that you are overdressed.

The fabric was so smooth under your palms, so undoing the knot on the side as well as the button next to her breasts was like slicing butter, pushing the gown open to free her gorgeous body. And God, what a body it was. It was maddening to have her like this right under your lips, tracing every wrinkle and crease her skin made, and you just simply could not get enough. The fireworks of Sunset Boulevard had ended some time ago, but now there was the booming sound again, in the background, lighting up the room with a soft golden glow. It did not stop you from sucking on her now exposed collarbone, scraping the skin hard, a hissing sound reaching your ears, but Avis prevented you from lifting your head by pressing a hand on your neck, her body falling onto the soft covers. A gentle lick of your tongue soothed the sting, sloppy kisses travelling down to her breasts but there wasn’t enough flesh before your eyes, fingers working on the first hook of the corselette. Her breasts bounced to free themselves and yet you did not continue, simply licked the valley in between them. How exquisite were her moans, echoing off the walls with each suck, leaving bruising marks behind that you knew her husband might find out about, but that didn’t stop you, wouldn’t stop you. If he could not appreciate the woman he was married to, you would take on such a task. Perhaps the sight of the marks would help make Avis understand that she didn’t have to settle for less than what she thought she deserved, which was everything.

Her breaths were so rapid that upon arching her back at the hand of your ministrations another hook came undone without anyone touching the garment, her breasts spilling out of the black lace freeing her pinkish nipples that were hard as rocks already. Hmmmm, your favourite appetizer at last had arrived. Kissing the ample left breast, you trailed down towards the stiff pick, taking it hungrily in your mouth, lapping up and down, twirling it around and around and around, basking in the high-pitched moans that Avis made when you scrapped the tip with your teeth, hips bucking upwards into your own pelvis. It drew out a groan from you, her pubic bone having brushed expertly, but without her actually knowing, against your clit. She knew the effects she had on you, but she had not expected such a reaction from simply sucking her tits, a naughty smirk on her lips as her eyes ogled your mouth with her nipple deep inside it. There was a whine in the air when you popped it out of your mouth, but how could you not give her right breast the same treatment when it was looking at you so readily. Deliciously it fitted in your mouth as if it was meant to be there, sucking so hard you were making Avis scream in hurried pants, her nails digging onto your scalp.

One hand kept your weight off her body but that didn’t mean you could not do several other things with the other, your nails leaving red trails over her inner thigh, massaging the soft flesh to sooth it before repeating the motion. Her legs twitched, trying to close around your frame out of seer instinct, a whimper slipping from her parted lips. It was tempting to tease her until she could not take it anymore, but tonight the plan wasn’t to see up until where the boundaries would collapse, it was to love her and care for her. Your index finger brushed over the lace of her knickers, Avis’s lower lip in between her teeth, feeling not just how wet she was; her underwear was absolutely ruined and drenched and you only wished to take it off and have your main course. It was a herculean effort to pull back, her nipple being released from your mouth in a quiet pop, but she was still quite overdressed in your most humble opinion. On your knees now, you took off her shoes, putting them on the side, massaging the tension on her arches and her ankles, settling on her left leg while carrying on with her calf, the back of her knee and then her thigh. Expert finger undid the clip pushing it out of the way, the silk stocking coming off her leg with your teeth, Avis’s eyes simply blown wide at the sight, the exact same actions taking place on her right leg instants after. Instead of climbing back on top of her though you placed her legs over your shoulders taking your sweet time to kiss trails from her ankles up to her inner thighs, back down and then back up again. She was going to go insane, of that she was certain, every single one of your kisses leaving fire on her skin, but she just could not stop you, she needed every ounce of attention you were giving her, your fingers digging over her thighs as you inched closer and closer to her centre. Just when your kisses had reached the side of her knickers did you move to her other side, sucking and biting hard, drawing out moans and whimpers all while Avis still laid on her back, her hands holding onto the bed covers. Without warning and without care you gave her one strong long lick over the lace, her salty juices on your tongue making you groan against her.

-Fuck!

Her hips buckled against your face trying desperately to get more friction, anything. You knew she needed you, but you were not going to take her like this, you wanted her to have the connection of skin to skin; raising from your knees you bent back over her body. Your hands finished unhooking the corselette, pulling it from under her and throwing it across the room. There were a few red marks left from the garment over her abdomen, and you were sure they probably bothered her, so after kissing her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point, you went all the way down to her sternum and even further, licking each red line making sure to peck the skin once you were contented with the way your saliva glistened under the moonlight, your fingers following the paths of her stretch marks with such a gentle touch you were raising goosebumps over her skin. They trailed down until your fingertips came in contact with the waistband of her knickers, removing them inch by inch all the way down her legs until she was utterly naked before you. The platinum beams that burst through the windows wrapped around her body, enticing, the fire that was burning within you mixing with the absolute adoration you felt for Avis. Her breasts were perky, rising and falling rapidly, her eyes staring hungrily at you. It just wasn’t fair, she thought, she was like a renaissance painting, naked before you with her hair down, dripping for you, and yet you were just standing there, hidden from her eyes. She had to do something about it.

With cat like grace Avis pulled herself off the bed, walking barefoot until she was right in front of you. Her hands ached to be rough, to play with you until you broke in between her fingers and then put you back together, but your eyes were looking at her with such a caring loving glow that she could not bring herself to do it. She put her hands on your shoulder and turned you until your back was pressed against her front, both your figures reflected on a tall mirror that you had not noticed before. Had she got it so she could dress herself for you? She did not give you time to think, her fingers trailing down from your shoulders over to your breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh under your own corselette. She was delighted that you had dressed like that, not that seeing you in those see-through brassieres was something she would ever complain about, but there was just something so utterly erotic about this outfit that drove her wild. One hook came off, your breasts one step closer to freedom, her lips kissing softly the skin of your shoulder, one hand travelling underneath the black lace that cupped your breasts, the other one pulling on your hair until she had the access to you neck she desired. Your sweet skin was delicious under her tongue, and the bruises that had painted your skin not that long ago were nowhere to be found, so in that spot she decided she had to make sure those marks that had painted your entire body returned. Her teeth bit down on your neck, a yelp mixing with a moan reverberating inside the room, her tongue southing the sting before moving a little bit further down to do the same. The hand that was under you corselette was kneading on your left breast, her thumb brushing on your perky nipple. She was a pro, you knew, so it wasn’t a surprise when she pulled her hand out and with only two fingers did she undo a second hook. The garment was becoming loser around your frame, slipping down a bit more until your breasts were free, Avis’s eyes eyeing them with such desire that your utterly flooding underwear welcomed a brand-new wave of arousal.

-My very good girl is the one overdressed now, don’t you think?

You nodded at her words, her index finger following the line of your cheek down to your neck until she was painting lazy patterns over your left breast, her tongue licking the shell of your ear, biting and pulling on your earlobe. Her thumb passed over your nipple, the hand on your hair letting go to play with your right breast, the motions so tempting, so sultry that made your hips press against her pelvis just like Avis had done with you on the staircase. She played and twirled your nipples in between her fingers, pinching hard, your hands grabbing her naked hips to steady your legs, your throat slightly raw from how she was making you moan. Soon she grew restless of her own actions, unclasping each hook slowly to let your creamy skin come to light until it laid open in her hands. She could not let her eyes stop looking at every single detail of your skin, her hot breath drawing goosebumps, your stiff nipples getting even harder. The corselette fell to the floor, the weight of it pulling your stocking down with it, leaving you with all the fabric bunched up around your ankles. You were going to bend to remove them when a hand right in between your breasts stopped you, pressed you naked back against her naked chest feeling every inch of her ample tits. It was Avis who kneeled this time, the hand that had stopped you before resting right above your knickers now, her legs slightly open, lifting your leg and removing your shoe, pushing it aside, pulling the nylon stocking off.

She was spread for you to see in the mirror, those pink folds glistening in the gentle light of the moon, your arousal through the roof wishing you were already in between her legs. She was not done though; she lifted your other leg removing the stiletto and pulling the stocking off. The offending bundle of garments was thrown across the room, forgotten already as her eyes went for the next step. Her fingers were running up and down your thighs at a teasing pace, kissing the back of your legs, moving over your hamstring until her lips made contact with the skin of your ass, biting down, sucking hard. A gasp left your lips, the feeling utterly salacious and carnal, her fingers kneading the flesh, treading underneath the fabric of your underwear. No one except Avis had ever played with your ass before, this was her thing the same way that playing with her tits was yours. They stopped their motion after a moment, following the shape of your hips until the met at your pubic bone, grabbing and yanking your knickers down your legs. They rested around your knees, her hands busy parting your legs so she could feel just how much you really wanted her, humming in approval when her fingers touched your folds, coating them with your juices. The underwear fell on its own, pooling at your feet as Avis rose to look at you through the mirror, eyes following her hand, watching her lick her fingers clean, groaning at your salty essence.

Turning around to face her you stopped her movement, pulling her hand out of her mouth and taking it inside yours instead. She had not cleaned herself completely yet, the state of her saliva and your arousal the perfect mix around her fingers, tongue twirling and sucking. Fuck being gentle, fuck waiting. You pulled her fingers out with a pop and yanked her arm towards you to capture her mouth once again, your hand on her bare ass cheek kneading and spanking the bouncy flesh, her leg wrapping around your thigh and calf. Kissing her was always an experience but doing it fully naked was just beyond arousing, your need to bite and lick and suck making you draw a little bit of blood from her lower lip, the metallic taste intoxicating, your hands grabbing her other ass fully and lifting her in the air, the bruising kiss never breaking, her hands on the back of your head pulling hairpins out and letting them fall on the floor. You would worry about picking them up in the morning.

You placed her back on the bed, crawling on top of the covers but she broke from your embrace to pull them off the mattress and onto the floor, leaving the Egyptian cotton bedsheets free for her to lay upon. Her hair was fanned out on her pillow as her eyes raked over your body, sitting on your knees, waiting, like the good girl you were. There was a painting that came to mind as you took her in, watching her move one hand to rest above her head, fingers brushing the headboard while the other motioned for you to crawl over to her, a beautiful masterpiece from the 1800s that had transcended time into the 1940s, and space, to lay on this bed. You could not recall where it was displayed, but at the end of the day it was just that, a work on a canvas that you could not touch. The woman before you was real though, solid and positively divine with the way each curve of her soft flesh seemed to have been carved by the hands of angels, her eyes the doors to the Heavens, her lips the gates to Hell. There was no corner of her body that you would not paint, no freckle that you would not kiss and if her body was a forest, you would gladly get lost in it for all eternity. Avis looked like a Venus, like a goddess that you would pray to every day and night and she deserved to be painted and displayed just as much as those priceless works of art, even if there was a part of you that only wanted to keep her to yourself, like a secret that no one could see except for you, every spot in her body only for you to kiss and taste, her sounds only for you to hear. You crawled on top of her, taking her hand to kiss her finger before placing it above her head next to the other, lowering your mouth to peck her gently. The road that your lips travelled was well known to you, every curve and hill memorised; her collarbone, the hollow of her neck, her maddening breasts that you could not help but kiss one more time, and in between every stretch mark in her abdomen and upper thighs.

Her legs parted, granting you access to that part of her body that you desired the most, bending until your chest was practically resting over the mattress, ass up in the air, kissing and licking the soft skin of her inner thighs. There were still a few remnants of the bruises you had inflicted upon her that first night, but there was still plenty of untouched flesh for you to paint. She moaned when she felt you suck, knowing that in the morning her body could be covered in hickeys, not that she cared, not anymore, her back arching off the bed a little, hips moving almost as if they were trying to tempt you. She needed to be patient, just for a bit longer you thought, still giving your full attention to the bruise that was already forming, licking to sooth it before turning to her other thigh, sucking and biting, a hiss mixing with her loud moans. She was always so very vocal, which you adored, and when you came face to face with her dripping folds you couldn’t help but smile. Dinner was served. You preferred something sweet as dessert, but the saltiness of Avis’s juices was the perfect cherry on top of a wonderful night, your tongue lapping the whole length of her cunt with one long swipe. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the feeling of your mouth on her, hips moving against your face.

-God, fuck, Y/N.

The moans that were breaking from her parted lips filled your head, loud and sensual, because how could Avis make any sound that wasn’t absolutely indecent and salacious, your own juices coating the top of your inner thighs. Your nose brushed gently against her clit, a hand shooting to keep you in place as a scream slid out her throat, her nails digging into your scalp, but your movement never stopped, her pleasure building higher and higher. She had had your tongue on her before, and had adored every second of it, but the things you were doing to her this time, the soft licks, nudging her swollen bud prolonging it all, driving her insane with such a caring touch, oh God, it was something else. Every touch sent her a message that she mattered to you, that her pleasure was your main goal, to see her unravelling before your eyes, to drink in her relaxed and satisfied body as if she could be the last thing your eyes ever saw. It made the way your tongue moved a thousand times more powerful, the coil in her lower abdomen burning bright, threatening to set her on fire. With one hand you opened up her folds to grant your tongue access to her entrance, darting in and out slowly at first. The grip on your hair never lessened and the way her hips were moving told you that she needed more, so you gave it to her without a second thought taking her clit in your mouth, sucking so hard that her back arched off the bed, the hand that had been resting and toying with the fabric of her pillowcase, holding hard onto the headboard.

You had never wished you had been born with a cock before, but the sight of her as you gave her one long lick before sitting back on your knees, her dark eyes watching you confused wondering why you had stopped, made you long for one to pound deep into her, to fill her up and feel every inch of her insides around you, warm and velvety. The best you could do was to move your fingers up and down, her head falling back over her pillow, coating them in her juices before plunging them in. She screamed at the feeling of her cunt stretching to accommodate you as you travelled in kisses back up her body, taking her nipples in your mouth. They were your weakness, an imperious need to always play with them forcing you to twirl them and suck hard. Slowly you pulled your hand back giving her a moment before pushing back in, hard, curling to touch that sweet spot with your fingertips, another scream escaping her open mouth, your lips kissing the skin under her ribcage. The taste of her skin along with that of her juices was intoxicating, driving you to move your hand faster and harder against her as your mouth trailed and bit at her collarbones and her neck finally reaching her lips, drawing her into a deep kiss that made Avis’s already fuzzy head grow dizzy. There were so many sensations that she just couldn’t focus, both her legs bending over your hips, the heels of her feet digging onto your lower back. In this new position you could push your hand harder into her by using the power of your pelvis, thrusting once to see if it was any good.

-FUCK! YES! YES!

If it had been Summer the entire neighbourhood would have been able to hear her screams, but with the windows closed her words and sounds were for your ears only. Your hips thrust against your hand once more, her hips moving downwards to meet you, her head thrown back against the pillow as a thin layer of sweat begun to cover her body, your greedy tongue licking if off the side of her neck before biting and sucking hard, leaving a most wonderous hickey right where everyone would be able to see, but Avis was too lost to notice. With each movement of your hips her body bobbed up and down on the mattress, her gorgeous and ample tits swaying with the sinful motions, her moans higher and higher in pitch as she felt her orgasm building, nearly reaching the delicious peak she desired. There was no warning, just you adding another finger, practically slamming your hips against her pelvis, the rhythm you had previously had a bit more erratic, losing yourself in the way she was screaming in your ear, clenching around your fingers so hard, her skin so delicious in your mouth. Your hand would be useless for a day or two with the way you were pushing it knuckle deep inside her, slamming it against her pubic bone, but it was a prize you were willing to pay. With your thumb you circled her clit, playing a game of pressure that could send her over the edge any minute and yet it seemed as if there was something preventing her from doing so. Your mouth kissed behind her ear, licking its shell before you whispered.

-Come for me Avis, see the stars that you begged me to show you.

A shiver run all over her body, like a wave, before the coil in her lower abdomen exploded, an intense white fire spreading through every limb, her back arching of the bed as your name left her lips in a loud scream, her legs trembling and shaking all while the grip on your hair pulled painfully and the heels of her feet dug against your lower back. But there was no real pain, nothing truly hurt, her pleasure the only thing that mattered to you as her hips slammed onto yours, your hand in between them, as she rode out her orgasm. Her vision was blurred, white stars dancing through them, her eyes rolling back with each wave and twitch that coursed through her spasming walls.

-Y/N! YES! YES! YES! GOD, I LOVE YOU!  

Every cell in your body froze for an instant, her body collapsing on the mattress her chest rising and falling in hurried loud pants, arms like jelly as they let go of your hair and the headboard, her legs unwrapping from around your back, though you did not move, hands caressing the skin of her thighs to bring her gently down. Part of you wanted those words to be real, to believe her even if she had spoken them in the throws of passion, but the other half believed they were just that, words, no real meaning behind them, a turmoil of confused thoughts rushing through your mind. Until her eyes opened behind heavy lids and everything turned quiet. Her eyes were so very deep and beautiful, expressing everything so clearly that to you there was no doubt that she had meant it. Her shaky hand caressed your cheek, your body having not moved from being on top of hers, that bright smile shinning all over the room but right now only for your eyes to see. In that sweet afterglow that always left her so very relaxed, so raw with her emotions and realizations, did she allow herself to acknowledge what she felt because this had been the last step she had needed to see that what you two had went beyond mere care and lust. Her heart had been alone in a dark room for years but then you came, with an entire array of Christmas lights and chandeliers and filled it all with light, your heart sitting beside hers, never letting it go from your embrace. This is what love was supposed to feel like, and she would never ever let it slip through her fingers. She brought you down for a kiss, a gentle pressing of lips, and even if it was the simplest one you two had shared, it was the best of them. Upon parting you laid beside her, your head sharing her big pillow.

-Avis.

-Don’t overthink it Y/N. I said what I said, and you know me; I don’t take words back.

-But there’s so much you don’t know about me.

-I don’t care. – in between her thumb and index finger she twirled and played with a lock of your hair, her gaze never parting from yours. They were filled with love, shinning like never before, making you lose yourself in their depth, her warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. It made your chest burst with happiness. -You could be a Russian spy, and I would still love you. You make me feel like a human being and trust me, that’s fucking fantastic; you give my life a purpose, a brand-new perspective. Life is so full of possibilities now that you are here, with me, so many adventures that had never crossed my mind before. All the money, jewels and mink coats that I own could never compare to you making me feel like I’m someone, like I matter.

-It’s so easy to be around you, to care.

-Even though I’m a very faulted woman?

-Everyone is, you just know how to cope with it. You are temperamental but also passionate, you don’t apologise but you make it up to people, you have sat in the back letting others take your spotlight, and it doesn’t seem fair, Avis. I want to give you that, I want you to be up on stage and reclaim it; let everyone adore you. The world is yours and you must walk like you own it.

-I could have sworn I already did that. – her lips pecked your cheeks and jaw bit never pushed further than that, she knew you both needed to talk this out. You felt her teasing smile against your skin.

-Indeed, but what I mean is that you must stop letting Ace treat you like this. Break free from him and his lies and be yourself and if he doesn’t like it, he can go and fuck himself. You have a beautiful soul; you can’t let him crush it and turn you into a bitter woman.      

-I wanted him to love me, to care for Claire, but its as if I’m just an addition to his life, like an object. We’ve been through this shit so many times, but he never changes. – the hurt run deep, her eyes glancing down to your necklace that she had not removed, toying with the metal chain to keep her eyes from locking with yours. That man had broken her so much and so many times, and you could see why she would practically throw herself at the first person that showed her a bit of love and affection. She was emotionally starved. - I had spent so long wanting to be his wife so when I realised that I wasn’t wanted and that I never will be, my eyes finally opened, and I saw the truth. I had confused my wishes, my dreams, for the real thing and seeing that… - she had to stop for a moment, tears threatening to fall, her words choking her up with the overwhelming feelings of shame and sadness. You hated seeing her like this, hiding herself and her pain from you, so your finger moved under her chin forcing her to look up, watching as those crystal drops ran down her cheeks and towards the tip of her nose. Her voice wavered but she still carried on needing to let it all out. - that I had been tricked by life, well, it hurt. It took time to see that this marriage was never going to work, we don’t care enough about each other to bother fixing it. Should you fix something that has been broken since day one?

-No, you shouldn’t. You must let it wither and die, Avis, as much as it may hurt at first. You don’t need him. I will be your husband, your wife, your partner, your friend, your therapist and your doctor. I will hold you and wipe your tears, - your thumbs slid over her cheeks capturing the drops, kissing the soft, warm flesh and removing the saltiness off her nose. The grip she had on your forearms now was bruising, like she was grounding herself on your skin. - laugh at your jokes and tell you everyday of my life that there is not a soul in this world, in this universe, that… I love more than yours.

-You… love me? – her voice held a note of doubt, as if she had heard those words before dressed in deceit, but there was such a deep hope in those glistening eyes that elated you, your face inches from hers, foreheads touching.

-Since the very first time I saw you. All that we’ve shared has only made my feelings stronger, and I’m sure of them. Learning about you, finding out all the little things that no one has bothered to listen to, like you not liking mustard, or that you love going on walks down at the beach when the sun has already set, when the night hides you from prying eyes and you can let your mask fall, simply brings me joy. You are such a wonderful woman, and you have lived things that I could have never even imagined, and I want to know it all. Every single second of your life.

-Please Y/N, tell me what you promised me. What’s the meaning?

-That’s simple. You. – her breath hitched in her lungs, the biggest most sincere smile painting her lips as a brand-new batch of tears fell down her cheeks. This time you let them fall as they held a completely different air around them, a voice in the back of your mind telling you that you had to let Avis guide you on this. With your left hand you pushed her hair back, caressing her cheek with your fingers while rubbing gently on her jaw with your thumb. -People have come and gone in my life and I have learnt good and bad things from them, but they all shared the same trait. They took and took and took so when I was ready to receive, they would go. You take Avis, but you also give so much in return. I have never met anyone who could care this much, who could give like this. It doesn’t matter if it’s a car, or flowers, the things that mean the most to me are the ones that no one would consider, like a bag of food with a note reminding me to eat or you taking the time to talk with Giuseppe and his family. You listen when I speak and remember the tiny little details that no one had bothered with before, like your new shampoo that smells like home. That’s the meaning of happy, simply you.

You tasted the salt of her tears as she pressed her lips to yours, her body pushing you to your back over the cotton bedsheets. With Avis now on top you could stare unabashedly up at her wonderous body, and yet your eyes could only look at hers, pupils blow wide again, lust overtaking all the sadness she had felt, but never the love and joy you had caused to bloom in her chest. The conversation was over, the time for words had passed, but she still bent until her mouth was resting over yours, brushing, tempting, whispering one final question.

-What do you want Y/N?

-Make love to me, Avis.

She could most certainly fulfil such a lovely request, her lips pressing, lingering over yours, the kiss deepening after a few moments of her simply pecking, her legs straddling you with your hands on her hips painting lazy patterns. Biting down on your lower lip she was granted access, her tongue tracing your teeth, sucking and pulling, battling your tongue, earning a groan of pleasure from deep within your throat. Her kisses went down your chin towards your neck. She already knew all the sweet spots that drove you crazy, licking, gracing the soft skin with her teeth until she left you trembling and whimpering, moving on to your pulse point. She was a pro, sucking down hard until there was a bruise identical to the one you had given her, her tongue lapping over the mark to soothe it, although there was a throb in between your legs that she could not soothe, not yet. What a wonderful journey she was taking down your body, her sloppy kisses now in the valley of your breasts, her hands kneading at the plump flesh. You gasped at the feeling, your hips buckling lightly under the weight of her pelvis, Avis groaning when you touched her still sensitive cunt, wet once more. The way her hands played and teased your breasts was maddening, thumbs brushing your stiff nipples, her mouth playing with the sensitive skin around them before finally popping one of them in her mouth. The sigh that you gave quickly turned into moans as she twirled it and sucked, screaming in surprise when she bit down, your back arching, hands holding onto her hips harder all while pressing her down onto you, aching.

Her attention moved to your other nipple, brushing it with her thumb before taking it in her mouth, twirling and biting. The way she took you and played with you was just divine, her fiery lock brushing and tickling, enhancing the thousand emotions and sensations that were overtaking your body, but she still did not stop, although her mouth was now kissing down your abdomen, licking every little stretch mark that you possessed. When she had first seen her own, years ago, she had thought no one would ever want to see her naked ever again, but your body was beautiful, a work of art, and it was also painted with them, and you never recoiled from hers, only made her feel good about them. How could she ever think that they were not sexy when you had them, and she was crazy about you? Her body had moved lower on the bed, your legs spreading to let her sit in between them, her hands rubbing circles on your hip bone as her kisses trailed lower and lower until your pubic bone was under her lips. You were not one to push or beg, you had a certain level of patience, one of the traits she loved most about you as she was an explosive force of nature, so she knew you were enjoying it how much she was making you wait even if she could feel how hot your skin was under her palms.

Her fingers played and walked all the way from your upper thigh to the ankle of your left leg, her hand wrapping around it and lifting, her lips kissing the arch of your foot, pecking the skin of your calf and sucking behind your knee, placing your leg over her shoulder. Her hot breath ghosted over your inner thigh raising goosebumps, making you whimper and close your eyes when her teeth nibbled and kissed up until the joint in between your cunt and leg, your breath hitched in your lungs. She gave you a gentle kiss over your dripping folds, a reward of sorts or perhaps a gentle torture, you were unsure, before moving to your right leg, placing it over her shoulder once she had kissed behind your knee. It was a wonderful contrast how she could taste your sweet skin and the salty tears she had just cried, the happiest tears she had ever shed in her life. She would happily stay like this forever with you in her bed, being loved, receiving every ounce of what she could give, just like she wanted, like you needed. Her kisses on your inner thigh were sweet and gentle, a far cry from the roughness she had showed you that first night, her lips inches from your centre, her breathing tickling you, cooling the juices that were coating your folds. The anticipation was staggering, your breath shaky, your hands holding onto the bedsheets on either side of you for dear life until finally her mouth made contact, and your eyes rolled back.

Her tongue was magical, moving up and down slowly, tasting, drinking in the sweetness of you while her hands pressed against your hips gently to keep you in place. The moans that were filling up the room were loud, great indication for Avis that she was doing perfectly in between your legs, taking one of your folds and sucking hard. Stars were not that far from your vision if she carried on like that, her movements faster now, her fingers accompanying her mouth as she opened you up to her, pushing one finger inside you as her lips wrapped around your clit, twirling it, sending jolts of pleasure all throughout your body. You really did not know how much you could take; you were so worked up that anything she did made your head roll back and your body arch and buckle against her face, but she still pushed your limits a little by adding a second finger, pumping in and out as fast as she could, curling her fingers. When your walls began to clench hard around her, your moans turning to incoherent screams muffled by the pillow as you thrashed your head from side to side, her licks became more applied, harder and more focused around your swollen bud, adding a third finger that stretched you up so divinely that upon feeling her thrust deep inside you hitting that spot, her lips sucking, teeth scraping you became quiet.

Everything was numb and then explosive, white fire and electricity through every limb, hips buckling erratically against Avis’s face. Your body was shaking and trembling, screaming her name until your throat became raw, nearly suffocating her as your thighs closed up around her. You rode your orgasm hard, so hard that Avis nearly had the temptation of carrying on until you were coming around her fingers a second time but decided against it, after all, the night was young. There was plenty of time for her to take you again and again until you became one with her. Your juices coated her face and hand as her pace slowed, her tongue taking it all while being careful not to touch your overstimulated clit. After a few moments you collapsed underneath her, legs releasing her and allowing her to take a deep breath, but she was not mad, she kissed your knees, her hands rubbing soothing circles on the skin of your hip bone as you came down. She wanted to check that you were okay, crawling up your body, your breasts bouncing as your body panted trying to return to a semblance of normality, her lips pecking the line of your jaw and cheeks. Still with your eyes closed you smiled and although you could not see her you were sure she was smiling as well. You hadn’t realised you were still grabbing the bedsheets, releasing them, your hands slightly numb from the strength with which you had been holding onto them, but you still brought them to the back of her neck, lazily playing with her hair.

-You are going to be hoarse tomorrow, darling.

-Hmmmm, words are overrated.

-Not after what you just told me. I think those ones are the most precious ones I will ever hear. – the way her voice laced with care and honesty made you open your eyes, her face a foot above yours, her hair framing her face just beautifully, waves tussled and dishevelled and sightly matted. – I could spend all night hearing you talk about all the things that you love about me, but I would love it even more if I could hear everything about you.

-I would like that. Over dessert?

-I thought I was your dessert. Was I not sweet enough on your tongue?

-Oh, Avis, you were delicious. – you both chuckled quietly before meeting your lips for a gentle loving kiss, her arms snaking around your neck as she dropped on her side moving you so you were still face to face. – But Teresa did give you a package

-Shit, I left in the car! I had other things in my mind.

She pecked your lips before stepping off the bed. God, she was gorgeous. Every curve was just utter temptation under the moonlight, but much to your dismay she covered them with a pink feathered robe, making her way to the door and telling you that she would be back in a minute, leaving it ajar. Your body was still tingling, and you basked in the wonderful feeling for a bit before sitting in bed observing how her dress was bunched up on the floor in between the covers, her underwear everywhere while yours rested a few feet from the full-size mirror. One of these days you would take her while standing in front of it, watch her face contort in pleasure, meeting her eyes through the reflection. You were shaken from your thoughts when Avis returned with the brown package in her hands, closing the door and climbing back on top of the mattress. Her hands were busy undoing the string, yours undoing the knot of her robe, she was far too overdress for all the things you had planned for her, placing tender kisses on her neck and shoulders as you slipped the garment off her body and onto the floor. Avis had stilled her movements, her fingers resting over the cardboard until she felt your hands wrap around her waist, pressing her back against you, finally letting her pull the top open.

-Oh, tiramisu!

-Just like Teresa to give you her favourite dessert. Uh, she likes you, she’s even given us cutlery. – your hand picked up the metal spoon, slicing through the mascarpone and biscuits before lifting it to Avis’s face. – Here, taste the most delicious thing in the planet. - She took it greedily, wrapping her lips around the scoop, lulling her head back slightly, her ear resting against your cheek, moaning loudly as she chewed.

-My God, this is marvellous. I’m going to have to hire her to cater future parties.

-Oh yeah? Am I going to have to worry about you trying to seduce her?

-It would only be for the food dear, only for the food. I would never change you for anyone, and I’ve seen gorgeous actress and actors. None of them hold a candle to you.

-Good, because I would be very upset since… - you pushed her face to the side with your fingers on her chin to meet your eyes, your lips hovering over hers. – I very much love you.

-What? I’m afraid I’m a bit hard of hearing, could you repeat it?

-I… love… you – each word was emphasized by a kiss, the remnants of coffee and mascarpone mixing with her own essence deliciously.

-Again.

-I love you.

-Again.

-Avis, I love you.

Her body turned completely, chest pressed against chest, slipping easily in your arms to kiss you properly, the dessert forgotten at the foot of the bed as she pushed you back over the mattress.

[blueskittlesart]

hihi :> i personally really enjoy your art and all the interpretations you have of the loz characters. i’ve noticed that your ocarina of time zelda/sheik has heterochromia with one eye blue, the other red. i think it’s really interesting as it combines the zelda and sheik forms. i’d like to know more about your thought process and why you did it, if you��d like :3

it’s mostly just that, i wanted to combine the designs of sheik and zelda into one consistent character! i think it’s fine to subscribe to the whole magical-appearance-change thing she’s probably got going on canonically, but i thought it would be more fun for me personally to combine them so that my version of the character could conceivably have a regular old disguise. i also like the heterochromia specifically because it gives sheik a reason to hide one of his eyes—the first time i played the game i was CONVINCED there was something important under that bang so. slight wish fulfillment for my past self maybe. but since red eyes are a sheikah trait in oot and a blue eye would have identified him as the princess it makes sense to me. you see the vision

[secret-third-winchester-brother]

drabble based on this post from @the-dormant-ocean !!!!!

cw; dean being a totally normal brother you guys.

this is my first spn fic i’m sorry if i didn’t write them very well.. sigh

lmk if you want like. a follow up.

“Y’know, women these days just have no taste. Really, I’m telling you! Not you though. Everyone else seems to be head-over-heels for dudes like my little brother. He’s a fuckin’ geek, clearly. You, however, have impeccable taste,”

Dean joked, snickering as he weaved his arm around the woman next him’s shoulder. He glanced over at Sammy, sitting in the corner of the bar, on his laptop. Probably doing research for the hunt- Christ, this kid has no idea how to have fun, does he?

“It’s not even about that. I just don’t find him physically attractive.”

Dean’s face contorts to offended confusion, stopping his laughter almost as quickly as it had started.

She probably didn’t really look at him. A miscommunication!

“No, no, you just need to seem him in the light. I mean- you’re a chick, no way you’re not into that!” Dean refutes, shuffling over and dragging Sammy to the bar.

“Look at him. Really, you can’t tell me you’re not into this at all.” He gestures to Sammy’s height, his shaggy hair, the eyes that remind him of a kicked puppy begging for affection.

“He’s just not my type, okay?” she stammers, squinting at the two. Of course, by all accounts, Sam’s not ugly. Just not the type of guy she’d go for.

“Okay, who do you think you are, huh? You sayin’ my baby brother’s ugly, what? Just- take a good look at him. Look-“ Dean says, grabbing Sammy’s shoulder and turning him around, “c’mon, you’re not seriously telling me you wouldn’t hit that ass? Please.”

She’s still not convinced?

“You mean to tell me that my Sammy here isn’t an absolute steal? Have you seen how big his shoes are, lady?” Dean’s almost yelling at this point- how dare anyone insinuate his Sammy, his baby brother, isn’t a goddamn catch? Oh, and now she’s giving him weird looks? Who the hell does she think she is?

“Is there a problem here, huh?” the bartender leans over, raising an eyebrow at Dean in a less-than-amused expression. When Dean doesn’t back down, still aggressively defending Sammy’s honor, the bartender takes the chance to tell them to leave. Sam apologizes profusely, dragging a still-swearing Dean out of the bar and into the sticky heat of the night.

Sam manages to restrain his anger until they reach the car, blowing up almost immediately. “Okay, what was that? Genuinely, Dean, what the hell? No, don’t ‘what?’ me, you were an inch away from yanking my pants off in the middle of bar, because a woman you wanted to sleep with thought I wasn’t attractive and wouldn’t change her mind. What is wrong with you?” Sam reprimands, pacing in front of Dean.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry for not wanting to bang someone with zero taste, okay?”

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

the needle gathering dust

hi! this is my gift for @swiftiefirefighters as part of the @buddietommydaily gift exchange :)! I had fun with this silly idea - and it kind of got away from me. Sorry to drag it on, but there will be a second (hopefully not a third) chapter in a few days lol. Tommy wanted to keep running into his loves instead of moving the plot forward, so here we are lol.

I hope you enjoy!

(title from Blues for Almost Forgotten Music by Roxane Beth Johnson)

~

“Agent 21! It’s been too long.”

Tommy sighed. Not again.

Sure enough, when he turned around, there stood Agent 115 and Agent 105. Matching suits, matching “hidden” guns, and matching cocky grins. Tommy was waiting for the day Agent 105 came in with scar matching Agent 115’s. Agent 115, who had spoken, had a key in his hand – that must’ve been how they got into the room. Tommy had double checked that the door was locked, but it didn’t matter when your opponents had keys.

“15, 05,” he responded dryly. “It’s been two weeks.”

Agent 115 looked deeply offended.

“He can’t even say the first digit,” he said mournfully. “Our poor ‘1’s.”

Agent 105 nodded, then added: “And two weeks is a long time for us.”

Tommy sighed again. They were almost always on the same missions as him, somehow. Half the time it didn’t even seem like something the A.A.H. would be interested in, given that they mainly focused on information over technology. Yet here they were.

“Listen, I’m just trying to do my job,” Tommy said, not able to stop the exasperation from bleeding into his voice. “All I need is the crystal.”

Agent 115 grimaced and Agent 105 sucked in a breath.

“Unfortunately,” said the former. “That’s what we’re here for, too.” 

Agent 105 nodded.

“We could always team up to get it,” continued Agent 115, a hopeful smile on his face.

Tommy blinked.

“There’s one crystal.”

“He’s got a point,” Agent 105 said quietly. Tommy started edging towards the other door as they whispered a few things to each other. They were like an old married couple – half the time, Tommy wondered if they were one. But hey – if it distracted them, it was all the better for him. Just a few more feet. . .

A shot sounded, and a metallic bang. Tommy dropped to the ground automatically, but no other shots came. He looked back at the door, only to see the handle blown off to who knows where. He growled in frustration as he turned his gaze back to the agents.

“Sorry, 21,” Agent 105 said, and he almost sounded regretful. “We can’t let you do that.”

“Seriously?” groused Tommy. These guys couldn’t mind their own business. He rolled to the side and hopped to his feet before tossing a charge at the door, then drew his own gun while waiting for the door. It never paid to be overly trusting with the A.A.H., especially with Agents 115 and 105. They always managed to cause trouble. Within seconds, both of their guns were out as well.

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” Agent 115 joked with a smile. That’s what they thought.

The door blew. A few small pieces of metal went flying, but luckily his aim was true – most of the door was still intact. The other agents stumbled away from the direction of the smoking door, but Tommy jumped towards it, kicking what was left of it in.

“T-” whichever one of them was speaking cut off with a small cough. “Agent 21, wait!”

He considered tossing a teasing reply back at them, but he didn’t have time. He had to get to that crystal before they got their wits about them (and apparently, their lungs – it really wasn’t that much smoke).

Still, a small smirk graced his face.

-

“Agents, what can I do for you?” Tommy asked dryly.

The two men startled just slightly, before whipping around to face him. Smiles lit up their faces – yugh, they were unbearable.

“Agent!” Agent 105 greeted. “We’re just browsing. How are you this fine afternoon?”

“It’s 9 P.M.”

“And?” asked Agent 115.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I’d be better if you weren’t trying to steal my score, again.”

“There’s no way we didn’t get our assignment first,” Agent 115 argued. “Tw-” Agent 105 elbowed him in the side.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you that,” the former finished. Tommy fought back a smile. If he had to have nemeses, at least they were kind of idiots (and just a little funny, but you’d never catch him admitting that). It certainly helped make up for the annoyance they caused while trying to do his job.

“Step away from the computers,” he said, serious now. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

That wasn’t entirely true; he did want to punch them sometimes, and– well, oddly enough, that was about it. Nothing else. The thought made something deep inside his brain squirm, which was decidedly not comfortable, so he brushed it aside. He couldn’t be distracted while in the field, even just for a split second. He refocused on the agents in front of him. 

And they—they had a look, something between wan and heartbroken. Tommy frowned just slightly.

“We know,” Agent 105 said softly.

What?

But then smiles slid back onto their faces, eyes shuttered, and the moment was gone. That was also decidedly uncomfortable.

“How kind of you,” Agent 115 said cheerily.

“But, we’re just about done here,” Agent 105 completed. “So–”

Tommy drew his gun and shot one of the laptops they had set up. Both A.A.H. Agents jumped and ducked away from the shrapnel.

“Seriously?” complained Agent 115.

“Couldn’t let you get away with everything,” Tommy replied, gun trained on them.

Before anyone else could speak, the other agents’ watches started blinking. They both glanced down (now, now, he could take them out right now), then looked back up at him. There was something in Agent 115’s eyes as Agent 105 started collecting their other equipment.

“Well, looks like our visit’s going to have to be cut short,” 115 said with a fake frown. The smile quickly took over his face again as Agent 105 tapped him on the shoulder, equipment packed up.

Agent 115 nodded to 105, then to Tommy. He grabbed a rope that was laying on the floor, leading to– the window. Of course. The other end was attached to the sill. With a mock salute, he jumped out the window.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Agent 105 said, before following his partner.

Tommy lowered his gun and sighed. That uncomfortable moment was still sitting in his shoulders, tension he hadn’t yet shaken. But he could still get at least some information from this mission. He holstered his gun and started plugging his own devices into the computers, trying to roll out his shoulders as he did.

But somewhere deep in his chest, past the harsh feeling, some part of him couldn’t help but feel comforted.

-

“I just keep running into them on missions,” complained Tommy. “It’s like we have a rivalry that I don’t know about!”

Lucy laughed. “Do you know how many people would kill for a nemesis, let alone two?”

Tommy rolled his eyes and picked at his salad. It was dumb.

Lucy closed the cupboard and turned back to him as she set her plate on the counter. She started dishing herself lasagna as she spoke.

“And look at you. Here you are, complaining about them. They’ve been your rivals for a while now.”

And they. They had—

“Okay, sure,” Tommy acknowledged. “But it still feels like they’re way more invested in it than I am.”

Lucy shrugged, rolling the foil back over the pan.

“I think A.A.H. agents are just extra like that,” she said as she put the lasagna back in the oven.

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally.

“What does A.A.H. even stand for?” asked Melton, entering the kitchen. There was a coffee cup in his hand and a tired look on his face – which made sense, given that Tommy was pretty sure he’d just gotten off of a 24 hour stakeout.

“It doesn’t stand for anything,” Lucy answered, sounding exasperated. Tommy hid a smile. Melton had definitely asked this before (though again: 24 hour stakeout). “It’s a designation number.”

“Ohh, right,” Melton said. A look of understanding lit up his face, and then something more sheepish. “I’ve asked that like, four times, haven’t I?”

“Six,” Tommy cut in as he stabbed a few pieces of lettuce. He ducked the coffee packet that went soaring at him with a laugh.

“In my defense, I’m always the one on stakeouts,” Melton said with mock-offense. Probably.

“Not our fault the boss hates you,” Lucy joked, taking a seat at the edge of the island.

“Hey, I like stakeouts! At least I’m not diffusing bombs all the time. It’s like they want you to blow up,” shot back the other man.

Tommy just watched as the other two bickered, smiling into his salad.

-

Tommy swung his gun to 115.

“There’s no need for us to be stupid about this,” the other man said.

“I’m not the one who said ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be a good idea to call the police?!’” Tommy practically shouted.

“Okay, well– ah, yes. But,” 115 stuttered.

Tommy switched his aim back to 105, and he could see both of their guns shift slightly.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” 115 finished exasperatedly.

“But you did do it.”

“You’re on his side?”

Tommy let them argue for a moment as he tried to figure out a way out of this. They couldn’t have more than 5 minutes before the police got here, and they couldn’t stand here in a stalemate forever. It would take at least 2 of those to even get out of the building, let alone find the ID he was looking for. He growled in frustration.

“You triggered the alarm,” he interrupted, gun swinging back to 115. They stopped arguing to retrain their weapons on him and he rolled his eyes.

“Only because he pushed me,” 115 said. Tommy went back to 105, and they followed him.

“To keep you from hitting your head on the fire extinguisher!” 105 shot back. Tommy switched again. They followed.

“How are any of us supposed to do this now?” Tommy said, and turned his gun back on 105. 115 and 105 turned their guns towards each other.

Tommy blinked.

“Wait,” 115 said.

Tommy started laughing, the stress combining with the absurdity of the situation.

“Okay, okay, stop!” 105 shouted. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. Can we all just put our guns away?”

Still laughing, Tommy clipped his gun back into its holster. He paused, surprised. Not only was he laughing, he actually put his gun down. Just because 105 said so. Hm. He didn’t like that.

Tommy cleared his throat and composed his face again. The other two sighed as they holstered their own weapons.

“Now,” 105 continued. “We have–” he moved to check his watch, but 115 interrupted with “Four”.

“--Four minutes before the police get here,” finished 105.

“Not enough time to get the folder,” 115 added.

“So you’re proposing we. . .” Tommy trailed off. Wait. What? He was sent to get the ID of an employee in this building.

“The folder?” he asked.

Both agents turned to him, confused looks on their faces. “Yeah?” 115 said. It took another second for them to both freeze.

“You’re here for something else?” 105 asked. His face was pale, his eyes were wide.

Tommy shouldn’t have said anything. He could’ve let them believe he was here for whatever the folder was and they wouldn’t suspect anything with the ID. But, it did tell him that they had no idea he was looking for something else. Which meant that the A.A.H. was farther off than they had thought.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here,” he said brusquely. “No one’s getting what they want.”

115 and 105 were still looking at him as he made sure all of his equipment was secure. There was something in their eyes again.

“What?” Tommy asked gruffly.

There was a moment of silence where they were just staring at each other. The alarm had stopped ringing shortly after 115 triggered it, and without their voices there was nothing but the hum of the air conditioning. No one moved.

Distantly, sirens faded in. Tommy shook himself out of the staring contest, and Agent 105 spoke.

“Nothing,” he said, just softer than a normal speaking volume.

Tommy didn’t have time to figure that out. He turned, offering an annoyed half wave to the other agents, and started running back the way he came. Luckily, they’d gotten in different ways. Their paths collided in that room, but otherwise, they didn’t cross. He could just get out of here. And, luckily, two more lefts and he was.

He skidded around the second to last corner, ready to– camera. It took a few more steps to come to a stop, but by the time he had, his gun was out. Crack. Luckily, his silencer was on, so it was more of a slap than a full volume gun shot. The camera flopped, attached to its body by a straining handful of wires. Tommy didn’t even bother putting his gun away before he started running again. It took him a few tries while running and not looking at it, but he managed to get it clipped back into place as he made the last turn.

Right before his hand was on the fire escape door, another alarm started blaring. It sounded different from the one 115 had triggered (which still had blinking red lights going off along the top of the wall every few yards). Uh oh. Tommy swore he could hear footsteps and yelling, but he was so far from the main entrance it probably wasn’t possible. Ignoring it, he pushed open the fire escape (he’d cut the alarm wires on his way in) and burst out into the sunlight.

-

Lucy kicked the burnt. . . something lightly. Tommy thought it looked like a computer, but he honestly wasn’t sure.

The place was crawling with B.A.G. agents. Floodlights were being set up, items were being bagged, burnt and crushed items were being studied. It was a flurry of activity, but Tommy could still see what happened here.

“This was definitely them,” he said. Lucy looked up from the wreckage in front of her.

“Who?” she asked with a small frown.

“Agent 115 and 105,” Tommy answered, crossing his arms. He nodded towards the pile of burnt items. “I’ve seen them do that.”

Lucy blinked at him. What?

Eventually, she said: “Okay, Mr. Nemesis. I don’t even know how they would’ve done this, though.”

“They have an explosive that reacts to the coolant inside computers,” Tommy supplied immediately.

How did he know that?

Lucy stared at him again.

“How do you know that?” she asked incredulously.

The question of the hour. Had they mentioned it? Had he seen plans for it, even on a mission they weren’t on? He– Tommy had no idea.

He swallowed. “I heard them mention it.”

Lucy snorted as she looked back down at the (presumably electronic) remains.

“Your nemeses have big mouths,” she said.

Yeah, sure. He was pretty sure he was the one with the big mouth.

“They were gloating,” Tommy answered numbly.

“I guess. Still kind of dumb,” the other agent said. She shrugged. “But, it doesn’t matter. It’ll all get tested and we’ll figure it out. We’re B.A.G.”

Maybe it would be better if they didn’t. Then it wouldn’t prove Tommy right.

Tommy nodded, but couldn’t get his vocal cords to work.

Lucy walked away towards a group of lab techs, and Tommy just stared after her.

-

“Can you pass me the blue?”

Tommy smiled. He always used blue, in any craft.

“Here,” he said, just a hint of teasing in his voice. There was a small laugh from behind him, and Evan rolled his eyes.

“You two need to stop ganging up on me,” he said with mock annoyance.

Tommy has to physically restrain himself from making an innuendo as he turns back to his own work. Evan does take the blue, though.

“Never will,” Eddie responds. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep,” Tommy confirms, glancing back at Evan. The love in the other man’s eyes nearly takes his breath away. Even through the joking, and even after this long, it still leaves him speechless.

“Good,” Evan says after a moment, a smile on his face.

Tommy woke up to darkness and a beating heart. 

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like the time he fell out of a second story window. There was a memory, of stark clarity and yet impossible to describe. A dream. Of a—a house, or a kitchen, or maybe just a weird realm of light. And something in his hands. A mix between a paintbrush and a pen, and maybe sandpaper. There was a person to his left, that he couldn’t see, and a person to his right, that was—Lucy, maybe. Or Derrick from accounting, or an A.A.H. agent he met once, or a mix of all three. And his chest was on fire but his hands were freezing. It didn’t make any sense.

But now his chest was tight. His shoulders too. There was sweat on his back, and his legs, and it was too warm and that must’ve been a nightmare, because he now felt terrified. There was a pinprick ache in his temples, like he was grinding his teeth.

And nothing made sense.

[sunburnacoustic]

Muse - Q Awards 2007

Some shitty quality but fascinating pics of Muse with other musical stars of the 00s at the 2007 Q Awards, where Muse were seen talking to Shirley Bassey, Nicky Wire (Manic Street Preachers), Ricky Wilson (Kaiser Chiefs), Ian Brown (Stone Roses), the singer Mika (who apparently really likes Muse!) and Kate Nash.

And Muse themselves, triumphant winners of the Best Live Act award at 2007 Q's, beating Arcade Fire, The Killers, Arctic Monkeys and Kasabian.

Q Magazine did feature their awards in the Nov 2007 edition of Q, so I can sneak in a picture from there too (thanks Musewiki <3)

Here's what Muse had to say about it all (Q interview)

Rate your day on a scale of 1 to 10. Dominic Howard (drums): I'd say pushing eight. When we woke up hung over in Serbia this morning, it was about minus 5. But getting back to London pushed it up a few points and then winning this award pushed it up further again. By the time we get to the party later we'll hopefully have pushed it to 11.

This is the 3rd time you've picked up the Best Live Act Award. Not getting bored of it yet, are you? Matthew Bellamy (vocals/guitar): No, it's nice that we've bagged this again. We're not getting bored of playing live and we're not bored of people liking our performances either.

Your plane from Belgrade landed about an hour ago. you didn't get a nice early night in preparation for today, then?

MB: Not quite. Last night Belgrade was Bel-degrade. It got quite dark. I wasn't involved, but it included a transsexual called Pete. And a dildo. Pete was sat on your knee for quite a while Dom, wasn't that right? DH: (Solemnly) No.

Does visiting new cities give you more licence to misbehave? MB: Yeah, a bit. We've been lucky this year in that we've been able to go to new places - Eastern Europe, Asia, Mexico. Sometimes on tour you just cocoon yourself in your hotel room and keep your head down until gig time. being somewhere new puts you in the mood to get out more and meet new people, just to find new experiences.

So what's the oddest experience on tour this year? DH: Sorry, I can't get the transsexual out of my head now. Indonesia was interesting, mainly because I could've got killed. We'd taken a few silly things and we decided to check out some local bars in a really rough part of town. The houses were all corrugated iron and we had chickens running over the bonnet of the car, people banging on our windows. One of the guys got out of our car and he got shouted at, so we got out of there as fast as possible. But we were told later that we were lucky we didn't get shot, then robbed.

MB: Our tour manager got robbed by three ladyboys in a lift there, too.

Have you had any celebrity fans coming to the shows?

Christopher Wolstenholme (bass): In LA the kid for The Sixth Sense (Hayley Joe Osment) came to see us. I think he crashed his car on the way home.

MB: Paris Hilton to the LA show, too. But she left during Knights of Cydonia, which is the first song on the set. If we're offending Paris Hilton we must be doing something right.

The UK people will see your two Wembley Stadium shows in the summer as the pinnacle of the Muse live experience. How were those shows for you?

MB: I think we did our best. It's an amazing venue and the crowds made those shows. Big shows like that aren't just about the band, its about the whole experience and watching the crowd is part of the fun. It definitely gave us a taste for more of those big shows.

Any outrageous stage props that got vetoed by the council? Ten-foot-high robots and the like?

MB: Well, we wanted to have helicopters doing a balloon drop and circling above us with searchlights spotlighting the crowd, but apparently you're not allowed to have helicopters fly over big crowds in case they fall out of the sky and start mincing up. Which is fair enough, I suppose.

DH: We wanted to arrive by Zeppelins and drop down to the stage, but we weren't allowed to do that either...

MB: We're gonna make that happen next time. You can get these business Zeppelins now, like a private jet, so we could fly from gig to gig, descend for the gig and then get lifted back into the Zeppelin lounge.

So how do you go about topping Wembley? MB: We'll probably start from scratch again and build things back up with smaller gigs. DH: We'd like to do multiple nights in smaller venues. We might have more people onstage.

[Q mishears] Q: Small people onstage? DH: Yeah, more small people. Like Spinal Tap. No, it'd just be good to have the time to evolve the whole musical side of the show.

Is this tour ever going to end? MB: Technically, it's over in December. But there are a few more things that we've been offered for next year, so who knows?

The rumour is that you're going to headline Glastonbury again next year... MB: Ooh, that's a strong question! Very strong. Well, Glastonbury is a festival that's very close to our hearts. And it'll be amazing to play it again...sometime. But next year's plans have yet to be settled upon.

So we'll take that as a "yes" then? MB: No, don't take it as anything. DH: It's a maybe. CW: It's a flat "no".

Back to today: is there anyone here you really want to meet? MB: I'd love to say hello to Paul McCartney. But so would everyone here, I bet. We'll not be allowed near him.

Are you pretty sociable when you're at parties without musicians? MB: It's like when two dogs meet in the park: they eye each other up for a bit, then have a sniff around each other. So we'll see who's smelling OK later. Who's that? (Points at Damon Albarn posing for Q's photographer) Damon Albarn? (Unimpressed) Oh...

What do you want for pudding? DH: What's the obsession with pudding here? Someone else just asked us that. CW: We'll say something classic. Bread-and-butter pudding. Can't go wrong there.

So what are you doing next? MB: I have a meeting with out lawyers. Very rock'n'roll. But we'll be out at the party later. These days if we're in London it usually means we have to work, so one of the ideas in coming to this was to have a big night out.

Pics - microcuts.net archives | article - MuseWiki.

[teecupangel]

Tags from @crispybureau

#yesss all of this YES #them meeting in the madrid facility is SO big brained #especially if others ALSO recognise Desmond as either Ezio or Altaïr or Ratonhnhaké:ton or even other past selves #and cal and moussa look at him like ''just how many of your ancestors were assassins' '#oooh oooh and maybe they were dating and/or fucking when cal killed that guy and got arrested #(have no idea if the timeline would line up but bear with me) #but des has no idea what happened to him and it's right before the templars find him #so des doesnt have TIME to really wonder what happened to cal #so they're not really exes when they get to madrid but mostly because they werent ever really TOGETHER #but also they were sort of together until cal disappeared and des never knows if he just got cold feet or something #BUT by the time of they see each other again theyre both fully aware of the animus and past lives #especially des #who takes one look at cal and says ''aguilar'' and cal has to contend with how des knows that name and recognises him by it #while also dealing with the plot of the movie and learning all this stuff #because at least des grew up an assassin #where was i going with this i had a point to this #fish rambles #teecupangel #desmond #callum #calmund

At least two had direct connections with Ezio in the facility. Lin is the descendant of Shao Jun and Emir is the descendant of Yusuf.

Just imagine Lin and Emir stare at Cal being a pain for both Abstergo and the other prisoners then turn to look at Desmond silently judging his taste.

Desmond just shrugs because Aguilar wouldn’t do this. That means that’s all Cal and Desmond actually feels comforted by that fact.

If anyone asks, they’d be like “he’s not my ex, we… weren’t exactly together?” because both of them will absolutely not admit that there was the beginning of something but they were both cowards who pretended that, nope, there’s nothing there.

Oh, you know what would be fun? If they Cal usually tops and the first time they actually had sex, they’re in the Madrid facility and the first time Desmond tops, it’s in the Madrid facility and BAM

They start bleeding as Aguilar and Ezio and kept banging anyway.

And that is how the two of them ‘realized’ that their ancestors may or may not have been fucked buddies with hidden feelings for each other.

sorry to be one of the seven cal lynch likers but I like to daydream about if him and desmond ever met

They’d bang.

They’d definitely bang.

They’d look at each other’s eyes and go “ah, a fellow daddy issue-r” and bang XD

Okay, but in all seriously, I can imagine Cal being employed as a bouncer in Bad Weather while Desmond was working there. And they’d both try to pretend to not be Assassins. They gravitate towards one another because they could feel a sorta kindred spirit.

But they both would never talk about being Assassins, only being vague like “I left because my father chased me out of the house” and “my mother was killed and they never caught her killer” for Cal and Desmond’s jokingly saying he ran away from his cultists parents.

It’s a ‘sore’ subject that none of them really wished to talk about.

But they definitely grew close and whether they were in a relationship or if they were fuck buddies is up to you.

Cal is actually the one who left and Desmond never knew why.

(It was during this time that Cal actually killed someone and was arrested but no one knew that they should tell Desmond about it)

By the time Cal escaped Abstergo and managed to contact the Assassins, he learns of what happened to Desmond.

And well… Cal definitely wants more information, even if it means getting it from Abstergo.

(If you wanna add a bit of ‘history repeats itself’ deal with this one, Aguilar and Ezio also banged. Maybe once… or twice XD)

[hailsatanacab]

Happy Ghouls and Gangs DPxDC Bang event posting week!! Here's what I've been working on for the @dpxdcbigbang 🥰

Summary:

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. He spends it taking care of the manor and watching over its inhabitants, just as he does every other day. It’s an exhausting, never-ending task, that he wouldn’t change for the world. But that night, he is confronted by a stranger in his rooms with a copy of every single soul-binding contract he’s signed for the protection of his family. The new Ghost King wants to update his terms and conditions.

Alfred POV, Ghost King Danny, with some Post-Vivisection goodness and only a little (a lot) of blood and gore and medical fun, but that's for later. Not for the squeamish, please check the tags!!

Snippet under the cut!

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth.

He wakes up early enough to be ready to greet Master Duke with breakfast when he shambles into the kitchen, he cleans, he greets the rest of the manor’s residents when they finally make it downstairs, he cleans, he goes down to the cave to rouse Master Tim from another sleepless night, he cleans.

It’s a quiet day, or as much as one can be when the place he calls home is filled with vigilantes.

He drops off Masters Damian, Tim, and Duke at school and uses the rest of the trip to pick up some groceries for dinner. Coq au vin tonight, he thinks, it’ll be perfect for the changing of the seasons. A mushroom and lentil substitute for Master Damian will do lovely.

The rest of the day is spent preparing the meal and doing a spot of gardening before it’s time for the school run again. He can’t help but smile fondly as he listens to them needle and tease each other, only stepping in when it starts to become too pointed.

Yes, it’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. It’s at night when it all changes.

There’s a ghost waiting for him in his room. 

A soft glow emanates from the creature’s vaguely transparent body and a crisp frost creeps slowly across the floor, sparkling in the darkness like diamonds.

“Mr. Pennyworth?” it says, the voice bouncing off the walls so that it sounds like hundreds of beings instead of one.

Fear squeezes at his heart and the air in the room turns dark and heavy, so that Alfred struggles to breathe. His mouth is dry, his head is swimming, and he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to survive the night.

[chemzee]

random oodles compalation

[viewfinder-chernobyl]

POV: its 2012, youre in hot topic just trying to exchange your hot cash, but this fucking guy just bit your cashier! rude!

[adriartts]

alas, turns out grad school is hard so i haven't been drawing much of anything BUT. now. some side characters for yall

[phantombitemark]

I’m obsessed

[starflungwaddledee]

which ocs in the fandom do you find the most interesting? also, which ocs do you think have the most aesthetically pleasing designs? finally, which ocs have you only heard of but would like to know more about?

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nooooooo ha haaa noooo i can't possibly answer this because it would be soooo unfair to have favourites wouldn't it's comet knight by @kittenvirus

[glorious-blackout]

Well, after 13 years of writing fanfic I've finally written my first smut scene 😅

[nerdie-faerie]

Just when I think the day's going well, I crash a golf cart

[springandchocolat]

୨♡୧ ┊ trans eve wakamiya layouts ₊˚⊹♡

for day one of @strawberrysnipes birthday event: a character with a birthday in june (we nearly share a birthday... off by one day ˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥)