#the set designers & stylists need to step it up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thoseboysinblue · 1 year

Text

Midnight

Christian Pulisic x reader

You and Christian find yourselves hosting a New Year’s Eve party for your closest friends.

Word count: 2500+

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Smut, fluff

New Year's Eve, the night Chelsea typically held their annual charity gala. It was an excellent excuse to get dressed up, spend an evening with friends and eventually end up at someone's house for an after party.

Early in December, Christian had surprised you by having his stylist bring over a selection of designer gowns for you to choose from, all of which complemented the suit he was planning to wear.

"I can't, Christian, it's too much" you'd protested.

"It's not, please let me spoil you like I want to, baby, consider it a Christmas gift" he grinned at you.

"Fine, but nothing else, got it?" you'd given into him, unable to deny him anything when he flashed that dimple at you along with those honey colored eyes.

"Sure, sure" he held his hands up feigning innocence even though he knew he had a stack of overly extravagant gifts for you already hidden.

The evening of the gala had arrived, you and Christian getting ready separately with the help of his stylist and a hair and makeup team he'd also surprised you with.

When you step into his foyer, the sound of your heels on the marble tile catching his attention, his stylist made one final adjustment to his suit before turning to smile at you and muttering a "I'll leave you two alone" patting him on the shoulder as she disappeared to begin packing up her things.

"You look, wow" was all he could manage to get out as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

"God only knows what you've paid for this make up, Chris, don't ruin it before we get out the door" you chuckled at him as he moved to kiss down your exposed neck and shoulders.

"I'll pay them double to fix it" he whispers along your collar bone as you tilt your head back letting out a faint moan.

As his kisses trail back up to your lips, you place one more, delicate kiss to his lips, resting your forehead against his and placing your hands over his chest, "What about you, Christian? You look.." your words cut off as you bite your lip taking a step back to look him up and down again.

He blushes slightly under your attentive gaze. "It's gonna be hard for me to keep my hands off of you all night," you whisper against his lips, kissing him softly again until you hear his stylist clear her throat behind you.

You both turn to face her, Christian wrapping a hand around your waist. "You've outdone yourself tonight," he smiles at her, pulling you into him a little closer and giving your hip a squeeze.

"Just as you asked" she hands him a red leather box, you instantly recognized it as matching the box to the Cartier bracelet and drop earrings he'd given you for Christmas which you were now wearing.

"Christian, I thought we'd discussed this" you look at him shaking your head. "No, it's too much," you once again protested but knew it was another battle you would lose.

"We did discuss it, but you know I'm not the best at listening sometimes" he winks at you.

"And what if I refuse?"

"You won't" he says, just above a whisper, turning you around to slip the dainty necklace around your neck.

"I might" you quip, your voice a bit shaky.

"You won't" he whispers again, placing a kiss to the nape of your neck once he was finished with the clasp.

He knows you aren't a big fan of extravagance, and that you really only wear jewelry on special occasions such as tonight, but he was determined to gift you with a few timeless and elegant pieces he knew you could wear with anything from jeans and a simple shirt to elegant gowns like tonight. And you knew, once he had his mind set on something, there was little use in arguing with him.

"You know I don't need all this from you?" you turn around, motioning with your hand down your body.

"I know, but you spoil me every single day, y/n, and I just want to do the same for you" he says with a shy smile.

"I appreciate it, I really do, but you know I don't expect these things from you, I just want you to be happy, Chris."

"And what if spoiling you makes me happy?" He slides his hands back around your waist pulling you into him.

"Then I guess, I'll have to get used to it," you smile, bumping your nose against his and placing a feather light kiss to his lips.

His stylist takes several photos of the two of you, adding any final touches you might need before you hop into the car Christian has arranged for the evening.

You enjoy the gala, happily sipping on glasses of wine as you and Sophia chat the night away, her complimenting the German that she, Kai, and Christian have been helping you to learn.

The two of you end up drunkenly bidding on a trip before announcing to the boys that they are not invited to join you.

Kai mutters something to Christian in German, "I heard that, and almost understood it" you quip.

"See, CP, I told you teaching her was a bad idea," they both laugh.

The entire evening, you and Christian haven't stopped touching one another. Nothing over the top, but a constant hand on each other's thigh, his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him, fingers intertwined, or a hand placed softly on the small of your back.

Your dress had a mostly open back, so anytime Christian's hand was around you he found himself softly drawing circles on your exposed skin with his thumb.

As the gala comes to an end, Mason leans across the table and whisper shouts, "so after party at yours right, CP?" to which Christian nods.

Thankfully this wasn't a shock to you and when you arrived back at yours and Christian's home, you began sitting out the snacks and drinks you'd prepared earlier in the day.

As you are pulling out chilled bottles of champagne for a midnight toast, you hear the rest of the group arrive. Unsurprisingly most of the Chelsea team have come, with and without dates, preparing to ring in the New Year together.

Mason immediately syncs his phone to the speakers that run through the entire house "to avoid having to listen to Christian's horrible taste in music" he winks at you, to which you only shake your head.

As the time approached midnight, the girls seemed to be getting tipsier and tipsier while the boys, in mid season, are being relatively tame. However, everyone had shed their jackets and ties by this point, Christian's tie tied lazily around your neck, Mason and a few others had theirs wrapped around their heads like ninjas.

You'd managed to pull Christian onto the makeshift dance floor in your living room more than a few times, neither of you able to keep your hands off of each other. He'd unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves, exposing just enough skin to drive you mad.

As you were dancing, you slipped your finger between two of the buttons, using it to pull him closer to you as he dipped his head and groaned into your neck. "You are killing me, baby" he mumbles into your ear as you turn around to grind your ass against him, throwing one arm up and around his neck to pull him even closer to you.

"It's almost midnight, can't miss our New Year's kiss," you smile at him, turning back around to face him while still grinding your body against his and he drops one hand to grab at your ass, clearly no longer caring if anyone is watching the two of you.

As everyone starts counting down the last twenty seconds or so before midnight. You find yourselves completely lost in each other. Someone hands both of you glasses of champagne which you absentmindedly take, neither of you breaking your gaze.

At five, Christian mutters "fuck it" and presses his lips to yours, you giggle and return the kiss, gripping into the back of his hair and pulling him in to deepen the kiss. He moans into your mouth as he presses his semi hard bulge into you.

You pull away from him slightly as you hear everyone around you cheer, and mutter against his lips "Happy New Year, baby, I love you" pressing another kiss to them. "I love you too, y/n, so damn much" he smiles at you, giving you another loving kiss.

You look around the room at the people you are surrounded with, in awe of a life you never dreamed of living, with a man you knew was made especially for you.

You make your rounds toasting your champagne glasses with everyone and wishing them a Happy New Year before Christian whispers into your ear to meet him upstairs in 5 minutes. You nod to acknowledge what he's told you, without giving away the fact that it made your stomach flip and heat flood your core.

You notice when Christian slips upstairs, continuing to talk to a few of the others before you make sure you can also slip away, hopefully unnoticed, in search of him.

As you make your way up the stairs, you are met with a pair of hands that pull you quickly into your bedroom, pressing you against the door in one swift move as he locks it and attaches his lips to your neck.

"Been waiting all fucking night to do this" he moans against your neck as he feels your hand graze over his hardened length.

"I've got a surprise for you too," you whisper, "but if I show it to you, you have to promise to help me get this dress back on" you give him a wicked smile as you turn for him to pull down the zipper of your dress.

You turn back around, shoving him towards the bed as you let the gown fall to your feet. His eyes widen at the sight of you, stood in front of him in a black lace corset style backless lingerie set with black lace thong.

"Fuck me" he whispers as you edge your way towards him.

"That's my plan" you stare at him hungrily. "But we have to be quick, and quiet, we have guests you know"

He nods slowly as you move to straddle him. Both of you working in unison to finish unbuttoning his shirt and quickly working to rid him of his pants.

"The top has to stay on" you mutter, "I have no idea how your stylist got me into this thing and I'm certain it will take both of us to figure it out later" you giggle against his chest.

"Fine by me" he says with a wink. He flips both of you over, pressing you into the mattress as he quickly pulls your thong down your legs and tosses it to the side, doing the same with his boxers.

He leans down to kiss you feverishly as he uses one hand to line himself up with your entrance, running the tip of his cock through your already dripping folds.

"Didn't take much" he whispers to you as you shake your head.

"Just shut up and fuck me Christian" you mutter as you buck your hips up towards him, lacing your fingers into his hair.

"So needy" he groans as he pushes into you with one long and slow thrust.

You let out a moan as he begins to pick up the pace and catch a glimpse of his tattooed arm as he circles his hand lightly around your throat.

"Shhh, baby" he says as he buries his head into your neck in an attempt to muffle his own noises.

"Can you be quiet?" He asks as he loosens his hold on your neck when you nod.

You throw your own hand over your mouth as he slips his hand between your bodies to rub circles over your clit.

"You gonna cum for me?" he says as he feels you clench around him.

You nod furiously, afraid that anything you try to say will come out as a loud moan.

"Shit, me too" he pants, biting his lip to suppress a moan as your back arches off of the bed and you cum hard around him.

He throws a few more thrusts into you before pulling out and spilling himself all over your pussy and thighs.

"Jesus Christ" he sighs breathily as he collapses onto the bed beside you both of you trying to catch your breath. He then gets up and grabs a towel from the bathroom, slipping his boxers back on in the process.

"Why'd you pull out, you never do that" you question him.

"Couldn't exactly send you back downstairs with my cum dripping out of you could I?" he grins at you.

"Such a gentleman" you laugh as he finishes cleaning you up.

"Also, if I have to sit around and talk to people knowing my cum is running down your legs, I'll go fucking mad" he flashes you a much darker smile.

"There he is, the man of my dreams" you giggle again as you grab your thong and slip it back on, picking your dress up off the floor and stepping back into it and gliding it back over your frame.

Christian makes quick work of zipping you back up before you dip into the bathroom to check your hair and makeup to make sure it's not too messed up before you return to your guests.

When you walk back out of the bathroom he's dressed and standing by the door waiting for you. He's left an extra button undone and his hair is definitely a bit more disheveled. He holds his hand out to you pulling you into his chest. "I think we managed the quick part, not sure about the quiet part though" he mumbles against your forehead.

"Well I'm certain we weren't that sneaky, and I'm sure they all know where we've gone" you lean back to look him in the eyes before pressing another kiss to his lips as he shrugs.

Sure enough as you make your way back downstairs and rejoin your group of friends, you hear Mason say "let's give a round of applause to our hosts for this evening" grinning at the two of you "who apparently couldn't even wait for us all to leave to ring in their new year judging by the way they snuck off and Christian's hair."

Christian buries his face into your neck and you hide your face in your hands as he pulls you in closer to him.

"That was just round one" he laughs back to them, grabbing you and kissing you to the cheers and cat calls from his best friends.

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic smut

603 notes · View notes

snailsgoingdowntown · 7 months

Text

Blood-Stained Relationship

Prologue i

Slight Yandere! Blade x Fem! Reader

Disclaimer 1: No incest will be in this story. It may seem that there is, but no, there isn’t. Everything will be explained as the story goes on, but again, there will be no incestual acts in this piece of fiction. The brother is NOT attracted to the reader in a romantic or sexual way.

As a matter of fact, the brother is bitchless lmao –

Warnings: talk of a sister complex, toxic and borderline abusive familial relationship(s), implied toxic marriage, implied borderline abusive parenting, obsessive and overprotective behavior/thoughts, hints of depression scattered about, repressed emotions, one suicidal thought, murder, blood. Please tell me if I missed any warnings so I can add them accordingly.

Disclaimer 2: I do NOT condone any of the harmful behavior or thoughts that take place in this piece of fiction. None of these actions should be romanticized or considered normal, as it is extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors and Blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT

Note: I just kinda gave up in the end, I don’t even know what that last conversation was.

Wordcount: 3144k

===

Your brother loved to spoil you.

Cosmetics, designer brand clothing, the newest high tech, pretty nails that feel a little too heavy at times, and personal stylists that made sure you looked like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine cover. Not to mention the lavish furnishing in the spacious house you share with him. Almost anything and everything you could ever want right at your fingertips.

And you’re extremely grateful for everything he has done and more – after all, where would you be if it were not for his generosity?

A dingy little apartment on Burn Street, working as a barista, a two-room lease that you could barely afford rent for. The shady part of town where shop windows get boarded up every second month because someone decided to rob the place at midnight. Needing to use a sperate and out of the way laundry mat because you couldn’t trust the apartment’s commute one. Going by yourself without a watchful eye making sure that you’re safe.

Which is why when your brother asks for a favor, you return it. Smiling, laughing, wearing a dress he picked out for an event, or making friends from a specific group. He feeds you well, and you cook with the ingredients he provides. Unemployed, sure, but you think you became a good enough homemaker.

It was the least you could do, especially since he doesn’t make you pay rent or bills. He would insist that you just enjoy your time at home, or just going around town, with a watchful eye of course, you need to keep your safety in mind.

Even the pretty apron with lace ruffles adds to the aesthetic, the experience. If someone would give everything to you, then shouldn’t you do the same for them?

And that is the exact reason the kitchen smelt of exotic spices, with your hands kneading the yeast while keeping an eye on the meat simmering in the pan. The stove was one of the newest modes in the past decade but purchased two years ago – when your brother gave you, his hand. There were too many settings for the thing, but you knew enough to use it properly.

Am I using too much, or this fine?

You finish beating the yeast into submission – gently kneading until it is good enough. Egg yolk gets drabbled on, and you open the oven to put it in, the heat a little too close. Even with the oven mitten on, it reaches your skin.

The oven door closes with a ‘beep,’ as you set the timer. The clock on the wall reads 6:00PM. Your brother won’t be home until Ten. Whatever his job was must keep him busy. So busy, that he tells you to wait until around 7 seven o’clock if you plan on cooking, and eight pm for takeout. And like a good little sister, you listen to your dear elder brother. But you decided to start a bit earlier, today.

The meat is still shimmering by the time you check on it. Carrots were in the pan too, but you still cut bell peppers to cook them separately. And then, maybe you’ll scoop them open and fill them with melted cheese – or were you supposed to bake those? No, you don’t.

And then, after that, you’ll mop again, the smell of bleach filling your nostrils until you felt dizzy, and if the bread is still baking, then you’ll watch one of your shows until the oven makes a ‘ding!’ and then you’ll take it out and get the table ready.

You smile at the thought, washing your hands with cherry-scented hand soap, the water cold. It brings comfort. And smells sweet, the smell gently urging you to bring your hands to your face and take a sniff. You resist the urge.

“Mm, I should get started on mopping,” you take a right into one of the corners in the kitchen, the mini ‘storage’ door opening with the twist of a knob and a pull. Grabbing the mop and bucket set – that costed more than it should – you fill the bucket with bleach –

Ring! Ring! Ring!

You fill up the bucket, the liquid swishing within. You add some water, dip the mop in, and then place the head of it in. Then, with one hand, you grab the bucket handle, and the mop handle in the other, making way to the living room. The floor was made of tile, cold to the touch as you step out of your house slippers, bare feet touching the white material.

It’s colder than expected.

With a small sigh, you start to mop –

Ring! Ring! Ring!

“House, turn on the TV to channel sixty-five.”

The Tv turns on, the channel immediately showing after a few seconds. The news is on. You don’t pay much attention to the current events, but here and there you’ll listen in about one thing or another.

“Mm, I should do laundry tomorrow. And then I’ll ask Mei to accompany me to the store tomorrow; I need to get groceries. Oh, maybe I’ll look online later today for a new dress –

Ring! Ring! Ring!

“…”

A defeated sigh and you drag yourself to the kitchen to retrieve your phone, rather upset, which was uncharacteristic of you. You’d like to put your phone on ‘Do not disturb.’ But the model you use doesn’t have that setting, surprisingly. You should ask your brother for a new one. You told him that you didn’t trust that phone company or that seller.

But he had trusted them more than you. Close friends, perhaps?

“Who is it, who is it…,” it vibrates against the marble counter, the shrill noise making your ears bleed. You should ask Mei if it’s possible to put it on silent. It won’t let you do that either, but your brother knows how to bypass it. He’s smart, like that.

And you think you like that about him. Just how he likes the way you are. Because he loves you, his dear little sister, and because you’re a good little sister, you behave. Like you should, and how you were told – suggested – by Mei when you were first welcomed into your elder brother’s home with open arms.

Because he loves you.

Dearest Brother flashes across the screen, and you wait a few seconds before answering his third call. He doesn’t like how he deals with his employees and co-workers. He’s always gentle when it comes to you.

“Hello?” You put him on the speaker, placing your phone back on the counter. It was time to check the shimmering meat anyway. “Sorry for not answering sooner, I didn’t check the caller ID. I’ll make sure to give you a customized ringtone later.” You chirp while opening the lid of the pan. It was almost done; your hand takes the wooden spoon and stir the meat to make sure it wouldn’t burn.

“It’s fine,” comes his relaxed voice from the other side of the line. “I know you don’t check your phone often to begin with; you would rather watch TV or do chores around the house. We have a maid for a reason, you know,” he jests, a chuckle low in his throat. How classic.

“Hehe, I just like being busy. It’s hard to get out of that mindset.”

“Even after two years.”

“Mm.”

When he laughs, it sets off bells in your head. Loud and shrill. “I just wanted to check up on you. You didn’t answer my text an hour ago, so I got worried.”

He could have checked the cameras. The house is littered with them, but to his credit, he is removing most of them. Little by little. However, he’s considerate enough to leave them out of the more… private rooms.

That was a line that should never be crossed.

But, of course, you still gave Mei permission to report to – to tell him what you do with your day. To look around in your room, and it was okay. Because it was Mei. And Mei cares about your safety, even if she reminded you of your roommate in terms of emotional distance.

It was fine, it needed to be. Because you were still an intruder who was as lost as a lamb. Even with guidance, you still had a hard time adjusting. And thankfully, both were so patient it made your heart swell.

You just wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did. Hearts weren’t supposed to do that with good news. With good and sweet actions.

“I’m just happy that you’re safe. You know how much I care about you.” There’s shuffling in the background and whimpers. You can imagine that he’s with a woman, a lover perhaps. Because why else would you hear those types of sounds? It is odd, however, how… masculine they sound. And how far they are, with a crunching sound.

You can hear something break in the background. Sharp yet dulled – it wasn’t glass or porcelain. Your smile is shaky as you imagine what type of stuff he might be into. It’s only natural to be curious, but you push the thoughts away anyway.

“I know.”

And truly, you do. Why else would he take great care to keep track of your location. The people you meet, the men he chooses – it’s all for your sake. And you make yourself believe as much.

The air smells weird. Burnt and heavy. Also, is it just you or is there light smoke coming from somewhere?

“…When are you going to be home for dinner? There’s bread in the oven. And the meat is almost done.”

You look at the clock on the wall. The time reads 6:54PM. Quickly, you take off the lid of the meat. It’s burnt. Well, at least that explains the smell.

“Did I forget to tell you?” Your brother’s voice is light and airy, already knowing that you did remember what he told you. But he plays along anyway. Because that’s what good brothers do.

And he is a good brother. Who loves you so much… that sometimes, it feels a little suffocating.

How ironic. He’s the one who provides the air you breathe, and yet, he takes it away all the same. But it’s okay. Because he’s your brother, and you love him too. Just not as much. And he’s okay with that.

“I probably forgot. You know how I am, brother.” Now that you think about it, when was the last time you called his name, instead of ‘brother’?

“Haha, you’re right. I said around ten, but…” More noise in the background. This time there’s a gushing sound. Coughing. Wheezing. He’s into some weird stuff, isn’t he?

You hear a woman’s giggle in the background. But it doesn’t sound playful or innocent.

Your manicured nails rapidly tap against the counter. A little too loud it could probably be heard on the phone. He doesn’t comment on it regardless.

“Later than ten? Oh my, you sure do sound busy today. Be careful, alright?” Your concern is genuine, but these days, it’s starting to come from a different place. You wonder if this is what your parents went through when they were younger.

If that’s why your mother would call you so often the moment you hit fifteen. Worried about your safety, paranoia creeping up her neck like a snake. If you recall correctly, father did this with mother too. So, it’s natural for people to be worried.

It must be.

“I do, however, have a request of you.” His tone turns serious, and you already know what it is. It’s always the same thing every time. Sure, he loves buying you pretty dresses and nice nails, a personal stylist who listens to your every whim. Usually.

Because there’s another reason, he loves buying you expensive, yet simple jewelry, and clothes that complement your skin-tone and curves. It was usually Mei who chose the clothing, though. Because your brother still does care about your privacy, because he’s –

“Good brother, I was hoping you would set up another playdate. Same person, or is it a different one?”

You can practically hear the smile in his voice. You’re a good sister, so you play along with your brother’s schemes. Although, these days, it’s getting a bit… annoying. Every man is the same, and if they aren’t, then they’re shy and can barely meet your eyes. It’s cute.

You tap against the counter faster. Be a good sister because he’s a good brother. He loves you. And you should love him.

But love wasn’t always healthy.

Sometimes love hurts.

“It’s a different guy, but don’t worry – he doesn’t bite. I’ll never allow someone to even do as much as nip at you.” He sounds so confident you almost feel relieved. It’s common. Be a good sister, like how mother would always tell you.

Behave, dear daughter. They love you. We love you.

And you love us, don’t you?

“Of course; I know you’ll always protect me.” Your knees are starting to get weaker. Maybe you ate something bad because now you’re starting to feel sick. Bile is building up. “But if I may make a request…, can it be an hour or less?”

Even though you love your brother, you hate how long these dates can get. And you hate how boring they become after the first five minutes. But recently, they’re dull right off the bat.

“Thank you for everything, (name). I’ll make sure to make it up to you.”

Before you could reply, or he could say “I love you,” the line ends suddenly. You had heard more wheezing in the background before he hung up. Along with multiple apologies that came from a man.

The meat got burnt so badly it turned black.

The bread has another hour or two to go. All is well.

Because if it wasn’t, then one of the knives in the knife holder would find home in your wrist. In your chest. In your neck.

Like a crumbled piece of paper, you fold into yourself as you fall to the floor. That was enough playing for today. Oh. He never even told you what time he would be home.

Distantly, you hear something break before you close your eyes. You’re tired.

You hope your sleep won’t be interrupted.

“I love my sister.”

“Mm, I can see that. Although… perhaps, you love her a little too much, to the point it’s off-putting. People may get the wrong idea, you know.”

Your brother turns around to look at the woman speaking – beautiful, with dreamy pale purple eyes that are jaded. Almost lifeless, yet full of mischief. Like a snake waiting to pounce, she watches him, her purple hair swaying with each step she takes towards him.

One hunter against another. In the end, who will go down?

She must step over the corpse laying on the floor, blood clinging to her heel. It’s nothing more than an inconvenience to her. As though she simply stepped in a water puddle.

“I don’t have a sister complex.”

“Your actions say otherwise. But” she stops right in front of him, gloved hand pulling down her sunglasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose. They gleam underneath the light, your brother’s reflection in them. He sees how thin of a line his lips are.

He’s not amused.

“It is because of your behavior that others stay away from her. That’s what you want, right?”

“No comment. But just know that I don’t have a sister complex. It’s closely associated with incest, and I don’t – “

“Alright, alright. We’ll just ignore that for now – “

“What do you mean ‘for now’?”

“– and get to business. So, you want to hire us, correct? For a baby-sitting job?” Her head tilts to the side, a lazy and smug grin pulling at her red lips. Despite her words, everything about her screams gentle. But the neon purple strings in her hand that are connected to the corpse say otherwise.

It’s – She – is as beautiful as she is dangerous.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘baby-sitting’ job, but yes. Besides, I don’t need to hire you to begin with.” Your brother shrugs his shoulders before crossing his arms. “I mean, I am one of your most valued resources.”

“Oh? Are you now?”

“Who do you think provides the funds? But, of course, if money is a thing that would make things easier, than… I wouldn’t mind paying a bit more.”

She smiles at that, releasing the string as it fades into thin air. “Mm, does the gender matter?”

“Yes. Unless, of course, you have a trusted gentleman.” He glances at the clock on the wall; 9:00PM. He wonders if dinner is ready by now, or if you burnt the food again. Maybe he should stop calling after five, else you get distracted. He needs to be a good brother and remember that you tend to get distracted easily.

“Is it 24/7? Or just during certain events?”

“For now, I’m not sure. But for sure, during her blind dates. There’s a lengthy list of them that I’ve been putting off. She’s just been so tired that I decided to give her a break, oh, but – “

“Please don’t go on a rampant. I know enough to judge the situation. But yes, I do know a trusted ‘gentleman’… I just need to clear his head occasionally. But for your sake, I think it’d be best if you introduce them soon.” She adjusts her glasses, fixing them on top of her head again.

“I can promise you he won’t show any interest.”

“But there’s a possibility he might harm her?”

Gently, her hands clap together. “There will always be a possibility that someone you hired might hurt her. That’s just something you can’t avoid. But if we avoid certain triggers, he’ll be as harmless as a fly… towards her.”

Humming in thought, your brother mulls over it. He did ask, so…

“But do not worry, for I will also be there, at times. But Elio has been sending me more scripts these past few months compared to him.”

“Him?”

“Bladie.”

He chokes on his spit. “You want me to entrust my dear sister to – “

“Trust me, he won’t lay a hand on her. Not if I tell him not to.”

“You mean force him to, you little she-devil…” he chuckles lowly, no true amusement in his voice or eyes. Again, he did ask, but still…

“What about Silver Wolf?”

“She’s more interested in her games than a baby-sitting job. And Sam… at least Bladie looks human. And rather handsome, too. But from what you’ve told me about your sister, he’s not her type. And she’s not his either; too young.”

“… I’ll entrust her to you, Kafka.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hsr #blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade honkai star rail #yandere blade #hsr

67 notes · View notes

sailtomarina · 7 months

Text

A New Year's Eve to Enjoy

The start of another new year meant black and white tie attire, political rivals sharing sneers behind smiles, elven champagne raised in a toast, and wizarding fireworks with all of the impressive fanfare and none of the choking smoke.

The start of this new year marked Hermione’s first as the British Minister of Magic. The role was 20 years in the making, after one marriage and one divorce, strategic promotions up the government ladder, and several landmark cases won in the Wizengamot. As the youngest Minister in history, a woman, and a muggle-born, Hermione was a household name.

She had never felt lonelier.

Funny thing was, she was never actually alone. Aurors shadowed her every step from her London flat to her office doors to weekends away at a cottage secret-kept by Luna Scamander. The head of her security detail stood just off to the side of the podium behind which she gave her speech, his hair as milky white as the lilies lining the path to her cottage and his eyes clear and pale as they scanned the ballroom and took note of every single face and name.

Hermione raised a celebratory toast, sweating past the useless cooling charms and hoping it didn’t show in the photographs. Her manufactured smile held firm at the sight of her ex-husband with an arm around his thrice-pregnant wife and Harry commiserating with the Longbottoms and Minerva near the back doors, likely ready to return to Hogwarts the moment their glasses were empty.

Her schedule, which her assistant Dennis had carefully planned to the very last second, mandated she remain in the public eye for a few hours yet, past all the dancing and midnight celebrations of kisses and fireworks. She’d agreed to the itinerary as was expected of the Minister and had worn the dress set out for her by her stylist, allowing her curls to be controlled and her face glamoured until she barely recognized herself.

What she wouldn’t give to kick off her heels in the privacy of her home and curl up in front of the fireplace.

“Minister.”

A cool hand engulfed her shoulder and the comforting scent of Malfoy’s cologne, all heat and spice, invaded her senses. His voice was low, the exhale tickling her errant curls.

“Is everything alright?” Alarm spiked along the surface of her skin, but she allowed none of it to show on her face just as he’d trained her.

“Yes, but I’ve spoken with Mr. Creevey and he’s agreed that your presence is no longer required should you prefer to retire for the evening.”

Hermione scoffed. Was this Malfoy’s way of suggesting she wasn’t strong enough to last the night? “I assure you that I’m perfectly capable of proceeding as scheduled.”

She couldn’t see him with how he stood behind her, but she could imagine the quirk of his lips. She could also see a certain persistent wizard making his way through the crowd in her direction.

“Are you sure about that? It looks like McLaggen’s about to ask you to dance,” he teased, hand still cupping the bare skin below her neck.

“It’s a good thing I have you here then, isn’t it?” Before Cormac could step up to her and open his mouth, Hermione pivoted to face her bodyguard and offer him a hand. “Why yes, Malfoy, I’d love to dance.”

Ever the actor, he didn’t bat an eyelash as he gripped her fingers and bowed his head to brush them lightly with a kiss. She might have heard a choked sound behind her, but Hermione was too focused on the man bent before her. Even though he was on duty, he wore formal robes designed to strip away as needed to the uniform hiding beneath, his wand hidden in the sleeve. All black should’ve made him look nearly vampiric, but all it did was emphasize the impressive figure he cut next to their peers.

Looking at Draco Malfoy now and after interacting with him these past several months, Hermione had to admit the git had grown on her. They had history, yes, but they’d put it behind them over a decade ago. She trusted him now. He often anticipated her intentions before she’d even formed the thoughts to do so—if he agreed to them, she found her way unimpeded; if he disapproved, he was ready to provide a handful of reasons for her reconsideration.

It was infuriating. He was infuriating. He was also a fabulous dancer.

He led her in an effortless waltz across the floor like they were the main feature. Considering her position, perhaps they were. Hermione loved dancing and appreciated an experienced partner, but Malfoy took her tendency to backlead right out of her control. With him, she let go in a way she never did, allowing him to path and spin and dip to his heart’s content. She felt as light as a fairy, as graceful as a Veela.

“You finally look like you’re enjoying yourself.” His observation came as the strings brought the song to a close, her body still close to his as he turned to murmur into her ear as was his habit, as if the words were hers alone.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” He pulled away to smile innocently down at her, the flash of his teeth blinding as a camera flash went off in their direction.

“You dance extremely well,” she said begrudgingly, refusing to turn and give her own smile. Let the newspapers paint her however they pleased. She’d already given them plenty of material for the night.

“I’ll pass along your compliments to my mother,” he quipped.

He let go and bowed deeply, and Hermione tried not to miss the warmth of his arms. It was just a dance. She waved away the approaching reporter and made her way back to her table where her assistant promptly appeared.

“Dennis.”

“Minister, in ten minutes you’re scheduled to cut the cake—”

“Oh, for Circe’s sake—” This wasn’t a wedding! She knew she approved the schedule, but the act still seemed so silly.

“—but, I can just as easily have the elves do so and serve them directly to everyone. Did Mr. Malfoy speak with you?” Dennis cut her off in the no-nonsense manner he’d adopted in his time spent working with her.

“He did, but there’s no need to bow out early. I can stay.”

The younger man narrowed his eyes at her and she almost smiled affectionately back at him. He really had come into his own—she wouldn’t be surprised if he followed in her footsteps some day.

“Minister, with all due respect, the schedule was more of a suggestion. This is a celebration and you deserve to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us.” He continued to stare at her.

Damn him and damn Malfoy. They both knew her too well.

Hermione sighed. “Alright. How should I make my exit?” If only Harry hadn’t already disappeared with his cloak.

“I believe a witch of your standing can leave in any way she deems appropriate. Our team is ready and waiting.” Draco and Dennis exchanged nods.

As she walked away, head held high and flanked on all sides by security, she raised a hand to wave idly at the masses in her wake.

“Where to, Minister?” Draco asked once they came up to the Floo.

“Granger Cottage.”

She stopped him with a hand on his arm just as he prepared to toss down the powder. “And Malfoy?”

“Yes, Minister?”

There were a million and one reasons why she should take her leave as she did every day. They included notions of responsibility, loyalty, professionalism. Through them all, Dennis’ words echoed in her ears, ones that sounded suspiciously like Luna’s all those years ago, or perhaps like the small voice Hermione squashed underneath the weight of her lifelong vision.

…you deserve to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us.

“Come alone.”

His eyebrows jumped high, but he didn’t question her. With a quick order and a flash of green, the two vanished into the flames.

WC 1353

DHRMonth Prompt: Week 3 - Celebrations, September 16 - New Year's Eve

As hot as I find the idea of Draco calling Hermione "Minister", I'd like to think he drops the title the moment they walk into her cottage. I'm imagining a loveseat for two, hot chocolate in front of a fireplace, and a foot massage. Of course they'd want foot massages after all that dancing.

#dramione month #dramionemonth #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dennis creevey

32 notes · View notes

littledrummeraussie · 1 year

Text

someone who feels like home.

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: actress!fem!reader. nonfamous!Ashton. a premier. a photobooth. kisses shared. a love confession.

word count: 4550

author’s note: This was written as part of the @5sos-writing-week - I really wanted to participate and be a part of something! Originally this was meant to be posted on the first day’s non!famous au, but it ended on a love confession note, so we are going with that! ❤️ I don’t think this is my best piece, but I love the characters and the story, and I did enjoy writing this a lot.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

- - - - -

“Hey, car will be here in ten,” Ashton’s head popped into the room, eyes going wide as he finally registered you. “Wow, look at you!”

You let out a little giggle at his reaction, but otherwise stayed in one place as your stylist did the finishing touches on your dress. Ashton slipped into the room, still not being able to take his eyes off of you, and you hoped he didn’t catch you biting your lip as you watched him too.

“Well, you clean up nicely too,” you made a cheeky comment, and he laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. And he did – the fitted black pants, the matching vest and the slick tie paired with a white dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows gave him a well-dressed, but still casual look, something you knew everyone would notice at the premier. Your eyes lingered on the blood moon tattoos inked into his skin, the rings on his fingers, the chain clipped into his belt loop, and you felt your heart skip a beat knowing that he was your date – even if just for tonight.

“Who did you bribe to let you wear this dress?” he cocked an eyebrow, looking you up and down to take it all in.

“Versace. They were begging me to wear it,” you joked, making Ashton smile as well. “Do we have time to take pictures?”

“Even if we didn’t I would still do it, because you, my beautiful, need to be documented in this dress,” he reached for the camera on the coffee table, quickly checking the settings before nodding at you. “Alright, do your worst, Y/L/N.”

You made sure to stick your tongue out at him as you struck a pose, the both of you giggling like kids as he started taking pictures of you, going from silly to smiley then serious, showing off your long red dress, the shoulders falling off and over your arms, the slit in the skirt giving a nice view at your legs and the white heels you were wearing. It felt like a bold choice, but you fell in love with the colour and the design, and you secretly liked how it made you look something like a princess, even if you would never tell that to Ashton; he would never let you live that down.

“Okay, now a selfie,” he reached for his phone, stepping next to you to fit both of you into the frame. “The first of the many mandatory ones from tonight.”

“You’re lucky you’re taking really good pictures,” you poked him playfully before letting him slide his arm around you, pulling you close. “At least I have good use of you, other than being my arm candy for the night.”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” Ashton pouted at you, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m your one-man cheer team, and you’re using me only for my good looks.”

“And to scare away creepy guys, don’t forget that,” you winked at him, a slight flirt lacing your voice. Ash scoffed at you with another little laugh, already trying to come up with another comment when your PA knocked on the door, letting you know that the car had arrived and it was waiting for you.

“Shall we, my lady?” he offered his arm to you, and you accepted it gratefully, all the while trying to will the butterflies in your stomach to calm down.

“It would be my pleasure, kind sir.”

The car ride to the premier was a good 20 minutes, during which time Ashton and your PA talked your ears off with the craziest of ideas on how to approach the elephant in the room in case people started to point it out. The metaphorical elephant, who was currently sitting right next to you, making up funny scenarios of his own being.

Because really: who was Ashton to you?

You often wondered and asked the question from yourself. The answer changed from time to time: a photographer. Someone from your management. An annoying little shit. A second PA. A friend who’s been there for you from day one. All those things were true, and yet, none of them sounded as real as the truth: because Ashton was your best friend, whom you had a crush on.

It wasn’t something you felt the first time you met him; no, it was something recent, something you realized one night when he was sitting next to you on the couch just after wrapping your latest movie, talking about his newest musical obsession. What started out as a work relationship turned into so much more: and while he was still part of your team you quickly became close friends – it was hard to remember a time when Ashton wasn’t part of your life. That’s why it wasn’t even a question for you to invite him as your plus one to the premier of the movie you previously worked on. He’s been there every step of the way, and you wanted to show him how much you appreciate his efforts and friendship after everything you’ve been through while filming Fade Into The Ocean.

“Hey, Y/N, are you with me?”

“Sure, yeah! Sorry,” you quickly shook your head, smiling back at Ashton. “Just lost in thoughts, that’s all.”

“Are you nervous about the premier?” he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently, and you wanted to melt into him, tell him all the things running through your mind, all the feelings you’ve been trying to put into words in the last few months. “You know you don’t have to be. People are really excited about the movie. They’re gonna love it!”

“I’m more scared about you stealing the spotlight from me,” you tried to sound flirty, and maybe you did succeed a little, because Ashton scoffed softly, squeezing your hand again.

“Sounds impossible.”

You knew you were close when you started seeing people everywhere on the streets, many looking after your car, trying to see who was arriving. Your PA started to do the necessary rounds once the car was parked, all the while you got out of the backseat with Ashton’s help. Before you knew it he was already checking your dress for wrinkles, making sure no hair was out of place and that your makeup was not smudged.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you caught his hand to stop him fussing over you. “You’re my date tonight, remember?”

“And as your date I want only the best for you,” Ashton ran his fingers over a lock of hair, still smiling at you. “And for people to look at the real star of this show, not silly little me.”

“Well, I like looking at you,” you reached for his tie, fixing it so it wasn’t crooked. “And I’m grateful you came along with me. You don’t know how much that means after…” your voice turned quiet.

Ashton didn’t say anything, he simply pulled you against his chest, hugging you as much as he could. For a moment it felt like there was only the two of you, that you could breathe easier; that if you were able to somehow keep Ashton in your life then nothing could go wrong.

The moment was interrupted by your PA, who let you know that everything was ready for your big entrance. Ashton took another second to let you go, but not before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering encouragements and a promise that he’ll be by your side all through the night. You nodded, accepting the arm he offered to you once again, then the both of you made your way towards the red carpet, joining the people waiting for the premier.

For a while you forgot about everything – it was just you and the people you worked with on the movie, the photographers and the reporters, and the many fans, all of them wanting to catch a glimpse at their favourites. Ashton stepped back to let you have your moment, falling behind as you were photographed, and you needed to fight the urge to turn back to him. You smiled as you posed with your co-star, yet you wished you could have Ashton right back next to you; there was something different in the way you felt when he was pressed against your side just a few minutes ago, leading you out onto the red carpet and appearing as your date for the night. He was flashing a flirty smile towards the people around you, and you could see them swooning at his charm.

Someone asked if your date could join for another round of pictures, and this finally gave you the chance to look his way, his eyes sparkling as he followed you with his gaze. You beckoned him closer, reaching for him with your hand until he laced your fingers together, then sliding his arm around your waist, pulling you back against his side. You shared smiles and a few laughs as you posed for pictures, and in that moment you knew that you wanted all of this to be real; it wasn’t a public relationship for everyone to see, no. More than anything, you wanted to feel the happiness and the calmness that Ashton made you feel whenever he was around.

“Everything’s okay?” he tilted his head to the side, murmuring his question against your ear, raising an eyebrow when you looked up at him.

You laughed and nodded, like he was telling you a joke or a sneaky comment, and he squeezed your waist in return, letting you know that he was there, he was listening, if you needed him, he could take care of you, no matter what it was.

The two of you made your way down the carpet, finally arriving to the last of the reporters before you could go further into the theatre. That’s when you spotted it, a photobooth tucked into one corner of the hall, the promotional pictures of your movie decorating the outside. It wasn’t a coincidence: you did shoot some of the key scenes of the film in photobooths as they moved the story forward. Suddenly you felt like a little kid, tugging on Ashton’s hand to get his attention. A smile immediately took over his face when he saw it too.

“We gotta get our picture taken!” he was already leading you towards the booth. “It’s tradition!”

“Another addition to the collection,” you giggled, more excited about the photos than the premier itself.

“This one will be extra special,” Ashton smiled as he pulled back the curtain, quickly settling down on the bench and patting his knee. “Come on, guess that’s the only way we can fit in!”

It was something that started years ago, a silly little thing you did one afternoon while walking around Vancouver during a break in filming your first major role. You’ve always wanted to try how these machines worked, having seen them in so many films before, but unfortunately you had none in the small town you grew up in. Having a photo strip from one of those booths was something your younger self would have been so excited about, and older you definitely wanted to let her live the dream. You thought Ashton might find you crazy for this, but the moment you told him about it he grabbed your hand and even paid for the first round – the two of you had so much fun that you ended up taking a lot of photos that day.

After that it sorta became a tradition: whenever the two of you found a booth you squeezed into the tiny space to get another photo strip to your collection. You always made sure to get two copies so you could both hold onto the memories you had together.

You settled into Ashton’s lap, arms hugging his neck while the curtain fell back, hiding the two of you in the tiny space of the booth. Ashton pressed the button when you were ready, and the numbers started to go into a countdown before taking the first picture.

3… 2… 1…

The both of you smiled at the camera, a laugh tugging at the corner of your mouths, and you remembered the very first time you knew that you found a lifelong friend in him. You were meant to go on an audition after a quick meeting with him – he wanted to talk about a few things before sending you on your way with a cup of coffee he bought especially for you, and which he somehow poured all over your shirt. After the initial shock he started to apologize, only to find you laughing about the situation, trying to brush away the tears and catch your breath looking at his face. Ashton did go out and bought you a new shirt so you could go to your audition, and the next day he showed up at your door, your stained shirt washed and folded in his hands. Deep down you knew that finally you had someone in your corner – someone who would do anything to make sure you were alright.

CLICK!

Ashton threw his hand up in a rock sign, sticking his tongue out at the camera, and you quickly copied him, feeling silly and so happy in your fancy dress, acting wild and free. It reminded you of all the times he dragged you into some kind of adventure in the strange cities you were working in, all the shenanigans the two of you did on your free days or while you were travelling. Without Ashton you wouldn’t have tried out half of the restaurants that were now your favourites. Without him you would have missed out on art exhibits and carnival rides and concerts of local bands.

You wouldn’t have gotten your first tattoo if it weren’t for Ashton and a bet of who could possibly fit more marshmallows into their mouths. He won; and he did choose a really pretty design for you, something to remember your trip to Japan where all of this happened. The single cherry blossom flower was definitely your favourite.

CLICK!

His eyes were searching you, smile softening as he looked at you, and you felt yourself smiling back at him. There was something familiar in that moment: you felt safe and calm with him there, a feeling that’s been your companion ever since that night a year ago. Suddenly you were back in the small apartment the two of you shared while filming Fade Into The Ocean, your eyes red as tears were streaming down your face, curling up in his lap on the floor as you cried all through the night, the breakup with your boyfriend which happened via phone making you feel like your heart was broken into tiny little pieces.

But Ashton was there, making sure you drank water and let it all out, soothingly stroking your back to help you calm down. You were scared to go out the next day, thinking that the public will just know how you broke down the night before, like it was written all over your face – instead Ashton reminded you that it was just another day, every day it will be a little easier and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself; you didn’t do anything wrong. He made sure you looked after yourself while working on your movie and dealing with your breakup, and every night you went to bed with a lighter heart, knowing that it wasn’t the end of the world. Not if you had Ashton to help you to come out on top.

CLICK!

Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, but you couldn’t help yourself. Ashton never looked more beautiful than in that moment. And it wasn’t just his looks, no; it was him, the way he was there for you all through these years, how he put you first more times than you could count, how he picked you up and put you back together when you felt at your lowest. He was adventure and silent afternoons in a park, he was coffee dates and silly selfies and reading lines together at midnight. He was the best part of your team, but also your partner in crime, your best friend and the man you fell in love with through the years.

You always wanted someone who felt like home in this crazy and strange life you had – and as you were sitting there in his lap, looking at each other before the last picture was taken, you realized that nobody ever came close to being the person that Ashton was for you. In that moment you knew that you don’t want anyone else in this world, just him, only him. Because Ashton always felt like home to you.

His breath hitched as your lips pressed against his, but it didn’t even take a heartbeat for him to kiss you back, his arms around your waist tightening to hold you close to him. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, like you were scared you would float away if you let go of him. You felt the tip of his tongue on your bottom lip–

CLICK!

The two of you pulled apart like teenagers who got caught, and you felt your cheeks heating up when you realized what just happened. Ashton looked surprised, lips parted as he looked at you almost unblinking, but you saw how his eyes darkened after your kiss. You were saved by a sound that meant that your photos were printed, and you quickly grabbed them, shoving them into your bag as you stood up, pulling back the curtain.

“I– think we should go. Movie is about to start.”

“Yeah… yeah, of course,” Ashton quickly shook his head, following you out of the booth and back into the sea of people, acting like you didn’t just share a moment that might change everything from now on.

ETNews tweeted: @YourName looks stunning at the premier of her new movie ‘Fade Into The Ocean’ joined by best friend as her date. Read more at the link.

You pushed your phone away, leaning back against the headboard of your bed. It was really late at night, or maybe really early in the morning, you couldn’t decide. The premier was long, and the afterparty even longer, full of impromptu speeches and a few more last minute interviews, everyone praising the movie. And yet, if you wanted to be honest with yourself, you couldn’t care less – because all you really cared about was the man who had already turned in for the night in the room next to yours.

All you could think about was Ashton and his arm around your waist on the red carpet, his words that kept you grounded, the press of his lips against yours as you kissed in the photobooth, hidden from prying eyes, and the way he held your hand all through the movie. He kept his promise and was by your side all through the night, but after what happened in the booth he turned a little quiet, and when his door closed after you arrived back to the hotel, you were sure you had screwed it all up. This was the moment when you needed him the most, to make sense of everything, to let you know if you crossed a line. But he only wished you goodnight before disappearing.

Now you were left alone with adrenaline rushing through your veins after the premier, and with your feelings which made it hard to sleep. Your beautiful red dress was laid out on the bed next to you, and you softly ran your fingers over the material. Something came over you, you weren’t sure what, but you reached for your bag and fished out the photo strips from the booth. Your eyes scanned the pictures, the smiles and silly faces, the laughter and the loving look you gave each other, and lastly, the kiss. There was no question in you that in that very moment, even if for just one second, he wanted it too.

You laid one of the pictures over your dress, picking up a few small gifts you got as part of the promotion, then snapped a picture of the ensemble. You made sure to not include the very last photo in it – sure, it was a post for your social media, but at the same time, something much more. You knew it could be a bold move, you knew Ashton will know what you have left out of your post, and deep down you hoped it would help the two of you start talking about what happened back there.

yourname shared a post: What a wonderful night at the ‘Fade Into The Ocean’ premier! Thank you to everyone who came out to celebrate with us! Check out the movie if you can!

Special shout out to my best partner in crime @ashtonirwin for being my fun date tonight!

Before you could chicken out you posted the picture, quickly disconnecting from the internet so you didn’t check if Ashton reacted to it or not. You were sure he was already asleep, it’s been more than an hour since you have parted ways in the hallway. Yet still, you were hoping that he understood what you really meant with your post.

You didn’t want to believe it first, but there was a soft knock a few minutes later. You picked up your robe as you crossed the suite, putting it on before opening the door – and there he was. Ashton was standing in front of you, wearing his black sweatpants, something he always wore as PJs. His hair was a mess of unruly curls, tan skin and the ink of his tattoos illuminated in the lamplight of the hallway and your room.

“Hey, uhm… can I come in?” he rubbed the back of his neck, a pink tint colouring his cheeks.

“Always,” you nodded, taking a step back to let him into the room. “Cannot sleep either?”

“No, not really,” Ashton chuckled, following you. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Can I maybe get my pictures? I think you grabbed both of them.”

“Of course, just… let me get them,” you nodded towards your bedroom, already turning around.

It kinda felt like defeat – like he’s gonna look at them and decide that the first three were fine, but maybe you should both forget about the last one and what it meant. Ashton didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it, and suddenly you wished he would leave so you could feel pity for yourself. But before you could take a step you felt his hand reaching for yours, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back a little.

“And maybe another goodnight kiss as well?” he cocked an eyebrow at you while softly biting his bottom lip.

Suddenly you needed to laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest, and you could see Ashton’s smile as well as he pulled you back and against his chest, hands cradling your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing up on your tiptoes as you kissed him back, and while you felt dizzy from the way his lips moved against yours, you also felt that calm, safe feeling settling in your heart, the one you always associated with Ashton. This is what home felt like. Being with him.

“Did you really think I’m not gonna bring this up?” he playfully nipped your lip when you finally pulled back, your cheeks heated from his question.

“I thought I went too far,” you whispered, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “We didn’t say much after it happened. I mean… I know I kinda ran away, but…”

“I understand. We were at the premier and that wasn’t the time and place where we could talk about this,” he pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, still looking lovingly at you. “But don’t think for a second that I didn’t want to kiss you breathless all through the night. I just needed to, you know, keep myself in check. And I also thought you might have regretted it, and… I’m not sure I could have been able to take that. Not after feeling so much for you all through these years.”

“How long exactly?” you questioned him, and Ashton let out an embarrassed chuckle, knocking his forehead against yours, eyes shining and looking into your eyes.

“Maybe from the moment I met you. But definitely since I’ve poured coffee all over you and you just didn’t give a damn about it. It was so easy to fall in love with you. Cause you know: you were my best friend.”

“You stayed with me all through these years, even though I was seeing other people. Even though I was kissing guys on camera. Even though I only recently realized what you really mean to me,” you cupped Ashton’s jaw, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

“Took you long enough,” he chuckled again, making you giggle as well. “But it didn’t matter. I was lucky enough to spend most of my time with you, and if that would have been the only thing I got in the end, I still would have taken it, without a question.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that ever again,” you pressed small kisses onto his lips, mumbling words and confessions as he held you close. “Because I’m the lucky one, having a best friend like you. Someone who took care of me and who’s still doing it every day. Someone who’s just an absolutely wonderful human being, and there is really no one who compares to you, Ash. Gosh, I love you so much, and I’ve been trying to push away these feelings because I thought I’m gonna ruin us, but it was just so hard because all through these years you really just felt like–”

“Home?” Ashton finished for you, and you nodded, lost for words. “That’s what you’re making me feel too.”

“Wherever we went, you were always the person I looked for when I felt homesick or alone. You just make everything feel… okay. I would happily lose everything else as long as I have you.”

“Don’t go that far. I do love you being the wonderful actress that you are. I’m happy to cheer you on from the sideline,” Ashton kissed your forehead. “As long as I have you.”

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” you mumbled against his chest as you burrowed closer to him, and you felt him nodding above you. “And I don’t think I could fall asleep now.”

“So how about you give me my pictures and we climb into bed? I could kiss you some more while we figure this all out. And if we do fall asleep, well… we can continue tomorrow. And maybe find another photobooth to make some new memories. I would love to recreate the last picture of us. Many, many times.”

“I’ll make sure to kiss you again. And again. And again.”

- - - - -

@mymindwide @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @suchalonelysunflower @talkfastromance4 @ashtonsunflower @in-superbloom @wiiildflowerrr @lovelywordsblog @heyitskelseaj @cthheaven @sofsversion @justreblogginfics @whentherosesbl00m @indianamgc11

#5soswritingweek2023 #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin x reader #afic: someone who feels like home #fiction time

128 notes · View notes

that-one-random-writer · 1 year

Text

City Of Love Part 2 [Complete]

Kind of an AU drabble multi part words:

Summary: You are a famous fashion designer, Jake is an actor. You style Jake for a photoshoot for his cover on Vogue magazine. It set you up for a night in Paris. Word count: 1,251

Warnings: 18+ for language and NSFW content This is very 2000s inspired.

Part 1 Part 3 My Masterlist

Your foyer has a delicate table in the center holding a gorgeous vase with a fresh floral arrangement. Your housekeepers had just finished their routine. You step across the marble floors, aiming for the hardwood of the dressing room. "Navi dear, help me with my outfit, then you can go home for the night."

Navi followed you to your dressing room. You had texted Jake just before arriving, and he confirmed the date. "So, what are we thinking for tonight?" He questioned while flicking through the hangers. "I'm thinking couture from the 'summer's night in Paris' collection." You briefed your assistant on your plans.

"Fabulous darling. Maybe a string of pearls, sophistication, classy." You waved your hand. "Too old, and the stripe pattern clashes with the shape of the pearls." He agreed and continued looking. "Black choker, with the ankle strapped stilettos?"

Your lips curled into a soft grin. "Simple luxury."

He held his hand out. As if telling you to wait. "For the bag saint laurent, Cassandre Matelassé chain wallet in Grain De Poudre embossed leather." You clapped your hands together with a scream of joy.

"Navi, you are mon amour." My love. He bowed and grabbed the items, setting them aside for you to get dressed. "Go home and get some much needed rest." You smile happily, pushing him from towards the door. He waves goodbye and slips out the door, using his key to lock up the front.

You dressed into the newest pair of lingerie. A red lacy set from Jane's Vanity. You slipped on a simple pair of black leather pants with a black and nude striped bodice style top. Your choker is clasped tightly, with your stilettos clasped on tighter. You checked the time and texted your chauffeur. You clacked down the hall, turning your lights off.

Your chauffeur opened the door, and you stepped in the car, getting comfortable. Your thoughts were on the actor. The way he looked at you. Your bottom lip fell between your teeth. His body was so chiseled and perfectly sculpted. Jake definitely had the confidence to back it. Your mind swirled him into positions above you, below you, and beside you.

Your door opened, and flashes of paparazzi cameras pulled you from your thoughts. You put sunglasses over your eyes to help with the flashing, then grabbed the hand that had been offered. You found Jake pulling you from the car. You stood beside him, and you linked your arm to his placing your opposite hand against his bicep.

His outfit must have been chosen from his stylist. His top was left open three buttons down with his sleeves rolled up showing off his muscular arms. His pants were pleated at the top with a black and thin gold stripe down the legs in a pattern.

His hair was styled perfect without a hair out of place. You smiled up at him, and you were absolutely positive that these photos would be on a magazine cover somewhere.

You both were welcomed by the waiter.

"Bonsoir, your reservation s'il te plaît?" Good evening, please.

Jake smiled politely at the waiter. "Jake seresin."

The waiter looked over the list. "Merci, follow me." Thank you. He instructed, then led you both to a table for two. The table is covered with red linen and a small candle lit in the middle. "mon nom est Louis. I will give you some time to look over the menu. Chef Jean is honored to serve you both tonight." My name is. He bowed.

"Merci, Louis." You spoke up before turning your attention to the menu. "Have you ever been here before?" You glanced up at Jake. He was looking over the menu himself. "No, I haven't, I'm assuming you have?"

You sat down the menu. "Oui, Chef Jean was voted for GQs chef of the year a few years ago. He is one of the best in the world." Yes.

Jake lifted his eyes. "What do you recommend?"

Your fingers trailed across your menu. "The seabream, or the poached cod. Both are incredible."

"Which wine do you think is the best?" He glanced at the wine menu.

"Do you want my honest answer, or do you want my 'being considerate on a first date' answer?" Your voice playful but had notes of sincerity.

"Always Honest..." He trailed, looking up from the menu, meeting your eyes.

"The 1994 Montrachet, it has aromas of deep mineral spice with hints of orange blossoms and star anise. It pairs so nicely with the fish."

Jake smiles politely as Louis reaches the table. "Ladies first." Louis glances in your direction. "I'll have the seabream." He nodded, writing it down. "Yes ma'am and for you, Monsieur?" Sir.

"I'll have the poached cod. Could I get a bottle of the 1994 Montrachet as well, please?"

"Of course." He wrote down the order, took the menus, then bowed dismissing himself to the wine cellar.

"Jake, you don't have to do that. That bottle is ten thousand dollars." You crossed your leg over the other.

Jake smiled the famous smile with his laugh lines lifted and perfect teeth shining under the dim candle light, saying cooly, "I got it." As if he were talking about a ten dollar morning cup of coffee.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. Your lips mimicking his in a smile. "What is your favorite wine?"

"I'm not much of a wine man. I prefer beer." He chuckled, leaning back comfortably in his seat.

"You can take the man out of America but can't take the American out of the man." You giggled softly.

"No, you really can't. So tell me about yourself? What is life like for a French fashion designer?" He spoke with his drawl. It thickened just the slightest.

"I am working on a few pieces right now. Fashion week is going to be soon, so Paris is going to be full of life in a few months. What about an American actor? What is your life like?" You rest your arm on the table.

"I just got done filming a new movie, so I've got a premiere coming soon." His body shifting comfortably in pride of his accomplishments.

"I've seen the previews it looks good. You looked really good in it." You leaned forward, emphasizing how you really meant his topless scenes were a part of your enthusiasm.

He chuckled with a smirk poking through. "You think so."

"Absolutely. I got to see the real thing in person. The live version of you undressing was impressive." You eyes traveled down to his lips. Then, back to his sea foam eyes.

"I bet a live of you undressing would be even better." His suggestive tone was quite alluring.

"I can't disagree with you. I've walked a few Victoria Secret shows. I don't normally do a show for free, but I really would like to reenact the sex scene in your new movie. That one position seemed very interesting." Your voice held such power and foward behavior.

Jake's eyebrows lifted, his smirk raised. "I think we can work something out." He tried so desperately to hold himself together. Jake wanted nothing more than to push every delicate, expensive item off the table, disregarding every peice of polished silverware and pick you up, slam you on the table and take you right there, but he held himself together.

The sudden shift in sexual conversation was turning you both on. Neither one of you wanted to sit through dinner anymore, but the food had finally made its way to the table, so the suffering teases had begun.

60 notes · View notes

manta-is-yelling · 3 months

Text

Percy Jackson 2023-24 Live Action

Season One Spoilers under the cut

We finished the Percy Jackson series.

Its very good.

I have a couple of minor objections. And some praises.

1. It did not explain why the step-dad was there in the first place. And if they did, I didn't hear it. It's because he *reeks* of human smell-beer- pizza, unwashed ass. His mother is using him to hide Percy.

2. They didn't explain the press coverage and how that was dealt with either. When Percy fights Ares, that is seen as a kid fighting a kidnapper. The record is set straight then that the problem was never Percy.

3. Lin Manuel Miranda has too much screen time. This is not a scholarly opinion but it is correct. And like. As a dad, he is atleast TRYING compared to some. Damn. Luke what the fuck.

I GUESS it's important for Luke's development. B u t. The delivery cameo, the long ass casino scene. Boo hiss. (I'm not that mad)

4. Bring back Hephaestos. I wanna see his cool park up and working.

5. Lance Reddick passed on last March. How will they handle Zeus in future seasons? Will they use the "gods can take many forms" idea?

6. I need season 2 to open up with Grover running through Key West in the rain in the middle of the night.

7. I enjoyed Annabeth's hair. They handled her braids well and it looks like they had a stylist to twist the roots of her braids so the new growth wasn't obvious, bc in the time frame of the season knotless braids wouldnt grow out as much as they will over filming, and they'll give away what order things were filmed in. I was looking. Closely. I need to see more dedication like that to black characters.

8. Medusa is SO well designed. I thought she was stunning and charismatic.

9. Percy himself had that perfect, natural mischievous grin to his face as described in the books. I think he was very well casted. I liked that he was still obviously a kid, but doing his best to be brave.

10. I think his mom is really pretty.

11. I am looking forward to Tyson.

12. Season 2 pls I am begging gib gib gib gib

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy jackson spoilers #pjo tv show #pjo spoilers

8 notes · View notes

thegreatwicked · 7 months

Text

Shadows of Deception Chapter Six

Shadows of Deception

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Chapter Six

I Feel Like I’m Drowning by Two Feet

In the bustling fashion house, the air was thick with anticipation and energy as fashion week began. The studio was a whirlwind of activity, with creatives and professionals of various disciplines coming together to bring their artistic visions to life so that the wealthy could dress in opulence. Wardrobe stylists rushed around, carefully selecting garments and accessories, while hairdressers and makeup artists worked their magic, transforming models into ethereal beings. Cinematographers set up their equipment, capturing every detail with precision. Designers fine-tuned their creations, ensuring they were flawlessly presented for the cameras.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Belladonna managed to remain calm and collected as she went from meeting to meeting, and project to project juggling a myriad of tasks all without a hair out of place. Dressed as stylishly as the models she photographed yet infinitely more practical, with fitted black, ripped jeans instead of the long and flowing dresses and skirts and a white sleeveless blouse instead of cropped fashion tops. Her black-heeled boots echoed her determined steps in a stark contrast to the stiletto heels the models wore, while the blazer jacket added a touch of sophistication to her look and the camera in her hand set her apart from the models she directed. Her hair was swept back into a no-nonsense high ponytail, setting her apart from the endlessly tousled, teased, styled, and colored hair.

Belladonna's attention had been completely absorbed by the tasks at hand, her mind fully immersed in the creative process. There was no greater distraction from a personal life than the furious storm that was Fashion Week. The sound of her phone buzzing in her bag went unnoticed from the moment she stepped into the studio and the storm enveloped her.

With hundreds of photographs in, countless wardrobe changes, and dozens of models in a variety of poses and backdrops, she’d also sauntered effortlessly through at least four meetings over the shows she would be covering that week and had a stack of other projects to edit before sending them off. Checking her phone for missed calls or text messages was the last thing on Belladonna’s mind, it may as well have not even existed at all in the nebulous void that was her purse somewhere in her office. Its pings and rings went unchecked for almost six hours.

After a phone call that really could have been an email, Belladonna was off to her next engagement, which consisted of getting caught up on the rest of the afternoon with Daisy.

“Alright, Belladonna, here's what the afternoon looks like after we break for lunch. You've got the Coltless show at two o'clock, Ramier specifically asked for you, I think he wants to take you to dinner, but you’ll need a good reason to avoid that so I’d start thinking of one now, the man doesn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer. I’ve got your change of clothes for the show in your office; I managed to get that jacket you wanted from Miccah’s storehouse but I couldn’t get the boots.” She didn’t care about the boots now, she groaned inwardly at how she would avoid another dinner invite from Ramier. Daisy was right, he didn’t like being told no, Belladonna briefly thought back to another man who matched that MO… Least Roman was better looking.

“Your passes for the show are on your desk and the car is picking you up for it at one o’clock so not a ton of time to eat before the show, so I grabbed you something quick,” Daisy handed her a small styrofoam take-out box, she hadn’t even thought of food but was happy to see a few eggrolls and some pad-tai. “After the show, you’re meeting with Santoni for drinks about tomorrow’s shoot. We’ve got the space rented in the Bowery and you need to be there by six before it gets too warm also because we only have the space for four hours, his assistant double booked with someone else that’s why the rush. And you have reservations tonight for one more meeting at seven with the editor of Runway magazine, I managed to get the meeting set for that Thai place you like and if all goes well you should be home by ten, but honestly, you know how this week goes, these meetings take forever so I’ve blocked out an hour after each one in case it runs long. Best case scenario you don’t get caught off guard, worst case you’ve got a little downtime in between each one.”

Belladonna nodded as she looked through a printout of her schedule Daisy had given her, finding it easier to absorb information when she could both see it and hear it.

“Is that Roman Sionis?”

It was this curious inquiry that shattered the bubble of concentration that Belladonna had enveloped herself in. The fashion house around her continued its chaotic flow but for Belladonna the world stopped and she was suddenly hyper-aware of every little detail as though time slowed.

The mention of Roman Sionis threw her off her focus, freezing her in her tracks. With a subtle shift, she caught sight of Roman and Zsasz, standing amidst the buzzing crowd. She could feel his piercing gaze, like a spotlight used to illuminate escaped prisoners, it made her feel so exposed. Despite her attempt to remain composed, she knew deep down that Roman had probably seen her spot him, how could he not? He was the type of man who, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he had eyes in the back of his head. He simply knew everything that was happening around him, constantly aware.

Her mind raced, her thoughts colliding with the surge of emotions within her. She hadn’t seen Roman since the other night at his club, and she felt a rush of heat when she remembered their encounter. Grappling with conflicting desires – to confront Roman and demand an explanation or to maintain her cool facade and carry on with her work. The air around her seemed to crackle with anticipation as she weighed her options, aware that her next move could have far-reaching consequences.

The room thrummed with activity. Amidst the growing murmur of Roman’s name circulating through the studio, Belladonna remained focused on her work, determined to maintain her professionalism in the midst of the mounting distractions.

As the studio chatter reached a crescendo, a hush fell over the room as deliberate footsteps drew nearer. Belladonna could feel the pull of Roman's presence, his aura demanding her attention.

When Belladonna finally turned to face Roman, she looked the epitome of composure but was inwardly shaking. His expression, was perfectly pleasant, despite sensing a hint of irritation in his expression, well-concealed beneath his suave exterior. Something was clearly on his mind, and brushing him off until later was not going to be an option.

“Hello, Angel.” The air went still for Belladonna but she swallowed and offered Roman a smile. “I know you’re busy but afraid I need a moment of your time,”

Daisy’s shocked expression bounced back and forth between Roman and Belladonna like a game of rapid-fire ping pong. She still held Belladonna's datebook and her mouth was only slightly agape but it was enough for Belladonna to realize that she had to make some sort of introduction.

“Daisy, meet Roman Sionis.” Her introduction felt slightly robotic but it was the first thing that leaped to mind, “Roman, my assistant, Daisy Monroe.”

“So lovely to meet you, Miss Monroe,” Roman, ever the showman, shook her hand politely and smiled an award-winning smile, seemingly genuinely pleased to be where he was. “My Angel here has told me about you, tell me, how’s your brother doing? Is he out of the hospital yet?” Belladonna hid her shock well by biting the inside of her cheek. Daisy, however, seemed perfectly charmed.

She had never told Roman about Daisy’s brother, the one who over a week ago had been attacked in the advanced treatment facility in Arkham. Hadn’t told him her brother had a concussion, or that he’d been so badly beaten he needed to be extracted by helicopter.

“He- he’s good. He’s out of intensive care and his vitals are looking good,” she seemed a little confused as to why one of the wealthiest men in Gotham was a king about her brother as if he was personally invested.

“That’s wonderful. We need more men like him in those hospitals.” A cold chill crept up her back but she fought back the urge to demand answers and instead went with the flow of conversation. “Such a dangerous job.”

“It’s really so nice to meet you. I’ve heard such great things about your club, I’m dying to check it out.”

“Well, Miss Monroe I'd be delighted to put your name on the VIP list. Just let me know when you'd like to come, and I'll make sure you're well taken care of.”

“I will, but it’ll probably have to wait until after Fashion Week.” Daisy exchanged a look with Belladonna and then back to Roman, “So, how do you two know each other?” She had a look like she was about to sniff out the juiciest gossip and she was eagerly waiting for the answer.

“Has my angel not said anything?” He feigned shock so well… “Well, I suppose we don’t need to keep it quiet anymore. Belladonna and I met at my club a few weeks ago and we’ve been seeing each other, wanted to keep things quiet for a little bit, you understand,” His tone sounded so casual that she almost believed the circumstances that surrounded their meeting were really that simple. Daisy nodded emphatically, completely understanding the desire for discretion. “She put quite the spell on me it seems, I simply couldn’t keep away.”

Daisy's playful curiosity jumped from the charming enigma that was Roman Sionis and quickly settled on Zsasz’s imposing figure as he loomed behind Roman.

"And who is this tall, dark, and brooding?"

Roman, always the suave conversationalist, grinned and replied, "Ah, Daisy, this is Victor Zsasz, a close associate of mine. He takes care of certain... matters for me." His tone held a hint of mystery. “He does the dirty work…”

Daisy seemed intrigued by the enigmatic figure. "Oh, I see. A man of mystery, huh?" Zsasz flashed a playful wink at her.

Roman chuckled, enjoying the exchange. "You could say that. He's a man of many talents." Roman turned to Belladonna and held her gaze for a long moment, as though trying to convey a silent message. "Angel, spare a few minutes for me?" His voice was thick and heavy, hard to resist on a good day, shame it was fake.

With a polite excuse, Belladonna gestured for Roman to follow her into a more private area of the fashion house. As they walked away, she whispered to Roman,

"You certainly have a flair for the dramatic, don't you?"

Roman couldn't hide a mischievous grin. "Darling, sometimes a bit of drama adds some spice to life, doesn't it?"

As though the whole thing was an everyday occurrence, one of the wealthiest and most desirable men in Gotham was asking for her time. She nodded and led him down a hall and into one of the smaller unused conference rooms that wasn’t covered in photos, articles, and design samples. Satisfied that they would be both undisturbed but at the same time not completely alone. The room's large windows provided a clear line of sight to anyone who might walk nearby.

Belladonna's heart quickened as Roman's demeanor took on a darker edge as soon as the door clicked shut. Contrasting sharply with his typically charismatic persona, the mask fell. The unfamiliar intensity in his eyes caught her off guard, reminding her of the dangerous man she had encountered that fateful night they first crossed paths. It was a side of Roman she rarely witnessed, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t leave her hair standing on end.

Roman guided her forcefully into a chair and he sauntered along, coming to stand behind her. His hands slid up her arms in a gentle caress before coming to rest on her shoulders. Belladonna couldn’t help but feel a twinge of vulnerability at Roman’s position behind her, their close proximity creating a deceptive image of intimacy. The unobstructed windows of the conference room didn’t seem to concern Roman, he treated it like a stage. Serving as a reminder that their interactions must remain composed and devoid of any overtly explicit behavior, despite the charged atmosphere that hung between them.

His hands moved up her neck to her ponytail and with what she suspected was a well-rehearsed maneuver he grasped the black elastic band that held her professional look together and tugged it loose. Her black silky hair fell over her shoulders and his fingers combed through it in complete silence, he seemed to be reveling in the feel of her hair slipping through his fingers. Sometimes the strands would catch on his fingers but he worked the tiny tangled out and continued the oddly intimate gesture several times before he seemed satisfied with his work. He leaned down, seemingly to plant a kiss on her neck, his words cut through the air with a menacing tone, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Her unease was palpable as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Who the fuck do you think you are ignoring me, angel?" he hissed, each word dripping with a mixture of frustration and anger.

Caught off guard by his sudden outburst, Belladonna mustered the courage to defend herself, though her fear remained evident in her voice. She kept her view straight, looking right out the window of the conference room in the event someone walked by. Knowing if things turned violent, it was her only way to call for help. His hands combed through her hair again before gathering her hair into his fist, it jerked her head back slightly and pulled on her scalp.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I've been working," Her words laced with a hint of defiance. "Contrary to what you may believe, you are not the center of the universe."

He jerked her head forcing her to look up at him over her shoulder, his piercing gaze bore into her, searching for any sign of deception. She quickly added, "Besides, my phone is in my bag. I haven't even touched it since I got in six hours ago." The truth hung in the air, their confrontation rooted in a misunderstanding fueled by Roman's possessive nature and her commitment to her work.

Belladonna's heart raced as she awaited Roman's response, unsure of how he would react to her explanation or the sharp attitude that accompanied it. The room was stifling, the unresolved tension threatening to consume them both.

Slowly wrapping her long hair around his fist. The discomfort was a stark reminder of the power discrepancy between them, an attempt to assert his control over her. Yet, she refused to show any sign that he was getting to her, her eyes meeting him with a resolute determination.

His question lingered in the air, a challenge veiled within the depths of his voice.

"Are you lying to me, angel?"

As her lips parted to answer his question it became clear he wasn’t looking for an actual answer. Before she could utter a single word, he descended upon her, claiming her mouth in a kiss that felt more like a declaration of power than an act of affection.

It was uncomfortable and hard, almost painful, a reminder of his ability to bend her to his will. Behind her stoic expression, Belladonna struggled to remain composed, the power play of his kiss did have an effect on her. As their lips parted, she answered him with unwavering honesty, her voice a bit breathless.

"No, I'm not. I've been here since six. And I'll more than likely be here until late tonight for the rest of the week."

Roman's eyes delved into her soul as if searching for any hint of deception, it reminded her of a lion before it pounced. The room was charged with the weight of their connection palpable as they engaged in this battle of wills.

At last, the tension began to dissipate as Roman's demeanor shifted and his scowl softened. His satisfaction with her response was evident in his expression, his presence now both comforting and alluring. Belladonna's heart skipped a beat as she felt his lips against hers again, but this time, it was a more sensual kiss, one that was meant to be pleasurable and it was. Sweet and searing, he gently coaxed her mouth open and stroked her tongue with his, and his grip on her hair loosened allowing for the black strands to slip through his fingers.

"I believe you, angel," Roman murmured, his voice infused with admiration and intrigue. He reveled in the effect he had on her. "You make a man nervous, ignoring his calls and texts," he confessed, his tone soft and smooth, carrying a hint of vulnerability, she wasn’t sure if it was genuine or not. It certainly sounded that way.

“I’m sorry.” Her reply was still breathy and meek, and it was only after the words left her lips she wondered what the hell she was apologizing for, her sense of self-preservation had clearly won out against any outrage she felt.

Roman's hand gently caressed her hair, his touch lingering as it glided down the back of her head and neck, and her jaw. A tender sigh escaped him, and he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re forgiven, Angel. But don’t let it happen again," his words laden with possessiveness, she nodded against his lips.

“Pick up the phone when daddy calls.”

"So, what do you need?" She asked, trying to stay on topic as if this whole interaction hadn’t both shaken her and turned her on. "What was so important you had to come here and interrupt my day?"

Determined to steer the conversation back to the purpose of Roman's visit, she stood up from the chair, breaking free from him, her irritation clear on her face. She needed to put some space between them, needed to get away from him just a little bit or at least make it so that she wasn’t craning her neck to look up at him. Roman's smile widened, relishing in her spirit and tenacity. He followed her, his amusement and fascination evident in his eyes.

"I love your spirit, angel,"

He watched her closely, enjoying the way she cowered under him one minute and challenged him the next, as though she had better things to do than entertain his interruptions.

"What?" She demanded once again, her anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface, her patience wearing thin as Roman continued to evade her initial question. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

Sensing her growing anger, and understanding that he could only push her so far, he relented. His tone softened ever so slightly. "You didn’t answer my question, kitten," he stated simply, voice smooth as velvet, his use of the nickname signaling a shift in their conversation. When it was Belladonna it was all business, Angel seemed to indicate a good mood or they were in public. But kitten? Well, it still meant a good mood.

Belladonna's anger momentarily gave way to curiosity, her expression softening as she considered his words. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Fine," she conceded, her voice laced with a mix of resignation and curiosity. "What was your question, Roman?" Maybe it had something to do with the investigation. Maybe it was urgent?

“Were you thinking about me last night?” He asked in that dangerously seductive voice. “Somewhere in the area of,” he paused to look at his watch “Two in the morning?”

Belladonna's expression shifted from shock to a hint of embarrassment then disbelief. She attempted to regain her composure, but her emotions were evident on her face. Roman, thoroughly entertained by her reaction, chuckled deeply, relishing in the power he held over her.

"That's what was so important for you to storm into the studio to terrorize me?" Her tone held a hard edge of outrage at his audacity.

He really did live in his own little world.

“Oh, kitten, terrorize you?” His chuckle reverberated deeply. “I might have been a little intense but I think terrorizing is a bit of a stretch, don’t you?” Her jaw dropped, unable to believe him and she turned sharply on her heels to leave him, too angry to face him. His grip on her upper arm prevented her from doing so as he pulled her back to him into another powerful kiss, tongue easily snaking past her lips in a dizzying display of power. “I think you’re too stubborn to admit that you liked how I kissed you,” He did it again, hot tongue forcing its way into her mouth once more, this time with less resistance. His voice was between a snarl and growl, a blend of the two aggressive sounds that went straight to her pussy. “You liked having your hair wrapped around my fist,” With each display of power she could feel the outrage leaving her little by little. “Liked being at my mercy, you liked being a little afraid of me, didn’t you?” His teeth nipped at her lips with a final kiss. “Should we check?” His gaze drifted from her mouth down the blouse she was wearing and settled, he shifted his grip on her hips, his thumbs tucking into the waistband, close to the closure on her jeans. “I wonder just how wet you are, angel…” Fuck.

“Roman, please!” She whispered harshly against him.

“Please, what, kitten?” Roman paused and licked her lower lip “Please, don’t, or please, yes?”

The way she seized up in his arms in an instant seemed to sate him, and he kissed her again, sweeping across her lips now with no resistance at all. His iron grip relaxed into something more akin to a lover's embrace, sliding over the curve of her hips. The tension in his hands softened as his harsh and unyielding grip eased into a gentler and tender touch.

She struggled to get the words out and she wasn’t sure why it was so hard, “Please, don’t.”

Roman's smile remained, he leaned in closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze almost lovingly. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her waist and across her back. Their bodies swayed in sync, as though dancing to a rhythm only he could hear. Roman's possessive nature, while still present, transformed into a charming and admittedly desirable stance.

"Oh, kitten, what can I say? I couldn’t sleep last night and I lay awake in bed, picturing you lying in bed, unable to sleep like me, and something told me you must have been thinking of me. You were, weren't you?" he enjoyed the way she couldn’t avoid his gaze. It was a playful accusation, designed to provoke a reaction and it was working.

"What would give you that idea?" Belladonna asked, her voice clinging to a hint of dignity.

She had been thinking of him, hell, she’d gotten off thinking of him, she wanted him. Badly. She’d thought about how good it felt when he toyed with her to orgasm in the back of his club. She could practically still hear the buzzing of the vibrator and the sounds of her own moans and whimpers. Hell, she was pretty sure she could smell his aftershave.

How could he possibly have known?

She let out an exasperated breath and crossed her arms over her chest finally able to put a little space between them, meeting his intense gaze head-on.

"Fine, yeah, I was thinking about you. Satisfied?" Her admission hung in the air, her vulnerability exposed to him. But Roman's response was far from satisfactory. Instead, his gaze darkened, and a less-than-saintly smile curved on his lips.

"Hardly.”

She needed to get back to work because she did actually have a lot of work to do but also because every second she remained alone with Roman was second closer to climbing the man in hopes of a repeat of their last encounter at the club. She knew if she gave him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted him again she’d never live it down. Roman’s posture relaxed, though he still reminded her of a hungry wolf, ready to pounce. His grip eased and she slipped from it, attempting to pass Roman, but their close proximity left no chance of avoiding brushing against him. But he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him, keeping her hips flush against his.

As their lips met in a passionate kiss, one meant to bring her enjoyment, every stroke of his tongue against her lips was meant for pleasure not control. Belladonna felt a rush of emotions; the anger that had filled the room moments ago was now forgotten. Roman's presence was intoxicating, a heady mix of smoke and his unique aftershave. It was impossible to resist the allure of his lips, and all her frustrations melted away in that moment.

The intensity was palpable, like an electric current passing between them that left no room for hesitation or doubt. The world outside the conference room had faded into obscurity, not even the distant curious onlookers clicking away with their cameras was of concern. Yet, Roman and Belladonna couldn't care less about prying eyes or the potential photos being snapped. They were too consumed by the taste and touch of the other.

Belladonna's heart raced as she collected herself. With a lingering glance, she nodded in acknowledgment, knowing that their tangled web of desire and manipulation was far from over and she headed back to work determined to put the encounter behind her or at least try to. Roman Sionis was not someone whose presence you could easily shake off.

“Enjoy the rest of your workday, kitten."

~~~

"Are you sure about this, Ms. Black?" he asked, his worry evident in his voice. The driver hesitated for a moment before complying, he clearly wasn’t quite comfortable with the deviation in routine, concern etched on his face. “Mr. Sionis doesn’t like surprises.”

Belladonna met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and determination. "Don't make me repeat myself. Just drive," she asserted firmly. The driver nodded, understanding that her mind was made, and began the journey to Roman's penthouse.

As the car glided through the city streets, the memory of Roman's aggressive side lingered in her mind, creating a nervous flutter within her. But beneath that nervousness, a resolute determination took hold. She knew she had to establish some ground rules for their deceptive relationship. Or at least try to.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor of the foyer as she headed upstairs as though she owned the place and no one stopped her. Half of getting what you wanted in life was showing up, the other half was acting like it was already yours.

As she entered the opulent living space, she found him, lounging in a plush chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a portrait of privilege. His hair was slightly mussed from a long day, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. The urge to crawl into his lap and bite him was a little stronger than she would have liked to admit. A surge of conflicting emotions washed over her—nervousness, determination, and an undeniable thrill that came from being drawn to him.

Her steps were deliberate and her posture composed. She knew she couldn’t let herself be consumed by the whirlwind of whatever the fuck it was he stirred within her.

"Roman," she began, her voice steady. "We need to talk. I think it's time we establish some ground rules for this... arrangement of ours." Her eyes meet his, searching for any sign of resistance.

Roman regarded her with curiosity and amusement, savoring the power dynamics that swirl around them. He took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Is that right, Angel?" he purred, his voice laced with an intoxicating blend of charm and danger.

Belladonna's resolve strengthened, he might not have taken her seriously but at least he was pretending to. She knew she was stepping into uncharted territory, where the lines between deceit and desire blurred. But she had to find her own balance within this complex dance, ready to navigate the intricate web she was entangled in with Roman Sionis.

The tension in the room seemed to ease as Belladonna stood her ground, her eyes fixed on Roman's intrigued stare. His amusement slowly transformed into curiosity, fascinated by what he saw; she was standing up to him.

"What needs sorting out?" Roman inquired, his voice thick with anticipation, before he could utter another word, Belladonna raised a finger to his lips, silencing him with an authoritative tone she used at work.

"Roman," she says, her voice holding just enough of a teasing tone so as to not upset him. "It's my turn to talk, and you need to be a good boy and wait."

His eyes widened then narrowed at her audacity, captivated by this new side of a woman he thought he had pegged. He nodded, a smirk dancing across his lips, willing to play along for now. Belladonna set her phone down on a nearby table facing him, its screen filled with missed calls and unread messages. She met Roman's gaze, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"How about thirty phone calls a day?" Roman offered her a shrug as if to say ‘Can you blame me?’ The same way a teenage boy who’d been caught with porn in his room would. “When I’m at work, I’m at work. I don’t check my phone like some lovestruck teen girl. I’ve never done that for a man, and I don’t plan to start."

Roman leaned back, studying her, appreciating this new side to her, the one that said she wasn’t going to put up with his bullshit.

"Go on," he encouraged, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and amusement.

"I know I agreed to answer whenever you call, but you know, that doesn't work for me," she asserted. "I can't have my phone constantly buzzing, interrupting my work and personal life. When this arrangement ends, I still have bills to pay, and I won't risk losing my job just because 'daddy' likes to keep tabs." Her enticing use of the word daddy didn’t go unnoticed.

Roman's eyebrows shot up in surprise, he leaned forward loosening another button on his shirt. "Is that all?"

Belladonna, emboldened by her own words, shook her head. "No, Roman. You also need to keep your visits to a minimum and a little on the less dramatic side. This is one of the busiest weeks of my year. My time is valuable and I don't have time to stroke your ego. Keep the visits to a minimum, no more whisking me away in the middle of a shoot or interfering with my workday."

The room was silent as Roman processed her words. His hands laced behind his head and a small smile played on his lips as if this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day.

"Consider your requests acknowledged. I’ll take them under advisement."

She shook her head with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “Not good enough.” The room went still, that wasn’t something anyone told Roman Sionis,

Not good enough, that was his line.

Roman's eyes narrowed at Belladonna's boldness, his amusement mingling with a hint of irritation. “Kitten, do I really need to remind you of my other options regarding our arrangement and its fluid state?” The veiled threat in his words hung in the air, attempting to unsettle her, but she remained unfazed. In fact, her confidence seemed to grow stronger, fueled by her realization of the leverage she held.

She met Roman's gaze squarely, undeterred by his attempt to undermine her. "Roman," she says calmly, taking the whiskey from him and enjoying a sip. Roman had shot people for less, but the fact that she was acting as though she was bulletproof was just too damn interesting to him. "I understand that you’re used to getting what you want. But I have options too. For instance, if something were to happen to me, if I were to go missing or face any harm, I think we both know who the primary suspect would be. Might be tough to explain to the cops. Especially considering your sweet and well-timed visit to my studio today, in front of all my coworkers.” Belladonna's words struck a chord and his expression briefly soured.”Some of the biggest names in the business, in fact,”

To further emphasize her point, she pulled out her phone once again, quickly navigating to one social media platform after another. She presented a selection of candid shots of the two of them, captured in the studio, and the conference room, their chemistry evident for all to see.

"Seems we're already trending," she stated confidently with a subtle assurance. The realization dawned upon Roman that their interactions had already garnered attention, and any sudden disappearance or harm befalling Belladonna would undoubtedly raise suspicions and unwanted scrutiny. It seemed bulletproof was an accurate description of his Angel.

Roman's expression oscillated between irritation and begrudging amusement. He contemplated the situation, weighing the potential consequences and the path of least resistance he so often sought. A smirk curved his lips as he conceded, "Well played, Belladonna."

Though tension still lingered in the air, Belladonna's assertiveness and resourcefulness left an impression on Roman, challenging his control and providing a reminder that she was not easily manipulated.

He watched her closely as she slipped off her coat and stepped a bit closer to him, presenting the alternative. The proximity was deliberate, an assertion of her own power within this delicate negotiation. Roman's eyes remain fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.

"So here's my compromise. Call me and text me as much as you want. My assistant, Daisy, will have my phone, and she'll inform me when you call. And if I can, I'll take a moment to call you back." Roman's instinct was to protest, to declare that such an arrangement wasn’t sufficient for him, but before he could voice his objection, Belladonna cut him off, leaving no room for argument.

"And for every reasonable amount of phone calls I miss, I will do something that makes life easier for you," She hoped he didn’t ask her how she could make life easier for him because the truth was, she didn’t know. There wasn’t really anything she could provide Roman Sionis that he couldn’t get himself but she did know that for the moment their fates were intertwined and it bought her a little negotiating power.

Belladonna gracefully slipped onto the arm of the chair where Roman sat, perched like an ornament. Her next words spilled forth, filling the air with a mixture of challenge and temptation.

"And if you feel the need to keep tabs on me that badly," her voice low and laden with subtle allure, "you can surprise me at work with my favorite coffee between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. I will be a very grateful girlfriend, making sure that whatever ends up on social media next is something that makes you look very good. All I’m asking is a little restraint."

Roman said nothing at first, he just stared at her. But then his expression shifted, his irritation tempered by a mix of intrigue and a newfound appreciation for Belladonna's assertiveness. He contemplated her proposition, recognizing the balance she sought to establish in their relationship only an idiot never strove to improve their end of the deal. After a beat, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Well, well, kitten," he finally responded, his voice carrying a tone of admiration. "You certainly know how to negotiate." He nodded appreciatively. "I'm impressed with your presentation, and I'm even feeling generous enough to accept your conditions," His smirk faltered and it turned dangerous, a sudden pull found Belladonna pulled into his lap expectedly and aggressively. "But you're assuming a lot if you think I even care what other people think, Angel."

For a split second fear flooded her, that tone in his voice, sharp as a knife, scared her. However Roman wasn’t the first bully Belladonna had encountered, inexperienced people let their fear drive them to abandon their roles, and experienced people just play them harder. She shifted in his lap, making herself more comfortable and probably causing him a little bit of discomfort in the process. Her hand gently stroked his cheek, coaxing him to look into her eyes.

"But you do care, Roman. You care quite a bit. One black sheep of the family to another, I know it when I see it."

Her touch lingered on his skin offering nothing but a pleasurable sensation with no further motives, a gesture meant to anchor their connection as she delved deeper into her assessment of Roman Sionis. "You want to be liked, you want to be loved, respected, and accepted. I can help you with that.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, captivated by her words and the implications they carried. Belladonna skillfully wove a hypothetical scenario, illustrating a picture of the power that public perception held. Her fingers glided through his hair in a calculated, almost loving manner, further entwining him in her persuasive web.

“The tabloids aren’t exactly kind. They called you a,” she took her phone and checked her source, “Spoiled, temper tantrum-throwing, brat.” Roman sneered, all traces of amusement were gone and his eyes held contempt. “But,” She set her phone down and cozied up to him, cradling his head in her hands with a lover's touch, gently stroking his temple. “Everyone loves seeing a bad boy reformed. Least for a little while.” Her touch remained tender, her fingers continuing to run through his hair, creating a sense of comfort and intimacy. “They just need to get to know the Roman Sionis I know.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, “The one that visits me at work and tells me how beautiful I am, the one that brings me coffee because he knows how busy I get, the man who calls me his Angel more than my own name. I’m sure Gotham would love to get to know that Roman Sionis…”

Roman, slightly taken aback by her composure, responded with a hint of caution, he had to admit he rather liked how she thought. The tabloids had long been a source of irritation for him.

"That's quite an agenda you have there, What makes you think you can make it happen?"

"I’m a fashion photographer, Roman. It's my job to make people look good" Her fingers grazed his scalp, gently tugging on the strands of his hair, eliciting a tremor of pleasure from him. "So, how about it, Roman? Do we have a deal?"

“You know, Angel, no one comes in here and strong-arms me into anything I don’t want.”

Belladonna leaned in closer, her touch lingering in his hair, her eyes meeting his. "I’m flattered that you think I’m capable of ‘strong arming’ a man like you. I like to think of it more as a renegotiation of terms, terms that suit us both.” Her confidence was unwavering.

“I don’t think you understand the buttons you’re pressing here, Belladonna.” He couldn’t help but be captivated by her, his gaze locked with hers. “I think we have a deal, though.” Belladonna's grin widened as she met his gaze. Breathing a sigh of relief, she went to disentangle herself from him but found she couldn’t. “How should we seal this new deal?” Roman asked, sounding like a spoiled child who didn’t get his treat after he was good.

Before he could prompt her, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that carried a mix of challenge and victory. Slow, sensual, and smoldering on his lips, the type of kiss he never gave a woman but he ate up when lavished upon him like Belladonna was doing. Roman was a spoiled tantrum-throwing brat, but that just made it easier to get under his skin. It was the roadmap for how to deal with him; give him what he wanted. The soft warmth of her tongue licking at his lower lip as if pleading for him to let her taste him, he smirked against her lips and conceded. His lips parted for her, he could taste espresso, he could smell a hint of cigarette smoke as well as the scent of citrus on her skin and hair. Each time he’d kissed her he’d been in control, but now he relinquished a little bit of that precious control, letting the woman in his lap enjoy it for a few minutes. She sucked on his tongue and nipped at his lip as she worked her way back out of his mouth.

"Belladonna fucking Black," he murmured, his admiration evident, he hadn’t expected to enjoy that as much as he did. He decided he wanted more.

However, his expectation for another passionate kiss was cut short when she slipped out of his lap and gracefully put her coat back on. It caught Roman off guard.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Angel?”

With a hint of mischief, Belladonna gave him another loving kiss before delivering the news, "Sorry, baby, this Angel is flying home. She's had a very long day." Her lips brushed against his briefly, she whispered something she knew would rile him up or piss him off. “Be a good boy for me and I’ll kiss you like that every time I see you.”

She saw the feral look in his eye, how his chest rose and fell in breaths that were strictly controlled, she’d seen that look in men before. If she wasn’t wrong and she was fairly certain she wasn’t, Roman Sionis enjoyed being praised.

Well, I can work with that.

To her surprise, Roman released her and rose up out of his chair, towering over her as though he was sizing her up, debating if he should or should not be a good boy, was the reward worth the obedience? She took a tentative step backward, not turning her back to him just yet, as she made her way towards the door.

“Night Zsasz,” Belladonna nonchalantly greeted as she passed Zsasz, who had been lurking in the shadows of the room.

Zsasz, stepping out into full view, watching the exchange between Roman and Belladonna with a mix of surprise and intrigue, he couldn't help but voice his astonishment.

"Did that really just happen?" Zsasz asked a genuine sense of disbelief in his voice.

Roman, wearing the satisfied smile that belonged to a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, nodded in response. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Belladonna disappeared.

"Yes, it did."

Known for his own dark inclinations, Zsasz surprised Roman with his next statement. "I like her."

Roman's surprise was evident as he turned to look at Zsasz, contemplating the weight of his words. A sense of curiosity grew within him, as he wondered how this new dynamic would unfold.

~~~

As soon as she stepped through her front door into the warmth of her loft apartment, her cheerful demeanor quickly faded, replaced by a frown upon spotting someone seated on the couch.

Benjamin Cyrus Black, a distinguished man with a salt-and-pepper beard, reclined comfortably, his presence commanding attention. He held a lit Cuban cigar, its fragrant smoke mingling with the air, it smelled good on Roman but on her father it just smelled like oppression.

With a thinly veiled politeness that barely concealed her annoyance, Belladonna greeted him, her tone reminiscent of one used when dealing with an unwanted telemarketer. "Hello, Dad."

Benjamin looked up from his contemplative state and offered a nod in response. "Hello, Belladonna," he replied, his voice carrying a tone of authority with a touch of indifference.

As the room filled with a tense silence, Belladonna fought the urge to roll her eyes at her father's presence even as a grown woman, she was still afraid of him. Their relationship has been strained for years, marked by their conflicting personalities and differing views on life. She knew that engaging in conversation with him was often an exercise in frustration.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Belladonna crossed her arms over her chest, readying herself for whatever conversation her father had come to initiate.

The loft, once a sanctuary for Belladonna, now held an added layer of tension, as the clash between father and daughter loomed on the horizon.

Chapter Seven

3 notes · View notes

lairn · 1 year

Note

For the tv show asks: 2, 4, 6, 34 and 48

(My app is acting out. I apologize if more than one ask was sent or I fear none of them were...)

Thanks, these were fun to think over!

2. if you could have saved one TV show from cancellation, which one would it be? Mindhunter, which is a Netflix show directed by David Fincher. I actually don't think Netflix was doing its patented cancel scheme. If I remember right, Fincher stepped back and the company didn't want to continue the show without him. Partially I'm sorry about it because it was a good, sort of creepy and intense show, but also I just really enjoyed sharing it with two of my friends.

4. are there any shows you wish could just be cancelled already? Stranger Things. But another one I have more to say about: although I enjoy it, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia's long run has become almost grotesque. The performers/writers know it, and have inserted a sick desperation into the characters as they age into their 40s but continue the same behaviors they had in their 20s. Also, the show has comedic highs and lows, and maybe the writers would be refreshed and more consistent if they moved on to something else. That said, if another season comes out I'm almost certain to watch it (months late) in case it captures the funnier aspects successfully. 50/50 chance of that.

6. which shows do you think are underrated and need more love? Hm, I end up watching a lot of prestige television, so this is difficult. Occasionally I hear people talking about their favorite Spider-Man cartoon and when it's not Spectacular Spider-Man I feel disappointed. For people who weren't around when it came out, I'd recommend Six Feet Under, but that's definitely prestige tv. I recently rewatched Ping Pong: The Animation, which wasn't as good on a second viewing, but it has a great soundtrack and stylistically it's very impressive. I suspect they had a limited budget but they really made that budget work for them, so even when there are a lot of still images the show is visually satisfying.

34. what are your top 5 shows right now? I'm not finished with Better Call Saul yet, but it will almost certainly make this list.

-Breaking Bad (was still excellent on a rewatch, top tier example of writing for television) -Avatar: The Last Airbender (makes me cry every time, great fight scenes, fun world building, epic) -Mob Psycho 100 (although I prefer the manga narrative a little the animation is gorgeous and the show still captures a lot of what I love about the story) -30 Rock (I don't think I would enjoy watching this one as much anymore, but in its proper time and place it was consistently funny and a favorite) -Hannibal (deranged gothic dark comedy romance, beautiful set and costume design, one slump in the writing at the start of season 3 but it's still a great, weird show)

48. are there any shows your friends love but you aren’t interested in? A few friends have brought up The Last of Us to me, but I can't imagine watching it. I'm not partial to zombie stories (the friends says it's not zombies but I know it is) and a trusted source told me it's "fine". A second one I actually did watch but regret: Andor. People hyped it up a lot, but at best it's a 6/10 sort of show. I'm mad at myself for watching a Star Wars asset in 2023.

#ask game

7 notes · View notes

seventeenlovesthree · 2 years

Text

Digiweek 2022 Drabbles/Ficlets - Red Shades Filling Up My Heart

One year ago, @dutchforstrangers had decided to dedicate the entirety of Digiweek to a lovely little polyamorous OT3 fanfiction with the title “Shades of Red”. Even if I went into Digiweek 2022 pretty much unprepared, I’m still aiming to pay homage to the story by taking a look at how things may have developed afterwards…

🧡💜❤️

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Chapter 4: Drama

Summary: At one of her design exhibitions, Sora gets approached by a visitor, who seems very interested in the whereabouts of her inspirations, the reputation of the Takenouchi family - and Sora’s personal involvement with a certain diplomat and a certain scientist threatening the status quo of traditionalism...

Characters: Taichi Yagami, Koushirou Izumi, Sora Takenouchi, Toshiko Takenouchi

Ship: Taikoura

Main POV: Sora Takenouchi

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1842

A/N: There’s also a little call-back to this little comic here...

At this moment, she began to feel eyes gaze upon herself, a piercing, condescending glance causing shivers right down her spine, Sora knew that something was not alright.

She had always known when to keep her guard up; her instincts and intuition were often more wary than they needed to be, at least towards people whose intentions seemed shady to her.

Today was one of those days – as a visitor had caught her attention a while ago.

Hosting an exhibition by herself was something she had grown accustomed to since her early twenties. Back then, she still did flower arrangements, some of which she now looked back on very fondly, whereas others made her blush in embarrassment.

It had been a process, a journey. Nowadays, she was displaying her clothing lines, mostly intertwined with traditional Japanese designs, yet showcasing her very own touch, with flowers still being a very prominent stylistic device she frequently used.

She also enjoyed making clothes in her free time. Setting up her two partners with either casual or formal work attire was one of her favourite past times.

Even if she knew that not everyone approved of their relationship…

"Such a delicate design. I have been a fan of your works for years now, Takenouchi-san." The visitor, who had been pacing around the public gallery for a while now, had finally decided to approach Sora directly, politely bowing toward her. "It's clear how much more refined your recent work has become. More passionate. Truly remarkable."

"Thank you very much," Sora replied in just the same manner, taking a little bow herself. However, she still couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"Blooming love…," he mused, reciting the theme of the collection. "May I ask if love has been an inspiration for you in making these?"

Sora frowned. What a peculiar thing to ask. She took a step backward, facing her creations once more. It certainly wasn’t wrong that she had experienced some kind of creative boost in the last year, but hearing someone comment on it was still a different story. Absentmindedly, her fingers caressed the thin frame of the communicator glasses she was wearing leisurely. Koushirou had invented them to always be able to watch and listen to her exhibitions whenever they couldn’t be there in person. Just one of the many things she wholeheartedly adored about them…

"Well... Isn’t love the most inspirational driver a human heart could wish for? "

"Love… May I speak honestly with you, Takenouchi-san?," the man elaborated sluggishly, seeming somewhat lost in thought. Sora usually loved people getting talkative about her designs, but this one seemed... different.

"There have been a few rumours lately. The public has been made aware that the heir of the Takenouchi school has been involved in various… Monstrous rampages throughout Tokyo, several years ago."

Hearing that, Sora felt herself flinching instinctively and took another step away. This didn’t seem to be about her exhibition at all…

"Digimon, Digital Monsters, the Digital World… Those keywords have made their way into the eye of the media quite commonly."

"That isn’t very surprising, Digimon appearing in this world should be common knowledge by now, after all," she replied, still trying to stay cautious without sounding too snappy, but she didn’t like where this was going. What were this person’s intentions?

"Mhhh… This may be a rather personal query, I’m aware, but… There has been a rather noisy diplomat, appearing on the news very frequently all over Japan. Promoting the unification of both the digital and real worlds. And supposedly, there have been scientists working relentlessly on that matter for years, supporting the ridiculous idea that there could be a symbiosis between traditionalism and modernism… Digitalization… Corruption of traditionalism… The idea of uniting the real and digital worlds... Is that truly their goal?"

Sora couldn’t help but feel reminded of humans – and human-like creatures – that had been talking similarly in the past. Oikawa, Dark Gennai… Keeping her digivice close by, it didn’t give any indication that this person was in some way possessed or otherwise linked to an otherworldly being, but she couldn’t be completely sure. He simply seemed way too informed…

"I’m afraid I cannot follow. And I genuinely believe this is nothing that should be discussed here, of all places."

"Is that so? Rumour has it that you are involved with those conspiracists."

The uneasiness increased more and more, and Sora felt a stinging in her chest. Of course, they had tried to keep track of all the media reports about Digital World affairs – and even though the public eye lost interest in them every few years, Taichi had been attracting a lot of attention with his speeches recently, with Koushirou providing all the data and information he needed to underline his statements. Her main involvement had been to provide them with appropriate apparel—besides the fact that they were all infamous for having been among the first Chosen Children ever sighted in Japan.

"The names Yagami and Izumi have been mentioned a lot in the context of those... goals. Alongside the name Takenouchi," the visitor continued, eyes narrowing with every uttered word. "And rumour also has it, there seems to be more than just a work-related arrangement…"

The shiver returned, and Sora just stared at the man in absolute disbelief.

There had been controversies and drama before but never had she expected that information about their relationship could have reached the outside world – not so soon.

Within their private circles, things looked a little bit different. Unlike Taichi’s and Koushirou’s families, who had been confirming their support from the start, Toshiko had voiced her reservations rather hesitantly. Not because she didn’t like either Taichi or Koushirou, on the contrary. She had known Taichi for most of his life, being very much aware of the thunderstorms their relationship had gone through throughout all these years and, as far as Sora could judge, she had grown fond of his charms and bright presence, despite all the ups and downs they had experienced. Koushirou, on the other hand, had been someone she had been having calm conversations with, so Sora assumed she appreciated his polite attitude and wide knowledge of tea.

Either way – Sora was aware that the reputation of the Takenouchi school was incredibly important to her. Even if she wasn’t sure if it was more important than her daughter’s happiness, Toshiko had already had to make compromises in terms of Sora finding her path career-wise. Her being in a rather unconventional relationship with two men at once must have been an additional shock.

Haruhiko had been more open from the start, but even after months had passed, Sora still couldn’t tell if her mother was approving or merely tolerating her current lifestyle…

Either way, her fight instinct had kicked in. Whatever this man’s motivations were – envy, general malice, an unhealthy obsession with the Takenouchi school and traditionalism, or even Sora herself? –, whatever he was planning on achieving by interrogating her like this, she had to put an end to it. She knew she couldn’t get too angry or even violent in public if she didn’t want to draw even more attention to herself. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t assert herself and the rising anger in her stomach:

"This is a very personal and also highly inappropriate query, which I will not discuss, as it is none of your business," she responded as calmly as possible, even though the urge to grit her teeth was very intense.

"Oh, I am just worried about the standing of the Takenouchi school…" A sly grin had formed on the man’s face as he reached out to her with one hand, attempting to put it on her shoulder in a somewhat empathetic way. "Wouldn’t it be a shame if the name Takenouchi was associated with such… Dishonorable practices?"

This time, something in her snapped, and she had already raised her hand to go for the punch – but another hand, coming out of nowhere, was faster than hers.

"Taichi!"

Out of the blue, Taichi had wrapped his fist tightly around the man’s wrist, stopping him in his motions and causing him to look more than just a little startled. If Sora had to describe the look in Taichi’s eyes, it would have been a one-on-one translation of the wrath she had been feeling herself. Thankfulness and affection were now replacing it inch by inch.

But Taichi wasn’t the only one who had entered the scene…

"Excuse me, you have been invading Takenouchi-san’s personal space more than enough. I’m afraid we cannot allow you to get any closer if you don’t want to face consequences."

The coldness in Koushirou’s voice was something she hadn’t witnessed often before, the expression on his face was equally intimidating. He and Taichi had stepped in between Sora and the man, both of them looking down on him – almost like vengeful guardian angels – as Taichi was letting go of his hand, basically hissing:

"If you dare to even try touching her one more time, there will be serious consequences."

"Y-you-!," the man stuttered, taking several steps backward, and Sora already wanted to ask how and where they were coming from all of the sudden… When another voice, seeping with authority, could be heard from behind her:

"May I ask you not to bother my daughter with such nonsensical debates?"

Takenouchi Toshiko, wearing one of her most stunning kimonos, walked towards them now, and Sora was even more flabbergasted than before. Then she noticed that all of them were wearing communicator glasses as well.

So they must have heard everything…

"I cannot allow for her and my sons-in-law to be publicly denounced like this," Toshiko continued calmly, "Gossip is more shameful to my family and the beauty of this exhibition than anything else, which I cannot tolerate, so I have to ask you to leave this place immediately."

Feeling threatened and trapped, the man had already turned on the heel – but not without Taichi gently stroking Sora’s side before following him.

"I’ll personally show you the exit if you don’t mind."

Sora felt her nerves gradually calming down. Still watching Taichi’s back as he accompanied the man out of the gallery, she eventually turned around towards Koushirou and Toshiko almost mechanically. She could only hope that this encounter would remain a one-time-only experience…

"Is everything okay?" Koushirou asked, reaching for Sora’s shoulder himself with deeply worried eyes, making her heart swell a little more in the process.

"Yes, more than okay, actually, thank you," she answered truthfully, still unable to grasp what had just happened, and finally managed to face her mother. "What are you doing here – all of you, I mean?"

"Initially, we intended for this to be a surprise visit…" Toshiko said, sounding quite apologetic about everything, looking equally worried – but the way she had said "we", referring to herself and her self-proclaimed sons-in-law, so casually and comfortably, made Sora happier than anything else in the world.

"Oh… Believe me, the surprise was pretty successful."

#digiweek2022 #digiweek 2022 #digiweek #taikoura #my drabbles #fanfiction #digimon #sora takenouchi #taichi yagami #koushirou izumi #toshiko takenouchi #koura #taiora #taishirou #i really want to draw taichi and koushirou as vengeful angels at some point hehe

13 notes · View notes