#(It was really boggling why cars 2 decided to focus on him like WHAT)

[amberandmetal]

I see you | Ch.2

❖ Mature

❖ Contains Dom/sub dynamics, more specifically DD/lg (check series masterlist for info), references to past abuse but nothing to graphic (if you are unsure, dm me and I’ll be happy to answer any questions)

❖ Working for an event planner company you’ve been assigned to chaperone a Stark afterparty, making sure everything run smoothly. When things turn upside down you find yourself in the company and comfort of none other than the Tony Stark - and for some reason he doesn’t seem to want to let you walk out of his life.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

I

     Your sister had not been happy about you stalking in at 6 in the morning, especially since it had woken up the baby. You had felt a bit ashamed as his piercing screams had started tearing through the house.

        “You just count your blessings that he doesn’t like you yet.” she had snapped as she’d made her way into the nursery while you seized the opportunity and slipped into your room, closing the door with a relieved sigh.

        In what fresh hell do you manage to spend the night on Tony Stark’s couch in his garage ? Really, y/n? Really ?

        You shake your head and quickly make a beeline for the windows, closing the drapes and then shimmy out of your dress and underwear to flop naked onto your bed, letting your hair out of its ridiculous hairband confinement. The sheets are cool against your still sleep-heated skin. You close your eyes and wrap yourself in them, stretching and curling around on your bed until it looks more like a nest than a proper bed. Finally satisfied with the pillow, sheets and duvet arrangements you let out a deep exhale, feeling every muscle in your body untense.

        Deep mahogany brown eyes drift into your conscience and you jerk, your eyes flying open. What the fuck? You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the warm tingling feeling that had settled in your chest. No, no. Nonsense . Once again you try to get comfortable but this time a meticulous goatee framing plush soft looking lips turnt up into a crooked grin sneaks into your mind. No no, no .

        You try to clear your head, focusing on the feeling of the sheets against your skin but as a moth to flame your thoughts blurr into the shapes of brown tousled hair and rough yet delicate fingers, long and smudged with oil grease. You let out an irritated huff and start to count your breaths, violently pushing the unwanted thoughts out of your focus.

        Inhale , one, exhale; inhale , two, exhale; inhale, three, exhale; inhale, four, exhale..

II

        (09.24)Tony:         I exchanged our numbers while you were sleeping. hope you dont mind. You forgot your Devil wears prada heels on my couch

        (09.27)Tony:         Did you sleep? Hope you did. Still looked a bit shaky when you left, kiddo

        (10.42)Tony:         See this is what the “wildly inappropriate being completely my thing” was about. What can I say? I completely denounce all kinds of social protocol. Dont tell me I didnt warn you

        Your eyes seem to have frozen, permanent in their state of boggling right out of your skull. You move for the cliche trick of pinching your arm. The skin left by your fingers turn slightly pink and you shiver. Nope, definitely awake. Your thumb hover over the screen. You can’t deny the familiar fluttering in your chest the unexpected texts brought on but at the same time you feel a sense of wariness climbing your back and settling in the hollow where your spine meets your neck. What’s his angle?

        You set the phone down next to your thigh on the bed and let your head rest in the palms of your hands. This whole situation has become completely surreal. How has it even come to this?

        Brown eyes fleet back into your mind, but not the honeywarm ones that refused to leave your thoughts earlier that morning but turbid, hollow ones; like the colour the water takes on when your feet stir up umber slime from the lake floor.

        He had been there. How had he been there? At that same party? How had he even known where you were? Surely he must’ve been there for you, what other business could he have had at a Stark afterparty? He was the editor in chief for a newspaper for fuck’s sake. He would never have been invited.

        Another memory flash across your vision and you suddenly feel a tingling around your upper arm where his hand had clamped around you. The need to vomit is suddenly overwhelming and you rush into the small bathroom next to your dresser.

        Moments later with a stomach -if possible- emptier than before you slump down on your bed, a fluffy blanket wrapped around your naked body, cold from the chilly bathroom tiles.

        (12.01)Tony:

        I am aware of the one sided communication taking place here but I just need to know youre okay. A simple o.k would suffice. Dont make me check in on you. The stalker vibe doesnt suit me.

        You smile despite of yourself and the thoughts filled with lurid memories of the last year of your life slowly gets replaced by others; memories of hot breaths against warm skin, stubble rasping sensitive flesh, tufts of disheveled chocolate hair tickling the inside of your thigh, hands made to caress and protect rather than to strike, lovebites being soothed by warm kisses raining down on you like snowfall, whiskey eyes and pink lips turned up in a smile.

        Your breath catch in your throat as the images from that morning’s dreams flows through your thoughts. You hadn’t thunk it possible but you are starting to seriously question the possibility of your heart beating right out of your chest.

        Wow .

        (12.17)Y/n:

        Hello, Mr.Stark. I am so sorry about last night. And sorry for the late reply, I slept for longer than I intended. Thank you for telling me about the shoes, I must’ve been more out of it than I thought. I am okay, thank you for the consideration. I’ll pick up the shoes later today, if that is okay?

        You cringe at the stiff formal wording but you have no idea how to play this. Why is he so..casual? And why does he even care so much? The thought of Tony Stark genuinely caring about you has your mind kind of reeling a bit.

        (12.18)Tony:         No.

        Your heart stops.

        (12.18)Tony:         Easier to just go outside and get them, wouldn’t you say?

        What the..?

        You get up and go to the windows, peeking out through the drapes, thinking he’s had his PA drop them off but there is nothing on the curb, not a living soul in sight, just parked cars lining up the street on both sides. Among them a creepy looking black car, way too fancy for this neighborhood. It wouldn’t surprise you if it is the FBI doing surveillance on your creepy ass next door neighbor. You sigh, scratching your neck, not knowing what to make of any of it. You decide to let it sit for a while, especially when you get a glimpse of the time and realise you’re late for work. You don’t have time for a shower so some wet wipes and perfume will have to do. 10 minutes later you are out of the door, barefoot with your sneakers hanging by their laces in your hand as you fumble with the keys to the door.

        “Is it a bohemian thing?,” You jump, completely startled, “or is it just a hate of shoes in general?”

        As you spin around and get greeted by the sight of Tony Stark leaning nonchalantly against a sleek black car (that looks unnervingly familiar) you become extremely aware of the embarrassing sound that had just escaped your throat.

        “W-what?”

        “The no shoes thing,” he says, vaguely gesturing to your bare feet, ”Everytime I see you, though admittedly it’s only been twice now, you seem adamant to not wear your shoes.”

        There’s a laugh twinkling in his eyes that are peering at you over the expensive looking sunglasses. The amused smile playing on his lips is infectious and you release a quiet breath you weren’t aware you had been holding and you relent, giving a small smile back.

        “It’s not so much a hatred of shoes as the love of feeling my ground beneath me,” you take a few hesitant steps down the stairs to the sidewalk when you notice something red glinting in the afternoon sun, “oh, you didn’t have to.. I would’ve come by to pick them up.”

        He holds your shoes up as if examining them and then glances back to you.

        “I couldn’t take the chance, now could I?,” he grins but then his demeanor changes as he scratches the back of his head, ruffling up his hair and squinting at you through his designer sunglasses, “and to be perfectly honest I got worried when you didn’t answer my texts. You seemed pretty shaken up last night so I wanted to make sure..” he cut himself short with a sheepish shrug.

        “I promise you I’m not creeping, this is just genuine concern, okay? And Happy here,” he gestures to the driver’s side of the car, “ conveniently remembered where you live.”

        You inch closer from the stairs until you’re right in front of him. Images from your dream spark in the back of your mind and you feel a warm sensation as your body begins to heat.

        “I don’t mind. Really— it’s nice.”

        Tony huffs a small chuckle.

        “Well, that’s great then. Listen, you need a ride to work?”

        You quirk an eyebrow.

        “You know where I work?”

        “With your freakout last night about me telling your ‘boss’ I kinda put two and two together.” he informs with a wink, opening the back door and gesturing for you to get in.

        A small blush creeps up on your cheeks. Oh, that .

        As you got in you could’ve sworn hearing Tony mumbling something that sounded terribly close to “ adorable ”.

III

        The car ride was pleasant. Despite your initial wariness Stark had been nothing but kind, easy going and, strangely enough, hilarious. Somehow this man totally gets your kind of humour which, sadly, is a big first.

        Tony also have a smile that manages to light up the entire room, or in this instance: car. It is beyond infectious and you yet again feel yourself relax in his calming presence. It’s strange, you’ve never met anyone before who seemed to have this certain aura about them that just invited for comfort and ease. It was like being unknowingly doused with a shot of valium; except valium never made you feel quite this..giddy.

        He's in the middle of telling you a story and you throw your head back and laugh, not caring in the slightest that you snort a little.

        “Your robot did what ?”

        He laughs, leaning back with a denim clad leg propped up on the seat next to him; the casual appearance a stark contrast to the meticulous suit tailored image you’re used to seeing in the media.

        “Hah, yeah well.. I must’ve missed a few screws when I made DUM-E, or I screwed a few on too tight.”

        You peer curiously at him.

        “So why do you keep it? Why don’t you fix it or turn it into something else?”

        A strange expression sets across his face, something almost wistful.

        “Well, firstly because to me he is not an it but a he , and he’s my first. I made him at a time in my life where I .. let’s just say I needed the company,” he squints at you momentarily as the sun moves behind your back, and then continues less serious, with even the touch of a smile tugging at his lips, “He is like that idiotic puppy you get for x-mas one year who won’t stop peeing on the rug or drink the toilet water but you still love the little bastard.”

        You feel warm sudden. All the PR proclaiming this image of Tony E. Stark: emotionless playboy, attitude for miles, unattainable and mighty, and here was this sweet man, slung casually over a three seater in jeans and a The Doors t-shirt talking about his creations like they were people, like they were his family. Before you can give yourself the chance to reconsider you open your mouth.

        “Can I see you again?”

        His brows shoot up on his forehead and his eyes look almost comical in their surprised state. You curse your entire face as your cheeks betray you by heating up again.

        He sits up, looking you over, then licks his lips, peering at you over his sunglasses.

        “You want that?”

        You smile sheepishly and nodd.

        He beams.

        “Absolutely.”

IIII

        “Looks like someone charmed the pants off a certain Stark last night.”

        Oh god, what now?

        You turn around, plastering a fake smile on your face and feeling a little sick with yourself in doing so but hey, you need this job. If you lose it there is a good chance your sister is going to kill you, or bare minimal maime you a little. You look down at your boss, she is at least 6 inches shorter than you but that does not make her any less terrifying.

        “Boss, hey.. Look I am so sorry— “

        “Sorry? For what? You must’ve done an amazing job last night since this is the first time we’ve actually received a call after hosting a Stark event. Stark’s assistant called me up this morning, this proper little thing Ms. Potts,” you coughed, covering the chuckle that bubbled up in your throat at your boss calling the 5'7" Pepper Potts little, “ and she absolutely rained praises over you, telling me they’d only like you to handle their business from now on.. strange seeing as you were only the chaperone.”

        A weird expression set in her perfectly painted face, a mix of awe and suspicion. You swallow thickly.

        “Oh, well that’s great. I’m honoured, really—”

        “Yes, well,” she sniffs, her face an alarming blend of stern eyes and a blinding smile, “don’t fuck it up. It’s our most important client.”         She pats you on your shoulder and then sashays back into her office, leaving you standing in the hallway wondering at exactly what point during the last 24 hours you’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in Wonderland.

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[artsynanotech]

Fuck My Undead Life - Part 2 - Pornographic Boogaloo

I got the chance to watch the video tonight. I had only planned on showing Michella and Caroline, but Xavier and his cohort overheard our conversation and demanded we make a damn movie night out of it. As if I haven’t embarrassed myself in front of him enough already, damn his smug blueblood face.

I don’t want to go into the details, save that the film was… disturbingly real. Everything about my double was perfectly copied. The way I walked, the way I spoke, every physical detail down to the birthmarks. If you ignore the fact that passing myself from guy to guy is disgustingly out of character, there’d be no reason not to think it was me. God, to think my coterie knows what my junk looks like, that Xavier does, that Maxwell does…  Even if we do find out who made that film, I’m never going to live this down.

It has to be my ex. I don’t know how, but I can’t think of anyone else with the knowledge or motive to pull this off. I always assumed he’d just move on after I left, find someone new to bully. I never seemed that important to him. But who else copy me so accurately? He’s the only one who ever saw me that intimately, and at enough length to commit those details to memory. Yet at the same time the film contained truthful details about the Camarilla and our Masquerade, and how would he know about that? The implications are disconcerting to say the least. I texted Charlotte to ask if she could find out what he’s been up to since I left him, just to be safe.

Julian Chen, you scumbag. If this is you I swear to Christ you’ll regret it.

Luckily we were able to pull some useful information from the tape. The studio that made it was a local one called High Moon. Xavier took some of his anarchs to check it out.  They were gone for a couple hours and didn’t come back with much. While my coterie was busy running, the Camarilla of D.C. was busy cleaning house. The studio had gone up in flames and killed everyone inside. Xavier joked that we’d need to talk to the dead if we wanted any more information. Of course I would know someone who can do just that, and of course he’d have dumped me the night before. Because I have just that sort of luck.

The group reacted to Ares’ clan heritage about as well as could be expected: general confusion and disgust. But Caroline demanded he and I smooth out our differences and as awkward as that would be, I knew she was right. I excused myself and gave Ares call. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. I was so nervous. What if he didn’t pick up? What if he did? Why would he even agree to help me? Well he didn’t pick up, but someone else did. A guy. I felt sick for a moment. Had Ares found a rebound that quickly? He didn’t seem the type, given how slow he’s been taking things with me. Then came a wave of jealously, thinking about how someone else was with my Giovanni. But it turns out I was talking to Ares’ brother, Hermes. I felt like a total heel right about then.

I made an absolute fool of myself, of course, trying to be vague about my relationship to Ares while still being clear about our falling out and my need for his assistance. Hermes saw right through it though and promised to get Ares to call me back. He was rather good natured about the whole thing, and wonder of wonders, he said Ares still cared. I couldn’t say I really believed it, but it was nice to hear all the same. And yet it was true, as not ten minutes later Ares returned the call. Words cannot describe how apologetic he was. Whatever I needed, he said, he’d provide. Anything to help. I was so relieved. I wanted to be mad at him for the previous evening but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything other than hope. Ares still had some explaining to do, of course, but that could wait. He hadn’t abandoned me and that was all that mattered.

Caroline, Michella, and I returned to the city. Ares’ sire had recently purchased a home there, where he and his brother were both currently staying. It was a large, beautiful mansion. Much nicer than any place I’d ever set foot before. Ares was waiting for us at the door. I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to seeing him in that environment. I know he comes from money, but he doesn’t look like he does most of the time. And given how much time we spent in my apartment as opposed to his... Well I suppose it doesn’t matter. There are more important things to focus on. His brother seemed nice, if a bit overly familiar with Michella. But they seemed to hit it off, and went to chat somewhere else while Ares, Caroline, and I attempted to contact one of the recently deceased High Moon employees. Using the DVD as a focus Ares was able to call one up for the three of us to speak to. The poor man didn’t know he was dead. It felt cruel to pull him back in such confusion, but I couldn’t focus on that. My life and the lives of my friends were on the line.

We found out my double - who was going by the seriously cringe-worthy name Sissy Knight – came to High Moon with a “talent scout” who known Sunny D. Hermes knew who he was, at least, and promised to get us all in to a yacht party Mr. D was hosting. He even provided appropriate clothes for the occasion. Of course “appropriate” in this case means revealing and form fitting. I must say, though, we rocked our new looks rather well. If it weren’t for the fact that we had a job to do I might have actually enjoyed going out like that with Ares. I might actually suggest it if we survive. I’m normally not the clubbing type, but I do enjoy the thought of going out dancing with him more than I initially thought I would.

Charlotte texted me back right about then. Julian dropped off the radar shortly after I moved to D.C. He’d been seen fighting with a guy he started seeing after me. Things got heated – and violent – outside a bar and the two of them disappeared shortly after. I felt a knot in my stomach. I had hoped to rule Julian out, but the more I think on it the more I feel he has to be involved.

Fast forward to the yacht, because this is where we finally started to make some headway. We managed to get on board with relatively little difficulty. Hermes and Michella took to the dance floor to search for our target. Ares and I took another section of the boat. We found a kindred on board who was hunting for me with all the enthusiasm of a wet towel. In hindsight approaching him was a bad idea, though he had no clue who I was so I suppose it worked out.

Caroline was the one who found Mr. D. We spotted her going to a private cabin with him. Michella, Ares, and I followed. Michella worked some impressive thaumaturgy and thoroughly busted the earpieces on Mr. D’s security team, giving us the in we needed to slip by them. It didn’t take long to find the cabin. It was locked. Ares kicked in the door with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm.

Sunny D did not take our entrance well, but Caroline managed to grab his gun before he could. It proved an invaluable tool in getting him to answer our questions. Apparently he’d met my double through Khan, of all people. Because of course Khan would be involved. My hope spot soured immediately, and my thoughts were entirely filled with stringing up that arrogant bastard by his precious computer cords.

Hermes opted to stay at the party, so Ares “acquired” a car for us to leave in. We decided to visit Khan’s arcade hideout. Even if he wasn’t there, we might be able to find clues to where he might be. Caroline aced the Mario hack to get in. Will this women ever stop finding new and unusual ways to impress me? Khan was there, fiddling with a toaster. He seemed put off by our presence. Well, mine specifically. I demanded he tell me where my double came from. He insisted it was me, that I had come to him asking for help breaking into the porn industry. God, he even had security footage of me doing it! My double acted my part so perfectly that for a moment I wondered if I had actually done it. It was maddening. He knew about Ares! And how Ares and I haven’t, well, been as intimate with each other as I would like. It’s not something I like to dwell on or push Ares about. This is his first relationship and I want to respect his boundaries. The fact that this Sissy Knight could exploit that frustrates me to no end.

Khan asked if watching the footage jogged my memory. I insisted that it wasn’t me, and he told me to “own my shit.” The discussion got heated and I almost lost control of my temper. But taking a moment to calm down was exactly what I needed to get a little burst of inspiration. I looked at the time stamp on the video and compared it to my schedule over the past month. As it turns out Ricardo and I were busy at a gallery that evening. I had photos to prove it, which I was more than happy to shove in Khan’s smug, bandana-covered face.

His mood actually improved. I guess the appeal of a seemingly impossible mystery was too much for him to resist. He tracked down my double in no time. Mr. Knight was working the streets in Richmond. It seems this is Caroline’s turf, as she made a few phone calls and arranged for someone there to locate and detain my double. I think she offered payment in drugs. Just how many hidden sides does she have? The mind boggles…

Leaving Kahn’s arcade proved much harder than getting in. No sooner did we exit than we were ambushed by a sniper, two other gunmen, and a buy with a nail-studded baseball bat. The sniper landed a shot on Ares’ shoulder while the other three charged at us. I made a beeline for the car. I hoped I could bowl some of them over with that, though the situation quickly turned into myself and Caroline hiding in the car while our assailants took swings at us. Michella and Ares stayed outside and held two of them off as best they could. I won’t lie, things were looking pretty grim. The guy with the bat popped one of our tires. Then Son showed up. Oddly enough he went for the attackers first, but this gave me enough time to punch down on the gas and get us out of there. Michella managed to get into the car on her own, and Caroline pulled Ares in as we sped away.

Son gave chase. Very, very fast chase. My own celerity pales in comparison. Do Malkavians even know celerity? Whatever the case, it was all I could do to keep the car from toppling over while we tried to outpace the Scourge. Thankfully we found a parking garage to pull off in. Michella save the day with an impossibly fast car theft, and we sped off in an undamaged vehicle just before Son caught up. Pretty soon we’d lost him entirely.

There was no time to get to Richmond before sunup. We stopped at the anarch safe house instead. I can’t wait for tomorrow. We’ll finally get to the bottom of this mystery. And if that pit in my stomach is right, if Julian is behind this, then he’s going to find out I’m not the same person I was when I left him. This time I’m going to fight back.

#Session recap #IC