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infinitehyperfixations · 3 months

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Europe's Most Wanted Thief

Part 2 of Ribbons and Steel

Ribbons and Steal: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Piotr faces the aftermath of his first interaction with Maya Durand and learns more about Europe's most wanted thief.

Story Tags: Slow Burn, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Language (mostly Wade)

Word Count: 4.6k

POV: Piotr

Note: Sorry that I haven't updated in a long time! 2023 was not a good year for me but I'm hoping that this year is better!

Comments and Reblogs are love!

Piotr prided himself on his ability to keep a level head in the most aggravating circumstances. He thought it was one of his best qualities. Everyone could rely on him to stay calm in the worst situations. He believed that there has to be at least one person that keeps their composure and Piotr was always more than happy to fill that role.

However, someone else would have to take his place as the “calmest person in the room” while Piotr dealt with his current predicament.

Piotr seethed as he glared at the opened skylight that Maya Durand had escaped through in the museum’s banquet hall. The thief had left the perfectly in tack window ajar as if to mock him on his failure. His outraged thoughts drowned out the police sirens and shouting reporters beyond the entrance doors. He could barely hear NTW’s frantic muttering as she tried to release him from the chain-like prison Maya Durand trapped him in. Only a couple of minutes had passed since her escape and the burning anger inside Piotr worsened with every passing second.

“Piotr!” NTW yelled in his face to pull him out of his furious haze. “I have been calling your name for the last minute!”

NTW nodded, deciphering Piotr’s muffled words as an apology while she tried to pull the cloth off his mouth.

“Anyway,” NTW huffed as she yanked on the tight fabric on his arm, “I was trying to tell you that the Professor is fine. He is currently trying to distract the press outside with Mr. Levine.”

Piotr only grumbled at the thought of the press finding out what happened with Maya Durand. It was inevitable that the X-Men, X-Force, and Wade would learn of the events that transpired but Piotr wanted to talk to them first before they saw it on the news. Piotr was nearly drowning in dread at the thought of Wade finding out before he returned to the mansion. The X-Men would forget about his fight with Maya Durand eventually, but Wade?

Piotr would never live this down.

NTW continued to tug on every strand of fabric with no avail. Piotr was grateful that she tried but even he could barely move in the cloth’s steel-like grip.

“Jesus Christ this shit is way too strong for me to take off,” NTW wheezed, rubbing her reddened fingers. “I think we’re going to need Logan’s claws to get you out of this.”

Before Piotr could think of an alternative plan, the fabric tangled around his body loosened fast enough for him to lose his balance. Piotr’s surprised yelp warned NTW to jump out of the way before he fell flat on his face with a loud bang.

While laying face down on the cold floor, Piotr reflected on the past few months - peaceful and uneventful months that now seemed like a distant memory - and wished he hadn’t taken them for granted. Staring at the scarlet silk that had bound him to the floor moments before did not help to extinguish his anger whatsoever. It only fueled his desire to catch Maya Durand and wipe that devious smirk off her face. He could already tell that the next few months would be the most infuriating of his life, but there was simply no way around it. One way or another, he was going to be the one to put that snarky thief in chains.

When Piotr did not immediately stand up, NTW cautiously stepped closer to him.

“You okay, Piotr?”

“I’m fine,” Piotr muttered, his voice muffled by the cold marble floor.

“You don’t sound like it.”

“I promise I am perfectly fine.”

NTW watched as Piotr stood up, letting the rest of the red fabric fall off of him. Every single piece pooled around his feet except for the one small piece that landed on his shoe - the one that Maya Durand wrapped around his head to keep his mouth shut. The image of Durand’s stupid smirk plagued his thoughts as he snatched up the cloth. With a sneer on his lips, Piotr shoved the material in his pocket for Hank to analyze in his lab. With any luck Hank might be able to figure out why Durand’s fabric was strong enough to hold him down.

Before Piotr could make his way to the museum’s entrance, James Levine threw the doors open to escape the hoards of reporters, flashing cameras, and shouts from police officers that tried to keep the rowdy crowd at bay. The Professor, who looked just as exhausted from dealing with the police and journalists as Levine, closely followed him.

"I see that you were released from Maya Durand's trap," James Levine said when he ran up to Piotr and NTW. "I was afraid that I was going to have to tell Miss Ba to get her briefcase."

Piotr and Ellie looked at Levine inquisitively and then at each other.

"Briefcase?"

"Yes, my toolkit, Mr. Rasputin," Miss Ba's cold voice came from behind him.

Piotr flinched at the sound of her voice before he quickly turned around to meet the assistant's harsh gaze. He wondered if she had the power to teleport because he had no idea how she managed to sneak behind him. Her face seemed to be permanently fixed to an unimpressed frown that wouldn't allow the mere emergence of a smile.

When Piotr finally broke the uncomfortable eye contact with Levine’s assistant, he noticed a large black briefcase she was holding at her side. His discarded suit jacket was draped over her arm, large enough to engulf her small frame.

“As Mr. Levine’s assistant, I must be prepared to protect him and his assets under any circumstances,” Miss Ba explained as she reached in her pocket to grab her ringing phone. Her frown deepened as she glanced at the screen. “That includes a visit from Europe’s most wanted thief…and a call from his relative whose diamond was just stolen.”

Miss Ba excused herself before answering the phone call. She kept the phone almost a foot away from her ear, the woman’s enraged screams audible even as the assistant moved to the opposite side of the room. If she was affected by the woman’s degrading shouts, she did not show it, her face as impassive as ever.

Levine sighed as he watched Miss Ba step aside. “I knew my aunt was going to be in hysterics when she found out about the diamond, but I thought I would have at least an hour to prepare.”

NTW looked up at a banner that advertised the Devil’s Treasure exhibit. “Your aunt owns the diamond?”

“Yes, I convinced her to lend it to the museum.” Levine ran a hand through his dark hair as he glanced from Miss Ba to the open skylight and the crumpled pile of red fabric in the middle of the floor. “I told her that the Devil’s Treasure would be safe and that no one - not even Maya Durand - would dare to attempt to steal it with an X-Man present.”

Levine glanced at Piotr hesitantly before clearing his throat.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Piotr clenched his hands as he took in a deep breath. Levine’s words only made his mood worse. He was an X-Man, he should have been able to stop a thief that controls fabric. He allowed himself to underestimate his opponent, a mistake he wouldn’t be repeating when it came to Maya Durand.

“Who is Maya Durand? How do you know her?” The Professor asked, turning his wheelchair to face Levine.

Levine barked out a laugh, but his amusement quickly faded as he looked between the others’ puzzled faces.

“You’re kidding right? Maya Durand? Europe’s most wanted thief? The woman that has become every billionaire and politician’s waking nightmare? You’ve never heard of her?”

Levine’s astonished look grew when the three mutants shook their heads. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that Piotr couldn’t make out.

“Of course they never heard of Maya Durand,” Miss Ba chided, somehow appearing next to Piotr without him noticing her. She narrowed her eyes at the X-Man as she handed her phone to Levine. “If they did, they might have actually prevented her from stealing the Devil’s Treasure.”

“Nyza,” Levine warned before extending his arm out apologetically. “Please forgive Miss Ba, she can be very…blunt at times.”

“No offense taken,” NTW said, giving Nyza a harsh glare.

Nyza Ba rolled her eyes before she moved closer to Piotr, holding out the jacket on her arm with an irritated look (which seemed to be her default facial expression).

“You may want to put this on,” Nyza suggested, gesturing to his shirt with a nod of her head.

Piotr nearly popped a blood vessel when he looked down at the state of his dress shirt. The seams were ripped open, the fabric was littered with tears of various sizes, and he was missing several buttons. It was a miracle that his shirt was still on his body. Even with his jacket, he would look like he had jumped through a paper shredder.

Just like his dignity, his clothes also fell victim to Maya Durand.

Once Piotr took his jacket, Nyza made her way to a nearby table, brushing aside the remnants of the ruined plates and champagne glasses to set her briefcase in its center . The latches of the briefcase clicked as the assistant opened it.

Piotr gawked at the sight of the neatly organized contents inside of the briefcase. There was a small collection of large, razor sharp knives, two pairs of hedge clippers, and various firearms with extra ammo clips next to them. Piotr realized that this must be the toolkit that Levine spoke of earlier. He grimaced at the thought of them using the knives and hedge clippers to cut him out of the trap.

“What’s that?” NTW asked, pointing at a gun with a small compartment filled with some sort of clear fluid underneath its barrel.

“A mini flamethrower,” Nyza said nonchalantly. “My sources say that Maya Durand has an intense fear of fire.”

Levine’s eyebrows knitted together as he sneered, “I told you to get rid of that.”

To Piotr’s surprise, Nyza’s face paled at the sight of Levine’s hardened gaze and her eyes grew wider as he towered over her small form.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Nyza mumbled, reaching inside the briefcase to disassemble the weapon. She carefully disconnected the gun’s fluid compartment and tucked away the parts inside the briefcase.

Once she was done, Levine pulled out a tablet from the bottom of the briefcase. While he turned it on, Nyza closed the briefcase and moved to stand behind her boss, her normal judgemental look quickly sliding back over her features.

“I have Nyza keep a tablet with all of the information we have on Maya Durand. She has become quite a problem in Europe.”

Piotr reminded himself of the briefing the Professor gave on James Levine and his company on the way to the gala. While the company did produce machinery for medicine and entertainment, Drake Industries was primarily a tech company that specialized in security and weapons. It would not surprise him if the company had extensive records of criminals across the world.

“I wanted to ensure that local authorities knew whom they were dealing with if she showed up,” Levine explained, turning the tablet toward the mutants.

Piotr peered down at the tablet, which was currently displaying a mugshot of Durand. Much to Piotr’s displeasure, her signature smirk was firmly in place as she stared defiantly into the camera. The Professor gave Piotr a stern look as he tried to hide his frown at the sight of the prideful and mischievous glint in her eyes.

As he looked away from the infuriating picture, Piotr’s gaze fell on Levine’s face. There was a ghost of a smile on his face as his finger ran over Durand’s cheek. What unsettled Piotr even more was the way he was looking at her as if she was his next meal. His eyes wandered over her features with a possessive desire and longing that made Piotr’s stomach churn.

Weird.

“You may have this if you wish to pursue her,” Levine said, dropping the strange demeanor as he handed the tablet to the Professor.

“Don’t worry,” NTW asserted, nudging Piotr with her elbow. “We’ll make sure she’s put behind bars.”

Nyza scoffed at NTW’s promise and quickly silenced herself after receiving a harsh glance from her boss. Before NTW could make a scathing retort, Levine interjected to ease the tension in the air.

“It worries me that she has made an appearance in the states,” Levine stressed. “It may mean that she’s bored and wants to cause trouble here. If that’s the case, she is likely to make another appearance soon.”

Piotr nodded sharply. He was going to make Maya Durand regret crashing the gala. He would be the reason her obnoxious grin fell as he put her behind bars.

“Then she will have to face me the next time she shows her face.”

“And we will get that diamond back,” NTW promised.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but the Devil’s Treasure is long gone,” Levine chuckled lightly. “By now Maya Durand will have given it to the person who hired her for the job.”

The sound of Levine’s ringing phone took away his attention. Groaning, he pulled the device from his pocket and looked at the three mutants apologetically.

“I’m afraid I will have to deal with my aunt now. Nyza has made arrangements for your car to pick you up discreetly behind the museum so you can avoid the press. I wish you the best of luck catching Miss Durand.”

Before turning to take the call, Levine nodded to each of the mutants, his gaze lingering on Piotr for a fraction longer than the others before he strode off, his aunt’s screeching following him as he headed for the museum door. Piotr tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, but something was…off about Levine. If stories from the other X-Men were anything to go by, people like Levine almost always had an ulterior motive when they involved themselves in the mutant world. And besides his involvement with mutants, it was odd that Levine didn’t seem upset about losing the multi-million dollar diamond to Durand. Piotr would have to keep his guard up.

“God, I am so glad that I’m not him right now,” NTW muttered as she and Piotr watched the door swing shut behind Levine. With a significantly colder nod to the group, Nyza Ba quickly followed her boss out of the museum, briefcase in hand as the door swung shut for the second time, leaving them alone in the event hall.

“You will wish you were when we see Wade back at mansion,” Piotr grumbled.

The Professor rolled his eyes, although the slight quirk of his lips hinted at his amusement at NTW’s pallid expression. While they followed the Professor to the museum’s rear exit, Piotr started to mentally prepare himself for the harassment he was going to receive from the X-Men and, much to his displeasure, from Wade. He knew NTW could withstand some playful jabs from the X-Men but he was certain he was going to have to take the brunt of Wade’s teasing so she wouldn’t send him through a wall.

For the sake of his sanity, Piotr hoped he was wrong.

-----

The car ride back to the X-Mansion was deathly silent. Piotr and Ellie turned off their phones to have a little bit of peace before they returned. Both of them refused to look through the tablet’s information on Maya Durand so they wouldn’t have to think about what had happened. The incident was surely on every single news channel by now. Even though Piotr did not have any social media profiles, he knew he couldn’t hide from the flood of tweets and memes of the ordeal with his students and Wade around. Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had at least a hundred memes and videos about his fight with Maya Durand from Wade waiting behind his phone’s black screen.

When they finally arrived at the mansion, the X-Men were waiting for them in the foyer. Their quiet muttering came to a sudden halt as they stepped through the door. Most of them glanced between the members of the haggard group hesitantly, clearly not wanting to provoke any lingering emotions from the gala. Logan, on the other hand, stood front and center with an amused grin plastered on his face. The X-Man seemed as if he was anticipating some form of entertainment. He did not have to say anything because Piotr knew exactly why Logan was giving him that look.

Piotr closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he released a deep sigh. “Where is he?”

The rapid footsteps from the hallway at the top of the staircase behind the X-Men gave him his answer. Wade bounded to the top of the staircase, waving his phone in the air with a wide smile on his face. Piotr’s frown deepened when Wade took notice of his ruined dress shirt.

“Damn, she really did fuck up your over glorified hall monitor ass, huh?” Wade chortled, sliding down the arm of the staircase with Nathan marching down the steps to follow him. “I cannot believe you got your ass handed to you by a person who controls fabric.”

“Shut up, dickhead,” NTW snapped while her hand formed into fists.

Wade simply ignored her and continued on with his jests. “Just be thankful that you don’t have Twitter because they are having a field day with this selfie of you and Maya-”

“Selfie?” Piotr interjected as his rage from the fight suddenly came back to him. “Show me.”

The sight of the selfie that Maya had taken of them when he was stuck in her trap made his blood boil. The Devil’s Treasure rested casually in her free hand, which was propped carelessly on his shoulder. Her glimmering eyes, perfect teeth, and victorious smile that shined brighter against her red lipstick only made his mood worse. Of course she looked gorgeous while Piotr was tied up with a tattered shirt.

Piotr clenched his fists tightly, “She is going down.”

Before Wade could say anything else, Nathan snatched his phone from him, sending him a harsh glare. He didn’t budge at Wade’s demands to release his phone. Piotr was reminded vividly of a parent taking a toy away from a misbehaving toddler as a punishment.

“You have been talking about this for hours,” Nathan seethed, putting Wade’s phone in his pocket. “I’m tired of hearing about it and I’m sure the Big Guy here is too. Besides, I bet she would kick your ass too.”

“You are no fun,” huffed Wade. “She would never beat me! I would just slice her little ribbons in half!”

“I wouldn’t underrate Miss Durand’s powers, Wade,” The Professor chastised, holding up the tablet that Levine had given him. “According to this, she’s a professional.”

Professor X motioned for all of them to follow him to the large council room that they used for meetings and debriefings. In the center of the room was a grand round table with enough seats to sit the X-Men and X-Force. The massive TVs on each wall of the room displayed different news stations that were all discussing the same thing: Maya Durand. Titles slowly crawled across the bottoms of the screens. Piotr read Breaking News: Maya Durand Strikes in the U.S., Maya Durand Steals The Devil’s Treasure, and X-Man Fails to Stop Mutant Thief before forcefully pulling his gaze away from the screens.

The Professor slid the tablet to the center of the table as everyone took their seats. The device’s screen flickered for a moment before it projected a hologram of Maya Durand’s file for all of them to view. Her mugshot was at the very top of the file. Her perfect smile taunted Piotr as if she was telling him to catch her if he can.

Her basic information was in print below her photo, which Piotr stubbornly ignored as he focused on the text. He felt as if her picture was watching him amusingly as he read what little information the file had. Her exact age was unknown (it said she was in her early to mid twenties), no known family, no known aliases or allies, or anything about her life before she became a thief.

The details that her file did have were of the crimes she had committed, her services that she offered to the highest bidder, and information on her mutant powers.

“This has absolutely nothing on her,” NTW grumbled as she scanned the file.

Scott let out a low whistle as he read aloud her criminal charges, “She’s wanted by Interpol for multiple counts of burglary, assault, theft, espionage, grand theft…everything, and a whole lot more.”

“Who cares about a couple boring charges?” Wade threw his hands in the air as he glared at Scott like he had grievously insulted him. “Homicide and manslaughter are way cooler and you know it!”

Piotr quickly read through her charges to fact check Wade…and he was right. She had not killed anyone, at least not in any incident listed on the file. Piotr wasn't sure if this information made him feel better or worse about the thief. He decided to chalk up this oddity to Durand being too proud to get her hands dirty and label her as the absolute worst person he had ever met.

“That is little extreme… I have fought people that want to kill all mutants,” Piotr reminded himself. “Maya may not be worst person but she is very high on list.”

Scanning through the rest of her file, Piotr came across a section that listed her skillset. Piotr rolled his eyes at the Master Thief at the top of the list. He wondered if Maya had gotten her hands on the file and put that in there to inflate her ego. Her file also stated that she was a chameleon - a master at hiding in plain sight. The way that the file described her abilities made Piotr wonder if she was almost as good as Mystique. On top of that, the file claimed she was a master escape artist as well. He read the brief description of the few times she was sent to prison and her increasingly elaborate escapes. It seemed that no prison could hold her - at least for long.

“Piotr, I think I know why Maya’s fabric was strong enough to hold you down,” NTW said, pointing at the section on her file that listed her mutant abilities.

Mutant Powers:

Fabric Manipulation

Fabric Creation

Material Identification and Application

“Material Application?” Piotr read allowed with a perplexed tone.

“I’ve heard about this ability!” Hank divulged with an intrigued look. “Some mutants have the ability to copy elements of certain materials to another object without changing it physically. A copy and paste power to put it simply.”

Piotr reached inside his pocket for the cloth he had taken from the museum and placed it on the table. He peered down at the fabric inquisitively, running his fingers over the soft silk before handing it to the scientist.

“She was able to make her fabric as strong as metal with this ability?” Piotr questioned, almost impressed by her ability.

Hank examined the material in his hands before pulling at it to test its strength and elasticity. The fabric stretched easily, not showing any visible signs of stress. It didn’t even tear when Hank ran his sharp claws against it.

“Yes, I suspect that her fabric may be as strong as steel,” Hank hypothesized, keeping his eyes on the fabric, “but I will be able to tell you more tomorrow once I’ve taken a closer look.”

The Professor glanced down at his watch, realizing how late at night it was before backing away from the table. With a wave of his hands all of the TVs in the room turned off as he made his way to the door.

“Maya Durand may not look like a big threat now, but I fear this is only the beginning. Judging by her reputation, her jobs may put people in danger,” Professor X cautioned, his face drawn as he looked at the mutants still gathered around the table.

The Professor met Piotr’s gaze levelly for a few moments for a few moments before addressing the group at large.

“Piotr, I’m trusting you to be the one to stop her.”

Before anyone could object, Professor X held up his hand to keep everyone silent. Piotr caught Logan rolling his eyes with an unimpressed grin on his face. He vaguely heard Logan muttering about how this was going to go for Piotr and judging by his tone, the clawed man was betting against him.

“You can count on me,” Piotr nodded before stealing a glance at Maya’s mugshot. The Professor was giving him a chance to deal with the thief himself like he had trusted him to handle Wade, and Piotr could not let him down. “What happened tonight will not happen again.”

“Good,” The Professor let out a satisfied hum before turning to the door. “We’ve all had a long night so I suggest that you all turn in for a well earned rest.”

Piotr and NTW remained in the room while the rest of X-Men, Nathan, and Wade followed the Professor. Wade opened his mouth, no doubt to make an obnoxious quip, but Nathan roughly grabbed him by the ear before he could form a single word. Wade released a flood of insults at Nathan as he pulled him out of the room.

Once Wade’s screeching voice was far enough away, Piotr released a deep sigh as he rested his hands on the table. NTW slumped in her seat as she glared at Maya Durand’s mugshot.

“She’s not even here but it feels like she’s mocking us.”

“We will get her,” Piotr reassured her. “I have plan.”

NTW peered at him questionably, “And what is your plan exactly?”

“We wait until she strikes again,” Piotr decided. “She is practically ghost. No use finding her until she is hired for next job.”

NTW’s puzzled look grew, “So what do we do in the meantime? Twiddle our thumbs and hope she makes an appearance soon?”

Piotr shook his head as he pulled the device closer to him from the center of the table. He felt as if Maya Durand was standing in front of him with her mugshot only inches away from his face. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her alluring mischievous eyes were like an addictive toxin that fueled his need to put her behind bars.

“While we wait, we learn as much as we can,” Piotr asserts, narrowing his eyes at Maya’s picture. “We will not underestimate her again.”

“Not the best plan, but it's the only one we’ve got,” NTW said listlessly, before sliding out of her chair. With a yawn on her lips, she made her way to the exit to go to bed.

Piotr chuckled at her blunt (yet true) assessment as he settled into his chair. He had a long night ahead of him, but he could not think of any other options that would end in anything besides frustration and embarrassment. Besides, his experience had taught him that good things always come to those who wait.

And he would wait for a century if it meant he would be the one that put Maya Durand behind bars.

-----

Tag list: @master-sass-blast @sadstonewrites

#colossus fanfic #colossus x oc #colossus #piotr rasputin x oc #piotr rasputin fanfic #original character #xmen fanfiction #xmen #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool #deadpool 2 #deadpool movie #piotr rasputin #slow burn #enemies to lovers #Ribbons and Steel #my writing

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

Text

Plastic Hearts

Chapter Three: Prisoner

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (Violet Apollo)

chapter rating: M (talks of dieter’s shitty parents, insecurity, these two pining for each other but being scared little shits, sexual desire, weed use, brief mention of hollywood being filled with predators, dieter’s awful parents, cocaine use (pls think before you use cocaine in 2022, it’s just fucking fentanyl and not worth it), me writing Matt Smith into this for a second bc i couldn’t resist, asshole!dieter returns, voyeurism?? a little??, oral sex male receiving, fuck these two are a mess)

word count: 5.5k

authors note: listen i had to write a fucking SNL monologue for Dieter and it was hard and it’s not very good and shout out to all the writers at SNL having to do that every week lmao

series masterlist | series playlist

“You seem to really like this one. Been staring at it for ten minutes now,” Dieter leaned to the side, whispering to Violet as they stood in the MoMA, staring at Monet’s Water Lilies. “I always thought shit like this is too pretty. I like my art like I like my women—“

“Abstract?” She turned to give him a smirk.

“Well, I was gonna say without meaning and overpriced, but sure—abstract.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“I love this painting,” she mused in a powder soft voice, Dieter’s eyes softening as he stared at her profile like she was the real work of art. “Everything about it. It is too pretty, you know? But some shit just is. And you can see the brushstrokes in it—it’s messy, it’s imperfect, and yet it’s so…fucking pretty, you know? So soothing and romantic and…nothing that you’d ever think would come out of a bunch of brushstrokes on a canvas. It’s pretty and it’s messy and it’s just…all the things.”

“I could listen to you talk about art for a lifetime, Miss Apollo,” he confessed quietly, just for her to hear. Sometimes he wanted something just for the two of them to have. A whisper, a look—a moment of authenticity.

The couple was constantly surrounded these days, bodyguards and assistants and handlers and fans—eyes always locked on them as though they were waiting for something to happen, missing the only thing really happening—a budding friendship.

Violet met his eyes and stared at him with the kind of awe that would make any man crumble.

“Take me to one you like,” she insisted, her eyes turning to meet his. Dieter smiled to himself and nodded, slipping his hand into hers more naturally now that he actually wanted to. Violet held onto his bicep with her free hand, the “couple” no longer sure what was for show and what was sincere anymore.

“You know, I grew up in New York most of the time as I kid,” Dieter began as the couple and their entourage walked through the museum, keeping his voice low so that only she would be able to listen.

“Yeah?” She turned her head a bit to watch him nod, his index finger and thumb rubbing his the hair on his chin.

“Yeah, my parents wanted me as far away as fucking possible.” Violet frowned at him as he glanced over at her, a small chuckle leaving the typically stoic man. “To be fair to them, I was a little shit from day one.”

“You were a child, D. Little shit or not, you deserved to have your parents around.” She spoke it as though it was simply a fact, but that little sentence had been the hardest one to accept, even through years of therapy. He didn’t feel like he deserved it—acceptance, their presence, love. “I know your mom is Marianne Ward, who’s your dad?”

Dieter was impressed by her knowledge on his mother’s career. She mostly spent her career doing artsy indie flicks rather than the shit most people saw. Aside from her Oscar nomination, she hadn’t really been much of a starlet.

“Ed Bravo—he’s a producer—“

“Yeah, didn’t he also try his hand at directing? What was the film called—Humoring Colossus?” Dieter stopped abruptly, causing the group around them to also halt. He shook his head and chuckled at her, his eyes wide with awe and intrigue.

“You’ve seen that shit?” He asked with disbelief, Violet chuckling at his theatrics as she nodded. “You’ve got to be like one of only ten fucking people to have even heard of that film. That’s impressive.”

“Don’t think too highly of me, I mainly watch obscure films like that to sound cooler than I actually am,” she assured with a smile, waving him back towards her.

Dieter grabbed her hand again, Violet resuming her hold on his arm as they walked up to a canvas hanging on the wall, smudged with black streaks of ink—chaotic and yet somehow orderly. Violet leaned closer to read the card beside it: Julie Mehretu, Invisible Sun (algorithm 5, second letter form), 2014, ink and acrylic on canvas.

“Now this…speaks my language.” Dieter studied the painting with puckered lips, his fingers rubbing his chin as he focused on it.

Violet meant to study it with him, she really did, but the current view of his deep contemplation was more awe-inducing than any work in the building could ever dream to be. Here he was in all his natural glory, hair tousled into messy waves and curls like he just got out of bed an hour ago, the greying patches on his beard almost forming two little hearts (ironic, she thought, for a man so averse to romance).

“I met the artist once at a gallery opening, and I tried to talk her into letting me buy it. Offered way too fucking much for it, but she said she preferred it here.”

Dieter turned his eyes, catching Violet in her gaze. He would’ve smiled at the sight of her studying him so closely if it hadn’t made him sick to his stomach with nerves.

Truthfully, he didn’t know if he wanted her swooning for him—if that’s what was beginning to happen. Not enough had changed about him for him to be welcoming anyone into his life like this. He was still a short tempered, emotionally unavailable man with unresolved mommy and daddy issues.

Though he’d been behaving on their week-long stay in New York—keeping to his side of the two-bedroom hotel suite, only smoking weed, and finding the strength to remain celibate—it was all bound to come to an end at some point. He had itches he needed to scratch, and though she’d been able to see the best he had to offer this week, he wasn’t sure she’d be so quick to stare at him with awe if she saw the other shit—the side that most everyone else got to see besides her, hence why they all hated him.

Dieter cleared his throat, snapping Violet out of her daydream, her eyes batting away her admiration as she turned to focus on the painting. “It certainly screams you, Dieter.”

“How so?” He asked, his head tilted.

“It’s chaotic, but clearly brilliant. It’s black and white but it’s also grey, you know? It’s…a whole combination of things. I don’t know why, it’s just you.” Dieter felt both thrilled by her observation and weighed down by it.

If she understood him so well, could she already see the storm on the horizon? Did she even care? Why didn’t that help soothe his anxiety? Why didn’t that cure him of the itch in his palms?

“I’m feeling kind of tired,” she looked back at him, something clearly weighing on her mind, though he knew her well enough to know that she was much too sober to speak it. “I think a nap sounds nice before we have to go to the show.”

“Okay,” he nodded and turned around to find his assistant, Raf. “Can you call Violet a car to go back to the hotel?”

“Sure thing,” the young man nodded and walked away to call the car.

“Thought maybe you would join me.” Violet’s hopeless voice pulled at Dieter’s heartstrings. Though he hadn’t realized she’d been offering for him to join, even if he wanted to cross that line, he couldn’t. He was hosting SNL that night and had dress rehearsals all afternoon.

“Wish I could,” he pinched her chin and gave her an apologetic smile, neither of them paying attention to the fan that was approaching their entourage.

“I’m so sorry, but I’m such a big fan of both of them. Could I just say hi?” Dieter turned his head around to take in a teenage girl desperately pleading with his head of security.

“It’s okay,” Violet interjected, waving the girl over. “Oh, I love your skirt. Where’d you get it from?”

“I made it, actually,” the girl blushed and giggled nervously, eyes hardly meeting either of the actors’.

“What’s your name?” Dieter asked, his casually cool persona back on.

“Violet, actually.” She chuckled and looked to Dieter’s Violet. “I’m such a big fan of yours—both of you. I watched you on broadway last year.”

“Oh, really?” Dieter gave her a smile. “Thought nobody came to that show.”

“Well, I loved it. And Violet, you’re amazing in literally everything you’re in. I’m such a big fan of yours. I actually—“ She held up her phone, showing them her lockscreen. It was a fan edit of Violet in her MCU debut role—the one that landed her her current job.

“Oh, wow,” Violet blushed and gave the girl a bashful smile. “You’re so sweet. Can I give you a hug, Violet?”

“Sure,” the girl willingly accepted the hug from her hero, Dieter watching the entire scene unfold before his eyes.

A truly good person, that Violet Apollo. Too good for the industry she worked in. Way too fucking good for him.

After taking a picture with the fan, Dieter walked Violet out of the museum, cameras waiting for them when they stepped out into the brisk autumn breeze of New York City. Dieter opened up her door into the SUV, tempted to give her a kiss on the cheek for the cameras, but the more he began to actually feel for her, the less he wanted to do such intimate things in front of the mob of paparazzi stalking them.

“I’ll see you before the show?” He asked, Violet nodding her head and reaching to pinch his chin. Dieter grabbed her hand and kissed the pad of her thumb, winking at her before closing her door, his security and assistant following him over to his own SUV parked right behind hers waiting to take him over to Rockefeller Center.

•••

The entire car ride from the MoMA to their hotel on the Upper East Side, Violet couldn’t stop thinking about Dieter. The way his dark eyes seemed to turn golden when he looked at her and black when he looked at anybody else. The way his beard felt against her fingertips when she’d pinch his chin. His earthy cologne that may have just been his natural scent—she couldn’t yet tell. He’d somehow managed to intoxicate her with his mere existence, and it was beginning to become an addiction she didn’t know she’d be able to shake once this was all over.

She could see it in his eyes—his hesitancy to feel something for her. She knew there was more between them than friendship or obligation, but just how much? Neither of them allowed themselves to speak it out loud.

Violet didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to wonder whether or not he was thinking of her, but before she could spark up a joint and hop in the bath, her phone was buzzing. She sighed and set the joint down, grabbing her phone and sliding the green arrow to accept the FaceTime call from her assistant now back in LA.

“Hey, Luce,” Violet spoke through an exhale, only half paying attention to the blonde on her screen.

“Hey, just wanted to call and let you know I booked your trip to London at the end of the month for the press junket. I haven’t heard back from Dieter’s team as to whether or not he’ll be joining you.”

“Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t, you know? Give us some time to miss each other and all that.” Violet bit at her once-perfectly manicured nails while her assistant narrowed her eyes at her through the screen.

“What’s happened? Besides the kiss that I walked in on?”

“Just…I don’t know. I feel like I’m doing that thing that I always do again where I meet an injured little bird of a man and take it upon myself to nurse him back to health only for him to fuckin’ fly off the minute he’s all better,” Violet hid her face in her hands, groaning dramatically. “I just need a week away from him, so let’s keep London a solo trip. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. You’re the boss,” she typed in the demand into her phone before continuing. “By the way, it’s not a flaw to see the good in people. Not that I entirely approve of Dieter—I don’t really know the guy—but from the way he looks at you in all these pictures, he’s either the greatest actor of all time or he’s just plain into you.”

“Shh,” Violet held her finger up to her lips. “I’m going to hang up now so I can smoke weed and relax before I have to be my crush’s fake girlfriend again.”

“Godspeed, my friend.”

As Violet smoked her joint in the bathtub, the hot water up to her neck, the “smells like happy” bathtub failing to deliver its advertised effects, she thought about her past romances.

She always did tend to take a broken man and invest all her love into him, or rather the idea of him that she’d invented in her head. In truth, every man she ever thought she loved was simply a reflection of things she loved about herself, or things that she wanted her partner to love about her.

Her previous lovers were all rather boring, selfish takers who allowed her to suffocate them with love and adoration until their ego had inflated to the point of no return, leaving her to watch them as they floated off to the next best thing—the next girl too good for them that could fix the parts she couldn’t.

Deep down she knew Dieter wasn’t the same as all the men before. For starters, he actually seemed to value her—her feelings, her opinions, her way of doing shit. She knew he could be selfish, harsh, distant, cold, but he could also be generous, soft, interested, and so goddamn warm when she caught him in the right mood.

Dieter was bad for her and he was good, too—black and white and grey—which made her all the more confused about what to do.

Gathering herself a bit, she quickly got ready, doing her own hair and makeup tonight because she couldn’t bear the thought of interacting with anybody else right now.

She opted for a simple glam, her hair in cascading waves down her shoulders and back. She wore one of Dieter’s vintage t-shirts—a suggestion from Dieter himself—a distressed pair of jeans, and an oversized black leather jacket on top. Her outfit was casual but she didn’t want anything over the top—tonight was all about Dieter.

Violet beamed at the paparazzi waiting in front of 30 Rock, giving them her best smile and a friendly wave. Funny how they’d never know she was paralyzed with insecurity and sadness all the while.

“Hey,” Violet found Dieter in his dressing room, surprisingly all alone. “Thought I’d have to throw some elbows to get to you.”

“No, I, uh,” he gestured back at the hall. “I told everyone I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh—should I?” She stepped towards the door but Dieter shook his head and stood up, reaching out for her hand.

“No, stay.” Violet smiled, nodding and following him over to the sofa.

“You feeling okay?” She asked, afraid to bask in uncomfortable silence for too long. Dieter shifted in his seat, glancing at her with that boyish grin she’d become so accustomed to but at one point couldn’t have even imagined him wearing.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just…nervous, I guess.” He reached over, lightly punching her knee. “But you being here makes it better. And sorta worse. I can’t explain it.”

“I know what you mean,” she chuckled, tilting her head at him with a soft smile, her eyes unabashed in their look of admiration. “You have nothing to be nervous about, Dieter. You’re going to be great.”

“You know, out of all the people in this bullshit industry for me to be under contract to spend time with, I’m glad it’s you,” Dieter confessed barely above a whisper, reaching up to cradle her cheek. “I just wish I was good enough for more. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so scared to act on shit.”

“What? Dieter—“

“Alright, Mr. Bravo. We’re ready for you at stage entrance.” The producer opened the door and gave them both a hurried look. Dieter gave Violet a longing look before standing up and walking out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

What the literal fuck? Good enough for more? Act on shit? Act on what? Violet’s head spun at the thought of Dieter Bravo harboring feelings for her, and the thought of him holding back on them because he was insecure made her so dizzy she thought she could throw up. If only she could gather her wits enough to tell him that she was just as scared about the way she felt for him. That she was just as insecure about what she brought to the table.

•••

Dieter waited behind the iconic doors on the SNL set, ready to give his opening monologue. He’d written it with the help of a couple writers at the show, insisting that he wasn’t going to try to reinvent himself tonight, but simply show the viewers a newer side of him—a bit less brooding and pained than the image he’d created over his career.

Faster than he could catch his breath, the doors were being opened and he was stepping through them, walking down the stairs to the iconic jazz and applause from the crowd. He scanned the rafters, hoping to see one familiar face but shocked when he saw two more—his mother and father.

Great.

Plastering his smile even wider in hopes of hiding his actual oh my fucking god my parents are here panic.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Dieter bowed to the audience as the applause died down, his heart clambering inside his chest. “It’s an honor to be here tonight, I’m Dieter Bravo. You may know me as that one guy from that one thing that you fell asleep in the middle of but somehow won an Oscar for.” The crowd laughed. “You know, I’ve been sort of awestruck being here hosting. So many of my childhood heroes have walked these halls and stood where I’m standing now—turns out they’re all more like villains and are thankfully canceled now…which is great business for me. SNL would’ve never been desperate enough to have me on if pickings weren’t so slim around Hollywood these days.” The crowd response was a mixture laughter and ooo’s, Dieters mouth curling up into a half-smirk. He insisted that joke be kept in and had to kiss ass to get it approved but oh, the payoff. “Listen, I know I’m not known for my comedy. I’m a pretty serious guy, I like to take serious roles, but, ya know, since I’m turning forty in a couple months, I’m hoping to turn a new leaf.” The audience applauded him, Dieter nodding and trying to calm his smile before continuing. “Yeah, I used to only smoke sativa, but lately I’ve really been into indica.” Another round of scripted laughter erupted from the crowd. “No, but seriously. I’m slowly getting myself together. I’ve given up the fast life—mostly, got a new role coming up that doesn’t involve any Cliff Beasts or terrible accents, hell, I’ve even given up the all the young, beautiful supermodels in exchange for a beautiful, brilliant actress that’s here tonight up in the rafters hoping that I don’t completely embarrass her. Hi, darling.” Dieter blew her a kiss and waved his hand at her—that wasn’t scripted. “Anyways, we’ve got a great show for you all tonight. Stick around and we’ll be right back.”

The show went well, or at least he thought it did—everything was happening so fast it was hard to tell. After the end credits rolled and he’d given a fake hug to every fucking cast member, he walked off the stage, desperate to try and find Violet before his parents could inflict too much emotional abuse onto her.

Dieter found her in the green room, surrounded by a fucking mob of cast members, writers, producers, fucking interns—all of them making it near impossible for him to reach her. She was laughing and carrying on with all of them, playing her favorite role of the always-smiling American sweetheart, but he could hear the difference in her voice.

Violet was always so poised when she laughed in front of an audience, but when she was alone with Dieter, when he truly made her laugh, she was all snorts and cackles and just plain fucking real. It almost felt sacrilegious to hear his favorite sound distorted by inauthenticity like this.

“There you are,” his mother’s voice sounded from behind him and he closed his eyes, wishing her away. When he felt his father’s firm grip on his shoulder, he sighed and turned around, forcing a smile on his face.

“Ed, Marianne.” Dieter gave them a polite nod, both of them eyeing him up in that judgmental way that made him feel like a little boy again, desperate to make them proud.

“You did well out there tonight, son.” Dieter furrowed his brows at his father’s praise, remaining frozen when he was pulled in for a hug.

“Are you sick or something? Why are you hugging me?” Dieter’s mother swatted his bicep at the question, his father letting go of him.

“Nobody’s sick. We’re just proud of you. God, is it always going to be so volatile with you, Dieter? Sorry that we weren’t there as much as you may have wanted us to be, but we’re here now. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?” His mother pleaded, though her dismissal of his childhood neglect and trauma did little to win him to her side.

“Weren’t there as much as I may have wanted? You sent me off to live with a nanny across the country. That wasn’t not being there, that was abandonment,” Dieter scoffed, shaking his head as he tuned out their typical deflections to save himself the hurt.

When he felt a hand slide against his bicep, looping their arm with his, he almost jumped, but one look to his right side and he was met with Violet’s smile—one that seemed to wash away all thought.

“Found you,” she mumbled with a grin, Dieter’s lips curling up out of instinct. Violet’s eyes soon turned to his parents, her smile turning into a flat line as she glared at them. “If you two don’t mind, we have a party to get to.”

Dieter had never been more attracted to her than when she was guiding him away from his parents and down the hall to his dressing room, shooting him a knowing smile over her shoulder as she led the way.

It was moments like this that he wished he could set aside his feelings for her and just fuck her, but no matter how hard he tried to tap into his old ways, his heart and mind were dead set on giving her more.

If he was going to sleep with her, it wasn’t going to be a one off hookup, wasn’t going to be something quick and fleeting, it was going to fucking change his entire life. And as much as he wanted to dive head first into everything her, he knew he just wasn’t ready. He’d fuck it up like he always did.

“You did way too good tonight to be brought down by your shitty parents,” she assured once they were in the peace and quiet of his dressing room, spinning around to cup his cheeks.

There was a point, even if momentary, that he thought this would never happen. He assumed they’d be cold to each other, or at best friendly, but this—her hands on his face, his eyes locked on hers, the look between them that anyone could clearly see was adoration—was never in even his wildest of dreams.

“Can I kiss you?” His request was whispered, almost shy, as though it was an outrageous thing to ask. Violet tilted her head, her smile soft and just barely there as she studied him carefully, letting his question hang in the air for a moment before she was nodding. Dieter almost whimpered—something yearning and desperate inside of him surfacing for a moment. He whispered to her as he leaned in, his hands cupping her face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Violet knew the deal—she knew that these moments came with no strings attached. When he got lonely she was there and vice versa. To read any further into things was to admit defeat in this battle she was fighting internally. A battle she wasn’t quite ready to give up yet.

Dieter held her close, though his kiss remained soft enough for her to pull away at any moment. But she didn’t seem to want to. He smiled as he felt her hug him tight, his hands lowering to her waist and squeezing. He would’ve been content to stay that way forever, but of course…

“D, we gotta get you to the after party.” Andrea walked in, eying the two as they pulled away from each other breathlessly. Dieter pinched Violet’s chin, smirking down at her before turning to nod at his manager.

“Alright, just let me change.” Both Andrea and Violet left the room, though he wouldn’t have given two shits if they stayed, especially the latter.

After changing into a silk button down that was one size too big and a pair of black trousers, Dieter was making his exit from 30 Rock hand in hand with the most beautiful woman in New York City as far as he was concerned, a rare smile on his face as he waved at the paparazzi.

It seemed his fake happiness was starting to become real—and god, did that make him want to throw up.

Walking into the party, he held onto Violet’s waist, keeping her close and shielding her from everyone trying to steal her away from him.

Violet turned around, Dieter’s hand sliding to the small of her back as she leaned into him to speak over the music. “I’m gonna go get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Uh,” Dieter spotted his dealer and a few of his party friends from over her shoulder, the craving for a couple little white lines distracting him. “Just a gin and tonic. I’m, uh, gonna go to the mens room for a second.”

“Okay,” she nodded and gave him a smile before leaving him to go to the bar. Dieter watched her until she disappeared and quickly made a bee-line for the bathroom, his dealer grinning and waving at him as he neared.

“Haven’t heard from you all month,” the all-business appearing skeeze welcomed Dieter to their little bathroom party with his hands on his shoulders.

“Been busy.” Dieter kept his eye on the constantly opening and closing door as his friend set up a few lines for him on the counter. Dieter wasted no time in leaning down and snorting the white powder up, one line at a time. As he moved to snort the last line, the door swung open.

“They didn’t have any tonic, so—“ Dieter interrupted Violet with a snort, his eyes wide as he turned to see the last person he ever wanted to show this side to. Violet looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and concern, the couple remaining frozen and silent for a few beats.

“Lovely to meet you, I’m Alex. Can I fix you a line as well?” The dealer leant his hand out for Violet to shake but Dieter was quick to slap it away, giving him a warning glare as he watched Violet storm out of the doorway and back into the party. Wiping his nose, he rushed out to follow her, his heart racing from the drug and his own fear of fucking up his chances with her.

Dieter found Violet by the bar, tossing back shots with one of his “friends”, a fellow actor who was safe but a total slut—and that meant a lot coming from Dieter fuckin’ Bravo.

“You know, you’re even more beautiful in person. It’s usually the other way around,” the actor flirted, tucking Violet’s hair behind her ears.

“Does that line usually work for you?” She chuckled, now sipping on a cocktail through a little black straw.

“Usually. Is it working now?” He smirked at her as she shrugged, Dieter now quickly losing his composure as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes.

“Fuck off, Matt.” Dieter stormed over, stepping into the space between their bodies and glaring at his friend. “She’s with me.”

“She’s with nobody,” Violet corrected, glaring at Dieter for causing a scene, his blown out pupils a reminder of why she was so upset in the first place.

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t know the two of you were together for real,” his friend held up his hands in defense, giving Violet an apologetic look before he was leaving the couple alone.

“You just told Matt Smith to fuck off!” Violet scolded, too drunk to care about her volume.

“Relax, he’s a friend,” Dieter assured as he ordered a drink for himself. “A friend you seemed to be enjoying.”

“Are you jealous?” She accused with more irritation than he was hoping for.

“I’m not—not jealous, Violet. I just think if we go around flirting with other people, our little fucking showmance is gonna start to unravel.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Dieter. If I want to flirt with someone, I’m going to flirt.” Dieter turned to her with a raised eyebrow, both turned on and enraged by her independence.

Though it was surely the drugs in control, he thought it would be fun to give her a taste of her own medicine. Turning to his other side, he spotted a model sipping on a vodka soda.

“Hey, you wanna have sex with me?” He asked as though the answer was obvious, and judging by the girl’s smile, it was.

“Sure.” Violet scoffed at her eagerness, Dieter turning back to her with a smirk.

“You’re not my girlfriend, right? So I can fuck who I please tonight?” Violet had never looked more disgusted with him, and if he’d been sober, he definitely would’ve dropped to his knees and pled for forgiveness—but he wasn’t sober right now. He was just an asshole.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Dieter. I’m going home.” Violet set her drink down and made her way out of the party, Dieter’s eyes following her until she left the club.

“So…your place?” The model approached him, her hand sliding up his chest.

“If you sign an NDA.”

•••

Violet woke up around three in the morning to the sound of moans coming from their hotel suite’s kitchen. Furrowing her brows, she walked over to her bedroom door and cracked it open, gasping when she saw Dieter leaning back against the fridge, the model from earlier on her knees for him.

Though she felt fucking sick with jealousy—truly, she could’ve vomited right there on the fucking floor if she wasn’t so determined on keeping up her appearance—she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his appendage. After so many nights of dreaming about it, the real thing made her gasp. He was hung like a goddamn horse.

Dieter’s head was tipped back, his body bare besides the robe he kept with him like a security blanket. He held onto her head and guided her to take him in deep, vulgar slurping sounds filling the space as though he completely forgot about his roommate. Violet almost stormed out, enraged by the fact that he’d let anyone besides her get to feel him so closely—closer than she had yet to get—but soon, a name slipping off his lips in a breathless moan made her totally forget her rage.

“Oh, fuck, Violet. So fucking good.” Violet covered her mouth as she gasped, watching as the model pulled away from him and very hoarsely corrected his slip-up in names. “Yeah, sure, whatever, just don’t stop.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” The model stood up and fixed her outfit, seemingly having been on her way out of the hotel room before he seduced her one more time in the kitchen, storming out of the room with a slam of the door.

Dieter sighed at his still-raging erection, pumping it with his open fist until he was painting the kitchen tile white with a feral growl slipping from his lips.

Violet looked on at the scene, his flushed chest heaving from his orgasm ripping through his body, his long and thick cock dripping white as he stroked it lazily, his soft moans filling the room like the most beautiful song she’d ever heard.

“Next time you bring someone home—don’t.” Violet announced her presence, watching as Dieter jumped and let out a girlish shriek. Giving him a stern look, she watched him as he stayed frozen in place, his eyes lowering to his now half-softened length.

“You wanna—“

“Fuck you, Dieter.” She slammed her bedroom door and locked it. Though she still very much did “wanna”, it wasn’t going to be that fucking easy for him.

No matter how beautiful and impressively fucking hung he was.

•••

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