Galactica, Chapter 98 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 

Previously: Charlie offered Courtney a deal, work pressure increased for Violet, and Nicky got curious about Miss Fame’s disagreement with Bianca.  

This Chapter: Sutan helps Violet relieve some stress (so to speak), Nicky investigates her workplace mystery. 

***

Bianca hadn’t heard much from Courtney after her meeting with Charlie, but based on their deal behind the scenes, it had to have been good news. So when she got home, she poured a two glasses of rosé before finding Courtney in the den, figuring that they could toast to her success. She was curled up on the sofa, dogs in her lap, surrounded by papers, purple Sharpie in her hand. 

“Hey…what are you up to?” Bianca asked, leaning against the door. 

“Oh, hi!” Courtney looked up, surprised. Apparently she’d been concentrating so hard that she hadn’t even heard Bianca arrive. “I’m just trying to go through this contract from Charlie-” 

“A contract, huh? So, that sounds like pretty good news…” Bianca walked toward Courtney on the sofa, holding out one of the wine glasses for her while setting a bunch of bags on the coffee table. 

“Oh! Yeah!” A grin broke out across Courtney’s face and she put the papers on the table, as well, eyeing the bags as she capped her pen. When Bianca slid in beside her, she first pulled her close for a soft kiss, then accepted the wine glass, asking, “Are you proud?” 

“So proud,” Bianca said, clinking their glasses together gently. “Are you proud?” 

“I guess I am…I don’t know, it doesn’t really feel real yet,” she admitted, one eye still focused on the shopping bags. “But Olivia introduced me to a manager who said she can help me go through it on Friday…” 

Bianca smirked to herself, knowing that she was probably dying with curiosity. Ever since the promo items from every designer started being delivered to Marie Claire for Fashion Week, Bianca had been coming home from work every day with presents, which were getting bigger and better the closer they got to February. She knew that Courtney was probably dying to dive in, but instead, she took a sip of her wine and continued to chat casually. 

“Oh yeah? Who’s the manager?” 

“Latrice Royale. Do you know her?” Courtney asked. 

“Hell yeah! She’s a real good-time gal, you’ll love her,” Bianca said, settling in beside her with an arm around her shoulders. “But, um…you know I can help you with that kind of thing, right? Or send it to one of the attorneys who-” 

“I know.” Courtney put a hand on Bianca’s arm, fingers stroking the soft fabric. “I just kind of…I feel like I need to figure it out myself.” 

“Hmm…” Bianca supposed that it was smart of her to do that. And she couldn’t help but be a little impressed that Courtney was actually going through the contract, her notes and question marks scribbled in the margins. So many people she knew had been fucked over because they’d simply signed contracts without reading them. 

Latrice was an excellent manager, so she knew that Courtney would be in good hands with her. It was a little unsettling, though, how quickly Courtney had managed to find someone else to help her, and she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit uneasy. 

“You’re not mad, are you?” Courtney looked up at her, brows knitted together. “I just figured that you’ve already done so much, and you have work, and Fashion Week is coming up, and-” 

“Of course I’m not mad,” Bianca said quickly. And she wasn’t, not at all. She pressed a kiss to Courtney’s cheek. “I think it’s great that you’re doing all this yourself. But it doesn’t matter how busy I am. If you need me, I’ll be here for you.” 

“I know. Thanks, B.” Courtney sighed, snuggling close against her. “So can I open those presents?” 

“I knew you were eyeing up the bags!” she exclaimed, tickling Courtney’s ribs, making her squeal. 

“Well, what is it!? Is it something sparkly?” she asked. 

“Alright, magpie, open the fucking bags.” 

Courtney giggled, snatching the bags off the table and pulling everything out: several pairs of earrings, a YSL metallic lavender mini-skirt, a red suede jacket from Guess, a pair of Sophia Webster slingback pumps with a watermelon motif, and a rhinestoned Judith Leiber clutch that looked like a bunch of asparagus. It was all very her, and the way she shrieked happily and gushed over each item made Bianca feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

“It’s gonna look great with that patchwork denim skirt,” Bianca said, gesturing to the purse. 

“Thank you, B. I love you so much,” Courtney said, climbing into her lap. “And you know, I do need you. Without you, I’d be…a fucking lost soul.” 

Bianca would never have admitted how good she felt, hearing Courtney say that while clasped in her arms, murmuring against her. Instead, she took one finger and tilted Courtney’s chin towards her. 

“Same, angel,” she whispered, before capturing her lips in a kiss. “Fucking lost…”

***

“Mmh,” Sutan hummed, pressing his lips against Violet’s throat, his hand closing around her breast, the lace of her bra against his palm. They were on top of the covers, a trail of clothes leading from the couch to the bedroom. Sutan had come home from work to find Violet sweet and waiting, his girlfriend filled to the brim with pent up energy, practically radiating a need for release.

Sutan shifted, moving Violet’s legs with his own, settling in when Violet pulled back, trying to look behind him.

“What?” Sutan glanced down, Violet’s black hair fanned out on the pillow, her neck pink from his teeth and lips.

“Are you wearing a single sock?”

“Shit,” Sutan moved back and up on his knee, one black sock still on his otherwise naked body. He had been so eager to respond to Violet’s call, had wanted to treat her so right that he had forgotten.

“Oh my god!” Violet giggled, pushing herself up on her elbow, reaching out, pink nails and pale hands against a tan thigh, “Let me-“

“I can do it,“ Sutan snatched Violet’s hand, pulling it up and away, lacing their fingers together, an emotion he refused to identify as embarrassment fizzling out in his stomach.

“Obviously,“ Violet rolled her eyes, warmth in her voice as she tried to tug her hand free. “Now let me-“

“No-“ Sutan pushed her back, pinning her against the bed by her shoulders, Violet’s eyes widening before a wicked grin spread on her lips, her hips bucking up and unsettling Sutan with a shout.

“Hey!” Sutan laughed, Violet jumping him, the two of them rolling around the bed, fighting for control, Violet truly challenging him.

Sutan couldn’t say exactly how it happened, but he had ended up on his back, Violet on his lap, her knees digging into his ribs, her hands firmly planted on his chest.

He had lost, and somehow, it didn’t matter.

“Hey,” Sutan smiled, looking up at Violet, her hair spilling over her shoulders. He could feel her against him, hot and ready through her panties, his cock rock hard and smashed against her thigh, Violet’s small breasts heaving in their bra.

“Hey…” Violet was flushed, her cheeks pink, and Sutan couldn’t help but reach out, fingers running up her arm until he could snatch the strap of her bra, Violet quickly getting it and reaching behind, unhooking it to drop it on the floor.

She was absolutely gorgeous, but he felt his stomach do a flip when he realized that he could see every single one of Violet’s ribs, the bone pressing against the skin, her hips starting to jut out too. 

He knew his girlfriend had been dropping weight she really couldn’t afford to lose because of stress, but it was different to see it so clearly, the bedside lamp illuminating her body. 

“I love you.” It spilled from him, the words the first thing, the only thing, that came to mind. It felt almost cowardly to say, like it wasn’t enough, like he was somehow, like he was supposed to save Violet, to do something, anything, but she simply smiled, leaning forward to press the sweetest kiss against his lips, her black hair a lavender scented curtain around them.

“I love you too,” Sutan could barely hear the words, Violet whispering them right before she kissed him again and pulled away, the wicked glimt back in her eyes. “Now take off that sock.”

“Ha!” Sutan snorted, flipping Violet over, his girlfriend laughing.

***

“Et voila,” Nicky said, handing over the folder to Ivy, which contained all the approved looks for next week’s Marie Claire shoot. She liked visiting Ivy and by extension Raja, the plants and the dark green giving it a much more relaxing vibe than Fame’s sparkling white.

“Thank you!” Ivy took the folder, a smile on her lips. “How’s your first week going?” 

Nicky paused in the door and turned back around. She’d been prepared to hurry back to her own desk, but figured that lingering for a minute was okay. After all, Ivy seemed like a good person to get to know better, being friendly with other assistants often what saved your neck in a pinch.

“Well, I think,” she answered. “Miss Fame hasn’t said much, but she seems pleased.”

Fame hadn’t really acknowledged her existence or looked at her, the majority of her commands and requests going directly to Violet, but she was calling her Nicky when she was talking to her, Fame getting her name right apparently a big deal.

“Or… Well, at least not not pleased.” 

“Mmh,” Ivy laughed, nodding her head. “Trust me, you’d know if she wasn’t pleased. It seems like you’re gonna be a perfect fit. And if there’s ever anything I can do, or help you with, please don’t be afraid to ask. I’ve been here for a long time.” 

“Thank you,” Nicky said, then after a moment of hesitation, added, “There is one small thing…” 

“Yes?” 

“So…I see that Raja is handling the Marie Claire shoot,” Nicky said, gesturing to the folder she’d just delivered. “And Violet mentioned that Miss Fame and Bianca Del Rio are…um, not in direct communication at the moment. I was just wondering if you had any more information. You know, so that I can do my job better.” 

She bit her lip, hoping she didn’t come off disrespectful. But she was anxious to know why Miss Fame’s  very long term friendship was suffering. It wasn’t like Nicky, but after Violet’s admission, she had taken to social media, combing through both Bianca and Fame’s Instagram profiles. She couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary, Bianca posting her normal content of parties, clothes and a girl Nicky assumed she was dating, but neither her nor Fame had mentioned each other since before Christmas.

“So…” Ivy folded her hands and glanced around, then continued in a low voice, “I really shouldn’t be talking about this…but…it has to do with Miss Fame’s previous assistant.” 

“Her assistant?” Nicky asked, brow furrowed. What could her assistant have to do with Bianca Del Rio? 

“Look, I know you’re new here, so you probably don’t know yet who to go to for…information. And…I mean, you should just probably know not to talk to Roxy in reception about Courtney,” Ivy finished with a sly wink, so quick that Nicky almost missed it. 

“Aha. Thank you for that advice,” Nicky said.

“Anytime.” 

***

“Omigod,” Roxy whimpered, her fingers digging into the wood of her desk, looking like she was suffering from great physical distress, “The thing is, it’s so deliciously juicy and I wanna tell you so sooo bad but…” 

Roxy took a slow, deep breath, seemed to be trying to center herself, then looked directly at Nicky, with a slight shake of her head. 

“See, I promised that I would be good. Ugh, this sucks,” Roxy groaned, leaning back in her chair. 

“Listen, I get it,” Nicky couldn’t really hide her smile, the coffees she’d just picked up warm in her hands. “I’m not trying to get gossip, I just want to understand-” 

“Oh, I know. I get it.” Roxy gave her a mischievous grin, then snapped her fingers and said, “Pearl! Pearl was there when it all went down.”

Nicky nodded. She hadn’t met Pearl Liaison yet, but she already knew her reputation, Violet looking exasperated every time Pearl had called their office. 

“She can fill you in. Plus, she’s super loyal to Miss Fame so she won’t tell you anything out of turn.” Roxy looked mighty proud of herself, a glint in her eyes.

“Thank you, Roxy.” Nicky smiled, “Have a great day!”

***

“Well well well, aren’t you a naughty thing,” Pearl grinned, spinning around in her chair. “Good to know that the inside matches the delightful outside.” 

Nicky hadn’t known what to expect when Violet had sent her down to PR, warning her to keep it brief and professional, while remembering that Pearl was her superior, no matter how charming she seemed. 

“Listen, I’d love to fill you in, especially since Violet probably left you high and dry. She never says anything about anything,” Pearl drawled, pulling some of her blonde hair over her shoulder and running her fingers through it, “but I’m unfortunately bound by ethics to keep my mouth shut. You know who isn’t, though? And who’d love to tell you the whole sordid tale? Bob Caldwell from design. Find him at lunch when Maxwell isn’t around, but be prepared to have something to trade. He loves a good bit of gossip from upstairs.”

***

“Merci!” Nicky sang, taking the receipt from the cashier and then turning around with her tray. She’d been dubious about the cafeteria food at first, but so far had found it to be surprisingly decent. 

Nicky’s insistence on a real lunch break was, so far, the only thing that seemed like it might be a problem. Violet ate lunch at her desk nearly every day, answering emails while picking at a salad. The thought of it made Nicky pity her a bit. When she’d announced that a nice, filling lunch was essential for keeping her energy up and doing her best work, Violet’s mouth had immediately turned down in a frown, and it seemed like she’d wanted to argue about it. 

However, one thing that Nicky appreciated about Violet was that she seemed to have some respect for her years of experience, and thus held her tongue, content to silently disapprove while Nicky gathered her purse. Nicky knew that Miss Fame was probably used to having someone glued to their desk all day, but this was one thing she wasn’t planning to compromise on. 

She’d assimilated into American culture in almost every way since moving here three years ago, but giving up lunch? Not on her agenda. 

She balanced the tray of grilled chicken, tomato soup and roasted vegetables as she scanned the cafeteria, wondering if there would be any familiar faces. When she spotted Bob Cadwall at a table in the corner, she nearly cried out with happiness—just the person she’d been dying to meet. Even better, the man who’d been sitting with him was getting up, giving him a quick kiss and leaving an empty place. Nicky strode over, ready to begin her mission.

“Hello… You’re Bob Caldwell, yes?” 

“Yup!” Bob looked up, flashing a bright smile. “And you’re the new assistant, right?” 

“Yes.” Nicky looked around conspiratorially, then lowered her voice. “I heard that you enjoy being kept…in the loop on the latest news…” 

“I sure do!” Bob quickly pushed out the chair across from his seat with his foot. “Please sit. I’m all ears.” 

“Well…” Nicky put her tray down, then delicately slid into the seat, voice still quiet. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be telling anyone this…” She bit her lip demurely, grinning on the inside when Bob’s eyes widened.

“Listen, you should know that anything you tell me in confidence…” Bob mimed zipping his lips, then locking them and throwing the key over his shoulder. “Done.”

“Ah, good to know. But maybe…” Nicky took a deep breath. “Maybe you can clear something up for me first?” 

“Sure, sure.” Bob nodded, eyes glittering. “What do you need?” 

“I’ve been trying to figure out why Miss Fame and Bianca Del Rio are…on the outs, should we say? And what does that have to do with her old assistant? People seem to not want to talk about it, and I can’t find any trace of the girl in our office, but it’s really helpful in my job to know about touchy things. Do you know anything that might clarify the situation?” 

“Oh yeah,” Bob replied with a chuckle. “Sit back and relax, because this shit is wild.” 

Nicky nodded, relieved that she was finally going to get to the bottom of things. 

“Okay, so, I guess it all started with Miss Fame’s last assistant, Courtney. Who was…I’m gonna be nice and just say a bit chaotic. Sweet, but totally in over her head. Always running around like she was on fire.” 

“Ahh.” Well, that explained why the most recent job description stressed experience. 

“A few weeks before the holiday break, she started getting all kinds of deliveries at the office from the Marie Claire runner. So Roxy did a little digging, and found out that they were all coming from BDR’s office.” 

“What kind of deliveries?” 

“Clothes, jewelry, lingerie…you name it.” 

“Wow.” That was certainly bold of Bianca, sending gifts like that to the office. And any story that began with a torrid affair was bound to be good—not to mention explaining why so many of her coworkers were loathe to talk about it, with their puritanical American notions about sex. 

“So then.” Bob put down the sandwich still in his hands and folded his hands, leaning across the table. “Bianca shows up to the Galactica holiday party, and guess who she’s brought as her date? Making out all over the red carpet?” 

“Ohh…” Nicky’s eyes widened. It was one thing to have a discreet affair—Nicky wasn’t above that herself. But to have a public relationship with your friend’s assistant? No wonder Miss Fame wasn’t speaking to her. 

“So of course, Miss Fame was pissed, but what could she do? She gritted her teeth and smiled through the night.” 

“Of course.” Nicky had no doubt that Miss Fame would have handled the whole mess in a perfectly professional way. 

“The next day, the fashion blogs and gossip sites had their pictures all over, but I think we all assumed it would blow over pretty quickly. And then…” Bob’s face broke out into a grin again. “Well, I don’t think anyone knew at the time, unless they were following Courtney on Instagram. But suddenly her feed was full of pictures of this glamorous vacation to Puerto Rico that Bianca took her on over the holiday break. And when they got back to town, she moved into Bianca’s apartment. And then, the worst part…when the company opened back up, she just…never showed up.” 

“Bob Caldwell!” a voice snapped, and both Nicky and Bob looked up, guilty expressions all over their faces. A stunning woman stood above their table, foot tapping, brow creased with disapproval. Her face was even more beautiful than the picture in Nicky’s manual. “What kind of shit are you spreading now, sir?” 

Bob’s face melted into the picture of innocence. “Nothing, Shangie! I swear, I was just telling absolutely true and verified facts…just to catch Nicky up on some things.” 

“Mmhmm…” 

“Have you met Nicky? Miss Fame’s new assistant?” 

“Hi, Nicky. I’m Shangela. I work in operations.” She shifted her gaze to Nicky, brown eyes warm despite the air of annoyance that still surrounded her.

“Enchanté…” Nicky said, extending her hand. As she smiled up at Shangela, she saw her stern expression falter, just for a moment, a hint of a smile flickering in her eyes. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Nicky said. 

Shangela cleared her throat, releasing Nicky’s hand and shifting her attention back to Bob. “Behave yourself, Bob. I’m serious.” 

“I always do!” 

Shangela snorted, shaking her head. “Sure.” 

She gave both of them a little wave and continued to the door, Nicky watching her go until Bob snapped her back to attention.

“Watch out for Shangie. She’s a Fame loyalist, through and through. Been with them from the beginning. She used to date Raja way back, but she stayed with the company even though their breakup was horrible. Like hiss at each other at meetings kinda terrible.”

“Oh.” Nicky tried not to let any emotion show on her face.

“Anyway. Back to my story…that first morning back, after the holidays? It was wild. Everyone was in a panic. Poor Roxy and Ivy had to deal with the whole situation ‘cause she was just…gone. Dropped off her computer or something but never actually showed her face. That’s why Violet’s back in Miss Fame’s office. It’s insane, actually, since she’s so valuable in design—she’s doing the finale dress for fashion week.” 

“Oh my gosh…” Nicky felt terrible for Violet. To get such an illustrious promotion and then immediately get dragged back into your old position. 

Bob leaned back, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway, I don’t know what went on behind the scenes. I’m sure Fame and Bianca had it out at some point but…no way to know. It’ll be super interesting to see how they handle her invites and seating for fashion week.” 

“Right…” As tense as things might be, having Bianca Del Rio absent from the show would be scandalous on a level that she was sure Miss Fame wouldn’t want. 

“Can you imagine if she shows up with Courtney as her plus one?” Bob asked, eyes sparkling with delight. 

“She wouldn’t dare!” 

Bob shrugged his shoulders, still grinning, singing, “I guess we’ll see…” After a moment, he added. “Alright…that’s everything I know. Now your turn.” 

“My turn?” Nicky raised one eyebrow.

“Yeah, you said you had news from upstairs. Time to spill.” 

“Oh. Well…” Nicky gave a coy, only slightly apologetic smile. “I may have implied that, yes. Oops.” 

“Oh, you sneaky bitch!” Bob burst into delighted giggles. “Alright, werk. But that’s only gonna work this one time! So I hope it was worth it!” 

Nicky giggled along with him, thinking to herself that it very much was.

***

Fame reached out, picking up the piping hot coffee from the corner of her desk. She opened her laptop, ready to go through another batch of emails, when she heard the taps.

She looked up, only to see Violet standing in the door, her knuckles resting on the frame. She was holding a notebook against her chest, clearly waiting for permission to either enter or get lost.

“Don’t just stand there. It’s annoying.”

“Right,” Violet nodded, quickly stepping into the office and closing the door behind her. She was wearing a high necked sweater dress, the knit in a knotted pattern now that Fame could see it in the light. “I know you haven’t requested an update, but Nicky has been us for almost a week now-”

“Yes? I’m aware.” Fame raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She knew Violet had been stressed since Courtney had pulled her ridiculous stunt, but she’d never bothered her with such unnecessary details before. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well,” Violet hesitated for a second, and then, she barreled on, “She shows great potential, she’s a quick learner, and I believe she’ll be up to speed soon, so I was hoping-”

“Hoping?” Fame tried to stay calm, she really did, but Violet wasn’t paid to hope. She was paid to do her job, and hope sounded a lot like betrayal, like Violet was planning a mutiny. 

“Yes, to return to design, to work-”

Fame’s stomach instantly turned to ice, the nightmare she hadn’t expected coming to life in front of her, Violet continuing in an uncharacteristic display of obliviousness.

“I was thinking end of Monday, maybe Tuesday next week, but-”

“No.”

“Oh? Well, Wednesday would be good too-”

“I said no.” Fame stood up, her emotions overwhelming her. “I tried leaving it up to you to decide when training was finished last time, and that ended in pure catastrophe. You’ll be staying until after I return from Europe.”

Fame didn’t even know that she was going to make that decision, but it felt instantly right, calm washing over her at the thought of having Violet behind the wheel while she was away.

“But-” Violet swallowed, her fingers white from how tightly she gripped her notebook.

“But what?” Fame couldn’t remember Violet ever going directly against her, couldn’t recall the girl so blatantly dismissing a direct order. “Is there a problem??”

“What about my dress, the closing look?” 

Ah. Right. Fame had momentarily forgotten. She sat back down. If it was anyone else, she might be concerned, but she knew that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Violet would allow anything other than sheer perfection down her runway. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she said, then waved her hand, gesturing for Violet to be on her way. “That’s all.”

***

Wait for Time (To Do What it Does) (Camgeria) - Athena2

Summary: Camden and Angeria are time travelers who are unable to interact in their own time and use their time travel missions to meet each other throughout history.

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve had an idea of doing something along these lines for a while now, and I’m so glad I was able to finish it. I’m honestly really proud of this one, which doesn’t happen often. That said, thank you so much to Writ for letting me send you ridiculously long texts about this and just letting me work through my ideas with you.

I really hope you enjoy, and please leave feedback if you like!!

Title from My Love by Florence + the Machine.

1. London, 1543

The gray sky blankets the world around the marketplace, and Angeria is living inside a history book.

She fiddles with the travel watch, remade into a leather cuff for the time period. The entire world on her wrist. Time is more fragile than she ever knew.

It’s a pretty easy first assignment—stocking fruits and vegetables that get sold in the marketplace. The Legion said her being here is important. She doesn’t know why, but time isn’t hers to question. It’s just part of the job: travel to a specific time and location. Slip into an assigned role that makes them blend in. Carry out a task in that role, a task that preserves time from anyone trying to mess with it. Then they leave, back to their own present. She’s surprised no other recruit was sent with her though, since it is her first mission.

The day passes as she drops off crates of apples and grapes and lemons, no one noticing her at all. She’s literally playing with time like a kid in a sandbox, touching each grain as it passes through her hands. It’s dizzying, and she’s grateful when the merchants start packing up. Her work here is done.

“Do you think eating these grapes will make time collapse? I’m so hungry.”

Angeria looks up and gasps. Someone else was on this mission with her.

Camden.

In their own present time, she and Camden received their training at Legion together, like all the recruits. But after training, recruits aren’t allowed to communicate. Legion doesn’t want the risk that a present relationship will throw recruits off their game and alter the past if they work a mission together. They can communicate on missions, but only about relevant things.

Angeria hasn’t seen her since their training days, where they were both top of the class, where her eyes went to Camden every minute. No matter how quiet she seemed, she always talked to Angeria, doing anything she could to make her laugh. Seeing her again, her red curls twisted in a braid, her cheeks flushed, makes Angeria’s heart pound.

“Should be fine,” Angeria says. “I’m hungry too. We can collapse time together.” She grabs a bunch of ripe grapes and hands it to a smiling Camden, taking another for herself.

“So I guess we go back now. Everything went okay?”

Angeria nods. Nothing went obviously wrong, and she’s assuming her actions kept time intact.

“Well, good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.”

“Who knows,” Camden says hopefully, “Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.”

Sometime. In some other time.

“I’d like that,” Angeria says. She stares at her watch, knowing it’s time to go, no matter how long she wants to talk to Camden.

Theoretically, they can stay here as long as they like, and still be back seconds after they first left. But they aren’t supposed to stay anywhere after they’ve completed their job. The longer they stay, the greater the risk that they could alter something, no matter how unintentional. So they enter their return coordinates, vanishing within seconds of each other.

There isn’t enough time.

—

2. New Providence, 1668

The air is warm around her, and Camden hopes that means her senses are returning. She was supposed to materialize behind a church construction plot, but she can’t open her eyes yet, because everything is still spinning. It’s part of the side effects after traveling; limbs too weak and numb to move right away, head reeling with dizziness, nose sometimes bleeding from the suddenness of leaving one place and reappearing in another seconds later.

Her fingertips tingle as her body fully comes back to her. She slowly opens her eyes, knowing from experience not to rush it after throwing up on her first mission.

Sure enough, she’s on the ground, with what will be the Christ Church Cathedral behind her. It’ll be completed in two years, and though it gets destroyed several times it keeps being rebuilt, and still stands in her present. Time hasn’t beaten it.

She heads to the water, a blue-green so clear it feels like she can see straight to the bottom. Grand ships pull in and out of the harbor, their crews trekking to the boarding house. This is where Camden has her role, registering the ships and taking payment for rooms in the boarding house, though her real assignment is to make sure one ship stays docked until tomorrow. It’s one of the moments where the job seems most unbelievable to her: documenting the ships of 17th century pirates, watching them drink ale and fight over card games. She’s here. She’s really here.

And so is Angeria.

She’s at the dock with a ship’s crew, carrying bags. It grounds Camden to see her, makes things more real. Camden hoped she would see her again, and it’s nice having her here. Nice knowing they’ll find each other in different times.

Angeria runs to her. “I’m a pirate! Look, I have a sword and a puffy shirt and everything.” She poses for Camden, showing off the sword at her hip and the gold medallion around her neck.

“You’re definitely a pirate.” Camden’s slightly jealous it wasn’t her. They’re in the Caribbean in the Golden Age of Piracy, for crying out loud, and she’s stuck registering ships?

Someone barks for Angeria to get back to work, and she leaves with an apologetic smile. The day passes like this, dipping her quill in ink and sneaking glances at Angeria when she can. Things slow as the sun sets, and Camden heads to the water to see Angeria. Even if they’re not supposed to talk on missions, she’s too drawn to her not to. It was the same in training, and Angeria’s laugh was her favorite sound during those months.

Angeria smiles at her. “I love looking at the water. It’s relaxing, you know?”

“Yeah.” Though relaxing isn’t the word she’d use. The water is unbroken, unending, and it feels like Camden is drowning on dry land. “Does it ever scare you?” Camden asks.

“How do you mean?”

Camden sighs. “I mean, this water is here now, and we could come back in our time, and still see this same water, but so much will be different. The universe is so big and we’re just…”

“We’re just part of it,” Angeria says softly, and Camden nods, because Angeria understands her in ways she can’t understand herself sometimes. “Well, I’m glad I’m part of it with you.”

“Me too.” Angeria is beautiful with the sunset behind her, golden from its glow, and Camden’s about to tell her when shouts break out and pirates sprint past in a storm.

Three men strut toward the boathouse, chains clinking across the dock. The governor’s men, here to arrest pirates.

Camden turns to Angeria. “You have to run.”

“We both do, come on.”

Camden wants to run, but the sun glinting off Angeria’s medallion distracts her with a realization. She’s not a pirate, but Angeria is, and that means she’s in infinitely more danger. Danger Camden can help with, even as her heart pounds with fear. “You go, I’ll buy you time.”

“You can’t!”

“I just associate with pirates, but you are one. If they catch you, they’ll hang you.” Camden doesn’t like risks, but Angeria could get killed before she can even enter her coordinates to escape. Angeria was always so kind to her in training, and Camden doesn’t want her to get hurt or killed.

Angeria opens her mouth to protest, but Camden continues, ignoring the quiver in her voice. “There’s a ship. The Black Diamond. My job is to make sure it doesn’t leave the harbor tonight.”

“Camden—”

“Please, you have to make sure it doesn’t leave.”

Angeria grips her forearm, eyes intense with something Camden can’t figure out, and then she nods. “I’ll come back for you,” Angeria promises. She runs, reaching the trees the second the group reaches the dock. They tell Camden she won’t be in any trouble if she gives up the pirates she saw today. Camden refuses, and then there’s nothing but the cold grasp of iron around her wrists.

They don’t hang her, because she has information they need. Instead, they leave her in a freezing cell, chains attached to the wall. The chains feel like they’re squeezing her chest as well as her wrists, and they rub painfully against her skin with each movement. Her watch, her one escape, is stuck under the right one, no matter how she tries to get it out.

The panic is rising like a tide now. The governor is coming tomorrow, and she’s supposed to tell him what she knows about the pirates. They tell her it’ll be a polite meeting, but the guard winks menacingly at her, and she knows it won’t be. If she can’t free herself or Angeria doesn’t get here first, she won’t have a choice. But what if Angeria can’t come back for her, or doesn’t want to? What if she can’t escape from the cell or the governor? If they take her watch, she’ll be stuck here with no way home, and the thought makes her heart race. If that happens, she can only hope Angeria makes it back and tells the Legion to send someone for her—if they don’t decide to leave her as punishment for ruining the mission.

She’s stuck here. She’ll be stuck here forever, and tears fall and she gasps for breath as she tugs at her chains one last time. Panicking won’t help her, and she forces herself to breathe and think through her options. The guard has the key to her cell and chains. He’s too big to fight, but maybe she can outsmart him.

“Guard! I need water, please,” she calls. Her voice is already hoarse from not having a drink all day, and she adds some coughs for good measure. She’s always been a good actress.

It’s enough for the guard, at least, who stares at her intensely as he enters the cell and gives her a cup. Camden takes a sip and then throws the water in his face, ripping the keys from his hand while he’s distracted.

The key’s in the lock but she isn’t fast enough, and his rings gleam as his hand swings toward her face. There’s a burst of pain across her cheek and into her lip, and then she’s on the ice-cold floor with blood in her mouth, looking at him with dazed eyes.

She tries to sit up but he slams her back to the floor, pinning her there with a knee on her chest that crushes all her air.

“You’re a pretty little thing.” His hungry eyes make her heart pound, and she flinches when he touches her cheek. “Come on, be good—“

“Get the hell off her!”

There’s a smack as the guard’s club smashes into his head, then a thump as he hits the floor. Camden doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, doesn’t hope—

“Camden, are you okay?”

And Camden sobs in relief, because she knows that voice, knows the gentle hands helping her up. Angeria is all she sees as the world comes back into focus, and for the first time since being captured, she’s okay.

Because Angeria came back for her.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

She’s shaking so much her chains are rattling, and her lip stings where his rings cut her, but she looks at Angeria, at the worry in her eyes, and the pain fades.

“I-I’m okay,” she says honestly. “Thank you. I was trying to get his keys but—thank you.”

“I told you I’d come back.” Angeria’s hand hovers by Camden’s face, like she wants to stroke her cheek, but she gives her a handkerchief instead.

Camden dabs at her lip with a wince, making Angeria scowl at the unconscious guard. “He deserves worse than a concussion,” she spits, fists clenched. Camden has never seen her so angry, and the fact that she’s this angry on her behalf makes her chest warm, much too warm for this cold cell.

“It’s okay,” Camden says. It isn’t, really, but she saw that look in his eyes, like a hunter watching prey, and a split lip is nothing compared to what he could have done to her. What he would have done to her, if not for Angeria, and Camden shudders.

Angeria nods. “Let’s get you out of here.” She unlocks the chains and Camden can breathe again. But Angeria gasps at Camden’s wrists, the skin chafed to a raw pink and oozing blood in some spots. “I’m sorry,” Angeria says. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Absolutely not,” Camden says firmly. “This isn’t your fault. I mean it, Angeria. I-I’m just glad you’re okay.” She doesn’t want to think of what might have happened to Angeria if she got caught instead. Not to mention that any other recruit might have saved their own skin and left Camden here.

“I’m glad you’re okay too.” Angeria helps Camden to her feet, holding her steady when she wobbles, her hands steady and strong and comforting. They turn to their watches, and eager as she is to get out of here, Camden can’t help wondering if the watches are their own chain.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to come back, but you did.” Camden says, unsure what else to say. The simple fact is that she protected Angeria when she didn’t have to, and Angeria came back for her when she didn’t have to, and that simple fact has shifted things between them, brought them closer than recruits are allowed to be. But even with the rules, even with the blood still trickling from her lip, Camden is glad this happened. Glad it happened with Angeria.

“Of course.”

They’d say more, but they can’t.

There isn’t enough time.

—

3. Concord, Massachusetts, 1775

There’s someone near Angeria as her senses return, and the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is a blurry patch of red. Another blink, and her heart leaps.

Camden.

They’re together from the start this time, and Angeria can’t help feeling safer and more at home—even if she’s nearly 250 years from home.

“Hi, Angeria,” Camden says, sitting up and massaging feeling back into her legs. She looks much better than when Angeria found her in that cell, terrified and shaking, so small beneath that guard. Angeria rarely gets angry, but that blood on Camden’s lip made her see red, and all she wanted was to make that guard pay.

“Hi.”

They’re in a deserted alley behind a tavern, on cobblestones that are digging into Angeria’s back now that she can feel them. The air is salty from the ocean, just like it was in New Providence, and hopefully this mission won’t go as disastrously.

Angeria rises to her feet, taking in the barely-risen sun. “Today shouldn’t be too bad,” she says. Her job is delivering revolutionary pamphlets throughout the town.

“For you, maybe,” Camden mutters. She’s in black pants and a white shirt the texture of burlap.

“Why, what are you doing?”

Camden smiles grimly. “Someone has to take care of the horses, or Paul Revere’s ass is walking tonight.”

Angeria bites her lip to hide a laugh, but Camden catches on. “Laugh it up. I’d laugh myself if I wasn’t about to stand in mud and who-knows-what-else.”

It’s the most direct piece of history they’ve ever been involved in; they usually deal in smaller stuff that has big ripples, like Camden delaying that ship in New Providence, which saved a crew member who later led a major exploration. Messing up here could have real, unprecedented consequences, and the part of Angeria that doesn’t always see the good in people thinks the Legion did this deliberately, as a test to prove themselves after last time. They can’t mess up, and as much as she wants to stay here with Camden, they have work to do.

“Well, good luck,” Angeria says.

“Good luck.”

Angeria takes one last look at her and then she’s off, twisting through the wide streets until she reaches the back door of the print shop, where there’s a pile of forbidden pamphlets in the trash, just as the Legion told her they’d be.

It’s too early for many people to be out, and Angeria sticks to the shadows, weaving in and out of cobblestone streets and dodging soldiers to slip the pamphlets in private mailslots.

Her job is done, and she can leave. She shouldleave.

But the sun is burning overhead, and Camden might still be in the stable. She must be starving, and Angeria knows what she’s about to do is questionable by job standards, but she has to. She steals some bread off a cart and heads to the town stables.

Angeria didn’t know it was possible for a stable, but the place is virtually spotless. Hay is stacked neatly against the wall, the horses’ manes are gleaming, and you can actually see the stone ground beneath.

“Hi,” Angeria says.

Camden arches her back with a wince before smiling at Angeria. There’s hay in her sweaty hair, mud splattered over her clothes, and dirt smeared across her cheek. Angeria’s surprised she’s standing after hours of work like this, but Camden always beat everyone in stamina rankings.

“You’ve got a little…” Angeria remembers from training that Camden didn’t like getting dirty if she could help it, and she hesitantly reaches for her cheek, wiping the dirt away. She’d wanted to wipe the blood off Camden’s lips in the cell, but was afraid of hurting her, and even now, she keeps her touch gentle. Camden stands absolutely still, and Angeria is close enough to see tiny flecks of gray in her blue eyes, see the curl of her eyelashes. There’s also a thin, tiny scar along Camden’s top lip, so small you can only see it if you’re this close to her. One of the cuts must have been too deep, and again Angeria burns with anger towards that guard.

“Thanks.”

Angeria nods because she can’t manage words yet.

Camden washes her hands in a bucket of water and leads Angeria to the pasture, dropping to the ground with a groan and devouring the bread.

“You must be tired.”

“No shit,” Camden snorts. But she leans in suddenly, lowering her voice. “I was a dancer. Before, I mean. So I can handle hours of work like this.”

Angeria processes it with wide eyes. Camden is talking about her life before the Legion, which they aren’t allowed to do. Camden trusts her, and it warms Angeria’s chest. Camden wants Angeria to have this piece of her, and she’ll treasure it forever.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Camden says, biting her lip. “I just–I like talking to you. Too much, maybe.” Her cheeks are red even in the shade.

“I won’t tell anyone. Besides, I like talking to you too.” There’s such an ease in talking to Camden. She always listens to every word, and sometimes she flashes that smile that always keeps Angeria wanting another. But there’s also a sense of safety, and Angeria realizes she trusts Camden just as much as Camden trusts her. Angeria wants to talk more, tell Camden how she’d be a teacher if she didn’t get mixed up in this, but maybe she can give Camden something else. A silent acknowledgement of today, a memory to keep.

Wordlessly, she taps Camden’s shoulder and extends her hand. Camden takes it, her touch cool and soft and more real to Angeria than anything around her. It was probably a stupid idea to dance, considering she steps on Camden’s foot in seconds, but Camden only smiles. She’s free in a way she isn’t on missions, and Angeria wants to have this moment. Wants to take something from time, when time only ever takes from her.

The dance is more than a dance; it’s also a risk. They have debriefings with the Legion after each mission, where they give every detail of their actions. If it ever slipped out that they’re lingering beyond their assignments, growing closer than they’re allowed, it would mean a world of trouble. They’d have their watches destroyed and be sent adrift to some random time, never able to go home. But one look in Camden’s eyes and Angeria has to. What’s a minute to a time traveler?

And a minute is all they get, swaying gently together, before fearfully going to their watches.

There isn’t enough time.

—

4. Como Bluff, Wyoming, 1877

Camden stares at the mountains and dreams.

They’re as tall as the ocean is deep, free and undisturbed in the sky. They’re so big, another big part of this bigger universe, and it makes her heart yearn for something she can’t name. It makes her want to run away from her life, from her own present, from the world, just run away and share a cabin with Angeria, create a life of carved wood and hand-knit quilts and a roaring fire in the hearth. A life where they make their own history, just for themselves.

But she can’t. She’s here for a job, nothing else.

They’d materialized together again, behind some shrubs, joking about being cowgirls before Angeria stayed to develop a map and Camden left to go to the tiny town’s even tinier post office, where the scientists who dig for dinosaur fossils in the mountains will eventually need her to box up the bones to send to a colleague.

Everything is dusty and dry, an old photograph come to life. Aside from the mountains, there’s nothing much to this little town. Camden almost can’t believe so many dinosaur discoveries will come from it. History isn’t always as grand as people think.

When the men do burst in, covered in dust and bearing heavy wooden crates, her excitement tears her thoughts away from the mountain. She’s packing up actual dinosaur bones, the kind she’s only ever seen in museums. She’s holding history, holding time, in the palm of her hand.

But what’s the good of holding history in the palm of your hand when all that hand wants is to hold someone else’s? What’s the good of moving through time when you can’t have any with who you want?

She’s at the top of a dangerous slope. The whole point of not communicating with another recruit is because emotions complicate things; it’s more dangerous to do a job with someone you like, more likely to make you complacent and cause mistakes. She can’t ruin this mission, or future ones, because she’s thinking of Angeria in ways she shouldn’t.

She secures the last crate and the scientists leave. She can leave too. She can be strong and leave without telling Angeria goodbye, without breaking the rules by taking those extra minutes with her.

But then the door opens, and Angeria’s groan of pain is all she hears.

Camden can’t tell what’s wrong at first. There’s no blood, no obvious sign of injury. But Angeria is staggering and her face is ghostly pale. She’s definitely not okay, and Camden’s breath hitches.

“Angeria?”

“S-snake,” Angeria mumbles. She collapses into Camden’s arms, and part of Camden’s heart collapses with her.

This doesn’t happen; their roles are purposely small, nothing that will get them drawn into major historical events, nothing that will get them hurt or killed—though the tiny scar along Camden’s lip says otherwise. History is often made in the shadows, and it’s safer to live in those shadows than in the light. Until today, anyway.

“You have to go back, right now.” Camden’s basic first aid skills aren’t enough for this. The Legion keeps doctors on hand in case missions go wrong, and one of them should be able to help Angeria. Though she’s trembling now, her eyes fluttering shut.

Camden lowers her to the floor as gently as she can, trying to stay calm. She can see the puncture marks in Angeria’s leg, just above the cowboy boots they’d laughed at together hours earlier. This isn’t a cut Camden can bandage; this needs a real doctor. Camden’s basically helpless, and she wants to scream. For Angeria to be like this, the snake was either venomous or she’s having an allergic reaction, and either way, all Camden can do is keep her alive long enough to get back. And she has to. Even scared and in pain, Angeria came to her.

Camden won’t let anything happen to her.

“Angie, stay with me.”

Angeria lets out a whimper that breaks Camden’s heart.

“I’m gonna do your coordinates.” She’s trying to keep Angeria conscious, but her eyes have fallen shut. Camden taps her cheek gently. “I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?”

“For you,” Angeria slurs.

Camden’s hands are somehow shaking and numb at the same time, and she forces in a steadying breath as she grabs Angeria’s watch and types her return coordinates.

“Camden, I–I don’t know if I’ll make it back.” Angeria’s breathing is labored, like she’s fighting for every bit of air. Sweat runs down her face and her eyes blink in and out of focus. She’s always so steady, so strong and confident. Camden has never seen her like this, and it hurts. She just wants to fix it, make Angeria better and take her pain away.

“Yes you will,” Camden says firmly. “You’ll be okay, I promise.” She whispers it over and over, hoping to soothe Angeria, and suddenly she understands the no-relationship rule, because right now Camden would probably do anything to make sure Angeria lives, history be damned. She cares for her so much more than she was ever supposed to.

“I’m sending you back now, okay? Just hang on.” She presses the button on Angeria’s watch, and then she’s gone.

Camden can still feel Angeria’s wrist in her hand, feel the beat of her dangerously slow pulse. She imagines Angeria reappearing on the cold floor of the launch room all alone and wishes she could be with her, holding her hand. The feel of her beneath Camden’s hands is already fading; by the time she gets back, it’ll be gone entirely. Just a memory. She’s trying to hold onto time, but it’s slipping through her hands like water. She didn’t have much time with Angeria here, but she won’t have any time with Angeria at all when she returns to the present. She won’t even know if Angeria survives after getting back, since recruits can’t see each other and Legion won’t tell them anything. She won’t know until they have another mission together.

If they have another mission together, and tears are rolling down her cheeks.

Her knees ache on the floor, and she wants to just stay here, let her tears flood the town. Hide in the past to avoid the present. But she can’t.

There isn’t enough time.

—

5. Paris, 1922

The lights in the theatre dim, and as the red velvet curtain swings open, Angeria gasps at Camden centerstage when the ballet begins.

She hasn’t seen Camden since their mission in Wyoming, and even though it was really only three months ago in their present time, it feels longer; it feels like over a century since Camden held her hand and told her she would be okay. She touches her calf absent-mindedly, thinking of a wound simultaneously a century and three months old.

Part of her is surprised. Their roles aren’t supposed to be showy, nothing that would be documented or noticed in history. But it must be important, and a different performer for one show won’t be remarked upon after a few days, especially because the Legion can cover their tracks if needed. No one will remember the gorgeous dancer that had the starring role and disappeared.

No one except Angeria.

She won’t ever forget Camden in her pink tutu, all of time stopping around her as she moved through the air like she was born to do it. This isn’t some clumsy dance in a stable. This is Camden floating on air.

Angeria is so entranced by Camden that she almost forgets her job, and she leaps to her feet when the crowd leaves. She has to slip an envelope in the pocket of one of the audience members, and this saves a life somehow. The way things ripple doesn’t always make sense to Angeria, but she still does her job, throws her rock in the pond so that each bounce of the water of time can happen as it’s supposed to.

Job done, Angeria runs to the stage door. Camden might have left but there’s a chance she hasn’t, and when you walk amidst the chances of time, you know both how big and small a chance can be.

Her feet slam over the sidewalk, and the door swings open to reveal Camden, her eyes widening when she sees Angeria. Her hair is in a loose bun instead of her tight dance one, her face scrubbed pink from removing her makeup, and it might be the most beautiful she’s looked in any century. She’s softer, somehow, and it tugs at Angeria’s heart.

“Cam-–”

“You’re okay!” Camden throws her arms around Angeria, trembling, and Angeria realizes.

Camden didn’t know she survived. Angeria assumed that surely someone would have told her, but of course they didn’t. The last time Camden saw her, she was dying from a snake bite, and for all Camden knew, that might have been her last moment with Angeria ever. Angeria was stuck in bed for days and had to deal with the pain and dose after dose of medicine, but she knew she was alive and recovering. Camden had no idea. Angeria can’t imagine what Camden went through, and she understands the wildness in her eyes, the desperate way she’s holding Angeria, to prove that she’s real.

Angeria pulls away gently, but lets Camden hold her hand. “I am, thanks to you. If you didn’t do my coordinates…” she doesn’t need to finish.

“I wouldn’t let that happen to you.” Camden squeezes her fingers. “I knew you would make it. It’s just…now I can see you.”

“I wish I could’ve told you somehow. I thought someone would’ve…” The chime of a clock cuts through the moment, reminding Angeria how much time owns them. She needs to say what she came here for. “I know we have to go,” she says breathlessly, “But I…I just wanted to tell you how incredible you were.”

“Thank you.” Camden blushes, her cheeks even pinker, a wide smile on her face. “Legion just told me to give the best performance I could, that it’d get me backstage with this politician after.”

“You gave the best performance I’ve ever seen,” Angeria says.

People brush past on their way to the Eiffel tower, their conversations so animated, so alive. There are famous writers and artists thriving here right now, but there’s also ordinary people worrying about what to make for dinner. Everything here exists, yet when she gets home, this is nothing but a page in a history book.

Time really is fragile. Life really is fragile. A thread constantly seconds from unraveling.

And Angeria looks at Camden, at the stray hair that escaped her bun and sticks to her cheek, and feels herself unraveling.

“Camden,” she says before she can stop herself, “Can I kiss you?”

Camden nods frantically, pulling them back inside the stage door. It’s dark inside, but it doesn’t matter because their lips meet and the entire world—all of time itself—fades anyway. They hold each other too tight, because they don’t know if they’ll ever get to again.

In some ways, this is the worst part of the no-relationship rule. Because she and Camden have a past that effectively doesn’t exist in the present, since their present lives can’t interact. A past they can’t acknowledge until the future, when–if–they’re released by the Legion. Until then, their feelings exist only in stolen pockets of time.

There isn’t enough time.

—

6. Berlin, 1980

The lounge is crowded with tiny tables, the air thick with smoke and the scent of liquor.

Someone is singing, and their voice is familiar to Camden as it reaches through the haze. She sips a glass of water and lingers in the corner, eyes turned to the stage, her heart knowing who she’ll see before her brain does.

Angeria looks so natural on the stage, in a long pink dress that shines in the dim light. Camden can easily picture her as a star, getting all the adoration and love she deserves. But Angeria is always a star to her.

It’s a bit flashier than normal, like Camden’s last mission, but she isn’t going to ask questions—especially not when she’s enjoying watching Angeria like this, such power and beauty in her. Angeria singing in this lounge must be part of her job, just like Camden’s job is to spill her drink on the blonde man at the table near her when he gets up, because he’s in a spy ring and the delay will prevent him from running into an enemy that wants to kill him. Time is just a fragile string, and Camden dances along its edge.

The man heads toward the exit, and Camden springs into action. With all the grace and drama of her dancing days, she pretends to trip and stumbles into the man, her drink splashing over his suit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir.” She hams it up, dragging the man to the bar and raining apologies on him as she wipes his shirt with napkins. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Angeria head behind the stage.

Wait for me, Camden thinks, finishing her scrubbing of the man’s shirt and letting him leave, with information about the next supply airlift slipped into his pocket.

She follows Angeria behind the stage, into a dim hallway. Angeria is waiting for her, and Camden sighs in relief. The band’s music plays faintly from the lounge, and Camden takes Angeria’s hand. “May I have this dance?”

Whatever century they’re in, Angeria isn’t the best dancer, but Camden guides them both. Angeria only steps on her toes twice this time, and Camden doesn’t even wince.

“Can’t believe Legion made me sing for this,” Angeria mutters. “This place is a front for a spy ring. The performers all smuggle in supplies that the owners give to people who need them. I was so busy with that I forgot about the singing part. I figured I’d blow my cover if I tried to back out of it.”

“At least you didn’t have to clean eighteenth-century horses,” Camden laughs, slightly bitter because she’s still mad about it. “Besides, I think you’re a good singer.”

“Just good?” Angeria teases.

“A great singer,” Camden corrects with a smile. “Really.”

She wants to kiss Angeria so badly, return the kiss from Paris. Technically, that kiss was almost sixty years before this moment, but in the present, the Paris mission was only two months before this mission. It makes Camden’s head spin if she thinks about it. She wants to kiss Angeria even more now, steal a kiss from the past to treasure it in the present. It’s dark here, but anyone can come around the corner, and dancing is already enough of a risk. A kiss is even more dangerous if they’re caught. This whole thing is dangerous, really, and they have to leave. They’re tempting destiny with every second of this stolen dance.

She’s always resisted the power attached to her wrist. She’s done her missions and gone back, never straying from the assignment, even if she could have gone anywhere she wanted—to see the dinosaurs or watch the moon landing or be in the crowd at Live Aid. But when she’s with Angeria, that resistance weakens, a thin string about to snap that makes her want to jump to another time, destroy the watch, and live with Angeria, rather than go back to her empty apartment in the present. It’s only the fact that the Legion would probably find them and make them pay that keeps her from doing it. The only thing that keeps the string intact.

“I wish…” Camden trails off, her eyes saying everything she can’t. I wish we could spend real time together. I wish we could finish a dance.

“I know,” Angeria says softly, wiping the tears Camden was trying to blink away. “I know. Maybe sometime.”

She thinks of what Angeria said, about being a part of the universe. Well, I’m glad I’m part of it with you. And even if she and Angeria can’t be together in their own time, they’re still part of the same universe. A universe that will maybe align and release them from the Legion soon, so they can be together in their time, not someone else’s.

Sometime. In some other time.

There isn’t enough time.

—

7. The Present

Angeria wakes to the moon shining on an empty bed. Fear erupts in her chest as she thinks of all those times returning to her senses in the Legion’s launch room completely alone, then going home to her silent apartment. She draws in a breath, because she’s not there anymore, and she gets out of bed to find Camden.

She strokes Freddie’s fur for comfort on the way out, the corgi curled up snoring at the end of the bed. Camden saw him at a local shelter and begged Angeria to get him, and when he licked Camden’s face and made her all giggly—‘Look, Angie, he loves us so much already!’—Angeria was sold. Angeria even let Camden name him, though she picked out his bright red collar.

She wanders into the kitchen, expecting to find Camden sipping tea—her cure for sickness, sleeplessness, and stress—but finds it empty. The TV glows faintly from the living room, and there Camden is, empty mug on the coffee table.

“Bad dream?” Angeria asks, sitting next to her on the couch. Camden occasionally woke up gasping from nightmares of being trapped somewhere, but Angeria usually woke up with her and would soothe her back to sleep.

Camden sighs. “Just can’t sleep.”

Angeria understands. She’s had her share of bad dreams too. It’s hard at times, to have memories of things that happened hundreds of years ago, when you traveled to all those times within a few years of the present. To feel like you’ve had multiple lives all stuffed into your own, sometimes threatening to burst at the seams.

It’s easier when you have someone who understands.

“Want to dance?” Angeria asks, hoping it will help relax her.

“I’d love to.” Camden turns off the TV and sticks an Elton John record on their record player, grabbing Angeria’s hand as “Your Song” comes softly through the speakers. Angeria still isn’t much of a dancer, but she lets Camden lead as they sway in the middle of the living room.

Angeria can’t help marveling at how far they’ve come since 16th century-London.

It’s been three years since their last mission. Three years minus one day since they found each other in their own world, their own time, and got to know each other as themselves, not posing in some role in another century. Three years minus one day since Angeria asked Camden out for coffee at the same time Camden asked Angeria out for breakfast, and they shared a kiss that was sweet with coffee and syrup. A year and a half since they moved in together, piecing together a home of coziness and safety.

But she’s trying not to get so wrapped up in history, in time, in numbers.

Right now, it’s just her hand in Camden’s, her other hand stroking Camden’s back as they sway. It’s just those blue eyes that hold something new every time Angeria looks at them. It’s just them, existing in a moment that’s theirs alone. They don’t have to rush, don’t have to lose their hold on each other to type numbers in a watch.

Their wrists are bare, have been for three years.

The song ends, and Angeria thinks of how amazing it is to finish a dance.

“I think someone feels like sleeping now,” Angeria teases, watching Camden yawn. Her plan worked perfectly, and all the knots of tension in Camden’s back and shoulders have loosened.

“Yeah.” Camden gives her a sleepy smile as they walk to bed and snuggle under the covers.

“I got you,” Angeria whispers, and as she wraps a protective arm around Camden’s waist, all of time falls into place, and everything is okay. All those times they had to let go of each other in the past and come to the loneliness of the present were worth it, because now Angeria can hold Camden and not have to let go.

Camden looks like an angel as she sleeps, and Angeria can’t help but think of the ring tucked away in her dresser, waiting to surprise Camden on her birthday. It’ll be a big moment when it happens, but it’s the little moments that often count the most, the little moments that make history. It’s the little moments that Angeria clings to: The warmth of the first mug of tea she ever made for Camden when she was sick with a cold, chest bursting with pride when Camden said it made her feel better. Laughing so hard they had to lay on the floor when they were joking around as they decorated Angeria’s new classroom. Rain pounding on the roof while they spent the day safe under a quilt in bed, Freddie at their feet, cuddling in between breaks of reading.

It really doesn’t matter when she asks Camden, because the moment will become perfect with the action itself.

They’ll make their own history.

They have all the time in the world.

What We Forged in the White Heat (Dayasco) - Puppy 

Summary: Daya finds herself tied and spreader-barred to a chair, and her captor is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. They also happen to be her girlfriend.

A/N: bosco uses she/they pronouns; daya, she/her. title comes from “eat your heart out adonis” by wild beasts

ao3 link

~~

Daya woke up to mostly darkness. Her eyes were open, yet she couldn’t see anything. No… she couldn’t have gone blind. She couldn’t have gone blind after a few hours, and she didn’t remember hitting her head.

The punk girl moved one of her hands to see if something was up, attempting to remove the blindfold – the keyword being attempting.  “Let’s try the other one,” She muttered under her breath as the same thing happened again. She felt the stretching and squeaking of bondage tape around her wrists.

Momentarily forgetting the definition of insanity, Daya tried to stand up, but, in addition to her hands being fettered, she couldn’t close her legs. She couldn’t move them at all that much, really. If she wasn’t fastened to the chair, she would have waddled her way around and probably not have gotten much mileage anyway, considering her legs were spread as far as they could.

Squinting her eyes behind the blindfold, even more senses erupted. She felt a sudden draft in the room, her hardened nipples getting the forefront of it the most. Another draft blew between her legs, her thighs slick with arousal. She shivered, but not from the cold. A bullet vibrator was inside of her, probably on its highest setting. It wasn’t like Daya could tell anyway. Whether it was at its lowest or highest setting didn’t matter; what mattered was the constant aching between her thighs.

No vision, no real range of movement, and no way of relieving herself of the pressure? There was only one logical explanation in her panicked state: she had been kidnapped. 

Daya struggled some more, trying to inch herself closer to the door and see if there was any other weakness in her bindings, but she was stopped before she could make any real progress. 

She heard the door open and the clicks and clacks of high heels on the hardwood. The footsteps got louder and louder as they circled her like a vulture to its prey. A low laugh filled the room as her captor’s breath blew hot against her ears. Daya could basically feel their lips brush against her. 

Surprised by the nearness of the contact, she tilted her head away from the mystery person, but they still got closer. They always did.

“Do you remember your safeword?”

There it was: the voice of the villainous mastermind of a partner. Of course you weren’t kidnapped, stupid. Well, not really kidnapped. This was your idea anyway… Her thoughts raced after every word Bosco spoke.

Nonetheless, Daya still nodded her head, putting her trust in Bosco with whatever plans the two of them had for the night..

“Tell me. Out loud.” Bosco ordered.

“Red.” She faintly whispered back.  “The safeword is ‘red’.” 

“Good girl.” 

Bosco whipped the blindfold off, and the first thing Daya saw was their smirk – that smug look of victory that dripped with dominance. They were wearing a smart black pantsuit, but instead of a shirt, she was cinched into a red pleather corset. She slowly took the jacket off, putting their burlesque experience into practice. As soon as she was done, she straddled the chair and scooped the cat that followed her into her arms.

“I quite like you like this, you know.” They began to monologue, stroking Tobi in their lap. “Bound, edged, naked… You’re lucky I didn’t gag you. I quite like hearing your sounds, believe it or not.”

“Why, thank you. They–”

“Ah ah ah,” Bosco tsked, waving a single finger for added theatrics. “I said I like hearing your noises. I never said anything about your words; you speak when you’re spoken to. Capiche?” 

Daya couldn’t help but laugh. She pinched her fingers behind her back, subtly making the Italian hand gesture. “Y..yes,” She continued between staggered giggles, stopping once Bosco stomped one boot. “You got it! Capiche!”

“Hmm…” They pondered Daya’s answer as continued to stroke the cat, her slender fingers threading through the short fur. “Yes, what? It feels a little empty at the end of your ‘yes’. The rest of your sentence, even.”

“Hmm?”

“It seems you have forgotten that you can’t just speak to me however you want; you’re not in charge anymore, you know.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the pressure as her partner tapped their boot rhythmically yet impatiently waiting for a proper answer. “Yes… M-my Liege. I’m sorry.” Daya hung her head as her shame – and the overall thrill of the situation– flushed her cheeks.

“Apology accepted… You are adorable, you know that right?” Before the bound girl had a chance to respond, Bosco continued. “How cute you were, thinking that you could fully stop my nefarious doings. You think you’re so tough, but look at yourself! Is that the look of a hero?”

Daya didn’t respond, even though she was directly addressed. She glanced at her current position, struggling in her bondage to give her Liege even more power.

“Let me tell you something, Daya. Fill you in on a little secret…” They gently let their cat off their lap and walked over to her captive audience, letting the furry friend out of the door before going back to her gloating. “I let you win. I backed down, letting you believe you were good enough to beat me. And at the moment you’d least expect it, when your ego’s been inflated to its highest point… Pop!” They snapped their fingers right next to Daya’s ear for added emphasis. “There I am with the needle.”

“Or maybe,” They continued, circling around the bound girl again, “I didn’t have the needle at all. You just… deflated on your own, leaving yourself destroyed, vulnerable, and in a perfect position to be shown your true place.” 

“Aren’t you disappointed, hero?” Bosco mocked as they lightly dragged their nails against Daya’s exposed shoulder. “That you fell for this: the oldest ruse in the book? That you came and went as easily as the Hindenburg disaster.” They cupped her chin, tilting it upward so Daya was forced to make eye contact. “Tell me.”

The captive sighed, the gears turning in her head to one-up Bosco’s own monologuing skills.  That’s what happens when two overdramatic nerds date each other. Improv wasn’t her strongest suit, but when she was given this much material, how could she falter? 

“Y…yes, my Liege.” She closed her eyes and tried to turn her face away, but that action was quickly corrected. “I –fuck–, I surrender. Everything. God… Please! Fuck!”

“How eloquent.” Bosco teased as she drank in all of Daya: every plea, every reaction, every little squirm in her seat, the rise and fall of her chest and how the sheen of her sweat glistened against her skin. How all the words she wanted to say seemed to fall out of her ears.

“Please!” Daya continued begging, resisting every urge to hump against the chair. “Fuck… touch me, PLEASE!”

“I am touching you.” They tightened the grip on her chin enough to prevent bruising.

“No, I mean–” She should have been grateful for the skin against skin, knowing what lied ahead was going to be even more torturous.  The guilt of even asking for more contact swelled in her stomach. “Fuck, I wanna… I… wanna–”

“Has the cat got your tongue?”

There were plenty of things she wanted Bosco to do to her, but she didn’t have enough thoughts in her head to express that. Momentarily gaining back a sense of control, she quipped back. “It seems that the cat has left the room, my Liege…”

Bosco snickered, but got back into character as soon as she broke it. “It’s nice to see there’s some fight still in you, but I really thought you surrendered. Almost had me fooled for a second.”

“Well… uh– I have, my Liege. I shouldn’t hav –”

“Then prove it.” They hoisted a leg up, landing the boot in between Daya’s spread legs. “If your words aren’t enough, there’s another way to show you’ve given yourself to me.” As if like clockwork, the bound girl’s hips spasmed, trying to close the distance between herself and the toe of the boot. While she looked at the boot, fully focused on worshiping it with her limited mobility, Bosco only wanted to look in her desperation-filled eyes. It was a shame she wasn’t gonna see them for a while.

“Good girl. I expect you to lick that off later.” Bosco pulled the blindfold back down and kissed the top of her forehead, leaving a bright red lipstick mark: a temporary claim of ownership. “Now that you’ve sworn your fealty to me, I believe you’re due for an inspection. How does that sound?” They asked as if Daya had a choice in answering. 

Daya nodded her head as the vibrations in between her legs seemingly grew more intense. The boot then left the space between her legs, prompting a low whine from her.

“I pride myself on having my playthings in pristine condition, so you’d better not disappoint me.” Ignoring the whine, Bosco put on a pair of black latex opera gloves and snapped one of them against her skin, loud enough to gauge another reaction from Daya. 

Daya half-expected her Liege to pull out a speculum or some other torturous device, but even they weren’t that evil. Besides, getting the duck lips would have been a bit overkill. Then again, it wasn’t that kind of inspection. She took a few more deep breaths to ready herself as she ignored the way those breaths hitched with every inhale.

“You’re drenched! Oh, you poor thing.” Bosco taunted as she dragged two fingers outside her slit, teasing at her entrance. “Are you that desperate for me? Even after you rutted against my boot? I’m half-impressed.” They then inserted one finger that prompted a poorly muffled moan from Daya’s mouth. The cool latex meeting her warm, wet folds was slightly overwhelming. They slipped it in and out, gradually inching the active vibrator out of her cunt.  They could practically feel her walls expand and contract around the gloved finger. 

Daya’s face was even more flush as she felt the vibe being fished out of her. As soon as it was turned off and she no longer felt the pulses through her thighs, Bosco shoved two fingers into her. She tried her best to remain quiet and still, but her body betrayed her. Her hips jerked and spasmed, desiring more and more stimulation which her domme was much too happy to give. She closed her eyes, trying to think about literally anything else than orgasming. 

How well Fendi did at the groomers today. What she was going to make for dinner. How her Liege’s thumb rolled against her clit in long, teasing strokes and how the rest of their latex-clad fingers were knuckle-deep inside her.. How she much would have wanted to have vibrator back in then go through this pleasurable torture. How those fingers just kept getting faster and faster and there was no time for her to —

“Cum. Now cum for me, my hero.” 

And she did. The orgasm shot out of her before she could even register it could happen. Her whole body shuddered as she squirted onto Bosco’s gloved hand. She was practically on cloud nine. Daya panted in dire attempts to catch her breath, the desperation dripping out of her mouth with the drool from her lolled out tongue, and she could have sworn she heard a camera flash, or at least the sounds of a familiar Android camera.

Bosco set their phone aside and wiped their still dripping fingers against Daya’s cheek like it was a used dish towel, then made her way back behind Daya. They breathed in, a faint smell of the blonde’s conditioner wafting to her nose. “Open.” She ordered, patting the cheek with her cleaner hand. Daya’s jaw dropped, giving Bosco permission to shove her the cum-covered fingers into her mouth. “Clean.”

Daya tasted herself on the fingers– her tongue swirling around them like a popsicle on a summer day –, and it was the best thing she’d ever tasted in that moment. She bobbed her head up and down and barely noticed Bosco’s other hand stretched across her chest groping one of her breasts.

She might as well have gotten wet again from just that. Then again, it wasn’t that hard to get her aroused. Any sort of stimulation or an off-handed glance from a pretty girl could have gotten Daya’s panties soaked in an instant. She once again felt a familiar set of lips brushing against her ear. “Color?”

Daya almost forgot how to form words when Bosco checked in on her. How was she feeling? First of all, she felt great. She stammered, fumbling over syllables –and the fingers still in her mouth– before she gave her official verdict. “Green… Still green.”

“Good.” Bosco finger-fucked her throat to the point where their sub was deepthroating the latex. “Take it. Take it like the good slut I know you are.” They cooed, her eyes focusing on Daya’s desperation. The way her body reacted to every little motion was one of the best things she loved about her partner. 

It may have been greedy of her, but the blonde wanted something bigger. She didn’t really feel that from the fingers alone. She mumbled a garbled “more, please” around Bosco’s fingers as her hips spasmed yet again, grinding on nothing.

“What was that?” They pulled their fingers out of her mouth for a second before shoving them back in, thinking it would be more fun to hear her captive struggle to speak around them. “I couldn’t quite understand you.”

She tried to get the words “I need something bigger, My Liege” out, but it once again sounded unintelligible. Maybe the words “something bigger” or even their title were fully understood. Everything else? No.  Lucky for her, Bosco knew exactly what she meant.

“What’s that? You wanna swallow my seed? The greatest hero of all time wants to be a criminal mastermind’s — her rival’s fleshlight? ” Bosco took the fingers out and wiped them against Daya’s cheek again. She started unzipping her fly, getting herself hard in the process. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Please… let me worship you, My Liege.”

“If you insist. We oughta have you plugged up, so you don’t cause water damage.” Bosco taunted as she slipped a vibrating dildo into her, turning it on in the process. 

Before Daya could even ask who ‘we’ referred to, she felt another eruption of pleasure between her legs. She arched her back, leaning forward in an attempt to get a little taste of Bosco in her mouth. 

“You cum when I cum, understood?”

Daya nodded in agreement before Bosco entered inside her mouth. Moving herself on the toy inside her, she gently suckled at the tip, her tongue licking up any possible pre-cum from there. It felt strange to do without her hands, but she was never one to back down from a challenge.  Momentarily forgetting how to pleasure someone orally for a second, she let Bosco’s length just sit in her mouth while her lips tightened around it. 

Before she knew it, Bosco held the back of her head and decided to thrust into her, making the fleshlight comment into a reality of sorts. Her dick sat in throat. The action that reminded her of lazy Sunday mornings where the two of them weren’t able to get up turned rougher and forceful, and she couldn’t complain there. She didn’t mind rough at all.

While they used Daya’s head, Daya had other ideas. She used her tongue more, the flat of it running on the underside of her length to stimulate her further. The strategy seemed to have worked a bit too well throughout the course of the blowjob.

“I’m gonna – fuck, Daya, you’re so good. I love you so much. –” They didn’t care that the ‘I love you’ slipped out; her mouth was just that divine. “I’m gonna cum.”

And she did. Daya quickly followed suit, releasing herself onto the dildo that didn’t slow its pace. She could keep coming like that for ages, like she was constantly caught within the roaring waves of pleasure.

“Hehe… how was that, hero? How did it taste, knowing you’ve been defeated, reduced to… this?” They pulled out, some of their cum dribbling down Daya’s chin. 

“Amazing… My Liege.” She answered, surprised that she could remember her own name.

“Good girl…”Bosco purred, “Now for the pièce de résistance.” They took the blindfold off for the last time and let Daya adjust to the light again. “Look here,” She ordered as they showed off a choker Daya hadn’t seen before: something just for this occasion. It was almost like one of the ones with the heart-shaped D-ring, but with a sturdier black leather. “This way… everyone knows you’re mine. As if they couldn’t already tell…” The mastermind giggled as she twirled the collar on her finger. 

“Please…” Daya begged, her voice hoarse from the fingers and her pleading eyes fixating on the collar, following its every motion. “Please… my Liege…”

“Use your words and tell me what you need… That shouldn’t be hard for someone who had such a smart mouth earlier, should it?”

“No, my Liege. It s–shouldn’t.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if the tightness of the squeeze made her focus more. Her mind was too deep in subspace and relishing in an long-lasting afterglow that all she could think about was the hazy pleasure that clouded all of her decisions.

“If you want me to collar you, all you have to do is ask, baby.” They laughed, any pretense of her villainous persona melting away by the second.

“P…please collar me, my Liege. I’m yours, all yours!” 

“There, was that hard?” Bosco smirked as she grabbed a pair of scissors from off the table and cut the bondage tape off their submissive. Then, they unlocked the spreader bar, helping Daya stand to her feet.  “You good, Daya?”

Daya gave a few quick nods as she clung to her girlfriend like a baby koala. She needed a moment to fully come to her senses. She looked up at them, and she could have passed out from how beautiful Bosco was. “Boscy… we didn’t get to—“

“I know, and it’s okay. Tonight was all about you. And you…” They maneuvered the collar around Daya’s craned neck, securing it in place before gently massaging her back, grounding touches to bring her back to reality. “did so well… How about I clean you up real quick and draw you a bath? You… can take that off when you get in the water. Don’t want the leather getting all messed up and all.”

“Sounds great… my Liege.” Daya giggled as she took herself off Bosco and leaned against the bed.

“You don’t have to call me that right now, you know.” Bosco set both of the chairs back to their original spots in the room and started getting out of her corset. Unless you want it to be a whole TPE thing… That thought of a permanent dynamic only brushed her mind, but that was for another day.

“I know, but it just rolls off the tongue.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get that bath ready and we can talk more about it, ‘kay? You want bubbles, right?”

“Damn right, I do! Maybe we’ll look at that photo you look” Daya sneakily followed behind her domme and washed the ruined makeup, drool, and leftover cum off her face in the nearest sink. Looking in the mirror, she saw her delightfully ruined body and the collar around her neck. Her mind wandered to how she even got to this in the first place.

–

“So this subreddit is suggesting ‘mattress’ as a possible title? Combining master and mist–?”

“No.” Bosco immediately shut that idea down. “I see what they’re trying to do. You’re not calling me ‘mattress’ or ‘mastress’ or… whatever other combos they have. And get off Reddit.”

Daya sighed as she furiously typed ‘gender neutral titles for dominant’ into another tab, hoping for another reliable source. “Back to the drawing board then… Captain?”

“I like it, but not the vibe I’m going for.”

“Owner?”

“Fuck no!”

“Then, what do you want? None of these sound like a criminal mastermind; they’re all so regal…” Daya rattled off a few names from the list, laughing at almost every one. “‘Your Highness?’ ‘Your Eminence?’ ‘Your Grace?’ Oh yeah! Spank me harder, My Liege!”

And there it was. The next thing she heard was a low cackle, gradually growing faster and louder. From that reaction alone, Daya knew she was in for a wild time.

Masters of the Scene, Chapter 8 (Bitney Parent Trap AU) - Veronica

A/N: Thank you so much to @tumble4rpdr for being an irreplaceable beta! 

Click here for prequels and previous chapters, or here if you’d rather read on AO3. 

Chapter Summary: Bianca has a heart to heart with Danny, and Courtney and Adore make plans to head east. 

*** 

Where we left off: Courtney stared at her phone, dread creeping in. After a few years of communicating only through their attorneys, she and Bianca had managed to graduate to civil but frosty emails. 

They’d never moved beyond that, and the thought of calling her directly for the first time in years was terrifying. However, Courtney knew that “hey FYI our kids switched places and we need to switch them back” was an inappropriate email, and a text would be worse. Her fingers hovered over Bianca’s contact, a tightness in her throat. 

Here we go…

“We could wait another day, you know,” Adore said hopefully. 

Courtney touched her cheek softly, saying, “I think she deserves to know what’s going on.” After seeing Adore’s slightly resigned nod, she added, “I’m not saying we need to rush off to New York right away. I still want to spend time with you. I just feel like it’s important to be honest.” 

“Okay.” Adore bit her lip. “She’s gonna be mad. At us but, also at you, if you’re the one to tell her.” 

“Yes, well…it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Courtney said drily, then quickly added, “I’ll be okay.” 

Courtney took a deep breath, then finally just bit the bullet and hit call, nerves kicking into high gear as it rang, pulse racing as a dozen questions spun circles through her mind. What should she say? What would Bianca say? Would there be any glimmer of the affection that once existed between them? 

It was five rings before she answered. Courtney could practically see her staring at her phone in confusion. 

“Fuck, what’s wrong?” she barked out, sounding as irritated as Courtney expected, but something else, too. Possibly worried, about what could have brought about this unexpected phone call. 

Courtney attempted to collect herself from the abrupt greeting by saying, “Nice to hear your voice too.” 

But Bianca was clearly not charmed by her attempt at levity, saying, “Courtney, I’m not in the mood for whatever you-” 

“Do you know where your daughter is?” she asked. Clearly, there was no time for niceties, and she figured she’d better get straight to the point. 

“In her bedroom.” 

“No, she’s here in California,” Courtney said. “With me.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? She’s in her room, I can hear her shitty grunge music playing.” 

“That’s Danny,” Courtney explained, putting an arm around Adore, who was chewing nervously on her fingers. “Danny’s playing the shitty grunge music. Adore is here.” 

There was a pause, followed by a dry chuckle, and then Bianca barreled on.

“I don’t know what kind of bullshit mind games you’re playing, but they’re not cute, and I don’t have time for this-” 

“This isn’t a game, Bianca. They switched on us,” Courtney said. 

“Mama-” Adore began, but before Courtney could hand the phone to her, Bianca raged on.

“Fuck off! I think I can tell my own fucking kids apart!” 

“Fine, suit yourself!” Courtney hung up, exasperated, muttering, “Jesus Christ…” 

“She probably just…needs a minute,” Adore said. “She usually needs a minute.” 

“Right.” 

“She’ll call back.”

“Yeah.” Courtney opened her arms and wrapped Adore into a hug, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay, even if she wasn’t so sure herself. 

***

Bianca stood in the hallway outside Adore’s bedroom, Courtney’s word’s echoing in her head. Was it really possible? That her kids had switched places and she hadn’t even noticed? She’d seen them together at camp, for god’s sake. She’d put Danny on a plane. Had she put Adore on that plane? Could she truly be that clueless? The thought made her feel ill. 

Her door was cracked open, allowing Bianca to peer through into her room. Adore was standing in front of her full-length mirror, looking the same as always: cat eyeliner that she’d yet to perfect, messy pigtailed extensions streaked with pink. She wore unseasonal black jeans, cheap fishnet sleeves and a cropped band t-shirt that was falling off her shoulder. 

Adore gazed at her own reflection, head tilted. Then she tossed her hair, and that was the move that did it—there was definitely a preciousness that wasn’t consistent with Adore’s rough and tumble personality. In that moment, Bianca also recalled their conversation about Fame, and how in the two days since then, she’d gone out of her way to be nice, asking Fame questions and including her in conversations. Not exactly in character. 

Fuck. 

Bianca pushed open the door a bit more, calling out, “Hey Danny?” 

“Yes?” Adore, who was actually Danny, looked up. And then, immediately realizing his mistake, tried to backtrack, stammering out, “I mean, uhh…who’s Danny?” 

He punctuated this with a charming smile as Bianca crossed her arms, pushing the door the rest of the way open with her foot. Taking in her stern expression, his smile dissolved a bit and he managed to look chagrined. 

“Shit.” 

Bianca heaved a sigh and walked forward, shaking her head. 

“What the fuck, Daniel?” 

“I…well…um…” Danny scratched his head. “Surprise?” 

Bianca closed her eyes briefly. 

“I’m sorry, Mama. I really am. I just wanted to spend time with you, and Adore-” 

“Don’t worry, bunny,” Bianca said with a groan. “I know this was her idea.” 

“I mean, not exactly. We both-” 

Bianca smiled, waving her hand. “It’s nice of you to defend her. Anyway…how do you feel about getting out of those stupid clothes and into something more comfy?” 

“That sounds good. I really hate these,” Danny said, pulling off the fishnet sleeves with a giggle. 

“That’s because you have taste,” Bianca said.  

“I do like the hair, though,” he said softly, touching his pink-streaked pigtails. 

“Well then, we’ll have to get you some of your own.”

“Really?!”  

“Sure.” Bianca tugged gently on one of the pigtails, then let her gaze fall to his chest. “And uh…what about what I’m assuming is a wonder bra?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I should take that off.” He twisted awkwardly, trying to undo the clasp on his bra. 

“Let me,” Bianca said with a chuckle, quickly undoing the clasp and then giving his back an affectionate pat. 

“Whoa, did you do that with one hand?!” 

“Not my first time,” Bianca told him, and he laughed, nodding. 

For a few moments, he said nothing, and then bit his lip and offered, “I’m sorry for lying to you, Mama. But…I’m kind of not sorry we did it.” 

“Oh no?” Bianca arched an eyebrow. 

“Well, I mean…” Danny swallowed, looking almost shy as he twirled one of the pigtails and quietly explained, “it’s been really fun to spend time with you. And see where you work, and…” 

Right. Bianca should have known it wasn’t Adore the second he expressed interest in her job. Thinking about it now, though, Bianca realized that she should probably be paying more attention to her son—this bright, artistic, thoughtful boy. He was so much like Courtney; Bianca didn’t like to admit that, how much his mum’s personality had clearly rubbed off on him, but that was the truth. So even though she was still exasperated at the whole situation, part of her was grateful, too. 

“Yeah, I’ve liked that too,” she admitted, leaning forward to kiss him on the head. He beamed up at her, smile only slightly faltering when she added in her most menacing mom voice, “But you know that you’re both in big fucking trouble, right?” 

“Worth it,” he replied, giving her that charming smile again, and Bianca couldn’t help the dimples that poked through her cheeks. 

***

Adore sat, curled up with Courtney on the sofa, looking over her shoulder at her laptop screen. 

For years now, Courtney had been trying to coax her into adding some more personal touches to her bedroom in the farmhouse. Adore had refused, saying she wasn’t there enough to care. Part of her wondered if it was yet another way that she tried to put up a wall between herself and Courtney, a wall that she was all too happy to tear down. 

Because now, they were having so much fun picking out things together, scrolling through lighting fixtures on the Z Gallerie site before a trip to Lowe’s to choose new paint colors. (Adore was already excited about that, since Courtney had promised about 4 times that yes, she could pick any colors she wanted, it was her room.) The best part was that they were doing it together, Adore couldn’t help thinking, taking in all the pictures on the screen.

“There!” Adore exclaimed, eyes widening with delight at the gothic-looking chandelier, covered in gray smoke glass crystals. “Omigod, I love that one. But is it too expensive?” 

“No, it’s on sale,” Courtney said, clicking on it to make the picture bigger. “You want it? Or should we save it and keep looking?” 

“I want it,” Adore said, grinning. 

“Decisive. Love it.” Courtney added the chandelier to her cart, which was already full of throw pillows and a cool-ass new zebra print area rug, not to mention the custom bed frame. 

“Uh oh,” Adore said, as her phone lit up, buzzing on the coffee table. 

MAMA 

“Looks like she took her minute,” Courtney said gently. 

“Yeah.” 

“You should answer.” 

“I know.” Adore bit her lip. 

After another beat, Courtney said, “Adore-” 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Adore took a deep breath and answered the phone, putting it on speaker. “Hi. Am I in trouble?” 

“Yes,” Bianca said, and Adore groaned slightly. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

“We just wanted to see…if we could do it.” 

“Well, congrats, you’ve made a huge fucking mess. And I have no doubt that you were the mastermind behind this little prank-”

“That’s not fair! Danny wanted to-” 

“Save it. Put your mum on the phone.” 

Adore hung her head, handing the phone to Courtney. 

Courtney took it, her arm slipping around Adore’s shoulders. 

“I’m here. Listen, she’s just a kid, Bianca. Why do you have to-” 

“Don’t tell me how to-” Bianca cut herself off abruptly with a huff of air. “Nevermind.”

“Look, we have to switch them back, and I really think we should sit down and talk to both of them, so that-”

“This timing could not be worse. I’m planning a party for…shit.” 

“Sorry?” 

“Can you put Adore back on?” 

“She’s right here.” Courtney tried not to let her eye roll show as she held the phone towards Adore, wondering why Bianca was acting so neurotic and jumpy. These weren’t the circumstances under which she’d planned to see her in person for the first time since their divorce either, but what else could they do? No matter how bad it got between them, they’d always agreed on one thing: the kids came first. So to Courtney, it all seemed like a no-brainer. 

Would it be horribly awkward? Maybe, probably. But she’d suffer through it because there was no other logical choice. 

“Hey.” 

“Mama, I really am sorry, but-” 

“I know, pussycat. Listen. We’re gonna deal with this little switch bullshit soon, but first…I need to tell you something.” 

“Okay…” 

Adore’s shoulders slumped at this, as if she was preparing for something horrible, and Courtney began to rub her back. 

Bianca cleared her throat uncomfortably before saying, “Remember that letter I sent to you at camp? With the pictures?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Do you remember the picture on the boat? Me and Fame?” 

Adore’s face looked pained, and Courtney continued rubbing her back. Who or what was Fame? Why did the mention of them cause Adore so much distress? 

“Well, things have gotten pretty serious with her, and I…” Bianca hesitated, her voice getting slightly softer as she finished with, “well, we’re going to be getting married.” 

Courtney blanched, hand gripping the phone as her stomach dropped straight to her feet. There was ringing in her ears, and she wondered if perhaps she’d misheard. Married? To someone named Fame? 

“Dore? Are you there, pussycat?” 

“How can you marry a woman I’ve never even met?!” Adore choked out angrily, one fat tear starting its journey down her cheek, betraying her real emotion. 

“Well…you would have met her, if you’d been where you were supposed to,” Bianca barked, before letting out a long sigh. 

Courtney could picture exactly the way she was rubbing her forehead. Maybe taking off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. Did she still wear glasses, around the house? Or was it contacts all the time these days? She used to talk about Lasik, had she gone through with it? Courtney shook her head, told herself to stop obsessing and stay in the present, for Adore’s sake. 

“Look, there’s plenty of time to get to know each other, alright? But we’re supposed to have a small engagement party with some of our friends this weekend, and it’s too late to cancel, so…I don’t know, maybe we can deal with the whole switch thing after that?” 

Adore sniffled, and Courtney leaned over, swallowing down the flood of emotions that swirled inside of her. This wasn’t any time for her relationship angst. She gave Adore a squeeze, then managed to make her voice as normal as possible, saying, “Sure, we can hold off until next week. We’ll come to you.” 

“Oh. Okay. Um…thanks.” Bianca seemed surprised by this, almost disappointed. Which made sense. After all, she loved an argument. 

“Mmhmm. We’re gonna let you go now.” Courtney gestured for Adore to say goodbye, and she shook her head vigorously. 

“Okay. Dore, please call me later, okay?” 

“She will. She just, uh, needs a minute,” she said, before managing to choke out a hasty, “Congratulations.” 

“Thank-” 

Courtney hung up, barely holding it together, and then turned to Adore, who was sniffling and red-eyed. 

“So…that was a big surprise, huh?” 

Adore cringed. “Well. Actually, Danny already told me. I’m sorry for not warning you. I was kind of hoping he was wrong. Or lying. Or…I dunno.” Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. 

Courtney nodded, breathing through her nose in a feeble attempt to slow her racing pulse. 

“I’m sorry, Mum,” Adore repeated, and Courtney squeezed her shoulder, shaking her head. This wasn’t about her. She could have her own feelings later, in private. 

“It’s alright. But…are you okay?” Courtney asked. 

Adore shook her head. “How can she decide to marry someone when she doesn’t even know if I like her?” 

As emotional as she was, she made a good point. What was the rush? And too late to cancel a party? That was three days away? How big was that party? 

“Well…maybe you’ll love her,” Courtney offered tentatively. 

“No, I hate her! She’s a cunt!” Adore spat out, more tears filling her eyes. 

“Adore…” 

Adore’s face crumbled, and Courtney pulled her in for another hug, rocking her, letting her cry like the world was ending. 

“It’s okay, love, I promise. It’ll be okay.” 

“It won’t,” Adore sobbed helplessly, acting out Courtney’s internal feelings more than she’d ever know. 

An engagement party on a scale that couldn’t be canceled meant that this marriage was a done deal—something she’d thought through. Not a whim, like their own marriage over ten years earlier. Strange that she hadn’t said anything to Courtney, though. Yes, they’d been divorced for years, but bringing a new wife into the picture would affect their kids, so it seemed only fair that she should have been notified. 

And despite her desire to bury her head in a pillow and cry just like Adore was doing now, Courtney found herself getting curious. What kind of woman would captivate Bianca so much that she’d rush into a marriage without knowing how her own daughter felt? 

“Hey…I have an idea, if you’re up for something a little…naughty.” 

Adore’s head snapped up, her tears stopped in their tracks. “What?” 

“Well…have you ever crashed a party?” 

Adore’s eyes lit up, joy apparent on her face for the first time all day. Courtney should have known—she was always up for something naughty.  

“So…I guess we should book a flight to New York,” Courtney began. 

“Yeah. Although…” Adore gave Courtney a once-over. “Maybe we should do a little shopping first.” 

Courtney scoffed, but then looked down at her ensemble: a gray cotton cardigan over a plain white t-shirt, baggy jean shorts and Ugg boots. “Okay, maybe.” 

“And like…hit the salon. For a little…touch up,” Adore gestured to her roots. 

“Excuse me, my roots are-” 

“Horrible. They’re horrible. And you could use a trim. Maybe some layers. And ooh, have you ever tried those eyelash extensions?” 

“What are you, my beauty consultant now?” Courtney asked her, hand on her hip. She’d had an insane summer, spending most of her time furiously editing videos and recording podcasts so that she’d have enough content for this month off when Danny returned. She’d barely appeared on camera at all, and maybe didn’t want to admit how long it had been since she’d gotten dressed up for a formal event, or wore her hair in anything besides a ponytail. 

“You wish!”

“I’ll have you know that I am a beauty icon,” Courtney said, unable to keep the giggle from bubbling up at such a ridiculous statement. (Even if others had made that claim about her first.) 

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Adore sassed. 

“You know what? I will prove it. Come here…” Courtney grabbed her and began attacking her with kisses, both of them laughing. 

***

After years of struggling, working multiple jobs and freelance gigs to make ends meet, Bianca had managed to hit it big with her own fashion line when Danny and Adore were about 9 years old. She was currently doing pretty great, financially, but they still lived in an apartment in New York with what she described as “less than ideal closet space.” 

That was why the attic of the Hamptons house, which they used during the summer and rented out the rest of the year, served as an unofficial storage unit. Danny crawled through the boxes, brushing aside some cobwebs that made him shiver, trying to find a space to hide all the stuff that Adore had impulsively ordered on Amazon before Bianca found it and began asking questions. 

Over on one side, there were a few boxes that looked relatively new, like that hadn’t been sitting around gathering dust for months (or years) like the others. One of them was a shiny red shoebox, labeled ‘From C’ that made his eyebrows raise curiously. 

He peeled back the scotch tape that held down the lid and opened it, both surprised and not at all surprised to find it full to bursting with letters, envelopes all labeled with Mum’s most careful handwriting. He’d assumed, back when he found Bianca’s letters to Courtney, that there would be counterparts somewhere. After all, Mum loved writing notes and frequently sat curled on their sofa scrawling out long letters to friends and family. 

There were a lot there…close to five times the number as what he’d found under Mum’s bed. He covered the box and put it aside, shoving the Amazon stuff behind a tall wardrobe box. He crept back downstairs, trying to be quiet as he slipped the shoebox into Adore’s closet. He was still staying in her room, because Mama said that there was no use messing up the guest room where he usually slept. He was just closing the closet door when the phone buzzed on the dresser. 

COURTNEY J.

Of course, Adore’s phone didn’t say “Mum.” Danny rolled his eyes and picked it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello? That’s your opening after lying to me all this time?” Courtney asked. 

Even though he could tell that her tone was gently teasing, Danny cringed. The truth was, he did feel a bit guilty about all the lying, especially to her. “I’m sorry, Mum. I really am.” 

“Nevermind, love, it’s all gonna be fine,” Courtney assured him. “Listen, Adore and I are booking our flights and we need your help. Are you alone?” 

“Yeah…” Danny said slowly, sitting on the bed, suddenly deeply curious. 

***

Daya’s First Pride (Crygi) - Strawberry

Summary: Crystal and Gigi take Daya to her first ever pride.

A/N: Here’s my fic for Pride Bingo! I chose parade <3 ao3 link

“Are you almost ready?” Gigi shouted from the living room as Crystal made her wait as she finished up applying her makeup.

“Yeah! I just need to finish putting on my eyelashes!” Crystal yelled back, trying her best to hurry so they could leave. It was a rare occasion that Gigi would be ready to go before Crystal was, but she was running a bit behind because she had misplaced the busy button up she had planned to wear under her overalls. 

“Okay, I think I’m ready!“ Crystal announced as she finally emerged from their shared bathroom, hair and makeup finished. “I hope we aren’t too late; I don’t want to ruin Daya’s first pride by being stupid old Crystal.”

The two girls had gone to pride together every year since they had gotten together. It was a tradition, and this year would be extra special because her half-sister, Daya, had come out to them a few months prior and they both wanted her to join in on it.  

“You won’t. She loves you and I could hear her excitement over text when you invited her to join us.” Gigi pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek, handing Crystal her own mini lesbian flag. The ginger had gotten a mini trans flag for herself, two little lesbian flags for them to share, and a tiny pansexual flag that she would give Daya once they had picked her up. “Let’s go get her.”

The ride over to Crystal’s parent’s house included them blasting queer music, exchanging kisses at stoplights and talking about they wished they were able to do things like that when they were younger since both of them had come out officially during their first year of college.

When they pulled into the driveway, Daya was sitting on the front steps, ready to go. 

“Has she gotten even taller since the last time I saw her?” Gigi whispered as they watched the teenager run up to Crystal’s Subaru.

“I don’t know. Probably.” The green haired girl replied as Daya climbed into the backseat. “Hi, Daya! I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. You need to stop being so busy with school all the time so we can hang out more. Hi, Gigi!” 

That sentence made Crystal’s heart sink. Daya was barely ten when the green haired girl graduated high school and the art school one town over had become her main priority, she had felt like she had missed a huge chunk of her baby sister’s life. “I just saw you at your middle school graduation last week!” 

“I heard you didn’t dress up for it.” Gigi chimed in, reaching into the backseat to hand Daya the pansexual flag she brought for her. “How come?”

“Thanks, Gigi. And I didn’t know I was supposed to dress up!” She defended herself, making the older girls snicker, “Even if I did know, I still wouldn’t have put on a stupid dress.”

“Fair enough,” Crystal chimed in, making Gigi gasp.

“You both are so weird. I love dressing up!”

“Daya, she’s started designing the dress she wants to wear at graduation. A yearin advance.” The Latina enlightened her younger sister, making her laugh. Gigi rolled her eyes, and Crystal knew why since she had gone into great detail about how fucking fantastic the ginger would look in the dress once she finally got around to buying the fabric and making it. 

The drive downtown was enjoyable, Crystal had missed spending time with her sister. It was a huge bonus that Gigi and Daya got along well. The two girls talked about sewing, the younger girl telling the ginger how she had made a stuffed bear out of fabric scraps while Crystal struggled to find a good parking spot that was close to the city block that had been marked off for pride. 

Parking the car, the green haired girl turned back to look at Daya. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah! This is so cool!” The younger girl squealed, grabbing her backpack and her mini flag, “I can’t believe you two wanted to hang out with me.” 

“Of course we want to hang out with you, you dork. You’re my baby sister and Gigi has no other friends.”

“Hey!” Gigi yelped, reaching across the center console to pinch her girlfriend’s side, “That is not true! I have tons of friends.” 

They went back and forth for a while until Crystal remembered that it wasn’t just them and that Daya was in the backseat. After that, they finally exited the car and made their way down the street and to the event, the two holding hands as the fourteen year old walked ahead of them, waving her flag around.  

“I think she likes that little flag more than what I got her for her birthday,” Crystal observed, Gigi squeezing her hand tighter.

_

The three explored the area together, hitting up all of the stops before the parade started. There was a smaller stage where local bands, dancers and drag queens would perform, which was Crystal’s favorite part of pride. Her and Gigi would usually spend most of their time standing around and enjoying the music and performances, but they wanted to make sure Daya experienced everything.

The younger girl was really drawn to the vendors, which was a mix of actual businesses owned by people in the community and rainbow capitalism. Being a baby gay, Daya did not know the difference but Crystal tried to sway her towards checking out the things that the queer owned businesses were selling.

After Daya had bought a bigger flag to hang in her bedroom and a couple of pins to put on her leather jacket, Gigi dragged the sisters to a booth where a younger girl was selling crochet animals with pride flag colors. Crystal gasped while picking up a lesbian pride opossum while a pansexual axolotl caught Daya’s eye. 

“These are the cutest!” Daya squealed, jumping up and down in excitement. Crystal immediately matched her half-sister’s energy. 

When Gigi had finally picked up a trans jellyfish, she ended up buying the sisters the animals they were holding as well. That was the first time in the three years they had been dating that Crystal had seen Daya hug Gigi, and it made her heart melt.  

Not that she had doubts that her half-sister would get along with her girlfriend, but the girl with green hair was really glad they liked each other, especially because she was planning on Gigi becoming her fiancée before the year ended. 

After buying some food, the three made their way back over to the stage, where Daya was left memorized by a drag queen who had done an amazing number. Gigi quietly explained tipping to the younger girl, Daya pulling a couple of one dollar bills out of her backpack and stuck her arm out for the drag queen to grab as she made her way around the stage. 

People started lining up on the streets as they threw their plates in the trash, The girls ended up standing by a group of girls decked out in pride themed clothing, and Daya started interacting with a talkative blonde girl wearing a trans flag as a cape who appeared to be around the same age as her as they waited for the floats to come down the street. 

Crystal gave Gigi a knowing look after the blonde started complimenting every single thing about Daya, the two watching as the brunette grew flustered. 

The parade started soon after that, Crystal and her family watching as the colorful floats passed by along with people carrying pro-gay and trans signs along with flags. Loud music had started playing as well but somehow, the girl Daya was talking to was able to talk over it.  

After the parade, they had done everything, so Daya and the blonde said their goodbyes before parting ways. 

“Jasmine gave me her number! She went to the other middle school but we’re going to the same high school in September!” She babbled excitedly as they made their way back to the car. 

“That’s great, Daya. Did you have fun?” Crystal asked, figuring that this was what Gigi dealt with whenever she got too excited. 

“I had even more fun than I thought I would have! Thank you so much for bringing me.” She wedged herself in between the couple, wrapping her arms around the older girls. Crystal couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Daya this happy, and neither could Gigi. Thus, her baby sister’s first pride was a success.

She Smells Like Honey and Looks Like Lace (Camgeria) - Mar

A/N: This whole series is a collection of “ficlets” which start out short enough for the mayhem challenge, and then they get off the rails.
Either way, this is for day 21 of the Mayhem challenge: a bakery setting. Let me know your thoughts on the ship; I’m trying to get their characters.
Title from ‘give me flowers’ by Julianna Zachariou.

Tags: rpdr fanfiction, may trope mayhem, angeria paris vanmicheals, lady camden, angeria x camden, bakery au, fluff, lesbian au, mar -@duckprintspress

Summary:

The morning had been thankfully calm. Not many people dared brave the heavy snow, so Angeria was able to stay in the kitchen with all her idea notebooks open, testing the recipes that had been on the backburner for too long. The oven in the back room was a safe haven from the cold, and nothing could take Angeria away from it. Nothing, that is, except her three o’ clock.

Camden entered the bakery wearing a light coat and a smile warmer than the sun, untouched by the weather.

“Afternoon, darling!”

“Hi, Cam. Did you know it’s snowing outside?”

“I’m wearing a hat,” Camden defended herself, then took off the hat and shook her curls, shedding snow on the wooden floor.

“You’re off your gourd.”

Even after opening the shop, Angeria still sought comfort in the act of baking. Sugar, butter, flour and heat had a special brand of magic, and she turned to them in times of stress, or sadness, or just plain boredom. Although lately she had no time to be bored, and baking for pleasure had been put on hold to keep up with the demands of the holiday season. Word of her business had gotten around after she catered for a friend’s wedding, and her used-to-be-little shop was hard at work to match the avalanche of new customers. Angeria was grateful, but also itching for any bit of free time to bake just for fun and create new recipes.

That day, the city found itself in a sudden winter, snow and everything. Angeria had woken up shivering, opened her curtains and saw the ground white. She put on two more layers of clothes and went back to sleep, dreading the day.

The morning had been thankfully calm. Not many people dared to brave the heavy snow, so Angeria was able to stay in the kitchen with all her idea notebooks open, testing the recipes that had been on the backburner for too long. The heating at the front of the store was doing its best, but the big windows that faced the sidewalk and made her shop sunny and beautiful also made it really hard to keep warm. The oven in the back room was a safe haven, and nothing could take Angeria away from it. Nothing, that is, except her three o’ clock.

Angeria got behind the counter just as the door bells chimed.

Camden entered the bakery wearing a light coat and a smile warmer than the sun, untouched by the weather.

“Afternoon, darling!”

“Hi, Cam. Did you know it’s snowing outside?”

Camden took her usual spot on the stool by the counter. Angeria reached over and brushed the white dust from Camden’s shoulders.

“I’m wearing a hat,” Camden defended herself, then took off the hat and shook her curls, shedding snow on the wooden floor.

“You’re off your gourd. I’ve been away from the oven for two seconds and already I can’t feel my fingers.”

“Poor baby,” said Camden in a teasing voice, but still took Angeria’s hands in her own to warm them up.

Angeria hissed and pulled away.

“I got burned earlier,” she quickly explained to dissipate Camden’s fallen expression. “See?”

She showed Camden the side of her hand, where an angry mark ran from the base of her finger to her wrist.

Camden laid her hands palm up on the counter and looked at Angeria, who placed her injured hand on them. With careful movements, Camden examined the mark. Angeria wanted to tease her for trying to roleplay as a doctor, but Camden had that little crease between her eyebrows she sometimes got and it was clear it wasn’t a joke to her.

Camden traced her thumb down Angeria’s palm along the mark, unbearably soft, resting on Angeria’s fingers.

Angeria couldn’t look away.

The moment stretched. Camden looked at Angeria and woke up from her reverie.

“Sorry.”

She took back her hands and laid them crossed, the thumb nail of one hand digging into the skin of the other.

“It’s okay,” Angeria said, breaking the contact between nail and skin and tracing the red half moon to soothe. “I don’t want you to worry. I’m a baker, baker’s get burned all the time.”

“That is not reassuring at all.”

Angeria was sure nothing could be as cute as the little pout Camden did.

“Coffee?” said Angeria, anticipating the answer and getting it started.

“Yes, please.”

Camden was back to her usual peppy self. Whatever that was, it had passed.

“Thanks, love,” said Camden as she got her coffee, blowing on the surface.

Angeria brought her own cup to her lips and burned her tongue to hide the fond smile she got at the pet name, still, even though Camden had dropped it in every conversation since they met, so many months ago in that same spot. It still made Angeria’s heart glow.

“What do you have going back there? It smells like heaven.”

“New recipe!” Angeria explained, excited. “Remember those little chocolate pudding cups with cream on top they sold like, ten years ago? A little transparent cup. Did y’all get those in England?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Is that what you’re making?”

“But in cake form. Maybe muffins, who knows. I’m making a cold oven cake, so the large air bubbles have time to escape and the final texture is denser, almost fudgy, you know what I mean?”

Camden did not, but she still hung onto every word as Angeria tied the world of baking to the laws of physics with her hand gestures, coffee cup forgotten.

“Hope I get to try it,” Camden smiled.

“It should be about done,” said Angeria, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Come with.”

She led the way to the kitchen. Camden stayed in her seat for a moment, but then she followed Angeria and crossed that unspoken boundary between the space for customers and something different, something more.

Angeria got her oven gloves on, more careful this time.

“Want me to do it?” said Camden, some worry in her voice.

“I’m good,” Angeria smiled at her.

She scrutinized the cake through the oven window and deemed it ready. With a warning nod at Camden to step back, she lifted the heavy mold and set it on the stove.

“We gotta give it time to settle,” said Angeria as she took off the gloves.

Camden glanced at the kitchen door but made no move to leave. She had her arms crossed, seemingly at a loss of what to do with herself in this room. Angeria scrambled to find a reason to keep her there. Once she had brought Camden into her personal space, she was reluctant to let her go back.

“Want to try something else? It’s cardamom heavy.”

Camden nodded, delighted at the mention of her favorite flavor. It was a recent addition to the teas offered in Angeria’s shop, one she’d had to ransack every last bodega in her neighborhood to find without the addition of ginger, which Camden despised so much. Even then, she’d only found a small bag of it. Thankfully, no one but Camden ever asked for it, so Angeria had kept it off the menu and only served it when Camden entered the shop particularly tired or stressed, or whenever Angeria wanted to see the smile Camden got when Angeria remembered something about her. The one she was wearing now, which Angeria had some trouble looking away from.

Stored on the shelves, guarded from air and sun, the batches of cardamom cookies waited to be decorated and boxed up. Angeria put two dozen on a tray and set them down on the counter, as she waved at Camden to grab a chair and sit with her.

“These are new, for the birthday party of a little kid with weird tastes.”

“Now, then, don’t go judging us odd ones. We’re the spice of life,” said Camden, smiling widely at her own joke.

“Oh my God,” Angeria whispered, her eyes closed in annoyance but unable to tamper down her smile.

Camden grabbed one of the cookies and broke it in half, then took a delicate bite, living up to the nickname of Ladythat Angie had given her. All the good natured teasing only made Camden laugh and amp up her prim-and-proper ways.

“Oh, so good,” said Camden, eating the rest of the cookie in one bite. She grabbed another, then paused and looked at Angeria.

“Go ahead,” Angeria said. “I made enough; the ones for the party are in those tins over there. Leave room for the cake, though! I need your opinion,” said Angeria, standing up.

“Angie, you know that I don’t know a single thing about baking. My understanding is that your food is good, and that’s it.”

“And that’s all I need to hear,” Angeria said as she covered the cake mold with a plate. “Pray this goes well. One, two, three!”

The cake unmolded perfectly onto the plate, as expected. Camden still humored Angeria and applauded.

“Ta-dah!”

Angeria set the cake on the counter and grabbed a knife.

“Moment of truth.”

She cut a slice, and the cross section showed a perfectly uniform crumb of small air bubbles.

“Looking good, looking good. Now… here.”

Angeria handed a fork to Camden and they took a bite at the same time. Camden immediately brightened up and went back for seconds, but Angeria chewed it over, taking her time. A moment later, she gave her verdict.

“It’s good.”

“Just good? Are you crazy?” said Camden, licking her lips. “You made baked fudge. That is not short of a miracle.”

Angeria smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

“Fine, alright, I’m incredible. You want whipped cream?”

“God, yes.”

Angeria got a bowl of whipped cream from the fridge and two knives, and they spread the cream on their slices of cake like butter. Angeria was experimenting with different ratios, but Camden was just enjoying the treat, and making it harder for Angeria to focus over the pleased little noises she let out. She felt herself getting a little flustered and tried to throw anything at the silence.

“So, um,” she started, without much of a plan. Camden looked up, expectant. “Do you have somewhere to be right now?”

Camden blinked and put down her fork.

“No, I don’t think so.” She straightened her back and crossed her ankles. “Why?”

“I’m gonna be trying some designs with icing pipes on these cookies, to pick some for the party.” Angeria took a deep breath. “Maybe you’d like to stay for that?”

Stay with me? she thought.

“Really?” Camden said, a smile blooming. “You’ll let me play with your fancy baking supplies?”

“They’re not fancy,” Angeria laughed. “Okay, perhaps the newer set of noozles is. You can use the old one.”

Camden gasped in fake offense and threw a small crumb of cake at Angeria.

“This is why you don’t get the fancy utensils. Childish behavior.”

Camden smiled with her tongue between her teeth, but then her face softened and the smile turned warm.

“I’d love to stay.”

Angeria nodded. It was probably time to get up and start the icing, but Camden’s eyes were darker in the light of the kitchen and hard to look away from.

“Do we start now?”

Angeria jumped up to get everything ready, and maybe to settle down a bit.

“Yes, I’ll make the icing.”

“Alright. How do I help?” said Camden, taking off her coat and rolling up the sleeves of her sweater.

That was something Angeria liked a lot about Camden, and the thing that first made them go from baker and buyer to friends. She was always there with willing hands, always ready to help, never hesitating before grabbing a mop or the broken pieces of porcelain from the latest incident at the bakery. Angeria had tried at first to dissuade her, to get her to sit down and let her handle it. After all, it was her shop. But Camden was so kind in her insistence that it was hard to deny her anything. Almost every day at three o’ clock, the bakery gained a little helper, and Angeria started giving Camden increasingly bigger discounts on food and drinks until she stopped charging her altogether.

“Pick some colors,” said Angeria as she set down the tidy box of food colorings. She put the icing into separate bowls, and once Camden had mixed the colors in, they scooped them into piping bags.

“Angie? I don’t think this one is working,” said Camden, squeezing the bag she held, which refused to pour out any icing.

“You’re being too soft. It’s cute that you’re so dainty, but you gotta be firmer than that. Here,” she said as she circled Camden with her arms and corrected her grip, getting the icing to fall.

Camden had become tense, so Angeria pulled back, thinking maybe she had hurt her.

“Sorry,” said Angeria, going back to her own supplies.

“‘S okay,” Camden said, her eyes fixed on the task.

Camden must really run hot, thought Angeria, because her neck was getting a little flushed.

They tried out different designs, Angeria’s neat and practiced, Camden’s a little shaky but just as pretty. They covered the whole tray of goods in hearts and flowers, and the counter (and their own arms) in droplets of color. Angeria picked the best of the best and stored them with the cookies that would make it to the party, to replicate the designs the day of. The rest went in a to-go box, tied with a neat little ribbon and handed to Camden.

“These are for you.”

“Really? Angie, it’s too much, I can’t accept them,” said Camden, but still took the box.

“Please, do.”

Camden started to protest, but Angeria stopped her.

“Really, Cam, take them. I made them with you in mind.” Angeria felt the words coming, and was unable to stop them. “I do that a lot, actually. I think about you a lot.”

“Oh.”

The kitchen fell silent.

Angeria had been careful, always so careful with Camden. She noticed the looks, the blushes, the hand holding and explained them away everytime. Because if she was wrong, if she took that final step and it turned out it was all in her head, things would be ruined. Camden would leave.

So Angeria waited and held her tongue, and basked in the growing friendship with Camden, and it was enough.

And then she had to go and run her mouth.

“I mean, they’re your favorite flavor, so obviously I was thinking about you,” Angeria tried to correct.

“I see,” Camden said, eyes still squinted and sparkling. “Say, Angie?”

This is it, thought Angeria. This is where she leaves and never comes back.

“Yeah?”

“Once you’re done here, would you like to come to my place and help me finish these?” said Camden, shaking the little box carefully.

“To your place?” Angeria repeated, her voice hopeful and high pitched.

“Yes,” Camden nodded too quickly. “It’s close by, don’t worry.”

Angeria smiled at the deflection. She wasn’t the only one with doubts, it seemed.

“You know that’s not why I asked.”

Camden had pulled the ribbon apart with all her fidgeting.

“I guess it would be a date. If— if you want it to be, that is.”

“I do,” said Angeria.

Now that she knew Camden’s intentions, all her shyness dissolved. She left the shyness to Camden; it looked better on her. She kept her eyes on the ground and had the cutest blush on her cheeks. Angeria took one of her hands, saving the ribbon from further damage, and stepped closer.

“Help me close up?”

“We’re leaving now?” said Camden, surprised.

“Yes. Why? Any dead bodies at your place that you need to get rid of before?”

“It’s a little messy, but that’s fine. I’ve just never seen you close early.”

“I’ve never had a good reason before now.”

Camden’s smile was blinding. Good thing it was almost hidden behind her curls.

They rushed through the usual routine. Angeria did the dishes, wiped the counter, and put everything back in place. Camden swept the whole place and locked up the cabinets, thrilled to be trusted with the keys.

The last things to go were the music and the lights, and with everything quiet and dark, Camden dared to take Angeria’s hand again and lead her outside.

With Camden by her side, Angeria braved the snow. She barely felt the cold.

Amp It Up (Biadoryssa) - Melyssa

“Wait where’s Alyssa?!” Bianca grabs her arm, now finding it rather absurd for her girlfriend to be missing ten minutes before Adore’s performance.

Adore pulls away her arm with a smirk, dashing off without answering the question.

“Watch over my bag in room 12!” she yells over her shoulder.

“Wait-” but Adore had already disappeared among the crowd of staff members, leaving Bianca to groan at the younger.

“Why in the hell is she leaving her bag in random rooms?!” Bianca mumbles under her breathe as she stomps to retrieve the younger’s bag.

AO3 LINK

Bianca breathlessly yet giddily made her way backstage, the curtains swishing behind her in exit. The crowds were still cheering, the noise still going as long as the smile she had on her face. The smile only grew wider when her eyes immediately landed on the tall figure waiting for her there. 

  “Wiiilloooww” Adore yelled happily, wasting no time to wrap her arms around her girlfriend and pepper her face with kisses. “You were soo cool there did you know that?”

  “I don’t see how reading strangers to filth would be considered Pussyface” Bianca snorts, pushing Adore’s face away with a roll of her eyes. Of course it was more out of playful sarcasm rather than anything. How could she ever hate Adore, when just the sight of her still makes her heart race throughout these years. Especially now, when its not usual for them to perform in the same venues. 

  She presses a kiss of her own on the younger’s lips, taking a second to stare fondly into those wide doe eyes she and the world fell in love with. Adore looked gorgeous today, her long silky black hair flowing effortlessly until her hips. She was dressed in her favourite black leather jacket for tongiht’s gig, topping over a flashy set of leopard-printed tanktop and denim shorts, finishing the grungy outfit with a pair of combat boots and make-up. 

  She notices how breathy the younger was, a small sheen of sweat on her warm skin and her smudged lipstick drawing a chuckle out of her. 

  “Been getting frisky backstage Dory?” Bianca eyes her knowingly. Adore responds with a laugh of her own as she wipes the red edges along. 

  “You could call it a good luck charm.” The younger winks. 

  “Where is Puckerface anyway?” Bianca asks, looking around for her second lover which was unusually missing from their embrace. Normally, Alyssa would be there, jumping excitedly as she rambled her praises for her performance a hundred words per minute. 

  “You know she doesn’t like you calling her that right?” Adore snickers, nuzzling her hand. 

  “Yeah but where is that bitch-” “Adore your cue starts in ten minutes!”

  Both girls turn around at the staff’s announcement. The boy says nothing else, scurrying away and leaving the lovers. 

  Adore smiles excitedly at Bianca, her face glowing like a Christmas tree just like every single time she performs on stage. “Well I got to go Willow.”

  “Wait where’s Alyssa?!” Bianca grabs her arm, now finding it rather absurd for her girlfriend to be missing ten minutes before Adore’s performance. 

  Adore pulls away her arm with a smirk, dashing off without answering the question. 

  “Watch over my bag in room 12!” she yells over her shoulder.

  “Wait-” but Adore had already disappeared among the crowd of staff members, leaving Bianca to groan at the younger. 

  “Why in the hell is she leaving her bag in random rooms?!” Bianca mumbles under her breathe as she stomps to retrieve the younger’s bag. 

  Nobody paid attention to her, staff and other performers alike passing her by without a single glance. Yet, Bianca notices, not one of them was her blonde girlfriend. 

  ‘Maybe she’s already in the seats’ Bianca thinks, longing to hurry up to catch a front row to Adore’s performance. 

  She hastens her step, heels clacking against the floor, eyes glancing through the the numbered stars on the doors. 

  7…8…9..10…11

  “Aha!” Bianca mutters in triumph as she grabs the handle of room no. 12. It’s unlocked, swinging inside easily to reveal a mutely lighted room and-

  Bianca’s mouth drops open, eyes widening at the sight that greeted her. 

  On the center of the room was one giant amplifier, a wire connecting it to the corner of the room, probably to some part of the stage. It was odd, the sound system being here instead of the stage, yet that wasn’t has Bianca gaping. Her eyes were focused there, on the girl sitting atop the speaker, legs spread over its sides, squirming against the rope binding her two hands together. Familiar green eyes meet hers, widening in shock under long lashes before Bianca hears what could probably be a sigh of relief through the gag over her mouth. 

  “Alyssa!” Bianca yells, running towards the bounded girl to take off the gag. 

  Alyssa gasps as the fabric comes off, dissolving into a coughing fit as she tries to get air back into her lungs. 

  “Who did this to you?!” Bianca growls angrily as she moves to undo the ropes. “I’m going to kill them-”

  However, Alyssa jerks her hands away, choking out a breathless “Wait!”.

  Bianca’s hand freeze allowing Alyssa to take a couple more seconds and gasps of air as she visibly tries to fix her composure. 

  “Don’t you-” Alyssa reaches for her lover “Don’t you do no killing now, I ain’t wasting my cash bustin your ass out of jail.”

  These words has Bianca doing nothing but deadpan at the Texan woman. “I just walked in on you-”

  “N-now I can explain-” Alyssa hastily cuts her off.

  “-on you acting out a kidnapping scene.” Bianca groans into her hands. She permits herself  couple more seconds before parting her fingers to further glare at Alyssa through them. 

  “And I’m guessing there’s more to the explanation than a bag Adore had sent me to watch over isn’t there Puckerface?” Bianca remarks, voice steady yet laced with a hint of malice that often anyone who knew and didn’t know her into a fit of anxiety. 

  And Alyssa looked nervous alright, biting her lip as her eyes darts between Bianca and the corner of the room. 

  Bianca never stops glaring at her, keeping her hawk eyes focused on her girlfriend who was still in the black and neon dress she wore for her lipsynch gig that night. Its pink tassels sway slightly, moving as Alyssa shifts above the speaker. Strangely enough, Bianca doesn’t miss the split-second shudder that seems to run over her girlfriend, who still makes no move to get off the make-shift chair.

  “I-I made out with Adore.” Alyssa gulps again. 

  “Mhmm” 

  That was obviously nothing new. If platonic people make out with a bit of alcohol in their system, people in a relationship would definitely be making out too. Nevermind that their relationship composed of three personality-clashing women, Adore has done worse things to Alyssa anyway. 

  “Is that all?” So what was her gig. 

  “I-we-uh” Alyssa shifts again, a small yet audible breathe leaving her as she does so. Bianca stares closer, only now noticing Alyssa’s increasingly reddening cheeks and the inconsistent shading of the pink lipstick the Texan queen was always so fussy about. 

  Adore was wearing red lipstick if she remembered. 

  “See we-” Alyssa clenches her eyes shut as she speaks in a single breathe “theresapluginsideme”

  Bianca blinks. “What?”

  “Dear god the woman is making me say it again.” Alyssa groans frustratedly. “I said-”

  “Yeah no I heard you the first time” Bianca quickly cuts her off, thoughts racing a mile a minute as the words slowly begin to repeat in her head. “You’re wearing a-”

  “Yes” Alyssa hisses, body tensing as she adjusts her position. “The kid done actually pulled it out of her clutch and-”

  “And placed it in there”

  “Yes” 

  “And you allowed it”

  “Yes” Alyssa admits, the pitch of her voice raising a little in irritation and humiliation. 

  Bianca is too shocked for anymore words. 

  Suddenly, all her previous annoyance flooded out of her body. Replacing it was the hyper-awareness she had of the way Alyssa’s body tenses or shudders when she shifts, and the slightly glazed look she had in her usually sharp eyes, and-

  And it wasn’t their first time. Oh for god’s sake, Adore was basically a horny teenager. Any kinks and fetiches she brought up, Bianca and Alyssa entertained for her sake. Bianca was already used to just not being surprised by this, but Alyssa, being the latest one to join their relationship and growing up in a bubble, adapted to them slowly. So now, watching her girlfriend tied up and sitting on the amplifier in a room of their venue, Bianca was still having a hard time choosing between being impressed and remaining in shock. 

  Instead, she slowly stands up, feeling Alyssa’s eyes follow her as she does. 

  Bianca places a hand a few feet away from the dancer’s skirt, eyes meeting her in her new nervous-curious state. “May I?”

  It takes a few seconds for Alyssa to get what she meant, but she replies with a sheepish nod of her head nonetheless. 

  Bianca feels her body tense again as she lifts her short skirt. If she didn’t believe her before, she did now. 

  Alyssa had no underwear, the piece of fabric missing, its absence being emphasised by her girlfriend’s pink glistening folds parted with a familiar indigo base plug. Adore’s favourite. 

  Bianca reckons she spends another minute staring wordlessly at Alyssa’s pussy, feeling a familiar warmth pooling in hers. 

  “Well damn-” Bianca chuckles in disbelief “Didn’t think you had it in you Puckerface.”

  “She was really convincing alright?!” Alyssa squirms and whines in embarrassment “And she was given me those wide jesus eyes of hers and-”

  “And you couldn’t say no.” Bianca now gives a small laugh. Everyone falls weak at the sight of Adore’s puppy eyes. “Whore”

  Alyssa’s eyes flashes dangerously as they meet her’s again. “Hey! I aint a- AH~”

  Alyssa isn’t quick enough to stop the moan that escapes her, feeling the toy move as Bianca pushes it deeper. She glares her, glaring harder as Bianca only gives her a cruel smirk of amusement. 

  “Bitch stop that!” Alyssa hisses, only to muffle another squeak as Bianca moves it yet again. 

  “Bianca!”

  Bianca chuckles, always having found so much pleasure teasing her partners. Alyssa releases a shuddering breathe, preparing for any movement of any kind from her sadistic girlfriend, only for both of them to perk up as the hear the announcer from the stage yell into his mic.

  “Alright ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to welcome the ever so gorgeous mermaid of the dancers-”

  “You’re not watching?” Alyssa questions as Bianca stands up and sits behind her.

  Bianca snorts “As if I’m going to leave Adore’s important baggage now.”

  Alyssa chuckles. “She aint gone be happy that we missed her gig”

  “I’ll make it up to her later, she probably deserves it anyway.” 

  “ADORE DELANO!!”

  \V//

  Adore was the kind of performer who cherished her fans. She loved them, always taking five minutes to greet and chat the bar up before her number. During this time, Bianca comfortably situated herself behind Alyssa who was already feeling regretful of allowing her younger lover to leave her like this. 

  She sighs a little, placing her bounded hands in front of her as she tries to get herself comfortable. Well as comfortable as one could get with a toy nestled in your throbbing pussy, legs spread over a sound equipment. 

  “Is she gone be talkin there all night?!” Alyssa sighs exasperatedly. 

  Bianca only chuckles “It’s just one song. You’re only being horny, calm down.”

  A scoff was all Alyssa could give. Sometimes, Bianca was insensitive. Anyone could blame it on her line of work and all, but Adore didn’t even let Alyssa come when she tied and filled her up. She only told her to stay where she was and that she’ll get a reward later. 

  So here Alyssa was, over an amplifier as she tried to stop getting turned on by the piece of silicon inside her. 

  Then, they hear Adore end her speech, a moment of static indicating that she had passed the mic.

  “Finally” Alyssa grumbles as she settles herself down to listen to her girlfriends performance.

  When the first few chords of the song played, both queen could hear the entire venue go wild. It was one of Adore’s popular songs, so it was expected that it would emit such a response. 

  What Alyssa didn’t expect was for the amplifier to sound underneath her, not having been aware that it was even connected. 

  The movement sent vibrations running up her entire body, from her legs spread over it, to her unsuspecting pussy pressed against it. 

  Another chord played and Alyssa cannot stop the way her body from flinching as the vibrations travel the base of the plug all the way to its tips, the toy stimulating her insides as well. 

  “F-fuck-”

  “Fuck”

  Bianca swears behind her, getting off the sound device as its movement sends her into a momentary fit of shock and annoyance. 

  “Piece of shit.” Bianca curses “Should’ve told us it was on, now it’s- hey are you okay?”

  Alyssa could only answer in a gasp of breath as the waves of pleasure continues. By now, the song has picked up a steady rhythm, sending a pattern of vibrations to reverate through her just the way her other toys do. 

  “Oh g-god-” Alyssa whines as she digs her hands on the vibrating surface to steady herself. 

  When Adore had told her to get into this position over a speaker of all things, Alyssa didn’t know that this what she had in mind. That little fucker, she’s gonna get her so bad when they get home.

  A little moan escapes her as a particularly loud chord sends a stronger wave of vibration running through her. Alyssa doesn’t know what to do, except for gasp and and flinch against the movements. This was ridiculous, Alyssa thinks painting a mental image in her head. Had Bianca chose not to come and get her, she would have had to suffer through this alone with the door unlocked. Atleast with her girlfriend here, she feels her familiar arms wrap around her waist. 

  “That kid is stupid” Biana chuckles, warm breathe ghosting over her neck. “But she can be a genuis sometimes.”

  “Hmmpph” Alyssa clenches her eyes tight. Just for a couple of seconds, she is able to focus just enough to figure out what part of the song they were on. They were on the pre-chorus, a few lines Adore is already singing into her mic. And that was all the warning she got before the song descends into an upbeat rhythm. 

  “Ahh~” Alyssa moans as faster stronger vibrations begin to travel through her. Her hips unconsciously begins bouncing over the speaker, not sure if she was trying to get more of the sharp pleasure that shoots through her or not. 

  She clenches around the toy, as it rubs her walls in all the right and wrong ways, having Alyssa’s mind short-circuiting. 

  “Please” She begs for no one in particular as she feels her stomach begin to tighten. Ayssa presses harder against Bianca as her orgasm begins to build up. She doesn’t think she’s ever been drive to the edge this quickly before, but the situation itself was already too much and the vibrations were merciless, driving her insane and driving the toy deeper inside her. 

  With another intense chord, the toy is driven deeper again, hitting right in her g-spot and Alyssa prays that the crowd was loud enough to drown her half-scream as she came. 

  She continues helplessly bouncing on the speaker, riding out her orgasm as the song somes to an end and Alyssa could only whimper as the final waves of vibrations send her trembling in overstimulation. 

  The vibrations stop completely, the music turning off as the audience only cheers loudly from the outside. Alyssa hears nothing but a ringing in her ears and Bianca’s small whispers of praise as she traces comforting circles into her hip, waiting for her to come down from her high. 

  However, Alyssa is still incoherent when the door suddenly opens, freezing both girls in thrie wake as they meet familiar eyes and smirk. 

  “Did you guys enjoy my performance?” A sweaty Adore pants as she enters the room. 

  Immediately, her eyes land on a panting Alyssa, leaning heavily on her other girlfriend with tears peeking out from the corner of her eyes and juices pooled beneath her. 

  “Alyssa enjoyed it alright” Bianca snickers. 

  Adore smirks even wider and rushes to kiss her. Alyssa doesn’t fight it, a soft sound of approval escaping her as the younger’s lips press against hers. 

  Adore pulls away, eyes gleaming with heavy lust as she licks her lips. 

  “Ready for your reward?”

A/N: i wrote this at 2am. enjoy you freaks

Hellooo, is anyone home?” 

Bianca waved her hand in front of her younger student’s lost face, as usual they weren’t paying attention at the slightest. She had to deal with dumb, moody teenagers all day, it was her entire career after all. But something about Adore was different, in a way that couldn’t be explained.

“Huh? Oh, soz…”

Adore kept her head tilted, their posture still slouched and uninterested. She was relying on no more than 3 hours of sleep, plus recovering from a shitty break up with her boyfriend. She was bored, too busy focusing on the relationships in her life instead of studying 18th century European music, not the most exciting topic ever…

They started eyeing the older woman as she continued to teach the rest of the class. From her long curly ginger hair to her black heels; Adore just couldn’t take her eyes off her. Was it the sleep depravity or the weed? Who knows, but Adore definitely knew what she wanted in that specific moment - her music professor.

Their eyes were glued on her. She had a more mature, fuller frame. Adore had never been with a woman before, especially not one twice their age. Usually she would just whore herself out to random men. But, something about their emotions towards this woman was so timid and shy. She was practically flustered, just sitting there thinking about her teacher fully clothed. Her dark tights gripped her curvy legs, complemented with a fitting leather pencil skirt, hugging her wide hips. Adores leg began bouncing like mad, as if she was an excited dog. 

Her body was naturally slender and tall, despite being on estrogen for 2 years she wasn’t very shaped but it was usually good enough. They liked being manhandled, but she had never thought about being with another woman. They couldn’t stop thinking about their pale body being held and groped by h-

“Sleepyhead, it’s been 20 minutes and your pen hasn’t even grazed your paper. Can you stay after class so we can talk?”

Fuck. Adore felt as if she’d just been caught in the act. She was just tired on a Tuesday afternoon and not in the mood (for class at least). They would usually try in school, however after a decade or so of it, you get quite bored. She was 18, they could drive, drink, the last place they wanted to be was a classroom. And as people packed their bags and chattered down the corridor, Adore’s paper was still completely blank besides some accidental scribbles.

“C’mon sweet, come sit next to me.”

Bianca gestured and pulled out a stool next to her, she was used to the horrific squeak of the furniture against the hard floors. Adore slowly dragged herself, asif she was a corpse, towards the stool.

“Somethings clearly bothering you. I hope you’re just tired and sober, ‘cuz I would hate to see you throw away your education like this, Dorey.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” The younger girl rubbed her eyes, almost sweating at the thought of how close they were to her sexy professor. “I just, y'know, broke up with my boyfriend and I don’t even, like, know how I feel…”

“Hmm, sweetie,” Bianca put her hand on their shoulder, rubbing it soothingly . “I don’t really know how I can help. That’s not really any of my business as your tea-”

“Maybe you could give me extra tutoring?” Adore blurted out, in a heated rush

“Hah, did you make all that up so you could ask me that?” 

“No, I’m just too tired to think.”

“The usual. I think the library will be empty Thursday after school, I’ll meet you then, okay?”

Adore nodded while grabbing their stuff sloppily, turning towards the door. 

“Oh, and when you’re staring at my tits, make it a little less obvious next time.”

Bianca smirked as she watched her student rush out in embarrassment. She had always liked Adore differently to the others. They were just a quiet stoner, but their passion for music seemed more genuine compared to everyone else in the class. Maybe getting off with them wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, infact, she was kind of into it. She’d been fantasising about it for a long time and she had finally found the perfect opportunity.

-> time skip because I’m lazy lolz  <-

Thursday came quickly, neither girl could stop thinking about each other. Bianca didn’t go into work, she told the office she had gone to a different school to examine their techniques. She spent her entire day preparing to meet her student, as if it was a date. Well, basically it was.  

Despite how hard she tried to oppress it, she really enjoyed spending time with Adore. Thinking about the witty banter they would exchange in their classes every other day kept her going. She had a big house she inherited, but no one to share it with. Maybe her favourite student was perfect for the job?

Adore threw on her usual baggy trousers and hoodie. Despite beginning her transition 3 years ago, they never really had an interest in hyper femininity. They had a few slutty lingerie sets laying around, but that’s pretty much a set expectation for any woman in her prime. She obviously wanted to set a good impression in her fashion, however there’s no point when the clothes are just gonna end up on the floor. She wandered out the house, taking only her phone and airpods. The library was only in the city centre, a 15 minute walk from Adore’s trashy flat. The perfect amount of time to think about her actions and how she’s gonna behave.

“You’re on time, that’s new.” Bianca said, leaning into the girl to give her a small motherly kiss on the cheek. 

“I just wanted to see you, that’s all” 

“It’s sweet when you put effort in.”

The library was completely empty. After all it was a late Thursday afternoon, fairly dark outside. Even Bianca wasn’t really in the mood for education, she just needed an excuse, a cover up, to get closer to Adore. She plopped her bag on the wooden table, pulling out a thick leather-bound book.

“Here baby, these books have most of the notes in. Can you just copy them up for me?” She said, playing with the other girls’ brunette hair.

Adore nodded, whimpering slightly. She felt her professor’s warm hands travel up and down her thighs. Fuck. She has clearly done this with someone else before, the young girl had never seen anyone tease with this much skill. They bit down on their pen, cracking it slightly, trying to muffle her soft moans. By now, Bianca had fully unzipped her students’ jeans and had her hands gently massaging Adore’s ever growing bulge. She began grinding on her lover’s hand, still pretending to seem interested in her music work. 

“Sweetheart, you haven’t written anything down yet.”

Adore let out a loud moan, she couldn’t help herself. She had never been teased so viciously in her entire life. Noone had ever focused on pleasuring them specifically, without benefit involved. Bianca’s touch was so aggressive in nature, yet so timid and loving towards Adore specifically. To think that her strict, well dressed music teacher was currently jerking her off in a public library was sending her brain further into overload. 

“Ple-please, suck me off please.” 

Adore whispered, their entire body tense. Their breathing became more vigorous as the gentle pace of the jerking slowed down.

“I don’t think you’ve done enough work baby.” 

She worked her way down her students sensitive neck, leaving predominant purple bruises. Adore advanced her hands down the older woman’s blouse, squeezing her tits softly. Their cock started throbbing even harder. The risk of being caught, turned them both on to an extreme, combined with the nature of their ‘taboo’ relationship: Adore was set to cum any minute now. She pulled Bianca’s head from her butchered neck and to her lips. They could hardly keep their lips and hands off each other. 

“Fuuck…” 

Adore squirted cum up her lover’s shirt and all over her hands. Drawing her in for one final sloppy kiss. Reality had finally sunk in for both of them - had they just really done this in a public library. No actual progress was made in furthering her failing education, but it was still the most productive studying she had ever done in her life.

“I love you, professor.”