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demoneyesanddamagedsouls · 3 years

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Sparring Partners

Chapter Two: Preparation

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first Chapter of this fic, I hope you enjoy this one just as much. I’m aiming to post a new chapter each week, not sure yet how many chapters this’ll have yet. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Language, mentions of food and canon-typical violence

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CHAPTER TWO: Preparation

You both leave the conference room minds reeling from all the information that was just given to you.

As one of the younger agents at Statesman, being chosen as a potential candidate for Champ’s position was a real honour. It showed that Champ really thought highly of you and your skills. After 8 years of working as an agent, going on your fair share of dangerous and difficult missions, taking a bullet more than once, and now training the new recruits with Tequila, you knew you had worked your ass off to get where you were. However, even with all this experience it paled in comparison to some of the more senior agents, some with 10 or more years under their belt. Hell, the person you were up against had been on the job for about 15 years, making a name for himself as one of the most fearsome agents that Statesman had to offer. You knew for a fact that Whiskey had been hoping for this position eventually, it had been something he mentioned to other agents that you heard in passing. At the top of his game and at the height of his career you realised, this cowboy was going to be one hell of a challenge to go up against.

Whiskey mulled over this new mission and Champ’s offer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Champ had propositioned him as a potential candidate for this position, he was one of the most senior agents at Statesman. Probably the closest in age to Champ and with the extensive experience he had it seemed rather obvious, but Vodka? You were still so young, in your mid 20’s the world was yet to break your spirit. Mind you, you had that bossy tone down packed. He chuckled to himself. He was hesitant to admit but you had a certain leadership quality that you didn’t see in most of the agents here. Most were contented to follow orders and carry out missions as asked, but you always had your own way of doing things, always taking the initiative. He supposed you had a fresh and young perspective that Champ must see as endearing. He however, found your constant need to take charge rather infuriating. You always seemed to think you knew best and even if you were correct, more often than not he was resigned to admit, it was still frustrating as you always seemed determined to show him up. He knew you were going to be a challenge, so determined to prove yourself, and a damned good agent to boot. Fuck this is going to be harder than he thought.

Both of you walking in the same direction out of the room, neither of you realising the other is turning to walk in the opposite direction. Both too caught up in your own thoughts you collide into each other your head smacking into Whiskeys chest. Quickly recoiling from the unintentional contact your rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Dammit Whiskey, watch where you’re going for Christ’s sake.”

“Well jeez Vodka how am I supposed to avoid you and that ego inflated head of yours?” He scoffed, eyeing you up and down.

You scowled at him, “You think I have a big ego? Have you looked in the mirror lately Whiskey? You and that cocky ass grin of yours have got a lot of nerve talking about my ego.” Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn and storm away from the narcissistic cowboy.

“If you liked my smile so much you should have just said so… sunshine.” He calls back to you as you walk away. You could practically hear the smirk in that smooth as silk southern accent.

What an absolute dick. He knew exactly what he was doing when he spoke to you like that. It infuriated you. The way his southern drawl echoed in your ears, his words dripping like honey, they way he called you those stupid little pet names. Everything about Whiskey drove you up the wall, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Fuckkkk…” You growled to yourself as you stormed into your office your heeled boots clicking angrily through the hall. Why does he always have to be so intensely irritating? You needed to get that stupid fucking smirk out of your head and get prepared for your new op. Slamming the door shut and sitting down, you start reclining in your office chair taking a deep breath and relaxing. Whiskey’s scent had lingered on your clothes creating a cloud around you after you had slammed into his chest. Inhaling the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood, a soft oaky smell, your breathing began to slow and calm. You would never tell him but that was one thing you did unfortunately enjoy about Whiskey. He always smelt good. Why did he always have to smell so damn good? Shaking your head to clear your mind of any remaining thoughts of Whiskey you leaned towards your desk and opened your laptop. This was going to be a long night…

***

Pushing the door closed with your heeled foot, you stepped into your apartment and sighed. You were exhausted. Checking your watch, you realised it was now 10 minutes past midnight. Swiftly moving to the bedroom, you flopped onto your bed groaning as you flipped yourself over and pulled off your boots, quickly changing into your pyjamas. Finally laying back down in bed you stared up at the ceiling running over the research you’d done over the course of the afternoon and evening, and the plan you had organised for tomorrow. You had spent the afternoon working, collecting copious amounts of information on CleanPlanet and the history of their company. It seemed that they were attempting to pass as an almost ‘mom and pop’ style family-owned business “Dedicated to the bettering of the planet and all the people who inhabited it.” What a load of rubbish. You had uncovered multiple articles from smaller news publications questioning the companies credibility, some families of recently passed away individuals even coming forward and accusing the company of foul play in the deaths of their relatives. CleanPlanet was owned and run by Howard Jacoby and his wife Constance, two very well-off socialites and academics who were every bit as snobby as they appeared in pictures. At least you wouldn’t be dealing with them directly thank goodness you hated dealing with high society types, that would be Whiskey’s issue.

There was a particular video that had caught your eye whilst combing through their internet presence, a TedTalk style video starring the one and only Howard Jacoby. He was speaking about how the planet was struggling with things like overpopulation and pollution, a speech which sounded eerily similar to Professor Arnold’s work, the man who had assisted Richmond Valentine and encouraged his plot to wipe out most of the planet. You shuddered at the thought. Either way you and Whiskey would get to the bottom of this. If the company and its owners were planning on anything like what Valentine had tried to execute then you needed to figure it out quickly. Deciding you’d brief Whiskey in the morning about your hunch, you set your alarm and curled up in your soft cotton sheets. Looking out your bedroom window at the twinkling of the city lights, your head sinking slowly into your pillow. You drift off into a restless sleep, anxious of what tomorrow would bring.

***

You arrived at Statesman the next morning rubbing your eyes. Your sleep had been restless, anxiety of the coming days keeping you from a comfortable evening. Pushing the door to your office open you hear a chipper voice behind you. “Well mornin’ Vodka. You ready for the op today?” You turned to see Whiskey standing in your office door frame, leaning his broad shoulder against it with a large smile plastered across his face.

Rolling your eyes at his unnecessarily wide grin, “And what’s gotten you in such a fabulous mood this morning?” You say with an exasperated sigh as you drop into your office chair with a small thud. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth his smile somehow grows larger as he pulls out the arm that was behind his back forward as he saunters into the room. Holding a large paper bag, which as soon as you spot the smell hits your nostrils. Fresh pancakes. You look at him with sudden excitement and surprise, your mood instantly lifted and the last feeling of tiredness leaving your body as you inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d bring us some breakfast to get us in the right headspace for today. I also thought we should probably trade what we found out yesterday during our research to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

“Oh, so this is a bribery breakfast huh?” You questioned as you drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering food on the desk in front of you, finally taking a proper look at Whiskey for the first time this morning. The first thing you notice is that he is not currently donning his regular black Stetson, a rather big change from his usual cowboy appearance. Instead, he was showing off his thick, brushed back hair, his wireframe Statesman issued glasses resting on his strong nose, obscuring his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a gorgeous grey checkered suit with a white dress shirt underneath, a casual yet striking look on his glowing tan complexion. It was a very nice change for the cowboy. He cleans up well, you thought. Your gaze flicks up and you notice Whiskey’s cocky grin once again. He must have thought you were eyeing him up, not that you weren’t but you weren’t about to let him know that. You roll your eyes at him trying to keep his knowing smile at bay. “So, what are you after then Whiskey?”

“Well sunshine, since you always seem to know everything, I thought I’d get your run down on things this morning before we both head out to our separate ops today.”

“Ahhhh there it is, the usual candour I’m used to from you cowboy. I was worried when you showed up this morning with a kind gesture that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of that snarky wit I have become so accustomed to.” You look down at your computer and notepad, focusing on the research notes you had made last night in somewhat of a delirious, fever dream state. “Alright let me have a look…” you trailed off.

Whiskey sits down across from you at your desk pulling the steaming pancakes out of the paper parcel you had brought this morning. Setting up the two meals Whiskey observes you, wearing a pair of simple black high waisted work pants tapering at your waist, a simple white blouse tucked into them, the buttons undone just low enough to show off your neck and the top of your chest. He darts his eyes back up to your face, so you don’t catch him staring, nose scrunched up in concentration under your matching Statesman glasses as you palm through your somewhat excessive amount of research notes. He lets out a light breath of amusement seeing you like this, confused but copiously prepared, it was a nice change of pace from your usual so certain self.

Looking back up from your notes as you find what you were looking for you see the small meal containers opened on the desk, filled with pancakes with a small pot of maple syrup on the side. Turning your focus back to Whiskey you begin to go through what information you’d gathered that you thought was pertinent to the both of you. You ran through the notes you had made, both of you working your way through breakfast, Whiskey chiming in occasionally with a mhmm and a nod here and there. “One thing that kept bugging me last night was that Ted Talk type video of Howard Jacoby… talking about the human race being a plague on the planet that needed to be cured so the earth could thrive again…” you trial off as a look of concern crosses your face, “It was really eerie and reminded me a lot of that professor that assisted Richmond Valentine in his attempt to have the world turn on each other.”

“Well, it seems I missed that video, that sounds mighty concerning…” Whiskey trails off, leaning his elbow on the side of your desk slowly pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Wonder what their testing at those new hospital facilities of theirs then…” He turns to look at you, the same worry sparkling in his eyes.

“My hunch is that they must be testing something similar to what Valentine did, something that can affect extensive groups of people on a large scale. Something that would be easy to distribute and spread, but obviously more related to the medical profession because of the labs…”

“Maybe some sort of virus or infection?” He chimes in.

“Seems more than likely… I guess we’ll find out more today. Speaking of…” You glance down at your watch realising it was almost 8:30am. Still so early for your tired demeanour, but almost time for you to both be heading off. Ginger had organised a cover story for you last night and sent in for a ‘staff transfer’ so that you could get into the CleanPlanet facilities and gain access to the hospital quickly. You needed to get to the bottom of this puzzling situation fast, especially as it seemed to be becoming more concerning by the minute. “I think its time for us to head off.”

“Seems it is.” Whiskey nods and swiftly packs the remnants of breakfast back into the paper bag, throwing it into the bin beside your desk.

“So, you know what my, rather detailed I might add, plan is but you have yet to share how you plan on approaching this op.” A slight leer in your voice, aiming to provoke him. “Care to share… cowboy?”

“If you must know, Vodka,” he drawls, the civilised tone from earlier gone in a heartbeat as the two of you pick up your bags and make your way down the hallway to the elevator. “I will be posing as a one of multiple wealthy investors eager to take a tour of CleanPlanet’s new business acquisitions. A high society gentleman looking to expand my portfolio into areas I have true passion for you could say. As it so happens, it seems that Howard Jacoby is searching for some people who share his vision and have a healthy wallet.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, for this type of persona was so unlike himself. A charmer by nature his honeyed voice had made many a lady fall victim to a one-night stand, but a high society man he was not. Whiskey cleaned up well, but he was certainly a working-class gentleman with a love for simple living.

“Well, your certainly dressed the part.” You say as you eye up Whiskey admitting to yourself that he was pulling of the sleek look. You shake your head clearing your mind of the potential minute attraction forming, focusing once more on where you were going. Stepping into the elevator and tapping the basement level button, you continued. “You definitely look like a pretentious asshole.” You say, chuckling to yourself as the elevator started to move.

Suddenly Whiskey was directly in front of you looking you up and down. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been eyein’ me up little lady.” He says, voice velvety smooth. Pinned down by his gaze you suddenly feel cornered, claustrophobic in the small metal space. You feel your face begin to heat up with an incriminating red tint, uncertain whether it was from anger or something more primal, you quickly sidestep his imposing figure. The elevator dings and you swiftly exit the elevator, “You wish cowboy.” You respond, a quick exhale escaping your mouth as you calm your racing heartrate. Why was he trying to rile you up before such an important op? Why does he have to be such a cocky arse? Eyeing him up? He’s got to be kidding. He’s the absolute last person on the planet that you could ever be attracted to. He does nothing but irritate you. He may be attractive, you begrudgingly admit, but you certainly were NOT attracted to him.

You hear him chuckle behind you, “Did I touch a nerve there sunshine?” he drawls behind you as you both head towards the garage where Ginger would be waiting. Rolling your eyes in anger to yourself, you choose to ignore him. Responding would only make him continue.

Pushing the doors open to the garage you see Ginger talking to one of the mechanics. As she hears the doors swinging, she turns to you quirking her eyebrow, seeing you seething with annoyance. “Everything alright here agents?” She says, confusion evident in her tone.

“Fine Ginger,” your voice comes out strained attempting to mask your irritation, “So what have you got set up for us for the next few days?”

“For you Vodka I’ve organised this ID card so you will have access to the basic areas of the hospitals but there are higher clearance areas which I wasn’t able to duplicate. You’ll have to figure that out when it comes to it.” She hands you a small ID badge attached to a clip which you then hook onto the belt loop on your pants. “I’ve also got small earpieces for the two of you to keep in communication while inside the facilities. They’re undetectable but very effective so try not to scream while wearing them if you can.” She passes you both the tiny in ear tech piece.

“Thanks Ging.”

“Now for you Whiskey,” She pulls out a small wallet and a set of car keys, “Here’s a new wallet with your cover identity and some cash to show off of course.”

He chuckles to himself pulling out his new drivers’ licence, “Introducing Duke Silver!” He smiles and bows towards you and Ginger. You roll your eyes again, scoffing at his ridiculousness.

“And… If I can finish, Duke.” Ginger continues giving Whiskey an exaggerated frustrated look, “Here is your new automobile.” Handing him the keys she gestures to a car sitting behind her. A brilliant turquoise blue Shelby Cobra 427 with white racing stripes down the middle.

“Alright… Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Whiskey dashes over like an excited child to admire his new personas gorgeous ride.

As Whiskey admires his new toy you turn to Ginger, “What do I have the luxury of driving to ‘work’ then Ginger?”

Passing you the keys she gestures to the car behind Whiskey’s, a slightly beat-up silver Toyota Corolla. “Sorry hon, you unfortunately need to blend in as a semi-broke medical student.”

You sigh, clutching the keys in your hand. “Thanks Ging.” Walking over you pass Whiskey, still ogling his own ride, making your way to the new car you’d be enjoying for the next few days. A far cry from your own beautiful red Mustang you sighed once more. The two of you hop into your cars and adjust the inside to what you need, throwing your bags into the back seat. You look over at Whiskey and slump into your seat, incredibly jealous. “That looks like one fun car to drive…” you mutter to yourself, green with envy. “Lucky bastard.”

Whiskey revs his engine excitedly, “Thanks darlin!” He shouts to Ginger over the loud purr. Turning to you he winks, bringing your irritation back with full force. “Have fun at ‘work’ then sunshine. Talk to you later!” His voice ringing out across the concrete as he drives off, the garage doors opening as he takes off out of the facility.

“I guess I’m off too then, see you later Ginger!” You smile at her as you close your door, taking off after Whiskey ready to face whatever the day would bring.

*******************************************************************************************

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majesticbrownjawn · 4 years

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Delicate Part Three

Part One

Part Two

They rode quietly back to their side of town, Violet in a contemplative state of awe the whole way.

How'd he know her name? Maybe it was a freaky, weird coincidence.

She was completely taken by E. How'd he will her to give herself to him so quickly? She hadn't done anything like since her 20's. Her entire being wanted to stay there in Oakland, which let her brain know she had to do the opposite.

She had to stay away from him.

"You have to stay away from him," Trina said as she was climbing out of Violet's car. It was like her best friend had heard her thoughts and repeated them to make sure your got the picture.

"What?"

"He's no good, Vi," she asserted.

"How would you know? You just met him yourself." Violet's tone was defensive and she didn't know why, but Trina was absolutely right.

"I-I just know his type...AND know he had you with your drawers hanging around your ankles when I found you," she answered with an air of satisfaction in her voice. "God knows how many other women he's had like looking that."

Violet's eyes bulged in horror. She was always the more level-headed of the two. Sensible and practical were her middle names. Her role in their relationship was the responsible one. Violet relished in being the wise friend who always seemed to have it together and just a few hours with E was already tarnishing her image.

"Did you see him though?" Violet was trying her best to appeal to Trina's weakness for attractive men. She couldn't pick a guy with character to save her life, but they were almost always fine, and Violet was an eyewitness to Trina's inventory of E when she introduced them at the party.

Trina huffed and folded her arms at Violet disapprovingly.

"Fine. I already decided I would stay away from him. That's why I ran out of there so fast."

****

Violet loved food.

It was no wonder, though. She didn't just magically wake up one day in her pillowy-soft body.

But she turned that love for food into a craft, and studied culinary arts in Paris. Chef V's years of experience working under the best chefs in Europe made her a shoe-in for one of the few Michelin-starred restaurants in the States. She was the only Black woman executive chef of a restaurant of this caliber, which was both an honor and a shame to her. She wanted nothing more than to help other Black women in the her industry come up, but found the balance of trying to stay on top of her game and making time to give back a challenge. Doing anything other than working was a challenge for her. Maybe that was why she was so easily swayed by someone like E.

Her thoughts briefly went back to that day, now two months in the past—and she shuttered a bit at the thought of him. She would have been lying if she said she was glad he never contacted her. But she knew not hearing from him was for the best.

The sound of clanking fine china and sizzling kobe beef buzzed around her as she stood in the center of an upscale kitchen barking out orders like Gordon Ramsey. This kind of power gave her a high that was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. Everyone looked to her for direction and approval, a position she was quite familiar with.

Her younger siblings looked to her for guidance after her parents' death as a teenager and from then on, people kind of just sensed the leader in her. She was forced into being this person at a young age—maybe too young – but eventually embraced it. The consequence was that she came off as a snobby, slightly controlling bitch who thought she was smarter than everyone else.

Almost everyone.

Violet ran a tight ship and mistakes were not tolerated, so when her sous chef Suzie ran into the kitchen with beet-red cheeks and a half-eaten plate, she was curious as to what the flustered woman would say.

"There's a man out there," Suzie whispered.

"Speak up, Suzie. I can barely hear you."

"He said his steak is undercooked."

A collective silence fell over the kitchen as everyone stopped to see what Chef V would do next. She jerked her head back and studied the steak on the returned plate.

It was cooked to perfection.

She smacked her teeth before heading to the kitchen doors to peer out of its circular windows. She scanned the restaurant briefly, trying to pick up on who she thought the picky customer might be. She usually had an eye for patrons who liked to complain in hopes of a free meal, but she couldn't quite figure it out tonight.

"Who sent it back?"

"Him...over there at table 46."

Table 46 was the best table in the house. You could see the entire city skyline from its positioning and it was purposefully tucked away for the sake of privacy. Violet had served numerous celebrities and wealthy diners at table 46. She didn't think to look over there initially. When she did, the silhouette of strong, broad shoulders caught her eye. She pushed the doors open with frustration, ready to take on this tasteless customer, but as she marched forward, more of the man's physique came into focus. And the man's physique was familiar.

His hair—locs – specifically, was finally what caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Suzie, following a bit too closely, crashed into Violet, sending the returned plate cascading to the floor. The commotion caused half the restaurant to look in their direction and had Violet not been so caught up in the man, she would have been embarrassed.

But she was caught up.

Violet audibly gasped when he turned to face her. But it wasn't him. It wasn't E. As she dismissed herself back to the kitchen, she felt a bit of sadness that the picky customer wasn't the man who so easily made her feel open enough to do things she'd never done, but always dreamed of doing—especially as it pertained to sex. Unfortunately, there was a side of her that she'd never explored. She'd never found the right person she felt safe enough to do those things with, so she fantasized about them instead. That is, until she met him.

"Just cook him another one," she flatly told Suzie, completely defeated. Her sous chef quickly got to work on a replacement steak, while Violet slipped away to her small office in the rear of the kitchen.

"You would work at a bougie ass place like this, wouldn’t you?”

His voice caused an immediate reaction from her body, though she refused to let him know it. Part of her was angry, seeing him after all this time, smiling smugly at her in her office. She stared at him sternly before speaking.

"How'd you get back here?"

"You thought that nigga was me, didn't you?"

"Ye—you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine, babygirl." Her stomach fluttered at that name. Then she thought about him figuring out her real name.

"How'd you know my name?"

"Lucky guess," he smirked. "Your name is really Violet?" He said sarcastically.

She huffed and pointed to the embroidered script of her name and title on her chef coat.

"Lucky guess, my ass. How'd you get back here, E?"

He took a seat in front of her, as confident and fine as ever. The fitted turtleneck he wore had her feeling vulnerable. A bearded gentleman in a turtleneck was something she could hardly ever resist. So this man, though far from what she considered a gentleman, would certainly be a challenge to overcome. She'd already succumb to his charm once and she couldn't blame that time on piece of clothing.

She remained standing in between his obnoxiously widespread legs. He leaned back into the cushiony chair, totally relaxed.

And in control.

"One of my girls—" he cleared his throat unnecessarily. "I know one of the hostesses."

"Why are you here? Did you know I worked here?"

"Why you asking all these questions? You not happy to see me?" He leaned forward and rested an elbow to his knee.

"I don't have time for this. You come up in here playing games on the busiest night of the week. You can see yourself out, E."

She quickly side-stepped his legs on a mission to make it to the door, but he caught her hand just before she was out of reach.

"Where are you going, Violet." His question wasn't a question at all.

"What do you want from me?" She was sincere in her query. Why'd he show up here, two months later?

"I wanna fuck you, girl. Make them pretty ass eyes roll to the back of your head again."

Them eyes—her eyes, broke contact with his and drifted to his crotch. His dick print was visible on his inner thigh. She wanted to touch it so badly. She hadn't gotten the chance to the first time.

"You see it," he smirked.

It was hard to miss.

"Got me hard as fuck watching you do your thing, Chef V," he teased.

His hand led her back in front of him.

"Maybe I'll let you boss me around one day like you do these peons in yo kitchen."

She gulped loudly when he stood up, his physical presence looming over her making her feel small again, just how she liked.

E kissed her with enough power to topple her over, but the desk was there to catch her.

He didn't stop when her position suddenly lowered under him, he just readjusted and leaned down into her. She moaned shamefully when his tongue wiggled into her mouth and his hand groped her breast. The thick chambray material of her chef jacket was getting in the way of her feeling the full sensation of his hands and it frustrated her. The way his adept fingers teased her nipples the day they met was all she could think about when she moved his hand under her top.

"I guess you did miss me, Chef V."

"Shut up," she groaned. She didn't need him reminding her of the obvious. Reminding her what she was doing was uncharacteristic and stupid.

"I missed you."

Did he really just try that playa shit on her? I missed you? The sirens she heard when she met him at his house party had officially made their return.

"I said shut up."

"Aye," his voice was calm but his eyes were ablaze.

There was a passion in them that quickly reminded her of E choking her in his workroom. She was terrified at first, but when he realized it was her and his hands loosened around her neck, she realized she very much liked the way they felt. Warm and firm.

Invigorating.

"I said you could boss me around one day, not

TO-day."

His hands roughly gripped the back of her knees and pulled her closer. Their middles met and she couldn't help but grind up against his erection as he nibbled and sucked on her lips.

"You really just came here to fuck me, E?" She managed to get out.

"Yea."

Violet didn't expect such a direct answer. She kind of wished he'd lied to her. That he told her she was special and that he wanted to get to know her.

But who was she kidding?

She didn't really want to get to know him. He was dangerous and not the type of man she could settle down with. This was all they could ever have.

Good sex.

No—great, amazing, superb sex.

Top two, not two sex.

The best sex she'd ever had.

She prayed it wouldn't be the best she would ever have. But was fantastic sex worth the space he took up in her head the last few months?

E started kissing her again, successfully distracting her from overthinking. He'd started unbuttoning her jacket when a loud knock on the door startled her. She stared at him like she was looking for him to tell her what to do. He shrugged and kissed her again.

"They'll go away," he whispered.

Another knock.

"Hold on!" She yelled, trying her best to quickly button herself back up. E rolled his eyes as he watched her frantically try to gather herself.

"...Stay," he said, calmly unbuttoning each button right after she'd fasten them. He hoped a kiss to her temple would convince her to remain in his presence a while longer. She contemplated it until she saw the handle of her office door turning.

She yanked herself loose from his grasp and stormed out of her office. She didn't even look at the person who'd been knocking. All she saw was a blur of someone in black. Violet didn't even get mad that they'd opened her door without her permission. She was grateful in a way. Grateful for an escape. God knows how long and how loud they would have been in there hunching.

She took a moment to compose herself before returning to her duties. Violet was literally hot all over. She stealthily grabbed a cup of ice from a machine towards the back of the kitchen. There was a spot just past her office that was a hideaway for her when she didn't want to be found by the few people brave enough to knock on her door, which made her wonder who knocked on her door tonight. It wasn't someone from the kitchen. All of her staff wore white. The thoughts of what the mystery person had interrupted with E quickly flooded her thoughts.

The few top buttons of her jacket were still unfastened thanks to E. She slid a piece of ice up and down her neck and across the top of her chest. Her mind raced back to him. His hot hands grazing her flesh, inching closer to her breasts. Her mind was gone and her hands, with the ice in them, were making circles over her sensitive, hardened tips. She wanted to cum so badly. She focused on him. The way his turtleneck clung to his muscular arms, hinting at the wonder that was his scar-laden body. His scent was still on her from being so close moments ago.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The way his tongue explored her mouth. The way he grabbed her like she belonged to him. The ice between her fingers soon melted and her digits quickly found their way into her panties, hungrily applying pressure to her clit. It didn't take much effort to make herself cum after being deprived of him for eight weeks. The thrill of seeing him was more than enough to excite her in ways she'd never felt before.

But why?

She chuckled to herself as she washed her hands before heading back to the main area of the kitchen. He had her acting totally different and part of her liked it.

The look of relief on her sous chef Suzie's face was comical as he drew close to her.

"Thank God you're back, Chef V."

"Everything okay?"

"Yea, I guess. You know I just get nervous without you here. I just don't want anything bad to happen when you leave me in charge."

Suzie was a young woman in her mid-twenties. Violet took her under her wing because she had great potential and because she was Black. Mentoring her was the least she could do to give back to the next generation, but sometimes Suzie was a worrywart and annoyed Violet to no end. She could already feel the high of her orgasm wearing off.

"Did you remake table 46's steak?"

"Yes. He loved it."

"Okay and did the kitchen catch on fire while I was gone?" She looked around in an extra manner for added effect.

Suzie shook her head no.

"See? Everything is fine. You need to relax."

Violet took her place back at the center of the kitchen, putting finishing touches on plates in the special way she's been gifted to, and even took moments to praise or constructively critique the work of her staff. She could see how pleased they were to have her working side-by-side with them and made a mental note to have more nights in the kitchen like tonight.

Minus the part with E.

And her private moment with the ice.

***

The restaurant was not only heralded for some of the best dishes in the world, but it was also home to one of the country's most expensive delicacies—a chocolate cake covered in gold leaves. It was rare someone ordered it, because despite the wealthy clientele they served, a $15,000 dessert wasn't something people ordered every day. When Suzie told Violet table 46 had ordered the expensive ass cake, she gave her an impressed look and headed for the refrigerated safe where they kept the golden flecks.

She made her way to the back of the kitchen, just past her office and private corner. As she strolled back by her office with the gold leaves in hand, she thought she heard something — a voice — on the other side of her office door. She brushed it off and kept walking, but then remembered she never saw him leave. But to be fair, she never saw his creepy ass enter the kitchen in the first place, so whatever she thought she heard had to be her mind playing with her.

Violet dropped the leaves off with her pastry chef and tried to busy herself with work that did nothing to keep her brain from thinking about who may or may not be still in her office. Finally frustrated enough with herself and him for making her crazy, she marched back to her office, her chest filled with air and ready to go off of need be.

She flung the door open but was quickly deflated by the sight in front of her. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on E standing in the corner of her office with a woman on her knees in front of him. His brows were knitted together tightly and the intense look of pleasure on his face made her pussy throb with want. E slowly brought his eyes to Violet standing at the door watching him getting his dick sucked. She knew that he knew she had been there a few moments before giving her his attention. It felt like he knew she'd arrive at the exact time she did. Just in time for his show.

Violet stood there frozen, mouth slightly agape in a mixture of shock, jealousy and desire.

The woman on her knees wore all black and was sporting hair extensions that trailed down her back. Violet concluded she was the woman who knocked on her office door earlier, likely the hostess E slipped up and called one of his "girls." Violet could see why she was. She could suck a mean dick. The woman's mouth slowly trailed up his shaft, saliva dripping down her chin. The chef looked in awe at his cock, seeing him fully hard from this vantage point had her wondering how she took him so easily. E's dick disappeared into the hostesses' throat and it was enough to make him groan.

"Yea. Just like that." He was staring at Violet when he said it, like she was the one on her knees in front of him. The hostesses moaned at his praise, but he wasn't talking to her.

Violet had quietly closed the door behind her and was palming her sensitive breasts. Her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds in the room.

His labored breathing.

The hostesses' lude slurping and gagging.

Her own barely audible mewls.

"Look at me."

Violet knew he was talking to her without opening her eyes. Somehow, the hostess was still unaware of a third party in the room with her and E, stealing his attention from the good work she was doing on his dick.

Violet's eyes remained closed.

"Open your eyes." His command was surprisingly sweet, but laced with urgency.

"Iljshfhro," the hostess garbled. Violet assumed the woman was trying to tell E was indeed looking at him, but the hot dick in her mouth was prohibiting her from being fully understood.

Violet's eyes opened involuntarily from quietly laughing at how ridiculous the woman on her knees sounded. E smirked at Violet, unable to control his smile as he looked at her amused expression.

"C'mere, baby."

The smile had widened across his face, making the caps on his bottom row gleam against the soft lighting in the office. Perhaps the warm smile he gave her was the trick to getting her close to him. He felt relieved when she took a step forward, he was growing impatient and was dangerously close to begging her to come to him. E's desire for her had ballooned over the course of eight weeks and was on the verge of exploding. After meeting and subsequently fucking her that day, his mind frequently revisited their dalliance, sometimes in the most inopportune moments, like when he was blowing the backs out of other women. The most recent time it happened, he went fully soft inside one of his favorites when he looked down and realized she wasn't Violet.

He thought not only of the way her ample backside bounced beautifully against his scarred flesh, but of her wit and bold personality. Then there was the way he naturally felt possessive of her. E's teeth gritted together when he thought of how his homeboy looked at her gripping onto his bannister as they had sex. He came to the conclusion that he had to have her again, despite the nagging voice in his head telling him otherwise. At the least, he hoped sexing her again would get her out of his system. But in the moments when he was honest with himself, he knew the opposite was a more likely outcome.The hostess' head shifted in the direction of the door, but E's voice stopped her before she saw Violet approaching them.

"Don't look at her," he told the woman. Her head snapped back to its original positioning. E said it like he wanted to protect Violet. Like he knew Violet wouldn't be ok with the thirsty hostess knowing she was just as parched and needy for him.

E looked back at V with more tender eyes than he'd just had with the other woman. Violet was unsure if she was okay with his tone with hostess, even if it was to her advantage. Nevertheless, she moved until she was standing in front of him, the hostess wedged between them on the floor and looking to E for permission to do anything.Violet was captivated once again by his masculine beauty. And she didn't know it, but he was just as taken by her. He licked his lips as he stared at her plump ones, longing to tug and taste them again. He broke eye contact with her to look down at the pitiful soul under him. Waiting for direction on what she should do next.

"Get back to sucking my dick. Now," he commanded.

He shoved the woman's head into his groin and she happily continued gagging on him. Violet stepped even closer to him. Close enough that her stance called for her to straddle each of her feet just outside the hostesses' legs. Ever the obedient sub, the woman never looked behind her to see the woman hovering over her. She only did want he wanted, and E wanted her servicing his dick at the moment.

E reached out to grab the back of Violet's neck and kissed her feverishly. Her hands instantly found a place on his pebbled chest. The sensation of his scars against her palms sent tingles throughout her body and she fleetingly wondered again just what they meant and how he got them. She watched as he painfully pulled himself away from her and took a long look at his dick making its way in and out of the hostesses' mouth. He watched it like he didn't recognize it as an extension of himself.

"You see how fat my shit is for you?"

Violet didn't answer. She only continued staring with her lip wedged between her teeth at the scene she'd now become a part of. Her eyes struggled to keep focus on just his dick, though. E was too entrancing just to focus on one thing, even if that thing was his long, thick and currently, sinfully shiny dick.

Violet watched the way his fingers massaged the hostess' scalp while she swallowed him, making his biceps flex in a way that made Violet want to snatch the other woman off of him and take her place on her knees—mouth open and tongue out.

"You wanna suck it, don't you?"

"Yes," Violet squeaked before she realized what she was doing. E really had her caught up. She covered her mouth in shame.

He shook his head at her, laughing at her slip up. "Not yet, babygirl. Sit your cute ass over there."

Violet quickly plopped down in an upholstered chair a few feet behind her.

"Pull them titties out for me. I want to see you play with them while I cum for you."

V felt an uncontrollable shiver come over her that literally rattled every muscle in her body. It felt eerily similar to the feeling she got right before she orgasmed. She unbuttoned her chef coat and just barely touched herself. The light passes over her nipples were sending her in a way that felt as intense as squeezing them normally would. The sight before him was too much for him to hold on to any longer. E's mouth curled into the shape of an 'O' before his eyes briefly fluttered shut.

"I'm bout to cuuum...Gotdamn, shit baby."

His eyes opened to look at Violet and he pulled himself out of the hostess' mouth, preferring to use his hand to finish himself off. He tugged at his dick while looking at her gently rolling her fingertips across her engorged nipples. The waitress knew him well enough to calculate the exact moment he would cum. She stuck her tongue out in excitement and anticipation of his seed, admittedly in love with the feeling of his hot cum plastered across her face and tits. It was always her reward for being a good girl for him.

But she wouldn't enjoy one of her favorite parts of sex with him today. Instead of painting her with his orgasm, E shot his cum over her shoulder and in the direction of the woman sitting in the chair behind her. It shot out of him like nothing Violet had ever seen, so much so that some of it landed on the hem of her top. She stared down at the creamy substance and licked her lips, tempted to taste it.

"Get out." E's voice was low and void of energy. That nut took a lot out of him.

Violet remained in place, fixated on the jizz on her jacket.

"Babygirl," he called again. Violet looked up at him. His eyelids were heavy, but the look was sexy on him. He tilted his head and looked at her for a moment before shifting his head in the direction of the door. "You should leave."

"But I—," she started. He shook his head at her, silently telling her not to speak. In this moment, Violet didn't care about the waitress knowing who she was. All she cared about was staying with him. She knew what eight weeks without him was like and the yearning she felt for a man she'd only been around for a few hours was agonizing. And pitiful. She stood her ground—silently–for a few moments, hoping he'd demand the other woman to leave instead.

"Go," he told Violet once more. This time she finally turned to make her way to the door, but not before giving him a pout that she was completely oblivious of. Her feet were going one way, but her head was turned and looking at E. He kept eye contact with her until the hostess tugged on him.

"Why didn't you give me your cum?" the woman whined. "Wasn't I good for you?"

E let out a sigh, but it didn't feel like a frustrated one.

"We need to talk," he told the hostess as Violet reluctantly left them alone in her office again.

————————

I low key have no idea where this is going lol. It was a supposed to be a one shot. We’ll see what happens. Thanks for all the love on this series so far🖤

Tags

@harleycativy @queenflaws @theogbadbitch @goddessofthundathighs @syndrlla97 @soufcakmistress @killmonger-fics

#erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger fic #killmonger x black!reader #killmonger x oc #erik killmonger #killmonger smut #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger #black reader #killmonger fanfiction

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skulkingwriter · 6 years

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So on Saturday, I was in a concert in the Albert Hall, and had to sit on stage through the first three movements of Beethoven’s 9th which... not to be snarky about an obvious classic, but for me, it is not... the most intellectually engaging piece in the world. So I had to find something to think about, and I was staring up at the shadowy figures in the royal boxes, and... this happened.

If I could, I would have drawn it, but I can’t, so instead you get the written waffle version. This is out of standard continuity, for reasons that will become obvious.

Vox Machina are at the opera...

They’ve been given a tip off that something lichy is going to go down during the performance, and have decided to infiltrate.

Percy is in full De Rolo Mode: impeccably dressed and fantastically snobby, keeping vigilant for lich nonsense and genuinely paying attention to and enjoying the music. He is a annoyed that he couldn’t find a way to smuggle Bad News into the opera with him but his pistol is securely stashed inside Vex’s handbag. Vex is sitting beside him having come in on his arm, gorgeous gown, little mask, opera glasses. She’s loving the pagentry a little more than the opera itself, and now it’s well underway she’s starting to lose focus a bit and getting fidgety. She’s mostly using her opera glasses to watch the crowd - supposedly keeping a sharp eye out for liches, but she’s also spotted two men picking their noses, a couple flirting via passed notes in one of the boxes opposite, and a woman reading a book in the back row.

Trinket is outside the box eating all the little sandwiches from the picnic trolleys and enjoying himself very, very much.

Keyleth is in a lovely but really unnecessarily complex gown that Vex had to help her get into and which will almost certainly end up on fire before the end of the night. She loves the opera so much you guys, she is leaning on the front railing of the box with her chin in her hands, gasping with every swell of music. She’s basically forgotten about the lich. She’s going to cry.

Next to her: Grog, seeming-ed into a beautifully tailored tuxedo. He looks dapper as fuck with his beard and bald head and little bow tie - he doesn’t like the restricted movement but he does enjoy being dapper. as. fuck. He’s doing his best with the opera: Keyleth is having to help him keep up with the plot and he has a lot of questions about why these people solve all their problems with singing instead of violence – but the music is starting to get to him, and by the end he’s going to have his elbows on the railing right alongside Kiki.

Pike is acting as their ‘bodyguard’, standing by the door to the box – mostly so she didn’t have to take off her armour. She’s going to do a good job of bodyguarding and be vigilant for lich business, but she’s enjoying the opera a lot – and she’s enjoying watching Grog enjoy the opera even more.

Vax declined to put down his daggers and get dressed up and sit in a box for several hours, instead he’s up in the rafters, watching the crowd, waiting for something suspicious to happen. He’s trying not to let himself enjoy the opera too much, because he feels like he needs to be Vigilant, but there are a lot of themes of family and loss and it’s giving him a small case of the feels. Luckily he’s in the perfect position to have a good brood about it without anyone knowing about it, bar the large yellow moth that’s landed on the beam beside him and seems almost as if it’s watching along with him.

Scanlan is in the orchestra pit. Because Scanlan is conducting the opera. He had about 20 minutes to study the score after getting the real conductor blackout drunk, and he’s having the time of his life. He’s alert for strange goings-on among the players and on the stage but he’ll be damned if this isn’t going to be the greatest performance of The Barber of Zadash these people have ever given.

And meanwhile, in the box next door to VM, the Mighty Nein are at the opera...

The Gentleman has sent them to keep an eye on the lead soprano, who is a Friend and Investment of his.

Caleb is in his Smart Caleb disguise, sitting perfectly still, suffering patiently through a set of mild flashbacks. At the peak of their training and brainwashing, the three young wizards would attend social events in Rexentrum. He’s remembering enjoying the opera with his friends. He’s not particularly enjoying this one.

But he’s enjoying it more than his ‘date’, ‘Tracy’. Beau is wearing a slinky gown that she hates, and she’s got her hair down which she hates. She’s completely incapable of sitting still in her chair, and is bored and frustrated out of her mind. This all reminds her of her father’s pretensions to high culture and she hates it. The soprano’s hot, and that’s about all this entire exercise has going for it. She’s going to go to the bathroom four times in the first act. She’s sitting up on her haunches in her chair, spinning a throwing star like a fidget spinner, even though the chair’s really not big enough and her gown really isn’t supposed to stretch that way.

Jester is in the biggest dress with the most skirts any of the Nein have ever seen, absolutely dripping with jewels, gold tips on her horns. She knows and loves this opera – the soprano role is one her mother’s sung many times (and better than this soprano, which she will point out to the others ad nauseum). She’s clutching Fjord’s arm and making comments about how well the orchestra is playing and other versions of this opera she’s seen. He’s looking dapper and slightly stressed in a very nice suit that Jester insisted on actually purchasing for him even though he could absolutely have made himself look like this by magic. It’s got nautical buttons. He’s not really paying attention to the opera – he likes it well enough but this whole thing is making him deeply suspicious. He has a bad feeling about it. The Gentleman wouldn’t tell them what danger there was to his soprano. And also he thought he just saw a feather fall out of the rafters. Are there birds in here? There shouldn’t be birds in here, right?

Nott is seeminged as a young halfling girl. She likes the music, but she figures she can enjoy it while sneaking up and down the corridor stealing bits and pieces from the nobles in the other boxes. She avoids the room with the scary-looking gnome cleric standing at the door. At some point, she’s going to come across a bear eating a tray of cucumber sandwiches and they’re going to stare into each others’ eyes for a moment and then Nott will just… back away...

Yasha’s sitting at the back of their box wearing a loose gown over the top of her normal clothes, and Beau is so angry that she’s got away with doing that - Yasha has no plans to let on how endearing Beau’s fury is. She’s reminded of the circus in a weird way – the trappings of the opera couldn’t be further from the sawdust and grifting and living hand to mouth and town to town… but in some ways it’s exactly the same. She misses Molly, and she misses Toya. And those feelings could be overwhelming, but she refuses to be overwhelmed, so she leans back in her chair, folds her arms and focuses on watching the soprano and the rest of the Nein. At one point, Nugget – who Jester blagged into the theatre as an emotional support dog – bamfs into her lap, and Yasha spends the rest of the opera petting him.

Caduceus is utterly enchanted – mostly with the intricacy of the orchestration and the costumes. He gave up following the plot and now he’s just watching the players’ fingers move. It’s the time he’s ever seen something like this and he’s amazed. He’s disguised as a human but he’s still so tall he has to sit in the back row of the box and can still see perfectly. He’s also seen Vax up in the rafters, but doesn’t think anything of it. After all, it must be a great vantage point to watch the stage from, he sort of wishes he’d thought of that.

At some point, Jester realises that this is a great opportunity to make a little mischief for the Traveller, and sends a thaumaturgical fart that looks, sounds and smells as if it’s come from the conductor in the orchestra pit, right at a crucially quiet moment. The front row of the orchestra falter slightly in their playing, and the gnome in the tux turns around briefly, with an expression like he knows exactly what just happened, and his eyes lock on the giggling tiefling and then the soprano reaches a high note and liches explode out of the trap doors on the stage and everyone in the royal boxes rolls for initiative...

#critical role #fanfiction...?#sort of?#I would call this a Logic but I don't think that's what most people call it #I took this week off to finish my novel and so far I have written THIS #*throws this at you*#just #there you go #I should learn to draw better so I can fanart shit like this it would be more efficient

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secondsofhappiness · 7 years

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I have 10 anons all commenting the same issues about this storyline (thank you so much for your messages as always) and I don’t want to clog up my dash so I’ll post them in one post and this is my response to them all :)

I’ve made it clear how I am really struggling with this storyline and I have seen so many excellent critiques written in such a balanced and constructive way and that’s the best way and I appreciate them so much.

In short, I don’t understand the purpose of what they’re trying to do. There is ZERO HOPE in this storyline (and that isn’t the Emmerdale I know and love) and it feels exploitative in more ways than one.

So I get exactly what many of you have said - there’s little to hold onto in terms of happiness. There is no part of this entire storyline (except perhaps that Vic is a sweet, perceptive and compassionate soul) so far that provides any hope. If anything, the more we learn, the more depressing and hopeless and entirely miserable it becomes…

- the purpose of this direction - what the show wants to achieve at the end of this - the show’s awareness of what they’re currently doing

I have EVERY respect for the show tackling difficult and contentious subjects and I have spent years and years applauding them for it and thoroughly enjoying it. They always do it well (with very few minor exceptions) because they weave the difficult stuff in with the lighthearted, never forget the village warmth and always provide hope even in the bleaker or darker storylines.

My earlier posts about this storyline were very positive because I have experience through my work with prison violence and homophobia in prisons and I think it’s a very important and worthwhile story to tell. I had no issue with Aaron going to prison and serving his punishment either as I felt it could be a way for him to grow up and realise the consequences to his volatility.

That said, the homophobia aspects were difficult and tough to swallow but were well done… until they included G*rdon and the childhood abuse issues. That is no longer a story about homophobia in prisons. Yes, the fact that G*rdon as a man is relevant so perhaps due to G*rdon’s actions, Jason instantly targeted him but that’s not about someone being gay, it’s about someone being a sexual assaulter etc. The homophobic language and singling out is continuing which is a good example of the near constant oppression prisoners face. That could have and would have been enough of an issue to explore.

I have talked about how I find this situation twisted and I mean it sincerely. It’s the first time in 22 years that I have ever felt uneasy watching this show.

That’s not a good thing.

I have reached a point after tonight’s episode where I have almost become a little apathetic. That’s not like me at all and not like my normal reaction to the show, especially not to these two characters.

The direction of the storyline feels sensationalised for shock value and unnecessarily capitalising on an actor who can sell any scene/storyline. Use Danny! Have him on our screens always! He’s a truly wonderful actor but Aaron is a character to focus on, to nurture, to respect. He is a character people took into their hearts from day one and it feels he has been forgotten in this, his history used as a tool to create drama and shock.

I wanted to watch the show deal with the difficulties of prison life in an Emmerdale way. I wanted them to raise the issues, to show their seriousness, to have Aaron realise that he has to grow up because this life in prison could be a constant reality for someone who doesn’t take responsibility for their actions, for Rob and Liv’s relationship to be tested but strengthened, for Rob and Aaron’s relationship to undergo the same test…

That could all be achieved without half of the issues this storyline is dealing with.

The timing of it is perhaps something the show didn’t necessarily want but had to live with due to Lucy and Isabel’s commitments but the timing wasn’t so much of an issue as the story of two people in love being torn apart is a classic one, a one everyone can get on board with because it’s tragic but full of longing and desperation. People enjoy that and I would have. So I don’t mind that its post-wedding.

What I do mind is the inclusion of issue after issues after issue that so far don’t seem to be serving a purpose. Aaron can realise the harsh brutalities of prison life in many ways but the show chose to capitalise on his abuse when omitting it would have made NO DIFFERENCE to this storyline at all. Taking out the scenes yesterday would have no effect at all. The homophobic taunting and abuse and even violence would have been enough to tip Aaron over the edge to feeling desperate but no, the show chose to reawaken the abuse storyline, to have Aaron tortured, to use phrases that suggests a recreation of abuse scenes, to comment on a survivor’s ‘want’ in terms of their abuse, to suggest the abuser caused the abuse, to place them in an environment where their abuser/father committed suicide, to take an abuse survivor back to feeling those situations, all while contorted in an abusive way by the person who confessed to driving the abuser to taking his own life.

The purpose of that is unclear and I struggle to see how a valid purpose can be provided other than it was for shock value.

Aaron faced with homophobic abuse and violence and even drug use (which I also don’t have a problem with on the surface - except for a lack of inclusion of Adam/ recognition of Holly but the show may use this later) would have been enough to have him leave prison rocked to act and to grow and to seek help. To take an abuser back to his abuse in such a violent, graphic and consistent way is something most wouldn’t get over nevermind someone of Aaron’s significantly fragile mental health.

I was genuinely disappointed in the show and I can remember maybe two occasions in the past where I have even felt a fraction of that and neither came close to how I feel about this current storyline.

Add in the Rob of it all. Now, Rob is someone with a chequered past, someone who has never carried a relationship without cheating. He has a history that would make anyone uneasy about dating him, let’s be real. He has also travelled a path of learning and change and love. He has found family and home and has worked hard to better himself. When you take a character on a path like that you can never expect perfection. We all enjoy Rob being Mr Shifty and appreciate his morally grey moments (as long as we don’t turn him into a serial killer) which is why I didn’t have too many issues with the November kiss or the hat trick comment etc, all of those moments were moments in his path to find himself and were explained in a way that made that obvious aka November kiss was Rob using Rebecca blatantly but coming to realise he cannot act the same way as he used to when scheming now that he has Aaron and commitment.

I appreciate that Rob will make mistakes and I love that about him. I never expect him to be perfect or to be an angel and I hope they never remove that harsh, acid tongued, snobby, ruthless, slightly insensitive edge from him. That said, the spoilers indicate that he makes a pass at Rebecca (and I’m not getting into the debate about what is cheating and what isn’t or even what the spoilers are suggesting because I feel intentionally trying to kiss someone is cheating and who knows what the spoilers are suggesting). Why is this necessary?

What does it add?

Except to squash the excellent bi rep conversation they have sprinkled in here and there (and see my other posts for my comments on using Rob as a voice for bisexuality because that has its own issues) or to regress Robert from his current position.

To date, Robert’s journey is the best thing about this storyline. He has shown commitment, awareness of Aaron’s feelings (planing a commitment ceremony pre- prison to provide stability, allowing Paddy to visit in his place to keep up Aaron’s spirits etc), humanity and to see him miss another person to the extent that he can’t sleep the same and is worried and stressed and pulling himself in every direction is so new and interesting for the character. To see him descend a little into this hole he has to drag himself out of is a great storyline. It’s long overdue for Rob to be treated with sensitivity and humanity where his emotions are concerned and it’s refreshing.

We don’t need a cheating storyline to depict Rob’s state of mind or his deepening sadness or stress. They’re piling it on each episode - finding out about drugs & violence, caring for a difficult suffering teenager, caring for a kid who isn’t his, running 2 businesses, refurbishing a house, dealing with vandals, working alongside legal rep on an appeal, coping without his partner, feeling helpless to support his partner… the list is endless and significant.

What does cheating (or attempted cheating, whichever you prefer) achieve?

It is sensationalising and used for shock value. Pattern?

Much like the addition of the abuse storyline, it adds nothing. In fact, much like the abuse storyline being included, it makes the post- prison era darker and less hopeful. It confirms Aaron’s worries about Robert’s commitment when this was the foundation for his stress and melt down pre- assault. That feels cruel and unnecessary with the requirement that it has to be handled at some point and that will provide a significant blow to the already fragile relationship - because they haven’t healed from their last argument, they have merely focused on the good pre-court. Ultimately, it adds a significant responsibility onto the show to handle it well because by failing to deal with these two issues cheapens their most beloved couple, cheapens the characters development (both Rob’s personal development and Aaron’s semi pride and surety post trial)…

If the show has a good intention then it is not obvious and I struggle to see the justifications for the choices they’re making. I adore this show. I love it dearly but I feel less and less enthusiastic about the current content for this storyline because it’s far too much, it is no longer enjoyable because I can’t see the wood for the trees and for a storyline that could have been wonderfully character driven and could highlight the issues in a hard hitting it sensitive manner has chosen crassness, cheap drama and has risked excellent work that has come before.

I am well aware I’m watching a serial drama. I’m well aware that I am watching a medium that thrives on drama. But I know my show and I have watched it most of my life and I know what it is capable of and what it does best and this is not it. You only have to watch the sheer stunning beauty and heart ache of Ashley’s dementia storyline to see how you handle something sensitive but serious in a way that honours the characters, the issue and the show itself. I’m just sad that this storyline could not have been handled in a similar way to achieve the same resonance.

#emmerdale #uncharacteristic pessimism #robron #prison pain #tw: abuse violence homophobia #spoilers #ed rambles

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