Pairing(s): Avis Amberg x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Avis Amberg is a woman who thrives in situations where she is in control. What happens when something happens that isn’t in her control?
Themes/Warnings: 18+, jealous Avis/reader, angst, sad Avis/reader, fluff
A/N: Avis Amberg can rail me and spit in my mouth! Thank you @retinolserums for your patience. This took literally months to finish. As always, I hope you enjoy Avis in her glory.
Avis drives up to a gas pump at the Golden Tip Gasoline with a wide grin, ready for the afternoon with you. Although, her smile quickly fades when her eyes set on you, lent over the driver’s side of a Pontiac, talking with a young woman. Your hair displayed as a little bit looser than the usual tightly up-do, she understands that you were with the woman. A longer, lingering stare forces her eyes to scan over your features. A spot of bruised skin along your neck glares back at her.
How could you? How dare you? Servicing another client when she thought she’d made it clear that you’re hers and hers alone.
He hears her before he sees her — the distinct tapping of expensive heels against the tiled floor.
“Ernie, what the hell is this?”
“Avis, my dear,” Ernie says. His eyes don’t look up from the stack of papers set on his desk. “What has you this delighted today?”
“That!” Her finger points through the glass window. His eyes follow her direction, and they land on you.
“We’re short today, Avis. We needed someone fast.”
“So you let her go? We had a deal, Ernie. If you can’t respect that—”
“What the hell?” Avis’s voice booms through the station. Her voice makes Ernie look up at the angry woman, who hasn’t strayed her focus from you. He lets out a sigh as he catches the interaction between you and the client. You grab the woman’s hand, leaving a gentle peck on the back of it.
“See you soon, sweets?” The woman’s voice sends a sigh through you as you think of Avis. It shouldn’t make you feel guilty, but it does. It’s just work, right?
“Come by again and we’ll see,” you tease.
Avis sees the woman place something in your hand before her car drives off the lot.
“Before you do something you’ll regret—”
Avis shoots him a warning glare.
“Send me a new server,” her tone is stern, leaving Ernie no room to argue.
“Avis, you’ll crush her heart.”
“Well I need someone fast, and she doesn’t look to be in the Avis mood today.” Her voice nearly cracks, but she covers it with a cough. “Do it, Ernie, or I will take my money elsewhere.”
Ernie contemplates the idea, and as stubborn as Avis is, he knows she’ll make good on her word. And like he always says, money is money. So he calls for the second best of the crew: Jack Castello.
The young man looks at Ernie in shock. Eyes widen at his seemingly defiant stance, unmoving and stoic.
“Ernie, I was made to believe Y/n was exclusive to Mrs. Amberg.”
“Business calls for change in schedule.” He playfully taps his shoulder. “Money makes the world go round, kid. Y/n knows that. And word to the wise, Avis is a good one. Take good care of her.”
You see Jack walk to the car you’ve been driven in almost everyday for the past three months. Mind scrambling to find a good reason why Ernie sent him, you lose focus on the conversation with your client.
“Maybe I’ll make an effort to stop by again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see your face again?”
“Maybe you will.” You meet her eyes once more. “I’d put money on it.”
“Oh good.” The woman’s soft voice rings through your ears.
She drives off in a hurry, and your eyes catch Avis and Jack driving off in her car.
It has been weeks since you’ve felt Avis’ lips against your burning flesh. Days of missing the woman turn into endless nights of touching yourself with the search of satisfaction only she can give you.
Your night gets interrupted when you hear a constant pounding on your door. Without checking for any sign of danger – despite Avis’s warning you to start taking those kinds of precautions – you lightly twist the doorknob and pull it open to a disheveled Jack Castello. You pull the door open more, giving you a better look at him. Hair in disarray; eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in days; the usual tension is his shoulders loosen as they slump over.
“Jack,” your voice wavers with a sudden nervousness.
He tries to avoid eye contact, worrying you more. “Can I stay here for the night?”
You nod, stepping aside for him to enter. He takes the welcoming, and steps into your living room. The area is the tidiest you’ve seen it, considering you’ve been the only person in the space as of late. You let him get acquainted with the space, looking around and finding small aspects that scream your aesthetic.
“I left her. Or she left me. It’s all still messy.”
Avis? She’d leave him? Why?
“My wife. The twins… they aren’t—” He drops onto the couch, hands finding the sides of his head and threading through his hair.
“Oh,” your hand rubs gentle circles on his back, “I’m so sorry, Jack. Why don’t I make you some tea? Or maybe coffee?”
“Is a glass of water too much to ask?”
You walk to your kitchen, dimly lit by way of a candle on your table. The water falls into the cup you grabbed from the countertop.
“You have a nice place here. Roomy yet comfortable.”
“Thank you,” you walk towards him, glass placed on the coffee table. “Avis actually helped with a lot of the decorating.”
There is an awkward silence that draws out the unspoken tension that has built up between you since the day he serviced Avis. Your Avis.
“If it’s not too much to handle, how is Avis?”
“Oh,” he says with a clearing of his throat. “Mrs. Amberg actually talks about you a lot. Doesn’t say your name much, but once someone brings you up, there’s no changing the subject. And if someone tries to change the conversation, she’ll keep going on anyway.”
A blush reaches your cheeks. “She does?”
He nods. A few sniffles make him clear his throat. “If you’re wondering, nothing happened. Nothing intimate, anyway. We started slowly, me pulling at her robe and kissing her skin, but once I leaned in to kiss her, she pulled away. Said she couldn’t go through with it.”
“Excuse me for intruding, but we’ve both been working for a while. We know it’s a quick job and getting money. But Mrs. Amberg,” he pauses, “there’s something I can’t quite make out. She really cares for you. I gather in ways that go beyond a client-and-worker relationship.”
A beat. Your eyes avert to anything you can find focus on.
He shakes his head. “She calls for me to accompany her to events. Told me she doesn’t like to feel alone.” You take a deep breath. “I hold her hand. I walk beside her as people stare. And I know she can’t feel any less wrong than I do.” He breaks for a moment. “Because both of us know that if anyone deserves to be beside her and make her feel seen, it’s you.”
Your eyes don’t seem to leave him. They can’t. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything better than the couch for you. I’ll give you a few extra pillows to make up for it.”
He pats the cushions a few times. “This is better than I could’ve imagined after the day I’ve had. Thank you, Y/n.”
You smile. One that says everything will be okay. For him or yourself, that isn’t distinct enough to make out. You start for your bedroom, making sure to give him the outline of the rooms, and the directions for the restroom and your bedroom.
Your bedroom – adorned with different styles set by Avis – feels different walking into it. Safe. Unlike the past few weeks without her, the room feels like her again. The faint scent of her perfume looming over you like a hug from her after a long day. Closing your eyes, you can almost hear her loosely humming to your favorite songs. The ones she’d called ‘voiceless’ and ‘too modern’ for her, but can’t shake the habit of listening to them as though you were the muse behind the lyrics.
The image of her clogs your mind, making sleep far from possible. The sheets, frigid as Avis is missing from the bed, reminds you of the countless times she has accompanied you. Hours pass without any idea of what time it could be. Thoughts of the older woman touching your body with her soft caress. Her warm breath against your neck as you sleep through the night, limbs tangled.
The next morning, you are greeted by a note Jack left behind.
Set out early for the station. Thank you for the hospitality. Your kindness is greatly appreciated.
You place the note on the table, smiling at the sentiment. Another day at the station, you thought.
“Boys,” Ernie started. “And lady. Tonight everyone is on the clock. We’re set for a party at Vivien’s house again. Remember the rules; remember the protocols. And dress… your best.”
You mumble a curse when a few heads turn to you. “Sorry,” you mumble.
Ernie comes over to you. “What’s with the low face, babydoll?”
“No long faces tonight. We need your million dollar smile to get that pretty penny. I’m counting on you.”
Avis spots you from the front of the line. A few glares are sent your way — both from the men and a few women sitting at the table. Each glare feels like wealth ripping through you, seeing if you were worth the risk of taking you. Hers, however, is the eyes that you’d recognize from any distance. The way she’d stare at you like you were nude, modeling your body for her eyes only. Like you belonged to her.
She hasn’t averted her eyes for a second as you converse with a few people sitting around you. The two people sitting on either side of you are getting your attention. Anyone who didn’t know you would mistake your contribution to the conversation as interest. Avis, ever the observant and knowing woman, recognizes the discomfort in your demeanor. The slouch of your shoulders, when she’d taught you that every lady should sit with confidence, shoulders upright and straight. Or the pauses of silence between your subtle laughs and their quips they’d consider jokes.
Then, there was the sudden moment of one of the men leaning into your space. His lips mere inches from your ears, whispering anything he wasn’t confident enough to say aloud. And the slight, yet noticeable bite of your lower lip. Your soft smile soon follows. The smile she came to melt for when she looked at you, whispering sweet words against your neck to fluster you.
Your eyes moved around the table after the man whispered a promise of a good time if you let him take you to his hotel room. Not that the opportunity was worth any of your interest, but the idea of this man–who you could clearly tell wouldn’t be able to find a woman's pleasure with a magnifying glass and curiosity–taking you in ways you’d rather not imagine. The thought of Avis’s rebuttal if she’d been able to hear what he offered you just moments ago.
That’s when you look up to find her, already burning holes into your eyes. The way she’d always looked at you with unmistakable possession, no words necessary to make her intentions clear. Then, with the small softening of your eyes, you can see the crack in her expression. The almost unnoticed gloss to her eyes. The slight rouge creeping to her cheeks, and the way she breaks her gaze by averting to her glass of red that’s seemingly glued to her hand.
She takes a sip, her tongue darting out before her lips rest against the glass rim. She gulps quietly as the liquid runs smoothly down her throat. Passing glances are exchanged between her and you. You can feel the burn of her gaze under your reactions to the man’s words. Pleads from her eyes hit your heart like Cupid with his bow and arrow. Or like a huntsman with his dagger.
You missed her. You do miss her.
Then his hand lands on your wrist. Avis can he has crossed the line. People begin excusing themselves from the table, finally making way for their ventures outside. Avis finds her way through the remaining bodies in the room, making her way to you.
“Is everything alright here?” Her voice is stern and pointed.
She turns towards you, her hand holding onto the man’s, firmly grabbing it and pulling it from your wrist. “I was talking to the lady.”
A sigh brushed past your lips at the relief of her rescue. “Fine, thank you, missus—”
“—Avis, dear. Avis is fine.”
Your heart swells at the correction. Never being able to speak with Avis in such a public manner and without the respectful formalities, her vulnerability reaches your heart. Not anymore being seen as a service girl, but as a woman who has earned the proper respect. Being seen as a person, and not a ticket for pleasure.
You nod at the older woman, finally able to see up close what words wanted to say for weeks. She searched the man’s eyes, looking for any hint of genuine interest beyond your services. Being met with nothing but palpable lust, her senses sharpened. Her eyes drew a piercing gaze to the man, her voice unwavering as she spoke. “The young lady is with me. You are excused.”
“Avis, she’s a service girl. She was about to give me a nighttime special.” His voice was low, warning her to stand down.
“Her services are of no use to a man of the likes of you. Now might I suggest you excuse yourself from her proximity while you still have a name in this industry.”
He takes the hint, taking a final sip of his scotch. He slowly backs out of the room, not wanting anyone to witness the interaction.
Avis turns to you, straightening out her blazer. “You shouldn’t let them talk to you that way.”
“The money is worth the crude words from a drunk customer.”
“No it isn't. No amount of money is worth disrespecting you.”
Her eyes look at you, searching for the light that has dimmed over the time separated from each other. “You shouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior. Ever. Client or not.”
“Understood.” Your eyes searched her own now, for any sense of desperation like yours. “I miss you.”
“But when I saw you with Jack… I felt… wrong. Forgotten.”
“You were with someone else. Another woman. Another client.”
“—I drove up to the station on a Wednesday afternoon, ready to see my girl. But you were there, leaning against the door of her car, your hair tousled like I used to make it. And you… you were glowing.” You could see the gloss behind her eyes, but don’t decide to mention it. Rather, you admire the woman who stands in front of you, a vulnerability that you haven’t seen from her before.
“Avis, the woman was a client. One Ernie was depending on for a big pay. Said it was me or nothin’ else.”
“I don’t like the idea of other people having their way with my girl. When I made the deal with Ernie, that was my way of making sure no one else could get their hands on you.” Her lips purse as she forces herself to continue. “As for Jack, nothing happened. Nothing intimate anyway. He was just arm candy. A distraction from what I truly wanted. Who I truly wanted.”
You can’t help but feel the rush of heat to your cheeks. The tingling at your fingertips pulling you towards her like gravity. The only thing stopping you being the guilt of your own actions.
“I should’ve called,” you mumbled. Your head lowers and your eyes meet the floor, tracing each pattern of every tile around you. “I wanted to call.”
“I could have called. I foolishly thought that you’d be better off without my pestering you.”
“So you decided to shut me out instead? Avis,” you reach for her hands, taking hers in yours. A light gasp leaves her lips. “All due respect, I’m not Mister Amberg. I’m not one to shut you down because of an issue. Someone once taught me to speak up for myself, lest I want things to stay the same. It is—”
“—it is with man’s hands that kingdoms are built. It is a woman’s voice of power that rules said kingdoms.”
A light air encircles the room. A sharp cut through the aforementioned tension bringing a light you’d strayed from in the time spent apart from each other. A shared understanding of said time wasted away from each other all leading to the point of realization: she was jealous, yes. But more than that, she was hurt. Hurt because the care that she had provided you for the last few months was put at risk at another woman’s hands on you.
You reach for Avis’s face, pulling her towards you and resting her forehead on yours. You hear a sniffle come from the woman. A soft sob alerts you from the moment, bringing your focus on her. The woman who you’ve gotten to know as strong and confident–never showing anything but dignified poise–now showing an unfamiliar vulnerability.
“Avis,” you breathe out her name in a whisper. Like a prayer finally being answered and seen for everything presented to you. “Darling.” Your hands–ever so gently–cup her cheeks. Her eyes glossed over, tears spilling over as she let go of the wall she’d held up for so long. For Hollywood, the industry that never gave her the opportunity she deserved. For her husband who couldn’t give a damn to understand her for who she was behind the actress. For the daughter who grew up resenting her for the structure Ace set up for them.
But for you, as your eyes stare into each other’s, each brick held up around her falls over. Every tear that falls from her eyes, another part of her liberated from a force that has held her back. In your eyes, she sees the freedom she’s yearned for her whole life. And as your thumbs come up to wipe away the remaining tears, she breaks. Her breath hitches, a gasp falling from her lips.
Her arms wrap around your waist, her grip tight on the back of your dress. Not pulling, but holding you so as to not push you away. Her eyes travel down your face, locking onto your lips. A longing in her brown orbs speaking to you in a silent understanding Avis hasn’t allowed before. With a gentle softness to your eyes, you focus on her lips, now softer and begging for permission. A soft nod of your head sends Avis the one thing she’s yearned for.
With her hand still firmly grasping your dress, she pulls you closer, bodies now touching with no more space between you. A sudden gasp makes Avis giggle as she’s surprised you. Your hands fall to her arms for stability, while her arms still hold you close. Suddenly, the room spins, and Avis’s lips meet yours. Not hungry or desperate. Not claiming dominance, as she normally does. Your lips move in a rhythmic dance of passion.
It isn’t until you are both breathless that you pull apart. Both still clinging to each other, you can’t help the giggles and laughter that leave you. Avis pulls an arm from around you, moving a few stray hairs behind your ear. She loosens her hold on you, but still keeps you close. Her eyes meet yours again, now lit with joy.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she mutters.
“I’ve always seen you,” you reply. “And who I see is absolutely breathtaking.”
