#and i want to quit this stupid fucking coffee shop job so bad too

[fyodior]

blegh

[hardly-an-escape]

skin | surprise | "You want me and you know it." • 794 words • Smurch fill list

tags: human AU, coffeeshop AU, storage room blowjobs, right in front of the scones, the pining is mutual they're just idiots

“A crop top, Hob? Really?”

“It’s called fashion, sweetie. Look it up.”

Morpheus dumped a bag of beans into the industrial grinder and hit the button, wincing at the noise. He hated opening. He was emphatically not a morning person.

His coworker Hob, on the other hand, was both a morning person and a seemingly incurable optimist. He loved his job, loved their customers, loved trying new things. Including, apparently, very fashion-forward clothing choices for six o’clock in the morning on a cloudy Tuesday.

Morpheus did not like customers, or small talk, or new things, or much of anything about his job aside from dialing in the espresso machine and baking scones. Coffee and baking were predictable. Reliable. There were rules, and if you followed the rules, good things resulted. He appreciated that.

And he appreciated Hob. He appreciated his coworker quite a lot, in fact; perhaps more than was reasonable for a professional setting. He especially appreciated the extra skin on display as Hob stood on tiptoe, his colorful cropped T-shirt riding up as he stretched high to write the special of the day on the chalkboard.

“I am merely pointing out,” Morpheus said, shutting off the grinder, “that it may not be the most appropriate choice for work.”

“Uh huh. And I am merely pointing out,” said Hob over his shoulder, “that you want me and you know it.”

“I think you – what?” Morpheus’s mouth snapped shut as Hob’s actual words registered.

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

He turned to face Morpheus and leaned against the counter. The space they were inhabiting, between the espresso machine and the cash register, suddenly felt very small.

Morpheus opened his mouth to protest. Nothing came out. He closed it again.

“And… if I said…” he licked his lips nervously and Hob’s eyes darted down to catch the movement. “If I said you… weren’t wrong?”

Hob pushed himself off the counter and took a step toward him.

“Then I’d probably say…” His voice was low and teasing and sent a thrill down Morpheus’s back. “I’d say there’s a big, mostly empty storage room downstairs. And I’d say that the front door is still locked and we don’t actually open for another twenty five minutes.” He took another step, until they were standing practically toe to toe. “And then I’d ask if I could kiss you.”

Morpheus answered by leaning forward, grabbing a handful of the shirt that had apparently started all this, and pressing his mouth to Hob’s. The kiss was fierce and messy and weeks of longing and not-so-thoroughly tamped-down arousal bubbled under his skin like hot coffee.

Five minutes later they were in the downstairs storage room, and Morpheus’s cock was so deep down Hob’s throat that he thought he might die.

“Why – didn’t you say something – sooner?” he gasped, then immediately regretted the question when Hob pulled off him to answer. His eyes were a little glassy and a thin strand of drool connected his bottom lip to the tip of Morpheus’s prick, which a distant semi-functional part of Morpheus’s brain filed away as the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“Why didn’t you?” asked Hob hoarsely. “I know you’ve been staring at my arse since Easter at least. I thought I was being pretty damn flirty.”

“I…” Morpheus didn’t know what to say. I’m shy and awkward and everything makes me uncomfortable while you seem to swim through life with the grace of an otter was probably too much. I didn’t think you were flirting with me because you kind of flirt with everybody, likewise. How am I supposed to have a conversation or open the shop in eighteen minutes when all I can think about is the sight of your lips around my cock and all I want to do is come in your mouth and drag you down with me and smell of you for days was a serious contender. “I don’t know.”

His hips twitched forward of their own accord and Hob smiled with those glossy, spit-wet lips.

“Well,” he said, and leaned back in, dragging a deliberate tongue slowly along the hard, needy length of Morpheus’s prick, a wide swipe from root to tip that drew a surprised and whimpering fuck from his mouth. “Why don’t you think about that for a minute while I’m down here?”

Then he sucked him all the way back down and Morpheus couldn’t think about anything for quite a long while.

There was an angry comment on the shop’s Facebook page later that day, all about how they’d been half an hour late to open that morning, with no note left on the door or anything. But neither Morpheus nor Hob could bring themselves to care.

[frogsandfries]

Whuf.

I woke up this morning and my seasonal depression hit me like a brick wall.

What am I supposed to do about it? I knew before I did it that moving back to Wisconsin would be bad for me, but I did it anyway. But I feel like I moved to the Arctic circle. It got cold so early up here; it never really got warm, it got boiling. I'm just not coping. I can't even casually leave the house.........unless I want to go hang out in the stupid fucking library. We live in the middle of fucking nowhere and it's fucking miserable. My sister doesn't have time to take me out for mental health breaks. No matter how badly I hated it, I shouldn't have just quit my job. That was so stupid......

I don't get it, the other day, she said something like "you just use these grocery shopping trips to get out of the house" like wut. That doesn't make any sense. The grocery shopping needs to be done. Food needs to be acquired, and she and I eat completely differently. Also, I'd love to go back to even just ordering my groceries online for curbside pickup, if you think I take too long to grocery shop the enormous and still slightly confusingly-set-up grocery store.

And also, I don't always just want to leave the house to go fucking hiking. Maybe I'd like to go out to a restaurant and sit for a while, or get ice cream or coffee.

Anyway...... Not sure what I'm going to do about my SAD..... I have a doctor's appointment coming up. Probably going to endure some renewed poking and prodding for a while...... I don't want to be depressed again this winter.

[appplepii]

tears over beers (jean kirschtein x fem!reader)

genre: angst w a happy ending, fluff, modern au

warnings: unprotected sex, mouth spitting, praise kink kinda?? choking, etc VERY NSFW hehe, fuckboy eren (slight eren x reader), mentions of alcohol and drug use

word count: 4.1k

summary:

     You don’t know your own worth, and Jean is getting sick of it.

     Jean remembers the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembers the way his stomach flipped when you sat in the empty seat next to him and introduced yourself, a kind smile on your face. He also remembers the moment Eren walked in and caught your eye, and the dread that laid heavy in his chest when your cheeks grew pink. Despite the fact you had just met, he couldn’t help but have distain for the boy the moment he smiled back at you, causing you to become shy and flustered. Why weren’t you nervous to talk to him?

     That’s a question the boy came to ask himself more times than he would ever admit, despite the fact that it’s been years. You and Jean had become a constant for each other, someone that was always there no matter what happened, or how much time passed. It was no question that you had become his best friend (except Marco, of course). There were certain things keeping you together that had Jean convinced it was fate keeping you in his life, from the moment you had graduated high school and decided to go to the same college that was hours away, to you working at his favorite coffee shop near the campus. That philosophy was not a strong willed one, being shot down every time you would tell him about a certain boy you were still hung up on. It was times like that that Jean thought maybe you in his life was a sort of punishment. What did he do to deserve the feeling of having what you want most in life in arms reach and never getting it?

     Years had passed at this point though, and Jean got used to the feeling of pretending he didn’t care. It got easier over time, the boy had become accepting of his fate. He was, and always will be the best friend. It was a little hard on his pride, but it definitely beats not having you in his life at all. That’s why Jean thought he would be fine when he accepted the invite to Marco’s party in which the entire friend group had been invited. A part of him was excited, knowing it had been awhile since the last reunion. Another part of him thought about the fact that he would be there, and he felt frustration slowly build inside him.

     “Ah, I’m so excited! It’s been a minute since we’ve seen everyone, huh?” The smile on your face made up his mind, knowing he could never say no to you. Jean chuckled and shook his head “Yeah yeah, it should be better than staying in that cramped dorm room doing homework” You furrowed your eyebrows, halfheartedly pushing his arm. “Oh shut up, not everyone has a mommy who can pay for a nice big apartment on this side of town.” You snickered, and Jean froze up, redness rising to his cheeks. “S-shut up! She has nothing to do with this, plus you know I’ve invited you to move in how many times now? I have an extra room that just sits empty, you know.” You shook your head and smiled “You know that my part-time job is not enough to cover rent and bills, Jean”. It was at this point Jean dropped the conversation, knowing he was fighting a lost cause. He tried explaining to you many times before he would let you stay for free, and Jean realized just how much you dislike charity work, even if it was never that to him.

     “Anyway, are you ready yet? We’re gonna be late now.” Jean ranted, looking up at the ceiling and scratching the back of his head. “Yes, you can stop complaining you loudmouth.” You bent over and put on your heel, standing back up and flattening out the wrinkles in your clothes. It was then Jean had taken a proper look at you, taking in the nicest outfit he had seen you wear in a long time, albeit quite revealing. His eyes trailed up your bare legs, and he could feel himself go slightly weak in the knees. You really were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He cleared his throat, bringing his gaze back up to your face (though unable to look you in the eyes). “Okay, we can take my car.” He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, opening the front door and waiting for you to walk out first. Jean’s attention was brought back to you when he noticed your hesitation. His face grew a curious expression as he looked at you expectedly. “y/n? Are you-” “Are you sure I look okay? I mean.. Eren is gonna be there, do you think he’ll like my outfit?” Your eyes were glued to the ground, and your blush had become apparent as you played with your fingers.

     Jean swallowed, pushing the dreadful and nauseous feeling from the fact you had been thinking about him down. He knew you had kept Eren in mind, but he wished he could ignore it just a little longer. “You look amazing, anyone who would pass up the chance to have you is a fucking idiot, y/n.” It was at this moment you made eye contact with the boy, the gentle smile he saw when he first met you making itself visible. “Thank you, Jean. I really couldn’t ask for a better friend.” Although you had meant it as a compliment to him, all it seemed to do was twist the knife he had in his stomach for so many years that much deeper. All he could bring himself to do was smile and nod, gesturing for you to go out the door to the car.

     He unlocked the doors to his blacked out Camaro, the top coming down to reveal black leather seats (his favorite birthday present, that car was his baby.). After opening the door for you, something he had made a habit of these past years, he got into the drivers seat. Putting the car in drive, you connected your phone to Bluetooth. He always let you play the music whenever you drove together. “Ooo, I have to turn this up!” You said enthusiastically, pushing the system in his car to its limit as you screamed the lyrics and danced. Jean let his eyes leave the road for a moment to glance at you, his heart swelling at the way your hair flew around you face from the wind. He really did have it bad when it came to you.

     “Okay, I’m pretty sure this is Marco’s new place. Should we head in now?” He asked, taking the keys out of the ignition and turning to stare at you. You heaved in a deep breath before fixing your hair in the mirror, and nodding to the boy. “Yeah, let’s go.” He said nothing as he got out of the car, immediately going to your door and opening it. That was something you had to get used to, you didn’t like to feel like you were of some importance. You let it go though, once you saw how insistent he was on doing it, ranting about how he had to be a gentleman or something like that. You grabbed the hand he offered out to you, standing up and walking to the front door of the home.

     Jean didn’t bother knocking, instead opening up the front door and walking in like he owned the place. This didn’t surprise you though, besides yourself Marco was Jean’s closest friend. The two were like brothers and you knew Jean was excited to see him after so long. “Jean! I missed that stupid face, how are you, loser?” Ymir hooked an arm around the boy’s neck, clearly already slightly intoxicated. Jean let out a string of cuss words, wrestling out of the tall girl’s strong grip as you turned your attention to her much smaller girlfriend, Historia. “Hey Historia! It’s been awhile, huh?” You smiled at the girl. She had always been so sweet, and you thought her and Ymir balanced each other out perfectly. “It has! Although it doesn’t look like those two have changed much.” You laughed at the pair and how ridiculous they looked before turning your attention to the kitchen.

     “Jean,” you tugged on this sleeve “will you come with me to get some drinks?” You didn’t let him answer, knowing it would be a yes. He silently followed you to the kitchen, smirking at himself when he realized how assertive you had become, especially when you used to be so shy. You began pouring yourself a shot of vodka, “Damn, this early?” Jean laughed as you shrugged your shoulders before downing the drink, wiping your lips on the back of your hand. “Look, we gotta get the night started somehow, right?” You raised your eyebrow as you held out the next shot you poured to his face. He gave you a smug expression, knowing you were challenging him although he has proven on more than once occasion that he can out-drink you. He kept quiet though, and threw the shot back with ease. You smiled at him, each of you taking one more just to get started.

     “Oh shit, when did you get here dude?” Marco stepped into his kitchen, going straight to Jean and did a simple handshake. “Not too long ago. Anyway, look at you! Got this big ass place all to yourself, huh?” Marco shook his head and laughed, not good at taking praise. The two friends talked for awhile, Jean feeling himself relax with the slight buzz from the alcohol. It had been only a couple minutes the conversation lasted, you talking a little when you had been mentioned. Jean’s attention was pulled from Marco when he saw you tense up from the corner of your eye, noticeably becoming more shy than you previously were. His gaze followed yours, when he was met with the one thing he really hoped not to see. 

     Eren sat on the couch, leaning back into with his arms spread out against the back of it, a beer in his hand as he occasionally took drinks from it. Your stomach turned when you saw him because fuck, he looked really good. His black long-sleeve and jeans were simple, but maybe it was the bun he had in his hair that made you almost start drooling. It took everything in Jean’s power not to let out a scoff at how obvious you were being, and how stupid the entire situation was. “Just stop, Jean. It’s not worth it. She doesn’t want you.” His own thoughts definitely brought down his happy mindset, trying his best to ignore the sympathetic look Marco was giving him. 

     He watched as Eren’s eyes met yours, his smile growing as he gestured you over to sit next to him. You got impossibly redder as you nodded and smiled, looking up at Jean and silently asking if he was okay on his own. He didn’t hold back his scoff at that, waving you off. “These are my friends too, remember? I’ll be fine, go ahead.” Your smile widened as you immediately turned and bee-lined to where Eren was sitting. The pain Jean felt had a sort of sick nostalgia to it, reminding him of the day he witnessed the blush on your face when Eren had walked through the door. Taking a deep breath and clapping his hands together, he feigned the most convincing smile he had and turned towards Marco.

“I need another shot!”

     “So what was that about?” Eren laughed lowly, tilting his head toward Jean after you took the seat he offered. “Huh? What do you mean?” You questioned, completely oblivious to what he was hinting at. “You looked like you were asking him for permission to sit with me or something, he isn’t your boyfriend or anything right?” You didn’t know why, but this comment slightly annoyed you. Maybe it was the condescending tone he put on, or the subtle diss to your best friend. You didn’t know, but it didn’t sit right. Shrugging it off you decided he probably didn’t mean in that way and you put on a smile. “Nah, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t ditching him. He’s my best friend.” Eren gave an exaggerated sigh of relief as a smug expression took over his features. “Well, that sure is a relief.” He says smoothly, putting a hand on your knee.

     You felt nothing but confusion when you didn’t get butterflies, but another hint of annoyance. What is wrong with you? You’ve liked Eren for years, this should be a dream come true! But it wasn’t, and things were moving too fast for you at the moment. It’s not like you were a “prude” or anything, you just couldn’t push down the bad feeling you had in your gut. “Uh haha, yeah! Can you give me a sec? I really have to use the bathroom!” Eren assured it was no problem, and you quickly stood up causing his hand to slip off of your knee. You walked a little faster than you normally would to the bathroom, turning and locking the door behind you. You felt nothing but frustration toward yourself, why are you being this way? Before this moment, if Eren would have asked you to hook up, you thought you would have gladly said yes. You enjoyed texting him and you found him very attractive, so what is this dread?

     You fixed your hair and outfit as much as you could, trying to freshen up before you go back into the crowded living room. On your way back to the couch where you were sitting, you decided to stop at the kitchen and take two more shots. Maybe it was your nerves and the anticipation that caused your hesitation, the alcohol should help with that. Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself and headed back to your spot. Turning your gaze to where Eren had been, you froze. There he was, with a random girl sitting on his lap as he whispered in her ear.

-

     Jean sighed, stepping into the guest bedroom and sitting on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and silently cursed himself. He wanted to have fun, he really did. But the moment he saw that flustered expression of yours from Eren’s presence, all he wanted to do was go home and feel bad for himself. His thoughts were racing, and it was probably the alcohol but he found himself becoming more angry than sad. Why didn’t you want him? He deserved you, he had always been there and he knows he could treat you so much better than that douchebag ever could. You deserve better, and fuck, so does he.

     The sound of the door being pushed open broke him out of his thoughts, and he was more than surprised to see you entering. He could already tell you were upset, he just couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. “Weren’t you with-” “I go to the bathroom for two minutes and he immediately starts trying to get into another girl’s pants? Can you believe that? I mean honestly” You continued your rant to Jean, but it was falling on deaf ears. He was getting more and more frustrated, the feeling settling in his bones as he tried to calm himself down. “I mean we aren’t dating, but all of our friends saw me sitting with him, you know how stupid he made me look? I just-” Jean whipped his head at you, a sharp glare meeting your gaze. “You want me to be real with you, y/n? He didn’t make you look stupid. You do that yourself pretty well.” The room went dead silent. You considered for a moment he was messing with you, and you let out a laugh of disbelief. “Jean what the fuck-” He stood up from his spot, his glare only hardening.

     “No! Just stop for a second. I’m so sick and tired of you fucking complaining to me when it’s you who chooses to settle for assholes who obviously don’t care about you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just a fucking idiot. But I know you’re not, and thats what frustrates me so much, you know that? You treat yourself like shit and then want me to be there to be the person who makes you feel better. I can’t do it anymore, I really can’t.” His voice had risen a little, but that wasn’t what got to you. It was the seriousness in his tone, you knew he was being genuine. Your eyes welled up with tears, feeling like you just got punched. “Jean, I-”

     “Let me finish y/n. I have always been there for you. Always. Despite the fact that you never got over Eren. Every time he ghosted you, who was there? You know what that’s like? To watch the person you’ve been in love with for years settle for the first asshole who comes her way? Do you have any idea what that does to me? You do realize you’ve been fucking torturing me for the last four years, right?” Your mouth went completely dry, and for the first time since this conversation began, you looked him in the eyes and felt even worse when you saw the glassiness of them. Your breath got shallow as your emotions intensified, your mind racing of all the times you had literally cried on his shoulder, and you thought of how bad he must have been hurting. He kept it to himself for your sake, not wanting you feel upset or worry about him, and you never noticed a thing. Fuck, how could you have been so selfish?

     You didn’t even think about it, your body moving on what felt like autopilot when you grabbed the boy by his collar and pulled him into a kiss. He stiffened, obviously very surprised at your action, before putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling back. His face was a cherry red when he searched your features, shaking his head with a sad expression. “y/n, I don’t want you to do this out of pity. Plus, you’re probably shit-faced right now.” You shook your head and put your hands on his wrists, keeping eye contact with him. “I’m only buzzed Jean, and this isn’t out of pity. A part of me has always loved you. I just have a habit of ruining things in my life and I really didn’t want you to be one of them.” Your eyes got impossibly wetter and a part of you was surprised they hadn’t fallen down your cheeks yet.

     Jean remained silent for what seemed like hours as he examined you expression. His eyes softened and you heart stopped when his hand went to the back of your neck to pull you into another heated kiss. It was a natural reflex the way you gripped onto the front of his shirt, your heart beating at a race you didn’t even know was possible. “Damn, he's a good kisser.” you thought to yourself. You gasped slightly at the feeling of his tongue brushing against your bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and fell back on the bed, pulling him down with you. He pulled away, breathing heavily when a smile grew on his face. “Where are you?” He got up from his position on top and walked to the door, turning the lock with a click. He stalked back to where you were sitting, standing between your legs as he towered over you. “I’ve waited for this for years, I’m not going to wait any longer.”

      Excitement bubbled in your stomach as you looked up at him, a slight pout to your lips. Jean reached his hand down to your face, squeezing both of your cheeks to even further tilt your gaze towards him. “How about it then, pretty girl? Wanna have some fun?” You didn’t hesitate to respond, trying your best to nod in his tight grip. “Yes, please Jean, please.” Although your voice was a little muffled, Jean got the message loud and clear. He gave a soft smile, furthering his hand down to lightly squeeze your throat instead. “Okay then, open wide angel.” You felt a little confused but listened anyway, opening your mouth wide for the boy above you. “What is he gonna-” your thoughts were cut off when you watched, almost in slow motion as Jean leaned over and spit into your open mouth. You froze for a fraction of a second, your mind racing as the excitement grew within you. That’s not what you were expecting but you were not complaining. Jean’s long index finger tilted your chin up, closing your mouth as he kept eye contact with you. “Swallow.” He said in a gentle yet demanding tone, and you knew you couldn’t make yourself say no to him. You swallowed the spit slowly, choosing to keep quiet and wait for his next move.

     “Look at you, such a good girl.” he pushed your body further up the bed so you were laying rather than sitting and once again hovered over you. “Gonna have to thank you for that, huh?” You squeezed your thighs together at his words, anticipation growing impossibly higher. He sat back on his calves, sitting between your legs as he spread them apart around him. His fingers ghosted up your legs, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He didn’t move an inch after that, looking at you expectedly. “Well, I’m waiting? You know all good girls ask nicely, right?” He couldn’t stop the smug expression from taking over even if he tried. You squirmed in his hold, desperate for some sort of contact. “Please Jean, I can’t wait anymore. I need you.” You closed your eyes as you felt him unbutton your shorts, sliding them off with ease along with your panties. “Gotta make sure you’re comfortable baby, tell me if it hurts, kay?” He slowly entered a finger inside you, his thumb circling around your clit slowly. Your lip was pulled in between your teeth as you bit down hard enough to almost draw blood. “Oh, fuck.” He softly laughed at that, going slightly faster to elicit more reactions from you. “That’s right baby, lemme hear you, yeah?” You didn’t hold back, letting out a moan knowing the music blasting outside would drown it out. Jean added another finger and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you had never felt bliss like this before.

     “E-enough Jean.” You let out through strained breaths, and Jean felt himself grow cold for second with fear. Fuck, were you regretting this? “I don’t want to wait anymore, I want you inside me. Please.” Jean’s chest filled with relief as he shook his head at you. “You needy baby, alright, I’ll give you what you want.” Jean pulled his fingers out of you, and stuck them in your mouth with no hesitation. “You sure you ready for me, sweet girl?” He pulled his pants and boxers off, lining himself up with you. You nodded frantically, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. Jean pushed himself into you, pulling away from the kiss to let out a deep groan as his head fell onto your shoulder. “Fuck, you feel so good around me baby. You’re so good for me, you know that? I’ve wanted this for so long and it’s more than I could have ever imagined.” He ranted on almost senselessly as he was overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you so much, sweet girl. So so much.” You felt tears prick your eyes, from both the pleasure and his sentiment. “I love you Jean, I love you.” those words had more of an affect on him than anything else you said that night, and he felt himself coming close to the edge. “I think I’m gonna-” “Me too baby” he interrupted, placing his hand back on your throat and squeezing. “Cum with me, angel.” His words and the pressure on your neck was enough to send you over, raking your nails down his back leaving marks. He collapsed on top of you, his head resting in your neck as a tired smile rested on his face. You brought your hand up to scratch his scalp, completely fuck-drunk and forgetting of anything else that happened prior to this moment.

     “So that’s why you always open my car door for me, huh?”

✧༺☆༻∞

omg omg im so nervous to post this, not only is it my longest fic but this is the first time i have ever written anything remotely smutty before😳 if its not good pls be patient w me i am very new to this hehe

[ellana-ravenwood]

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne. 

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it : 

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night. 

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it. 

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing. 

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college. 

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first. 

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”. 

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful ! 

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure. 

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true. 

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything. 

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery. 

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well. 

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe. 

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst. 

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe. 

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money. 

Damn it ! 

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-” 

“Here, miss, you dropped this.” 

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill. 

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you. 

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him. 

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop. 

“Here’s your change, m’am.” 

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Wow, thanks !” 

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?! 

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him. 

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year. 

Him. 

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together. 

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...). 

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock. 

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.” 

“(Y/N) !” 

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward. 

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year. 

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ? 

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them. 

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ? 

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy. 

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised : 

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.” 

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats : 

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!” 

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact. 

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying : 

“Honey, who are your friends ?” 

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?! 

HOW ?! 

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.” 

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction. 

And that’s something Bruce caught. 

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision. 

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others... 

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it. 

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea. 

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-” 

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation : 

“My love ?” 

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day. 

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would. 

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say : 

“Are you an angel ?” 

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”. 

He chuckles, and says : 

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.” 

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ? 

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.” 

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?! 

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.” 

“Haha oh you have no idea.” 

“Glad I could help.” 

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.” 

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says : 

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away. 

“What the...” 

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.” 

“Huh ?” 

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day. 

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.” 

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues : 

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.” 

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.” 

“Ask me what ?” 

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at. 

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say : 

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now. 

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) : 

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”. 

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange. 

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope. 

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

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that. 

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds : 

“Of course, I will pay you.” 

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded : 

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.” 

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines. 

“And it would truly help me tremendously.” 

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.  

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing. 

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”. 

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too. 

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.  

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss. 

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne ! 

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ? 

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny. 

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring. 

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you. 

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious. 

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were... 

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand. 

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary. 

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy. 

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever. 

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows. 

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.” 

“Exactly !” 

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes. 

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back. 

“Sorry for the wait.” 

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.” 

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?” 

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.” 

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.” 

“Only if you call me (Y/N).” 

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues : 

“Ok, then I thought we could-” 

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc. 

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy. 

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family. 

And it was a needed step. 

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ). 

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy. 

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed : 

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.” 

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment. 

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course. 

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.” 

“Can you be mine then ?” 

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer : 

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.” 

“Oooooh !” 

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew. 

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was. 

He had a knack, to notice how people felt. 

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do. 

Today was one such small date. 

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know. 

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

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

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really. 

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing. 

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant. 

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else. 

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore. 

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much). 

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this. 

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event. 

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you. 

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ? 

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?” 

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !” 

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask : 

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?” 

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !” 

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy. 

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says : 

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.” 

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him. 

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently. 

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face. 

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.  

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him : 

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers : 

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.” 

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ? 

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”. 

“Kiss me then, if you dare.” 

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ? 

He couldn’t remember. 

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours. 

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss. 

As fake as it might be.

Your room. 

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment. 

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place. 

So Alfred settled a room for you. 

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best ! 

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day. 

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant ! 

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later). 

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation. 

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear. 

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World. 

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for. 

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !” 

“Build...a bear ?” 

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !” 

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?” 

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !” 

“Huh ?” 

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face. 

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing. 

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything. 

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?” 

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two. 

Instead, he said : 

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.” 

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer. 

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory. 

And oh. Oh that boy was right. 

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options. 

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day. 

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors. 

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.” 

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.” 

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.” 

“Which is ?” 

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!” 

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.” 

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again. 

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy... 

Rumors and Truth 

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page. 

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24. 

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ? 

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world. 

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?). 

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart. 

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors. 

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now. 

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you. 

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?” 

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”. 

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say : 

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.” 

“Ah.” 

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.” 

“What do you think is not true ?” 

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.” 

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?” 

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors. 

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman. 

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ? 

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him. 

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none. 

“How was college, for you ?” 

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two). 

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you. 

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well. 

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ? 

He couldn’t. 

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now. 

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l- 

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?” 

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :  

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.” 

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.” 

“Suuuuuuuuuure.” 

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says : 

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.” 

“Fake couple.” 

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.” 

“Ooooooh !” 

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business. 

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again. 

“Stay here.” 

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !” 

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?” 

“Ok.” 

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again. 

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you. 

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

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?” 

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet... 

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?” 

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do. 

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were. 

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?” 

“I dont’ think so.” 

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow. 

That’s when you see him. Batman. 

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him. 

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !” 

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.” 

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-” 

“Nowhere. Leave.” 

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!” 

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face. 

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman. 

Bad move. 

Very bad move. 

In a matter of second, it was over. 

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks : 

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?” 

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?” 

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now. 

“Oh, right, ok.” 

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous. 

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?). 

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell. 

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.” 

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues : 

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.” 

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle. 

It also scared you a little. 

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him. 

And that wasn’t good. 

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ? 

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again. 

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile. 

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became. 

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad. 

“I mean it you know.” 

His little voice brings your attention back to him. 

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.” 

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you. 

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne. 

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne. 

This was...bad. 

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad. 

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”. 

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too. 

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then. 

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ? 

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it. 

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.  

And it couldn’t happen soon enough. 

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you. 

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad. 

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache. 

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend. 

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything. 

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving. 

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham. 

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?” 

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?” 

“I do not look like a sad puppy.” 

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?” 

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous. 

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless. 

Hope. 

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough... 

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?” 

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said : 

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.” 

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!” 

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.” 

“And you saved her. Your point being ?” 

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.” 

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him : 

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?” 

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son. 

His son. 

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look. 

Success. 

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door. 

“You did it, Master Richard.” 

“I hope I did !” 

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug. 

It’s real. 

Back to square one. 

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream. 

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. 

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended. 

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered. 

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react. 

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent. 

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch. 

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be. 

But there was no need for fights. 

At least, not in the literal sense of the term. 

“Bruce ?” 

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds : 

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ? 

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion. 

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny. 

Towards Bruce. 

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind. 

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile. 

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time. 

A real first kiss. 

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be. 

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright. 

A real one. 

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”. 

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in. 

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy. 

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise. 

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.” 

“Huh ?” 

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful. 

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.” 

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !” 

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.” 

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!” 

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose  your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted. 

“Get a ROOOOM !!” 

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ? 

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year. 

This was who you were. 

Right there. 

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !). 

The end. 

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :),  It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story ! 

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

[inkskinned]

When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift. 

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey. 

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing. 

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.  

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit. 

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way. 

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Take It Out On Me

Happy Smutty Saturday! I seem to like writing things revolving around the pandemic lmaoo I'm sorry, I don't want to make that a habit. This is escapism, after all. Anyways, request from god knows how long ago about angry fucking with our fav gremlin boi

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Reader (Female)

Warnings: 18+. There's some angst, some words exchanged in anger but nothing too crazy. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls don't be dumb) Rough sex, dirty talking, hints of BDSM if you squint, praise kink if you squint.

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy!

When the pandemic started, things weren’t so bad. Your job allowed you to simply work from your laptop, you had turned the second bedroom/storage room into a makeshift office and it worked just fine. Merriell, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He had been laid off, and, at first, was incredibly stressed about it. Thankfully though, you made enough money to cover the rent and the government came through with some financial aid that helped Mer pay for the bills. You’d be okay.

In fact, once the financial stresses were taken care of, it was actually kind of nice. You two hadn’t lived together long, but long enough that you had noticed your schedule differences and long enough to know you had missed each other. Gone were the late nights at the shop that left you lonely and missing his touch. Quite the contrary, during the first few months, you had fucked like rabbits. He had taken you in every room of the house like you were christening the damn thing all over again. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, hell, he even had you in your ‘office’ at one point. It was fun, being together all the time.

Until it wasn’t.

Eventually, being cooped up in the same goddamn space all the damn time got to both of you. And you loved him dearly but god he was so fucking annoying sometimes. Usually, you could avoid creating tension either by slinking away to your office for a bit or politely asking him to take a walk. But the office door had been a lost cause ever since he fucked you up against it so hard it came right off its hinges and it was raining outside, so he couldn’t leave. You were stuck.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the little things that usually didn’t matter had gone unchecked and undiscussed and were beginning to bite at your skin in a way you couldn’t ignore. For you, it had started when you went to the bathroom in the morning, only to discover he had left the toilet seat up and you fell right through. For him it had started when you unconsciously kicked him awake at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. And from there it spiraled. By the time you were ready for coffee, he had drunk the whole pot.

“Thanks for leaving me some.” you had grumbled, and maybe you meant it in good fun, but your sleepy attitude struck a chord, and you knew that because it was met with silence.

So maybe that’s why you didn’t ask him if he wanted some of the eggs you were making for breakfast. And maybe that’s why he decided the be extra loud when he finally made his own breakfast. Pots and pans clanging as he threw them in the sinks, cupboard doors slamming shut and using his fork just a little too violently in a way that set your whole being on edge.

By the end of the day, you had snapped at each other a few times and the tension was so thick that you could barely stand just being next to him. You hated that you were feeling this way, that these stupid lockdowns were driving you away from each other when all you wanted was the opposite. But you couldn’t let go of your anger and annoyance, and it bled through your veins, poisoning any conflict resolution that threatened to act as an antidote to your frustrations.

The last straw came at dinner. He had asked you what you wanted to eat and just the question had you gritting your teeth. So you had replied, telling him that he could make whatever he wanted. That, apparently, was the wrong answer.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he snarled, slamming his hand down onto the kitchen island, “Can you please jus' tell me what the fuck you want?!”

You had done nothing more than glance his way and roll your eyes, not getting a chance to respond before he was launching into a tangent.

“Seriously, what the fuck do ya think I am? Some kinda mind reader?” He asks, one hand gesturing wildly while the other keeps the counter in a white-knuckled grip, “Ya been in this fuckin’ mood all goddamn day and Darlin, I gotta say, ‘m fuckin’ sick of it.”

You bark out a sharp, bitter laugh, “Oh, you’re sick of it?” You stand up from the couch, walking behind it so you can get closer to him, “Like you haven’t been intentionally pissing me off all fucking day.”

His jaw pushes out in annoyance, both hands now gripping the countertop, “I promise you,” and you gotta give the guy credit for trying to regain some composure, “whateva’ I did to make you this goddamn bitchy was not intentional.”

“Oh, so I’m a bitch now?” You counter, folding your arms over your chest.

His eyes close and his chin tucks into his chest, recognizing his mistake but unwilling to apologize for it, “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Tell me.” you insist, stepping closer to him, “Tell me what a bitch I’ve been. Blame all your problems on me. Because that’s just easier, isn’t it?”

It’s not true. You know. He knows it. But right now, all you can focus on is the anger that’s been boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Y’know what? Maybe this-” he cuts himself off, but his quick gesture between the two of you finishes the rest of his sentence for him. Silence fills the kitchen and now there’s salt added to the wound. Hurt swirls with your anger and you can’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried.

“No, say it.” you encourage bitterly, crossing the line into the kitchen, “Tell me how moving in together was a mistake. Tell me how you can’t fucking stand living with me. Tell me how I’m so bitchy and how sick you are of my shit. Tell me-”

Before you can finish antagonizing him, he’s got you pushed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of your head. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath, angry and panting on your skin. You look into his eyes, seeing them hard and cold with his anger but something else lying behind them.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and before you can even begin to be angry about it his lips are on yours and you can’t breathe.

His anger is very apparent, even as he kisses you. It’s rough, bruising, but it’s an outlet for all the negative feelings you’ve been experiencing so you kiss him back just as hard. You reach for him, unsure if you’re working to pull him closer and push him away. It doesn’t really matter though because he doesn’t let you touch him for long. Within seconds both your wrists are taken in one hand and pinned above your head. You fight against his hold, despite knowing it’s futile. In retaliation you bite down hard on his lip, feeling only a little satisfied when he pulls away in shock, his free hand coming up to check for blood. There's not.

You meet his eyes with a defiant smirk. He wants to play dirty? Fine. You can play that way too.

He steps away and for a second you think he’s actually going to walk away. But then-

“Get your ass to the bedroom.”

You almost laugh. If he thinks you’re, in any way, going to be compliant tonight, he’s sadly mistaken. Instead, you cross your arms, falling back to lean against the wall, your eyes never leaving his. He chuckles, an angry smirk crossing his features. He looks away, shaking his head, tongue poking against the side of his cheek in complete disbelief. Before you can think of your next move he’s got you thrown over his shoulder, marching the both of you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You squirm, trying to push yourself to an angle that would let you fight his grip but it’s no use. By the time you work his hold free, he’s already dropping you on the bed. Although dropping may not be the right word, he all but slams you down, leaving you momentarily breathless.

Even then, he moves quickly. His hands move to his belt, quickly working the clasp back and off so he can slide his jeans off. Despite your anger, you feel heat pool between your legs when the fabric drops to reveal bare skin. It’s nothing new for Merriell, but it never fails to do something to you. He knows it too, a cocky smile gracing his face as he sheds his shirt too. He only lets you look for a second before he’s quickly flipping you onto your stomach. He forces you up onto your knees, hand finding the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you as he climbs onto the mattress behind you.

You put up a bit of a fight, although you’re becoming less and less focused on your anger and frustration and more focused on the feeling on his cock pressing against the back of your jean-clad thigh.

“Always seem to forget how fucking stubborn you are.” He growls into your ear, pressing himself against the line of you body while his free hand starts to unbutton and work off your pants, “Hard headed and difficult.” he continues, biting roughly on your earlobe just to here your intake of breathe and to feel you struggle against his hold, “A fucking brat.” He punctuates the last words by tugging both your jeans and panties down around your thighs roughly. You hiss at the forcefulness of the action, feeling the burn of the fabric against your skin contrasting with cool air against your bare pussy.

You’re completely at his mercy.

His presence is dominating, even though you can’t see him, his hands, one pressing on your neck to keep you still and the other caressing the swell of your ass, let you know exactly who's in charge. You don’t struggle, both of you knowing how much you want him, but you still hold an air of defiance. Your face is turned so you can breathe, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. He tries to draw you out, teasing you by dragging his cock against your wetness. He alternates between taking the tip and rubbing it between your folds and fucking the space between your thighs. He knows what it does to you, can see the way you fight the urge to beg by pressing your lips together.

But you don’t fold.

“C’mon baby,” he taunts, venom laced in his words, “I know you want it.” As he talks the hand on your neck slides up into your hair, “Know you want that attitude fucked outta ya,” He tugs your hair roughly, pulling a gasp from your lips and forcing you to look back at him, “All ya gotta do is ask.”

You breathe heavily for a second, eyes locked with his, “Go fuck yourself.”

He growls, shoving your head back down into the mattress and thrusting into you roughly. Your back arches, eyes rolling back in your head as he begins to fuck you, not allowing you even a second to catch your breath. The second he sees bliss cross your features, he’s insufferable.

He laughs against a moan, “Feisty,” he comments, “but the second my dick’s in ya, you’re putty in my hands.”

You’re desperate to prove him wrong. You force your eyes open, locking them with his and pushing back against his thrusts, the headboard already banging against the wall with the force of both your movements.

“Feel’s good doesn’t it?” He asks, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

“I’ve had better.” Your voice bounces with each thrust, but you’re determined to keep your composure, despite the pleasure that makes your toes curl.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and he lays another harsh smack to your rear, just to see your body react, “Liar,” he hisses, fingers digging into your skin.

His angle changes ever so slightly so that his cock now drags against your sweet spot with every movement and you can’t force your moan back. His eyes light up, laughing delightedly at the sound, “Had betta’ my ass.” he comments, leaning down to bite roughly on your shoulder, effectively leaving marks all across them, “Ya jus’ can’t help ya’self. You love it. Love the feeling of my cock in you.”

“Who says I’m thinking of you?” You shoot back.

You know it’s not true. Merriell was unlike any lover you had before, you were hopelessly and utterly ruined for anyone else. But that didn’t matter. The comment, however untruthful, hits his possessive streak just like you knew it would. He pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back and nearly ripping the remaining fabric off your body before resuming his brutal pace, this time using your wrists on either side of your head to hold you down. In this position he can ensure that you’re looking at him, leaving no doubt in either of your minds that it’s him that makes you feel like this. Only him.

“Such a fucking brat,” he growls, leaving bite marks all along your skin. By the time you’re done, there won’t be a part of your body that’s not marked by him.

He stops talking for a second, focusing instead on giving you the fucking of your life. He’d never fucked you like this. He’d been possessive, sweet, caring, loving, jealous. But never angry. Not like this. Every ounce of frustration and anger he’d felt was redirected to his hips, the air tense with the hurtful words you’d both said earlier.

“C’mon,” you taunt when he slows for a second, lips turned up in a sneer even as you pant, breathless, “That all you got?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, hoisting your legs up onto his shoulders, releasing your hands so he can move one to your throat, pressing you into the bed that way instead. It’s hard for you to breathe that way, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. And if you thought he was fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s fucking you now.

The new angle allows him to trust deeper into you and your stubborn resolve begins to fade a little. Your hands scramble to latch onto his forearm that holds you down, not trying to push him away but just searching for purchase, for support somewhere you’ve always found it. He’s not faring much better, head rolling back onto his shoulders with a groan as he fucks you. You’re both quickly abandoning your anger in favor of the pleasure that you provide each other.

“Merriell,” you mewl, a peace offering without even realizing it.

His head snaps back to look down at you, eyes sparkling at the sound of your name on his lips for the first time tonight, “There she is,” he pants, leaning down to kiss you, open-mouthed and filthy. It’s still harsh, but the anger behind his motions is nearly gone, “My good girl, huh?”

You don’t even need to nod, to voice your confirmation. It’s not even really a question. You both know you’d come to an unspoken agreement.

“Fuck, baby girl.” he moans against your mouth, slowing his trusts just enough so he can really make you feel the drag of his cock inside you, “Oh, you feel so good.”

You love it when he gets like this. When all he can do is fuck into you and voice his pleasure. It’s a sure sign of surrender.

“Yes,” you gasp, back arching up against his as you feel your pleasure begin to reach its peak, “Merriell, I’m close.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, nodding in agreement, “C’mon, baby I gotcha. Let go for me.”

Your eyes lock with his the second you feel yourself slip over the edge. You see the way his eyes watch you, full of love that he had hidden behind his anger earlier. Your nails dig into his arm and your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself as pleasure courses through your whole body. You think that maybe you're shaking, but you’re completely detached from your conscious, knowing only the bliss he’s brought you.

Your senses come back to you just in time to feel him finish inside of you. His head buries into your neck, muffling his moans against your skin. The hand that had previously held you down now cups the back of your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh with a grip so tight, you’re sure you’ll wear his fingerprints for a week.

He collapses against you, staying buried in your heat but pulling back enough so he can kiss you passionately. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his hair as your emotions begin to rise. When he pulls back your eyes are wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing your noses together.

He nods, rubbing your noses together affectionately, “Me too,” he says, just as quiet, “Don’t leave.”

It’s a rare moment of sheer vulnerability, much needed after the heightened tensions throughout the past few days. You both knew, on some levels that the words shared earlier were spoken only out of frustration. But there was always that glimmer of doubt that you both felt. For him, it was always that you could find someone better. And for you, it was always the possibility of him growing sick of you.

You shake your head, kissing his softly, lovingly, “Never.”

After a few more moments of holding each other, he pulls out of you but doesn't move much further. He pulls you tight against his chest, kissing the top of your forehead. You bask in the silence for a handful of moments, just listening to each other breathe, finally feeling the tension between the two of you dissipate.

“Next time, can you just please put the seat down?” You murmur against his chest, a teasing tone to your voice.

He barks out a laugh and you grin against his skin at the sound.

Everything was going to be okay.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Extra Credit

based on this cause @avhrodite and I were texting, and she told me to write it! so this is for you miss bailey <3

also feedback is always appreciated! literally rb, comment, or an anon ask means the world to fanfic writers, now that tumblr’s algorithm is messed up.

enjoy 7.6k of professor!harry lovelies!

also the intimidating as fuck photo that inspired this, and will be used in the story!

Sexuality Studies. Room 3017.

You had stalled from walking into class with a nervous gut feeling in your stomach with a heavy textbook in your arms, too big to be put in your backpack, but it felt like your book was weighing you down. People were walking around each other to find a vacant seat as you stood there next to the door as you waited till the last minute to walk in and take your seat.

There were a few reasons why you were nervous to walk in. One, it was basically sex class. Your friend had taken the class a few semesters ago, and had told you the basics of it and the rundown. There was a lot of sex talking towards the end.

And although, you’ve had had sex before, you still felt like you were inexperienced. Your sex life was boring, and nonexistent as of a month ago when you broke it off with your, now ex, friends with benefits. He just wasn’t doing the job, like at all. He never made sure you were having a good time or getting off. And that’s just one of the reasons why you broke it off with him. Luckily, he wasn’t mad and didn’t ask questions. Just said ‘oh, okay’ and bid his goodbye. That had made you a bit sad, knowing he didn’t care whatsoever. You two had only been fucking for a month, and the excitement had left your body the first night you slept with him.

The second reason goes along well with the first, and that’s because you aren’t that comfortable. Again, you’ve sex, but you weren’t comfortable in yourself--your sexuality. You never really had time or experience to explore your body or others because you’ve only slept with two people. In that sense, you didn’t know what you liked sexually and what your partner liked, other than blowjobs, handjobs, and being able to cum while fucking you. But there was more to it; you wanted the details, the ticks, sensitive spots, everything. But you’ve slept with lousy frat boys who didn’t care enough to ask if you had finished.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing that you have about two minutes before you have to go in. You take a deep breath, walking over to the opposite side of the wall, preparing yourself to walk in. You don’t know why it was so hard for you to just walk in and sit down. The thought of having to sit through an hour and a half class that is mainly about sex isn’t that hard to deal with either, but your insecurities and anxiety is getting the better of you. With a couple of neck rolls and inhales to deep exhales, you were ready before you heard a voice next to you.

“Nervous about the first day?” You look up to find an incredibly attractive man smiling down at you. His smile had made you blush and his intent eye contact had made you nervous. The way he just looks insanely sexy, and you think his hair is better than yours. He wears a simple button down shirt with two birds next to the collar, along with black jeans and boots. And you think, he’s so good looking and dresses well too. For a student, you don’t see anyone dress or look like him at all.

“Uh, kinda? I don’t know,” you say as you are not quite sure what to answer, so you said the easiest thing that didn’t have to do with how you’re feeling right now.

“No need to be nervous. This semester will go by quickly and I heard the professor is really cool too,” the man says with a reassuring smile, and you felt a bit better because he was right. This class would be a breeze and then you wouldn’t have to retake it, unless you fail.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you. Uh, do you want to sit next to me?” You made the bold move to ask him, and it had shocked you. You never made the first move, but you figured that you needed more friends anyways.

“Oh, thank you, but can’t do that. Let’s go in, shall we?” He waves his hand out, leading you to go first.

You cheeks were filled with embarrassment, thinking that your bold move was a stupid move. Of course, he didn’t want to sit next to you. He barely knows you. You roll your eyes at yourself, making your way to the first row as all the seats behind the front row were taken, and you didn’t want to take the time to look around. You take a seat as your head sank lower from awkwardness you had felt, and you set your book down on the desk and heard your professor speak.

“Hello, class. Welcome to ‘Sexuality Studies.’ I’m Professor Styles. Shall we get started?” Your mouth had been open the entire time he was introducing himself. Shocked was an understatement as you didn’t realize you were talking to your professor outside of the class, but that hadn’t made your embarrassing moment less worse.

How did you not realize that? You should’ve seen it coming because you were thinking about how no student on campus dresses or looks the way he does, and you didn’t think to put the pieces together.

But, fuck.

He was sexy as a ‘student’, but as the professor, that was a different story. You had felt the weird feeling in your stomach, triggering your arousal as you watched him talk to the entirety of the class about what’s to be expected. You turned around slightly and observed the room; noticing that most of the class were girls and there were a few guys, but the female population dominated the class. All the girls had hearts in their eyes, twirling, and biting their lip as they stared at their new professor; probably hoping they would get some extra credit in the middle of the semester to raise their grade or purposefully failing their test so he can call them into his office and they can have classic office sex.

The thought had made your eyes roll. Not at the thought of office sex because everyone knows that’s hot, but the thought of purposefully doing horrible in the class to fuck the professor is beyond you.

The class had gone by rather quickly, Professor Styles only talking about the basics of what everyone is going to learn such as culture, biological, health, anatomy, art, etc.

You walked out of the class in a hurry, not looking at your new professor and anticipated the next time you’ll meet.

The month had gone by rather smoothly, only taking two classes for the semester, so your workload isn’t too bad. The occasional thought about thinking your professor was a student had haunted you, and you think about it a bit more than you would like; feeling quite embarrassed and you’d hope that he had forgotten all about it.

You were sat at the coffee shop, head in your laptop and notes that you had taken during lecture as you were starting on your paper that is due in a little over two weeks. You were so into your introduction that your fingers were typing away on their own, that you didn't feel the presence of someone beside you.

“Hi. You’re in my sexuality class, right?” A voice from your right becomes present, and you look up, seeing your incredibly attractive professor looking down at you with a smile. There was no way in getting out of this one.

“Yes. Mr. Styles, hi,” you say nervously, but trying your best to hide it with your smile.

“Thought I recognized ya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I’m actually working on your paper right now,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are ya? What are you writing it on?” You get a bit sidetracked, realizing that he’s still standing and all of your stuff sits on the opposite side of the table. You reach over to move it onto your lap.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you offer. Harry debates for a second, and sees that there’s no harm in sitting with your student, so he gladly takes the seat across from you. “But I’m writing it on the fine line between masculinity and femininity.”

“Ahh, yes. That’s one of my favorite topics that we discussed,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. Pretty important for this day in age.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he agrees.

For the next 20 minutes, you and Harry talk about some main points. Discussing and going over what ideas you had in mind as Harry listens while nodding his head. He notices how passionate you are with the topic of your paper, and he appreciates the passion. Students will lazily write this paper, and it really shows in their work that makes him a bit disappointed because he had thought that he made the class fun; adding a few jokes and having the student participate with the lecture.

But listening to you talk about all the ideas that you wrote down; so far from the earth as you keep talking as he listens intently to you. You’re a sweet person, he’s noticed. You don’t participate all that much in class, but he figured that’s because you’re just a tad bit shy. And he’s still amused at the fact that you thought he was a student, which flattered him. But in all honesty, he can pass as one, and it wasn’t the first time someone mistaken him for a student.

Just as you were finished talking, a hint of pink made your cheeks flushed as you realized you were talking quite a bit, and keeping him from doing whatever he was supposed to. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk a lot when I get into things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I’m glad you told me your ideas because I think they’re great.” He checks the time on his phone and sees that he should get going, and his coffee cup is empty already. “But I should get going. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything for the paper. I’ll see you in class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. Have a great rest of your day,” you bid him goodbye as he softly says ‘you too.’

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Although you had been comfortable talking to him, you have never actually had a close conversation with any of your professors, really. Especially not outside of campus. But you really did feel comfortable. You figured that it’s because Harry is in a way, younger than most professors—at least he looks young.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop was spent finishing up the second paragraph and your coffee before you head back to your apartment.

The paper was due in a week, and you felt confident about turning it in on time and doing a great job on it. But that did not stop you from going into Mr. Styles’ office during his office hours, and he did say not to hesitate to ask if you had any questions, so you were using that to your advantage to make your paper even better.

He was surprised to see you just after two days of seeing him at the coffee shop that happened the week prior; asking him how to rephrase some things and seeing where some ideas fit into the paragraphs that are already written. And Harry happily helped you. Although he thinks you don’t need help at all, seeing as you’re right on track on the topic.

But you had felt a sudden surge of confidence that has never hit you before. And you can tell yourself that you’re comfortable enough to ask him questions all you want, but in reality, you wanted to keep talking to him and most importantly, keep seeing him.

He had this sense of comfort to him that made you feel safe. You never felt the awkward tension that there is in when talking to other professors, and you were glad for it. Mr. Styles had made it a safe space for his students to talk to him. And aside from asking him about school related things, you two had gotten to know each other after the important questions were asked. The conversations were harmless, and you looked forward to them everytime.

A knock was heard on his office door and he told whoever was behind it to come in. You walked in with a smile, laptop and notebook held to your chest, walking in slowly as you closed the door behind you.

“Hi, Mr. Styles. Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. How can I help you?” Harry had—and was still trying—to keep it professional between you two. And although nothing had happened, he can’t help but stop the flutter of his heart when you would walk in his class or his office as you gave him a small that he adored. He also noticed how concentrated you are during class; making sure to take every single note and word that he says, making him smile at the thought.

“Uh, I was kind of stuck on something that I could definitely use your help with.” 

“Sure thing. That’s what I’m here for,” he gives you a smile, and you open your notebook, showing him the many marks and scribbles that you had planted out when brainstorming.

“So I came up with this idea because I thought it would be important to talk about the history of masculinity and femininity. I didn’t want to just talk about the modern times as of now. But maybe research how it affected people back in the day when they weren’t acting as their…assigned sexuality, as you could say.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about that and during the times of the first pride march. That would definitely be interesting. But I would say not to go too into it, it’s a pretty straightforward topic, and there’s just a lot that is covered during those times. Just so you don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he gives his opinion. You listen carefully and take in his words as if you’re making a mental list of things you should and shouldn’t write about.

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just wanted to ask you that,” you say as you close your notebook, but not getting up to leave yet.

“Okay, can I ask you something this time?”

“Uh, sure,” you respond nervously.

“I see that you’re pretty much on track of the paper, like you know what you’re talking about. And you seem really confident in what you want to say, which is good. And I’m all ears when it comes to students wanting feedback, but I just have to ask….” anxiety boils through your throat. “Is coming to see me practically 2 or 3 times a week have to do with your paper?” You take a deep inhale, but don’t let your breath loose. He read you extremely well, you have to say. And it was a bold move on Harry’s part to ask that because if you say the opposite, then he assumed pretty hard.

You finally let go of the breath you were holding in and answered, “no.”

“No. It doesn’t have to do with your paper?” You shake your head in confirmation. “Then what does it have to do with?” He asks, and you think he definitely already knows what’s going on, but needs you to say the words.

“I just…wanted to see you,” you say softly.

“And why is that?” At this point, he’s teasing you already. Probably wanting to make a fool out of yourself so he could go home and laugh about it to his girlfriend or boyfriend, which you assume he has. And the bold assumption that you had thought he felt that pull towards you was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the second time in front of him.

But the remains of the confidence were still pooling in your head, and you figured you had nothing to lose.

“I wanted to see you because… I can’t deny this attraction I feel towards you. And it’s not based solely on your looks either because no can hide the fact that you’re insanely attractive, but I’ve gotten to know you for who you are this past week and we had some good talks, which was nice because no one has ever gotten to know me well enough for me to fall for them within a week.”

You finish your confession with a straight face, but there was still a hint of hope that he would tell you he felt the same way.

“And on the topic of no one getting to know me, and this is a sexuality class and you’ve recently started talking about sex; I’ve never truly had the chance to explore with partners sexually and explore my sexuality more in depth than just someone sticking their dick inside me, and calling it good sex. So, you talking to me and getting to know me means a lot because no one wants to waste their time on what I like and what I’m into.”

You had said a mouthful, and it can be heard as inappropriate to say that to your professor, but again, why would a sexuality teacher judge you based on your past sex life?

A minute had passed that immediately felt like an hour. The only thing that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock, and that made the tension even more unbearable.

You get up from out of the chair, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the help, Mr Styles.” 

Before you reach for the door, he finally decides to speak, “Wait.” You turn around slowly and watch him get up from his chair, and walk towards you. His eyes are dark, and they don’t leave yours as he reaches you.

The proximity is close enough that you could lean forward and be pressed up against his chest, but you’re afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you do that.

“You’ve fallen for me?” Is the thing that he could respond with after all that you’ve said.

“Yes. I’ve developed a crush on you, well, more than a crush because I do like you,” you say as you look up at him. He looks down at you intently, lips rolled into his mouth. He smells amazing from how close you are, that it’s like a potion that keeps luring you in, wanting more.

“Do ya?”

“I think I make myself pretty clear on that,” you respond with a bit of sass.

“Don’t give me attitude,” his tone changed to dominant, and a pool in your panties made itself present.

“What are you gonna do about it, Mr Styles?” You test, and move closer to him, lips almost touching. You can possibly reach up and your lips will be in sync. A smirk comes to play on his face as if you’ve made the wrong move, but you’re so ready for what’s to come.

And for a split second, it looked like he was leaning in a tad bit to go in for a kiss, but retracts back. “I’ll see you in my next class.” With that, he pulls back and walks back to his chair.

You’re left stunned, mouth slightly open, surprised he didn’t make a move. He didn’t even tell you if he felt the same way, and if it were any other day, you would’ve felt extremely sad, but there was so much tension in the room you needed to go home and take care of yourself.

And that’s what you did.

Once you got back home, you ran a bath for yourself and sat in it as you ran over your skin, leading to where you ached the most. Many thoughts of Mr. Styles doing this to you as he sat behind you in the bath, knowing that you would make a mess on his long fingers and pretty hands. And that definitely helped you reach our orgasm as you moan out his name, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly odd about it.

You finally turned in your paper on the last day it was due, and you were extremely happy with it. You added the history of not acting like your original self, taking Mr. Styles’ advice and not going too in depth with it. This has marked as a halfway point to graduating with your bachelors, and you were ecstatic.

It had also been a week since the tension filled scene that had happened in your professor’s office, and you haven’t been back since. Seeming as you didn’t need to since there were no needed assignments, but you had thought you would visit him in his office everyday after what you had confessed.

It didn’t get easier sitting in his class as he stood up in front of everyone looking so hot as he wore a crisp blue button down with a polka dot tie, and a pink blazer over it. He knew your secret. He knew that you had the hots for him. And he knew that he didn’t say anything to reciprocate those feelings. And you tried very hard not to let it get to you.

The lecture had ted to your paper topic: masculinity and femininity. But this time, it was open for class discussion. You weren’t big on talking in class; just preferred listening to everyone’s opinions and making your own in your head, but the ignorance that someone had made you argue with him.

“I personally feel like men should stay on the masculinity side, and women on the femininity side.” You had turned around to see the guy who had said that. He was wearing a football jersey of the university, laughing with his two friends.

“And why do you think that?” Mr Styles follows up.

“It’s simple. You shouldn’t act as if you’re someone you’re not-”

“That makes a good point in your argument though,” you interrupt, turning in your seat to look at the jock at the top. “You shouldn’t act like someone you’re not, so why would you act like someone you don’t want to be?” The guy had shut up, making you smirk. “I just think that being masculine and feminine as your biological gender is a social construct. It just takes away the substance of that person when people look down on them for being true to themselves. So, why does masculinity only apply to men, and femininity only apply to women?”

Harry smirks at your discussion. It had surprised him that you spoke up in his class, but it didn’t surprise him when you spoke up about this topic. You had definitely shut down his other student, and he was proud of you for that.

The class was dismissed and as you were making your way towards the door, someone stopped you.

“Hey, really great argument back there.” It was the ignorant jock.

“Thanks.” You walked out of the class to get out of everyone’s way, stopping at the wall across from the class.

“I didn’t mean to sound so douchey back there, but what you said really got me thinking, and I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m glad. You learn something new everyday…”

Harry was watching you the entire time you left your seat to when his student stopped you to have a chat. He had thought you were going to shut him down for being ignorant, but he saw you smile and laugh a little, making him breath deeply as he glared at you, brows furrowed, and coffee cup in his hand. Harry then sees him take out his phone, obvious that he’s asking for his number and he sees you blush as you talk.

Harry tries to control his breathing, and in another world, steam would be coming out of his ears. He walks towards the door, thinking that he was going to call you into his class, but decides against it and shuts the door.

It was already nearing the end of the semester, and you have yet to talk to him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you had slightly gotten over his unreciprocated feelings, you would have probably dropped out of the class and waited another semester to finish. But you couldn’t let him do that to you; you were way too close to the finish line.

Mr. Styles was in his final topic of speaking about the fun part of sex, and how it could be pleasurable. He talked about the anatomy of it at first, moving onto the techniques. And the techniques he used on how to pleasure a woman and man had you hot in your seat. He demonstrated using his finger, showing the class the way to finger someone, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs. And you were sure everyone was doing so as well.

The simple demonstration of his fingers making a curling motion as if he’s fingering someone made you clench. You had been right about his fingers bringing you to pleasure, and all you wanted to do was rush home and imagine it again since you have a full visual.

“Okay, class. I have an extra credit opportunity for you.” The class perks up at that. You had a low A in the class, and although you were confident about the final, you didn’t want to risk it, so you listened.

“Since this is a sexuality class, I hoped I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable on what I just did,” the class laughed a bit, and you smiled. “For this extra credit, I want you to go to a sex store and buy a toy that can be pretty much anything. Come back and show me, and I will mark you down for points. I don’t require a paper on this, so it is fairly easy, but this is to show that you should be comfortable in your sexuality, and walking into a sex store should be easy for you because there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever because everyone has needs and if someone judges you, then they’re not getting laid.” The class laughs again. “You can return it if you want after I mark you down or you can keep it. A win win for everyone! Okay, class dismissed.”

You walked out of class with a smile on your face as Mr Styles lightened up everyone’s mood as everyone was stressing for finals. You were glad for it; the weight on your shoulders were still heavy, but a good laugh was needed.

You had two weeks to buy and show him the extra credit, and two weeks until you graduated. The days were counting down at this point, and before you knew it, it was the final week.

You had passed both of your finals with flying colors, and you had the rest of the week to finally relax as you were graduating at the end of the week. The apartment was a mess, and you finally had time to tidy it up a bit; fix the mess of papers on your kitchen table and put your laundry away. You also used that time to finally go out and get your extra credit.

It would be a lie if you had told yourself that you were too lazy to go out and actually buy your extra credit assignment, but that was far from the truth. If you had energy to get up and clean around your home, then you could have easily gotten up and buy a sex toy.

But it was the anxious feeling that you had that you were going to see him so up close, and actually get to talk to him again that stopped you.

The crush on your professor hadn’t died done any less, but it hadn’t increased either. You were stuck in a plateau of not getting over him and not falling for him more. You figured it’s because you see him every week, so you were hoping by this time, you were on your way to getting over him.

You made your way into the sex shop with nerves as you haven’t been into one before, and it was a very relaxed set up. Various of sex toys used for both genders were set against the wall, and a red curtain that led to something in the back that, you assumed, was the more extreme items.

You scanned the toys, figuring that it would be easy to just get a vibrator. Your hands shook as you went to grab the boxed toy, and you remembered Mr Styles’ words; there’s no reason to be ashamed in buying any of these, and that relaxed you.

The employee who rang you up was the sweetest. She greeted you with a bubbly smile, and told you that you had made a great choice because she has the same one. You didn’t tell her that it was for a school thing, because that would sound really weird, and you didn’t tell her that you were planning on returning it later on.

You drove to campus, hoping that Mr Styles was in his office. The drive was a 30 minute drive as you lived a bit far from the school, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Harry heard a knock on his office door, telling them to enter. His eyes perked up as you made yourself present as you opened the door. His heart was beating in his chest as he saw you; remembering the last time you were in his office and missing the presence of you being close again.

“Hi. How are you?” He pointed to the chair, and you sat down. Your heart was pounding as well, feeling nervous about being in his office again.

“I’m doing good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. What can I do for you?” He asks politely. You reach into your bag and grab the box to show him your extra credit assignment. “Ahh,” he lets out as he sees the box. “Perfect. Let me mark you down for that.”

“Thank you,” you say as you put the toy back inside your bag. “Can I ask how I did on the final? If you’ve already finished grading it.”

“Yes. You did really well, actually,” he says as he shuffles through his papers, looking for the grade book. “Ah, here. You got a 95.” That made you smile. You were quite confident for the final, but hearing that you did well brightened up your day. “And that boosted up your grade to a 94, plus the extra credit, that will go up to a 97.”

Your eyes widened; you had passed both classes with an A, and you were extremely excited about that; and it takes everything in you to not jump up and scream. “Wow, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You deserve it. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at you, and your heart swoons, telling him a thank you. “You graduate at the end of the week right?” You nod. “Excited?”

“Very. I really only needed to take this class, but I was putting it off because my friend took this course and said it was pretty sexual, and that made me a bit uncomfortable if I’m being honest. But I really enjoyed this class…you made it bearable.” Harry blushes, thinking how happy he is that you took the class with him.

“Well, I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he says .

There was silence that washed over you two with the slightest bit of tension; debating if either one should bring up what happened the last time you were in his office. You were feeling so many things at the moment, and he was too, but you were sure it was inappropriate to talk about it when technically, nothing even happened.

“I should get going,” you say instead.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you…uh, around,” he says hesitantly. You tell him goodbye and walk out of his office, probably the last time you would ever see him.

You had finally graduated, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud for yourself. A relieved feeling ran through you when you had put on your cap and gown, and the thought made you tear up. You were done, for now, before you had to go to grad school and get your masters degree. But either way, you were ecstatic.

Now a week has gone by since graduation, and you decided to do some errands. You also needed to make your way to the sex shop and return your item.

As you entered the door you had walked through once before, your eyes immediately spotted the familiar man who had made your heart flutter by the simple act of eye contact. And if it was by instincts, Harry turns his head towards the door and sees you standing at the entrance. He hadn’t seen you since the time in his office and he saw you walk for graduation, if that counts.

There was no way of avoiding him, so you walked over to him. “Hi, Mr Styles.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore. You graduated already,” he smirks, and you chuckle.

“Then what should I call you?”

Yours. “Harry.”

You tilt your head to the side, seeing how fitting his name is on him. “Okay, Harry. What are you doing here anyways?” The question had slipped out of your mouth, but you think that there’s nothing awkward with it.

“Oh, uh, just looking for a cock ring,” he says honestly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually returning my extra credit purchase,” you chuckle.

“Are ya? Why don't you keep it?”

“I don’t know…I actually never used a toy before, and I got a bit intimidated by it.” Harry nods understandingly.

“See, a win win for everyone. You either get your money back or you get a nice orgasm out of it,” he laughs, and you agree with him.“I think you should keep it. This is the time you get to explore your sexuality.” You debate a bit. He was right, and you did have some spare time as of now, so you decided to keep it; see what this thing can really do.

“If you’d like…would you like to get some lunch with me?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes brighten. “Of course.”

It was like you were waiting for this moment to come. You had waited for him to ask you out and properly get to know each other outside of school. Harry had taken you to a small shop that sold burgers and fries, and you two sat in the patio of the shop; talking, eating, and laughing at stories you told each other.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, nervously. “When I told you I liked you in your office that one time, why didn’t you say anything back?”

“To be honest, I was nervous. You’re 22 and I’m six years older than you, and although that didn’t matter much to me, you were on the edge of graduating. I couldn’t risk that, even with how much I like you. The thought of getting caught and losing your chance to graduate, and possibly your acceptance for your masters, would just be selfish on my part because I couldn’t keep it in my pants… So I waited until you graduated; didn’t even know if I was going to see you again if I’m honest.”

You understood well on why he didn’t do anything to reciprocate his feelings, and you were grateful he didn’t until now.

By the end of it, you didn’t want the day to end so you invited him to your apartment.

You two sat on your couch, which thankfully you cleaned the place before, and talked some more and put on a movie. You two were inching closer to one another until you both were cuddling. You had rested your legs on his as he runs his fingers over your ankles, scratching your skin lightly.

You were breathing heavily, wanting to just make more than just innocent touches. As if Harry read your mind, he turned his head to look at you; a striking look in his eyes as you both look at each other. The air was heavy, sexual tension coming in hot.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. The softness of your lips meeting his is enough to drive him crazy. The pull you have on his hair makes him let out a moan into your mouth as you whimper into his. Chests are pulled close together, but not close enough as the hold on each other is tight; afraid one might let go.

Harry found himself in your bedroom, and it seemed like he blanked out during that time. Your kisses probably just pulled him into another world, where he debated if this was real life or if he was dreaming it. It was all real, but it was lovely to dream about.

You sat on the bed as you continued to kiss while Harry was standing above you; him leaning down and you reaching up. You were close to his hard on, and it took everything in him not to drop his pants and have you taste him, but it wasn’t going to be about him.

This is going to be about you.

You’d managed to get both of your shirts off, wanting yourself bare and to see his chest. You were surprised with the amount of tattoos that littered his skin. It was beautiful and raw, and him. You went to press a kiss to the butterfly on his stomach; the only one you can reach, and trailing down to the vines on his hips. Harry throws his head back, loving the feeling of your lips on his. You reach for his pants and before you can fully unbutton, he stops you.

“No, no. Tonight’s about you, baby,” he says as his face is close to yours and he kisses the tip of your nose. You nod slightly, feeling yourself blush; and he pushes your shoulder back so you’re fully laying down on your bed. “You want this, right?” Your head nods quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. “Need words, love.”

“Yes. I want this so bad.” The words come out quickly, eagerly. Harry smirks at your response, and kisses down your stomach towards the hem of your pants.

He fully removes your bottoms, only leaving your panties, and Harry thinks that you’re just a sight. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he says smiling. His words made you blush, shying away from him by turning your head. “Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now, my love. It’s just me. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

“Of course,” you respond, remembering that he prefers words rather than gestures.

“I’m glad.”

He continues kissing along the hem of your panties, teasing you slightly by dragging his tongue along your skin. The feeling makes you whimper and buck your hips slightly; wanting more than his kisses.

The fast motion of your panties swiftly being removed catches you off guard as you look down and see Harry looking at your bare pussy with hungry eyes. “Look at you. Fuck.” It takes everything in him to not devour you right then and there, but he wanted this moment to last and for you to enjoy yourself. He has been waiting for this moment the first time you walked into his office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you.

“Harry…” you whimper.

“Yes?”

“Please just lick me already.”

Harry kneels on the floor, kissing your inner thighs before taking one long lick up your pussy. The feeling of his tongue makes you moan out loud from the built up tension that you’ve been filled up with since the beginning of the semester.

“Fuck, so good,” he says, going in for another lick, but doesn’t stop this time. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it as well as giving it kitten licks. Your hands fall to his hair as you tug, and your face falls to the side as you try and drown your moans against the mattress.

You continue moaning, but they’re muffled and Harry looks up at you. “No, none of that. Don’t hide away your moans. Wanna hear ya, baby. Let me know I’m licking you up just right--just how you like it,” he says and gets back to eating you out. You give him an ‘okay’ before wailing out in pleasure.

The thought had surprised you as you’ve never been with anyone who made sure you were feeling good and alright. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry’s fingers enter you, pumping and curling and finding your g spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Who got you this wet?” He teases.

“You.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You, Mr Styles.” Although you have been calling that more than you called him Harry, his name coming out of your mouth as you’re a moaning mess makes his cock even harder. He stares at you above him with dark eyes and nibbles on the skin of your inner thighs.

“You say you wanna explore? That no one has ever taken the time to make you feel good? Is that right, baby?” He says as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Mhm. No one has ever fucked me good enough for me to stay,” you say in an innocent and teasing tone, knowing that Harry will be the exact person that will do that for you.

“How about we have a little fun? With a certain vibrator of yours that you decided not to return? Do ya want that?”

“God, yes please.” Harry kisses your stomach, up to your chest, and then your lips before his fingers slip out and he walks over to unbox the new vibrator. It was a vibrator that you were able to put inside you as it stimulated your clit, and Harry has been dying to use one on you the second you showed it to him for extra credit. You heard the toy turn on as Harry played with the settings.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Harry sets the vibrations to the lowest setting as he starts to tease your clit with it; slowly circling around it as you moan out from the new sensation. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”

“Please. Give me more,” you say as you palm him over his underwear, but he pushes you away. “Baby, you’re hard. Let me touch you, please,” you plead.

“This is all about you, so be a good girl and just enjoy this,” he says and you close your eyes, waiting for what’s to come. Harry sets the setting a bit higher. The setting is on a medium level, more stimulations to your clit as Harry moves the toy around. “Holy shit, that feels so good,” you throw your head back onto the bed.

“Yeah? Good thing I told you to keep it. You can use this when I’m not here to fuck you, unless I tell you not to touch yourself and have you wait until I stuff myself in your tight pussy.” The dirty talk is driving you wild along with the vibrator. “Gonna put it higher,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Oh my...fuck!” The setting is at its highest along with the part of the toy that is inside you; Harry moving the toy around a bit so it can thrust inside of you. You’re completely thrashing around on the sheets, and Harry has to physically spread your legs apart as you keep trying to close them.

Harry lays beside you, kissing your chest and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hand naturally finds his hair and pulls on it as you bring his face to yours, and he gives you a solid kiss. You hold him against you as there were no movements of your lips with his; just the touch of your lips together as you try to control your moans.

As you two part, you scream out, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“C’mon, let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” Harry encourages you.

After a few more thrusts and vibrations to your clit, your orgasm washes over you and hits you hard. Your back arched, and you turned, still feeling the stimulation from the toy.

“There ya go. That’s it,” Harry says as he slowly pulls the toy out and replacing it with his hand, gently cupping over you and feeling your wetness as you come down from your high. Your moans have been controlled, and you started whimpering from how powerful your peak was. “You’re okay. Shh. You’re okay, baby.”

You buried your face into Harry’s neck, and he scratches your back, calming you down. After a moment, you lift your head up and lazily smile at Harry, causing him to giggle a bit and kiss you. The kiss didn’t last long nor was it deepened; it was a sweet and loving kiss, and a thank you to him.

“Was that okay?” He asks.

“That was fucking amazing. Never came like that before,” you tell him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he kisses your lips briefly as he couldn’t get enough of them.

“So…” you trail off.

“So…” he repeats.

“Do I get my extra credit?” You ask in a playful manner, and he laughs loud making your heart flutter over the beautiful sound of his laugh.

“Oh, baby. You get more than extra credit.”

feedback here <3

MASTERLIST

[oppabimbab]

hottest apology | kim taehyung

genre: smut, slight fluff

starring: taehyung x reader

synopsis: you made him mad so you gave him the hottest apology ever.

words: 2,730 words

tags: jealousy, submissive reader, insecurity, daddy!kinks, handjob, bl*w!job, boob!fuck, fingering, slight dom taehyung, cl*t tease,

side notes: it’s been 3 months since i wrote, holy shit sorry if it’s bad, i have lost my writing skills lol and also its taehyung ff again bc im always obsessed with him bye.

**

It’s been 5 days since Taehyung have talked to you. Exactly 5 days since both of you got into a pretty serious and heated argument. 5 days is quite long for someone like him to be this mad. Well, your boyfriend has been that gentle, calm and observant person that he always be the one who breaks the silence first but it’s different now.

You’re not sure if the thing really triggered him this much to the point it’s making him to do something he never did before—leaving the house. All because of one thing he seems to hate the most.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. Stop being a kid. He just wanted my help, that’s all?” you frowned at him while holding the tone in your voice. You knew he hate it when you sound annoyed and pissed when talking to him.

Taehyung’s jaw was clenched even more at your words as he leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He probably has been waiting you to come home since forever.

“Really? I didn’t know keeping him company at the coffee shop is one of the ways of ‘helping’ him. What did you guys do?” His deep eyes were piercing into yours and swear to God, it gave butterflies to your system. Let alone his croaky voice that filled the room—making your heart raced for no reason. That was hot. Fuck yeah, not a good time to be horny.

You adjusted your position at the bedroom door—exchanging eye contacts with your boyfriend who seemed to be really mad but it didn’t come to your mind that he is actually being serious. Probably he was just moody that you came back late. You tried to convince yourself.

“He was alone and stressed so I kept him company for a while. Nothing much, baby. He is nothing to me. We did nothing.Seriously,” you spoke, defensively even deep inside, you were tired to death. All you wanted was to sleep and For God’s sake, your quick coffee sessions with Seonghwa was random. He just happened to be in the same shop with you. Why did Taehyung think you want to let him get into your panties? Exaggerating.

“Did you even tell me before you met him?”

“No? Because it’s unplanned?”

Just as you thought Taehyung would let this topic go, he looked even madder. His gaze was flamed in fire, his body was tensed and stiffed just like the prominent veins along his neck. He has this habit where he would roll up the shirt sleeves and ruffle his hair when he is mad. Silence filled the room as both of you didn’t say anything.

“I thought I said I hate him. I hate to see you with him. I just don’t want to see you with him. isn’t that clear to you?,” his voice was too low and it made him sound very dominant. Fuck, something was twirling in your stomach.

You jaw was dropped.

“Taehyung! He’s just fr-“

“Who cares? You’re mine. Fucking mine and I don’t like sharing. I never fucking do. I thought you knew that huh?” he stared at you with his flaming eyes and raised eyebrows while chewing his mouth. If stare could stab people, you could die by now. Your mouth felt dry as you’ve lost words to say. Taehyung has never been this mad before.

You supressed a small chuckle to ease the tension.

“Taehyung, are you jealous?”

But what a wrong move. He left the house.

Now, he is giving you the coldest treatment ever. He don’t kiss you, call you pet names, make love to you like he always did or even look at you more than 10 seconds. You thought he would only act up like this for few days but now, it almost been a week. And as ego as you’re, you don’t even start to make up even deep inside, you pretty much understand why he did this.

Taehyung has always been such a protective boyfriend. He made it clear he dislikes Seonghwa and you already promised him to stay away from the guy. You broke the promise and now you need to face the consequences. Swear to God, these 5 days were killing you inside. You missed him so much.

His kiss, his touch, his morning voice, his jokes but why can’t you face him and say sorry? Is it because it’s always him to fix the relationship first? Is it because it’s always him to come to you and say sorry first?

You don’t realise that until one night. One bloody night when you realised that he is only yours and you hate sharing. Your whole body is filled with jealousy and greed when you are left alone at your table in his stupid company dinner as Taehyung is surrounded by so many people, who probably have been waiting for him.

You know he is popular for his kind personality and looks since he composes music for these popular people but you don’t know he is this popular. A sudden jealousy and insecurity hit you like a truck when you finally realised that you’ve taken him for granted after all these while. He chose you over these people yet you did the thing he hated the most.

He will make sure you know how much he loves you—being that home you always go back to when things got hard, let alone showering you with the honesty and security you deserve in this relationship. Few seconds in, you just figured it out—he never did something that hurts you to the point you wanted to leave the house. But you did that to him. You broke this good guy’s heart.

From afar, he’s definitely look good with someone else other than you and it’s giving you an unfamiliar pain in the chest. This fight is longest and the hardest fight you ever had with him and it hurts you even more when his eyes catch yours in the middle of crowded party

but, he looked away.

**

The house feels dead. It feels gloomy and sad when both of you just got home from the party and he didn’t even want to say anything as he goes to the bedroom. Not even a glance. Fucking hell, it drives you crazy.

By the time you got in the room, he just come out from the toilet—freshly bathed. The sweet scent from the shampoo and soaps fills your sense with his naked body in the sight. There is nothing coming out from your mouth as you notice him looking away from your gaze. He feels distant and cold.

“Baby,” after a while, you speak out.

No answer.

“I’m sorry,”

Taehyung looks unbothered when he keeps drying his wet hair with the small towel with his back facing you. Your heart hurts a lot.

“I’m so sorry, I miss you. Talk to me,” tears start to pool in your eyes when you can’t hold the pain of being ignored by a man whom you loved the most. Did he stop loving you? Did he find someone else?

Few steps are taken before you slowly wrap your arms around his torso from behind—hugging him tight as you bury your face on his back. He is very tall and well-built that he makes you feel safe and sound.

Taehyung doesn’t move or push you away—rather than hugging you back, he just let you do whatever you want to do. Good thing because you know what you want to do.

Slowly, you pull away from him and come to face him. You don’t have the courage to look at him in the eyes, making you to come closer to him before kissing his bare chest. Kissing him gives you such serotonin that nothing can explain. It makes you happy and high to the point you want to have all of him for yourself only. Every inches of him.

His gaze—you can feel it. He is looking down at you but the courage to look at him has gone when you know how greedy you are when it comes to him. But you did him wrong. How do you fix this?

The tension fills the room before you finally make some move by tracing your fingers on his torso—admiring his lines with this familiar knot in your stomach. His wet and naked body sting your lower abdomen—making your panty sticky wet. Fuck, you want him. In you. Now.

“Hm?” a husky hum leaves his mouth right after you push him on the bed. He is clearly confused at your sudden gesture but for some reason, he is anticipating it—which brings you another butterflies. He stares at you while biting his lower lip with a small smile appears in the corner of his lips. This guy is fucking hot.

Ignoring him, you get to your knees in front him as he sits on the edge of the bed—with your face only few inches away from his crotch before you bring your hand on the fold of the towel that has been covering his lower body.

“What are you doing?” he says with a small playful smile across the lips, sounded confused as ever. You look at him with a needy eyes.

“Apologize,” you mumble before looking back down to his crotch. This time, it wasn’t covered anymore. It’s huge, hard, raw and delicious—you can’t help but leaning closer as you take him fully into your mouth. A soft whimper leaves his mouth at the sudden warmth.

With your might, you take his length into your mouth until it completely disappear from the sight while your small hand rubbing around his cock. Your head is bobbing up and down—licking and circling every veins around the cock to the head to taste the salty pre-cum that leaves his tip. You moan-- clenching your pussy at the feels. He’s tasted so good, making you moan. A very needy one. You spread his legs before you place one of your hands on his firm thigh to give it a soft rub. He moans even louder. What a sound.

The knot and dripping juice from your pussy keeps making you crazy to the point you wanna beg at him to fuck you right now. You don’t care anymore. It’s been 5 days.

“Mmmm, ahh,” the erotic moan fills the room along with the wet slurping sound coming from your mouth. Taking a quick glance at him with your half-closed eyes, you find him staring down at you with a clenched jaw. His eyes has darkened in desire and lust, body got tensed up and raspy grunts keep escaping his mouth. The eye contacts—oh God, this is sexy. He is feeling good. It drives you crazy.

You suck him even harder—going up and down even faster as his cock twitches every time you lick it. He lifts his hip to thrust even deeper to your throat, making you gurgle around his cock head. You can feel he’s coming as it hardened in your mouth but before he could cum on your face, you immediately stop—making him groan in frustrations. A small smile escape your lips as you let the wet saliva drips to your neck. What a messy blow job but for some reason, this is making your pussy stings in cum.

Without taking your time, you take off your short dress—unclasp the bra around your breasts before you place his cock between them. The next thing, you find yourself rubbing your boobs around his length as he grabs your hair to make you go faster.

Taehyung grunts even louder, moaning to the air at the pleasure. He closes his eyes while groaning like a tiger.

“Ah! Mmm, Your cock feels nice, baby,” you moan as you quicken the pace.

“Oh Fucckk, yeah, yeah like that,” he moans as he boob-fucking you. His breath has hitched and trembling before you could feel how hardened he has become.

“Baby...Ahh! I’m....,” you moan.

“I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I miss you,” you say while moaning loud,looking up to his eyes as you pump harder around his huge cock while licking the tip—begging like a needy puppy. Both you and him are humping on each other—probably he is as desperate as you are. Eyes to eyes. Yes, you’re desperate for him. Only him.

“Baby, cum on my face, let me taste you,” you beg before sticking your tongue out—waiting for him to pump his seed all over your face. You know he loves this shit. It’s his favourite kink.

Taehyung grunts, standing up on his feet, pumping his cock for few more times before the white cum plasters all over your face as it keeps coming from the tip. In just few seconds, you swallow the bitter-salty cum greedily, licking every part of them while staring at Taehyung, who is breathing heavily on the bed. He stares at you for few second before running a hand in his messy hair while chuckling playfully.

“Come here,” without letting you calm down, he pulls you closer to him before pinning you down to the bed as he crawls on top of your naked body.

“That was the hottest apology I’ve ever got,” he chuckles while breathing hard as he traces his finger on your torso to your lower abdomen. Soft whimpers leaves your mouth, it makes him chuckle even more.

“Is it accepted yet?” you ask in breathy voice. He frowns while biting down his lower lips.

“I don’t think so. I need more,” he says, holding a smile.

You look at him. He is fucking handsome with those deep eyes, boyish smile. God, you wish he fucks you everyday. He’s look delicious. Especially those lips.

Can’t wait any longer, you take his face in your hands, you pull him for the deepest kiss, sucking his mouth, begging for his touch. He grunts in the kiss—sucking your tongue, biting your lip almost to stain it with blood.

“Fuck me. Fuck me now, Taehyung,” you whimper in the horniest way ever. Whatever he does, he needs to fuck you now.

“I’m still mad at you,” he grunts before he starts rubbing your clit. You yelp in pleasure.

“I don’t care. Fuck me, daddy,”

Taehyung smiles, satisfied. Probably happy that you become this submissive only for him.

“Sure, let’s remind you how good my fingers are inside your damn pussy” he says as he put 2 fingers inside you without warning—making your body jerks in surprise. He starts thrusting his long and thick fingers inside you, twirling and pinching every part of your pussy—making your body bounce every time he fuck your pussy.

A gush of air leaves your lungs as you scream out loud, while you fist in his damp fluffy hair, pulling his face closer to you. Taehyung keeps fingering fuck you while staring down to see how messed up he has made you become. He chuckles and quicken the pace every time you moan his name—telling him to never stop.

“Why? You like it huh?” he hums, rubbing your clit with his thumb while thrusting another 2 finger inside. You see nothing but stars. Moan and moan.

Arched back, rolled eyes, curled toes.

“Ah~~~~Mmm,mmm,” you bite the lower lip to hold the sound. You’re very sure the neighbour know you’re getting fucked tonight.

“I’m coming. Mmm baby, i’m—Ah!”

“Too soon,” Taehyung replies before quicken the pace. The splashing and wet sound from the pussy juice makes his cock hardened as it rubs your inner thigh when he moves. You cry—holding around his arms for support as you’re reaching your climax.

The next second,you cum around his fingers. Your whole body flinches in pleasure, hitched breath fills the space as he pulls his wet fingers out of your pussy and with your own eyes, you saw him licking the juice while staring down at you.

He licks every parts of the fingers without looking away from your exhausted eyes. Your jaw almost dropped when he smiles at you. Holy shit, that is fucking hot. This guy is sickly hot. You don’t understand.

He didn’t stop there.

“Bear yourself, baby. I’m going to fuck you really hard that you know how I fucking despise sharing what’s mine,” Taehyung says as he positions his cock on your entrance while spreading your legs around his waist. Wide, just for him.

What a long night but you’re not complaining. Not at all.

**

Let me know your feedbacks! XOXO

[bokutoslittlebird]

Office Sex with Todoroki Enji

Boss!Enji x Secretary!Reader

Warnings: dub/noncon, blackmail, threats, Enji’s a creep, creampie, size kink, age difference, mindbreak

Summary: Being Endeavor’s secretary was a dream come true - you often found yourself dreaming about the hero when you were in high school. When Endeavor seems to be setting off red flags, you decide the job of your dreams isn’t what you expected. Too bad your boss has decided you’ll never be able to leave him - even if he has to break you.

When you signed up to work at Endeavor's agency, you didn't expect to be accepted. Your resume wasn't anything special, just some basic past experience as a secretary, so you figured your file would be burned to ashes. Getting the job was no longer just a dream to you. You've always looked up to Endeavor, seeing him as someone who really tried and struggled to become the number one hero. Your eyes had always been drawn to the scowl on the older man, never to the smile on All Might's face. Even thinking about Endeavor's eyes looking at you made your stomach fill with butterflies.

After emailing Endeavor's current secretary about the position, you closed your laptop and decided to get ready for bed, wanting to have a good first impression tomorrow morning.

You were switching your weight on your feet, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves. The button down shirt was simple and hopefully professional enough for Endeavor. There was a dress code for you as his secretary: black pencil skirt, white buttoned blouse, black heels, and pantyhose color of your choice. You chose the only pair you owned, a black pair. The makeup was minimal, practically non-existent. Your nerves made you feel sick, like any moment you would just have to bend over and hurl. It didn't help that Endeavor's blue eyes were burning into your form. For someone with a fire Quirk, he was quite a cold man.

"You seem to understand your job quite well," his voice finally broke the staring contest silence. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "Here's a stack of papers to go through. Cases I've been in, just organize them accordingly,"

"Yes, sir," you bowed, taking the papers. Apparently, he was in a lot of cases since the last secretary quit. She had to quit due to her husband getting a new job out of the prefecture. Instead of traveling for work, she put in a notice of termination and went looking for any available person with that credentials. As you walked to the door, you felt eyes on you and it just increased your nervousness, the idea of him watching you like a hawk making you feel like you'd make a mistake under his gaze.

Once the doors were shut, you felt better, the watchful gaze gone and the little room you would be at for most, if not all, of your time here. You smiled at the sidekicks who waved at you, welcoming you to the agency. Everyone was so friendly, you hoped Endeavor was just cold at first glance, but he'd warm up to you. Eventually.

The next few days were... interesting, to say the least. First, the day you started working, Endeavor called for you to ask your opinion on what he should get for his son's upcoming birthday. You were dumbfounded, but attempted to help him with the information given. The next day, Endeavor visited you at your office, leaning over your shoulder to make sure you were doing everything correctly. It was nerve-wracking to have such a big, imposing man leaning over your shoulder. The day after, you were scolded for your dress code. Apparently, the new dress code required you to wear stockings and to increase your two-inch heel size to four-inch. You were upset and confused at the new change, your feet much preferring the shorter heels and you had to buy garters to hold up the stockings.

The way Endeavor looked at you like a piece of meat made your skin crawl, the grin he gave you predatory. It made you scared to go into work - or at least interact with the hero. The sidekicks would glance at you, never saying much about your wardrobe change, but they noticed. Endeavor noticed them noticing. You felt like an attraction in a zoo at this point, everybody staring at you. The makeup also changed; now it was red lipstick, along with simple eyeshadow and noticeable eyeliner and mascara. You felt like you were going to a party every morning when you got ready for work.

Did it stop there? You hoped it would, but it didn't. Endeavor - he repeatedly told you to call him Enji - would stop by your office before and after a patrol, giving you papers if he stopped any crime. When he didn't have any papers, he would still stop by, bringing you a coffee he had ordered from that shop down the street you loved. When you asked about the coffee shop and how he knew your order, he said it was a lucky guess. You should've known something was off then, but you brushed it aside, smiling and thanking him, bowing respectfully. His gaze was trained on you the entire time.

Endeavor would also give you strange tasks. At first, you happily did them. Now, you still did them, but you wondered why. Why did he throw his pen across his room? Why did you have to go into his office to pick it up? Handing it to him and feeling his fingers gently brush against yours gave you goosebumps the first time, you going home and squealing about it like you were back in high school. When he did it now, you felt like you needed to wash your hands. Your admiration for the hero died when you felt like he was a predator. That's when you came to a decision.

"Termination?" His ice cold gaze fell on you. You hoped he couldn't tell your knees were ready to buckle due to nerves. Nodding, you explained.

"I have recently gotten scouted for a new job" a lie, "closer to my apartment complex" another lie, "so I figured I'd put in my notice of leave. It was great working with you" again, a lie, "and I hope you are able to find another secretary," bowing again, your eyes widened when you saw the angry scowl on Endeavor's face.

"I refuse," he spat, standing from his chair. You tried to talk, but he made you freeze all over, the icy gaze fully trained on you. "You think you can come into here and decide to leave me? I have half a mind to burn your skin,"

"Excuse me?!" a squeak came out, your blood running cold at his harsh words.

"You little tease," he sneered, closer to you now. Your body finally got the hint to move, your vision turning to the door, only to find the mahogany desk of Endeavor to fill it. You hissed in pain as the impact of the hard wood and your cheek connected. "Playing around with me only to bail?"

"Endeavor, sir!" you pleaded, struggling in his grip. The heat from his body was intense, the sunset dimming the room and you knew the only source of light was from the desk lamp beside you and the flaming man above you. One large hand held your wrists behind your back, while the other one settled on your hips, sending you into a panic.

"I told you to call me Enji, little one," is all he said, not answering any of the questions you had. You felt yourself freeze at the thought of what was to come - hoping some deity would pity you. "You aren't leaving me,"

"You can't do that! I have every right-!"

"You'll never find another place to work. Ever again."

"Wh-What?" tears slipped out of your eyes, pooling against the desk. "You can't-"

"A cheap whore who quits after her boss won't sleep with her, how about that?" You can practically feel the grin on his face. "You'll never find work again. Not anywhere in Japan if I have anything to say about it, that is,"

"You're fucking sick!" You started thrashing, trying to loosen his grip somehow. Whether your future careers were ruined or not, you didn't accept any of this. "Get off!"

"Look at you, dressing so prettily for me. You think my sidekicks haven't noticed? They'd believe me wholeheartedly. You're nothing," he sneered, making you stop. He was right, of course, the sidekicks noticed your change from when you started working. They wouldn't believe any words you said if their trusted and respected boss - a hero - said otherwise. Your previous life would crash and shatter within the night without any say. The only thing you could now was accept the turn of events. "It's okay, I'll make you my special whore and nobody will be hurt. I've seen the way you look at me. Clenching your thighs together, the downward glances when you talk to me, your cute habit of twiddling your fingers. You've been dying for me to eat you up, haven't you?"

"N-No.." your tiny voice spoke, all the fight gone from it. At first, you weren't too sure it was yours. You're not even sure Endeav- Enji heard it. You felt disgusted, especially when you felt the hand on your hip move, the warm hand moving to your thighs and sliding underneath the skirt. You grit your teeth, cringing when you felt a finger rub against the panties you had on. The feeling of his rubbing you through the thin fabric made your stomach tighten - not in the way you expected. A gasp left you when he brushed against your clit, practically ghosting over the little nub.

"You say no, yet you react so sweetly to me. You really are just a stupid slut, aren't you? I said stockings were part of the dress code, not these garters," he pulled the garter and let it snap back against your skin, earning another gasp. You closed your eyes, hoping whatever would happen would happen so you could go home and get away from this nightmare. One second, your arms were behind you being bound by a large hand, then it felt like a piece of cloth had replaced it. After attempting to move your arms, you felt the fabric digging into your skin.

Instead of talking, Enji decided to continue with his exploration of your body. The finger rubbing you through your panties left, his hand pulling up your skirt over your rump, fully on display for his eyes. You fought the urge to vomit when he made a noise, a mix between a groan and a sigh, at the sight. Once again, a hand came up to your panties, rubbing your folds through the fabric while the other one palmed your cheek. A sudden ripping sound filled your ears, startling you and making you gasp as you felt your cunt suddenly exposed. Out of your periphery, you saw the white of your panties, a piece of them at least, falling out of sight onto the floor.

"I've been waiting for this. You bent over with your cunt taking in my cock. I wonder how cute you'll sound? Or will it be more slutty to accompany how you look like a whore?" He admitted, making you feel even more disgusted with him. Knowing he had fantasized about this — about him forcefully having his way with you — was downright disgusting. A large and hot object brushed against your wet folds, making your head pop up as you felt it push in. "I've just put it in— you're so fucking tight,"

"I- I'm a virgin," you finally said, wincing at the foreign intrusion. You were sure it'd hurt with any man, but Enji was bigger than average. You figured that out when watching him on television, back in your high school days when you developed a crush on the older man, thoughts of him accompanying you in those lonely nights and how large he would be. Of course, those thoughts didn't include the idea of pain with the large cock of Enji Todoroki.

"No wonder you're so tight. I'd figure my slutty secretary had been with quite a few people. I'm honored to be your first-" he suddenly thrust his hips forward, making you cry in pain as he buried himself to the hilt, "and your last,"

"Th- That's— ah!" your mind couldn't process any information except how hot and big his cock was, stretching you out farther than you ever expected. Your body rocked in rhythm with the slow, but sharp thrusts of Enji, your head hurting from the earlier treatment of being thrown on the desk. You grit your teeth, hoping to avoid any sounds from coming out, but mewls and moans would slip through, letting him know he was definitely pleasing you. Instead of pointing it out, he just grinned when your pitch rose. A particular thrust earned him an open-mouthed mewl, your eyes rolling at the sensation.

"Sounding like a proper whore, aren't you? Pathetic. You're just a whiny little bitch, aren't you?" his words hurt, they were supposed to, but the way your walls clench tighter around him, if that was possible, proved you took it a different way. "Look at you, tightening at my words. Don't you know only cute little girls get to cum? If you want to be my good little girl, you're going to need to beg like a whore,"

"Nn—“ you whined, his thrusts getting rougher and picking up the pace, pushing you closer to your orgasm. You knew it was coming, you knew it'd have to happen eventually, so you kept your mouth shut. If anything, you'd keep your stubborn pride at not obeying his every command. Too bad for you, Enji pulled out of you, leaving you to clench around nothing.

"Your pretty pussy is practically begging for my cock again. I said to beg like a whore, you stupid bitch," his chuckle was low and deep, making your chest tighten as you associated that with the better times. Feeling those butterflies after what he did made you feel sick. You whined, feeling the orgasm slowly slip away. "Beg. Like. A. Whore."

"En- Enji, please let me cum. I- I pro- promise to be a good girl. I promise. Please, just- just let me cum," you whined, feeling filthy. Your head was turned, so you got to see the downright terrifying grin that Enji sported at your words. Apparently it was enough for him because he slid his cock back into your tight, warm walls and pounded away. Your moans were more free now, your hands clenching into fists at the feeling of your orgasm building again.

"I'm sure you'd be happy— fuck— happy to milk me dry, wouldn't you?" he grunted, his own orgasm approaching. You nodded your head, shuffling your feet to try and allow for more space for Enji to fill you. The heels gave you some added height, but you still needed some more to completely feel him. Lucky for you, Enji noticed and positioned you differently, your shoes barely grazing the floor as the only thing holding you up was Enji's cock and this thrusts into your tight cunt, the squelching sounds encouraging him to go faster. Your eyes rolled back, feeling your high wash over you as you came, your walls sending Enji to cum, too. The feeling of his thick, hot cum spilling into you made you sigh, feeling full and warm.

Enji sliding out of you, setting you unsteadily onto your feet made you come back down to Earth, where you were in Endeavor's office and currently feeling his cum ooze out of your spasming cunt. You cringed in disgust, your legs shaky and unstable. The fabric binding your arms was removed, making you sigh in relief, the numb limbs falling to your side.

"Come on, get up. I'm not done with you yet," his voice made you turn, your eyes widened. He obviously was less fucked-out than you were, his cock standing tall and proud. Automatically, you went to lick your lips at the slick cock, finally seeing out thick it was. "You're gonna clean me up and then I'm going to go back to fucking you senseless and fill you up. I'm going to give reality to every fantasy about you. Now, get to licking, slut,"

And, like his good little girl, you obeyed. Getting to your knees was much more comfortable, anyways.

[melancholyofeos]

Forever and Ever (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

A/N: This might be triggering for some audience. Reader's discretion is advised.

Forever and Ever (Tsukishima Kei x Suicidal!Fem Reader)

Word Count: 2,652

Tsukishima's Point of View

The number you have dialed cannot be reached, please try again later.

Shit! Why is she not answering her phone?! My heart beating fast, I ran towards the parking lot of our building. I knew something was off! Why did I even go to work?!

I walked towards the car, slamming the door open frantically. The moment I sat in the driver's seat, I immediately put the key in the ignition. Not bothering to put my seat belt on, I drove fast out of the parking lot to get home.

I floored the acceleration pedal and drove off into the street. The sky glowing a faint orange color, the sun started to set. The darkness slowly enveloping the sky, my car drove thread through the busy street full of passersby.

I can't help but reminisce all the time Y/N and I have spent together. It might be out of character for me to say this but our past feels like once upon a time.

I sighed. I get that having a part-time job is hard but I didn't know it would be this hectic. Who the hell let all these people in, anyway? The coffee shop is packed today, probably because it's the week before the exam.

"Miss, can I sit here?" I heard a man said on the other side of the room. He was asking the girl who's sitting by the window.

"Oh... Uhm... I'm sorry but I don't want to." She thought long hard. It looks like she doesn't want to but also didn't want to offend the guy. "What a fucking bitch. It's not like I'm asking for anything else." The man raised his voice.

Some people prefer their space, and this guy is just plainly crossing the line. I don't want to do extra work but the sight is bothering me. I went over and approached them.

"Hey, no need to raise your voice. The lady said she doesn't want to, now back off." I said, glaring at the guy. "Is this what the employees in this coffee shop do? Let me talk to the manager."

I rolled my eyes at him and replied. "Is this what shitty customers do? Go ahead and call the manager since you're already talking to him." I smirked at him and crossed my arms.

The crowd inside the coffee shop gave him dirty looks and he looked humiliated. Out of defeat, he walked through the small coffee shop and headed outside.

The girl bowed herself slightly and muttered, "Thank you."

"It's nothing," I replied and went back to my work. After I got the orders of the people in line and delivered them on the back of the cashier and the others got to work.

I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I looked to my side and saw Daichi-san giving me a thumbs up. "You did great out there." He smiled.

"Oh, I'm sorry for saying I was the manager. I just-"

"It's nothing, Tsukishima. I'm impressed. You would make a good manager." He said. Daichi-san is also a part-timer. He's older than me for two years and is graduating this year.

I gave him a firm nod and went to do other tasks like delivering the coffees to the customers' table. The girl who was harassed earlier sat quietly as she reads over her notes.

I can't help but look over her way as I pass through the tables of the coffee shop. Ugh, Kei, what are you doing?

The girl didn't leave, even when my shift's almost over. She's not the usual customers that we have here, the kind that orders one cup of coffee and stays for the whole day. She orders almost every hour, mostly snacks. But she is drinking a lot of coffee.

By the time my shift ended, she stood up and left.

Coincidentally, this happened every day. She would hang around the coffee shop for a whole day on weekends and a few hours on weekdays. Another coincidence is that she always goes home by the time my shift is over.

One day, I came in late and saw her already seated on her usual spot. This might be my imagination but her face lighted up when she saw my face. We made eye contact for a few seconds before she turned away and looked at her notes again.

This baffled me for the whole day. Was she interested in me? Or maybe my mind's just playing games? The whole day, we would lock gaze every time each one of us came into sight.

I'll be lying if I said I didn't feel nervous and my heart didn't beat faster.

By the time my shift ended that weekend, she stood up and fixed her things, and head over to the door. Before she could reach the door handle, I ran to her and caught her by the wrist.

She looked at me with her beautiful eyes. Curiously, she looked at my hand and her face grew hot. Feeling awkward, I let go and bowed.

"W-What is it?" She asked softly. I gazed at her and tried to form words but I was a stuttering mess. Kei, when did you become this way?

"I-I was thinking if maybe... we could hang out sometime?" Damn it! That's too straightforward! I should've been more civil. She might reject me because I asked this stupid question.

She looked at me with her (eye color) orbs and gave me a sweet smile.

"I would like that." And then she left.

And so we did. We hang out the day after. And then the day after, and then the day after. Being around her felt comfortable and somehow, familiar. She feels like home. I've never clicked with someone like this. The last time I found someone who felt right was when I befriended my best friend, Tadashi.

Two years later, I graduated from college. We were together for those two years. I'm older by a year and so, she's still in college. In our first year as a couple, we moved in together. It was rushed, but it felt right.

Now, I'm heading over to our apartment out of alarm because of the message she sent me a few minutes ago.

'I love you so much, Kei. I will always love you, you know that right?'

Her message felt odd. It's not a sweet letter. When I first read it, instead of sweetness, shivers went through my spine. I didn't even ask my boss if I could leave. I just straight up went to the parking lot and drove away.

I might get in trouble for this but I don't care.

Y/N felt odd today. She smiles and gives hugs and kisses just like usual but it doesn't feel right. Maybe I'm just overreacting.

I was having a hard time putting on my necktie when Y/N went over to me and took over.

"You know you were never good at this. Just ask for my help, okay?" She smiles as she fixed the mess I made. "Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"You should try smiling more. If I hadn't introduced you to our friends properly, they would've thought you're a snob." She joked and laughed lightly.

"Really? Do I look like that to you?" I asked her and glared at her.

"There, all done. Hmm... yes?" She said and ran her palms on my clothed chest. "But I can love a snob as long as he's you." She squeezed my cheek.

My face heated up. I didn't want to tell her that her teasing got through me but she knows me too well.

"S-Shut up." I muttered. She laughed loudly and smacked me in the chest. "You're such a Tsundere, Kei." I ignored her little comment.

"You should prepare now. You have classes later, right?" I asked.

"Mhmm. You should worry about yourself more. I can take care of myself." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. I disregarded it, as I thought that maybe my eyes are just playing with me.

Y/N has always been open to me. She tells me everything, even what she's feeling. I'm the one who doesn't open up. But she figured that out already.

I left and went to work.

I shouldn't have.

I almost got into an accident because of my overspeeding but I managed to get home safely. I ran to the lobby and caught the closing elevator doors. My foot tapped impatiently as I wait for it to get onto my floor.

The moment the doors opened, I dashed out and ran. I ran, my heart beating in my ears. The adrenaline course through my body, as If I'm fighting life and death.

I swiped my card and opened the door frantically.

I was greeted by silence. I ran through the whole apartment and saw her nowhere. She isn't here.

While I was contemplating where Y/N might've been, my phone rang loudly.

It's Tadashi.

"Hello?" I asked.

"K-Kei! Did you get a message from Y/N?! She's-" He asked, panicked.

My blood ran cold. Why does it feel like there's something bad that might happen?

"What happened?! Just spit it out, Tadashi!" I asked again, scared of what he might reply.

"I... I don't know how to say this. Maybe... you should come over to the roof."

W...What's happening?

Before I can even decide to come to the roof, my feet already took over. Tadashi greeted me with tears in his eyes. He hugged me tightly, for some reason I didn't know about.

Eventually, he released me as he let out loud sobs. His eyes drifted on the other side of the roof and tears rolled down my cheek.

My Y/N.

She hanged herself.

She's lying on the ground with a coat supporting her head, probably Tadashi's. Her neck has these marks, and there's a white rope lying beside her head. I broke down, right there in front of Tadashi even though I did not want to.

My knees felt wobbly, and I fell to the ground. Tadashi was quick to assist me, as he leaned down and tried to help me up.

Why?

Why did you do it?

Realizing that I'm over here being a fucking pussy, I ran to her side and hugged her upper body.

"Call the fucking ambulance! What the hell are you doing, standing there?!" I shouted at him. Tears fell in his eyes as he replied.

"I already did. They're already coming this way but when I checked her pulse... she's... cold. There's no sign of life, Kei..."

"No! You're lying! You're such a fucking liar!" I looked down at my Y/N, her face pale. She looks peaceful.

"How... could you be at peace when you just left me? Does this make you happy, Y/N?" I asked. Tadashi put his hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down.

"Fuck! If I stayed here with you the whole day, then maybe you're still alive! No, because if I did stay here, you would definitely be alive."

"It's not your fault, Kei..." Tadashi comforted. But his words don't get through to me. They sounded stupid.

"Tell me this is just some lame-ass joke, Y/N! You better open your eyes now and tell me this is all a prank!" I shouted. I waited but she wouldn't open her eyes.

The loud sound of the wind howled in my ear. I felt a presence envelop me by the shoulder. I should be cold, but I'm not. It's almost as if... it's comforting me.

"Is that you, Y/N? Why do you have to comfort me now when you should've stayed by my side forever..."

The faint sound of sirens can be heard all the way here in the roof. After a few more minutes, the medics came to check out what happened. One medic took my Y/N away from my embrace and I really wanted to kill them but I had to let go.

If I wanted her to live... I should let go.

She was long gone before she could even reach the hospital. Tadashi was right. It's been a few hours now but it still hasn't sunk in my mind. What's her reason?

What could possibly be the reason that she wanted to die? Did I do anything wrong? Was I the reason?

They say she would stay in the hospital morgue and there's no point with me staying back. So I went home.

As I opened the door, her scent got through me. Her perfume... it's all over the place. Tears started to prickle in my eyes but I went ahead and walked inside the room.

I plopped down in our bed.

Ugh. What a day.

I looked at her side of the bed and realized that there's a letter resting on her bedside table. I hurriedly took it but was gentle enough to not destroy the envelope.

Fuck.

"Dear Kei, I'm sorry I did this. I know this is a shock to you. I know what you're thinking, 'who the hell wouldn't get shocked by this?' and I know that. I left you alone. But please hear me out, if you will. You are the best thing that ever happened in my life. That day when you rescued me in the cafe, I was thinking of killing myself. I was so stressed, I thought I might fail. By that time, dad already left us to live with her mistress. Mom said it was my fault for dad leaving because of my college tuition. It's not good for your parents to work hard for money, only for you to fail, right? But I saw you there. You were working hard, and I thought I should too. You gave me the inspiration to work harder and be the best daughter my parents ever had. Meeting you changed my life, Kei. You are so gentle, so kind. You don't like showing your emotions but I already know what goes through your mind. Again, I know what you might be thinking right now. If you made me so happy, why did I left? No, it's not your fault Kei. I felt so depressed, and I just wanted to end it. Dad tried to come back to our life, and I should be happy. But somehow, that hollow feeling inside of me never changed, even when we were together. But at least I knew how it felt like to fall in love. I figured that you would be better off with someone who isn't like me. And if I break up with you, for this reason, you wouldn't let me go. I just want to rest, Kei. Forever. God knows how much I love seeing you next to me every time I wake up but the stress from college and family gets through to me. I'm so sorry for being this weak, you deserved better. I don't know where I might end up, but I promise you we'll meet each other on the other side. I will make sure of it.

I love you so much, my beautiful Kei. Promise me you'll find another girl that you will cherish the way you cherished me. Be happy, have a wife and a family. I wish you all the best in the world. But I had to go. I put all my letters to our friends in my drawer, can you distribute them? Don't cry, okay? I would always be with you. By the way, I have other recorded messages. Play one every time your birthday comes. Visit me at least every day, okay? I want you to speak for me at the funeral. I want to show everyone how beautiful my boyfriend is.

I'm yours, eternally.

Love, Y/N"

I would never forget you, my Y/N.

I'm also yours... eternally.

Wait for me...

I'll see you on the other side.

[7wanderingpaws]

Captain Bucheon 05

(gif is not mine!)

Warnings: language, tension, (a bit unedited)

Word count: 3.6K

story masterlist masterlist

tags: @wooya1224 @to-all-the-stories-i-love @jennxx3 @realllllrica @energeticsirens​ (let me know if you want to be un/tagged)​

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<– Previous

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Fifth: Birthday Party

The winter season had finally given way to spring, the cherry blossoms blooming around the campus. Your dorms still sucked, but one thing that was good was the beautiful pink trees welcoming you whenever you left or arrived from school or work. The entrance was full of cherry blossoms, and when you rushed to your early classes in the mornings, you'd catch cats curled up and sleeping on the fallen leaves.

Even though you enjoyed winter, you couldn’t deny the magical hope spring always managed to plant in you. If the smog wasn’t too severe (and in spring it always was) you could smell the distant scent of flowers, grass and life. Students and professors were scattered around the campus, making videos and pictures, the white and pink cherries a huge attraction even for the dullest person out there.

For some reason, however, this season also made you incredibly sad.

A very unnerving, in the corner creeping, emotion of yearning, longing, pining and all the other synonyms that expressed missing something you couldn’t quite pinpoint were eating you away. The sadness that made your mood so incredibly low and sad that you couldn't enjoy the cherry blossom season as much as you used to. It was a huge love of yours; every year during high school taking a long walk, wearing the uniform skirt not so horrible anymore while you and Yuyeon laughed at something stupid. That magical instance when the gentle breeze blew and the leaves created a pink rain fall--

Someone hitting you with folded paper was what snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned around, glaring at the intruder. “Yah, Oh Sehun!” you shouted, scowling.

Sehun was smiling brightly, your face expression entertaining him. “You looked like you were thinking too deeply. Didn’t want an accident.”

You rolled your eyes and watched him sit down on the bench opposite you. He put his backpack next to him before leaning on his elbows on the table. “Meaning?” 

“You don’t think, you just do stuff. Thinking could have damaged you further and we don’t want-“

Your fist landed on his bicep and he laughed harder, not even bothering to fake the pain. “You are so dead, Sehun!”

After he calmed down he pretended to tap the tears away around his eyes which made you roll your eyes again. “Anyway, you know it’s next weekend, right?”

You frowned. “What is next weekend?” 

Your question came out like a bite of an angry dog but you almost immediately forgot about your bicker when you spotted Yuyeon from afar; she was mingled among a small crowd of students but you could see whom she was talking to very well. After all, you saw the guy almost daily. Chul. 

They seemed to be deep in conversation and he was nodding thoughtfully, taking her every word. While she was explaining something, he looked up to run his eyes over their surroundings carefully which, in your eyes, looked a little off.

“Hey-“ Sehun waved his hand in front of your face, “I’m right here, don’t ignore me. And Yuyeon was supposed to tell you.”

You snapped your eyes back to Sehun, still frowning. “She didn’t tell me anything regarding next week.”

Sehun groaned like a kid. “You’re a terrible friend anyway! You should have known it’s my birthday!”

Your eyes widened and you scrambled for your school diary (that was a huge mess) and aggressively listed through the pages until you landed on the second week of April. With small letters, Sehun’s birthday was noted on the paper with a little flower next to it.

“I’m not a bad friend, look,” you pouted, pushing your diary in his face. 

With a sigh he was fast to push your hand away. “Well, mark it better. You’re coming for a little camping trip.”

“Camping trip? During school?”

Sehun looked at you dumbfoundedly before he started to giggle. “This is university, sweetheart, there is no such thing as school night anymore, and it’s funny that out of all people you complain when you’re the naughtiest kid on the campus. And besides, it’s on the weekend. You don’t work either,” he clicked his tongue and then proceeded to flick your forehead. “So no excuses.”

“Ouch, you DUCK!” you growled, massaging the throbbing skin with your fingers. “Why is your birthday in April out of all months!”

“Whoa, whoa, I could hear you guys from afar already,” a new voice chirped in and your eyes immediately snapped towards your best friend.

A little shocked at her cheerful attitude, you looked at the place you last saw her with Chul but, of course, he was nowhere to be seen anymore. The last thing you'd expect her to be like after a conversation with Chul was cheerful.

“It’s your fault, Yuyeon-ah. You forgot to tell Nari that I’m having a camping trip.”

“Oh,” Yuyeon seemed genuinely surprised as she sat down on the bench next to you. “It slipped my mind completely - and no, not your birthday but the trip!” She held her hands up quickly in defense before he could flick her forehead as well, Sehun’s scowling eyes sending daggers her way.

“Wonderful friends I have,” he muttered and shook his head in disappointment. “Well, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Thankfully I have friends who actually care,” he said and stood up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

Both you and Yuyeon followed him with your eyes, perplexed at his sudden change of attitude. “Where are you going?” you spoke up at the same time with Yuyeon.

“Have some stuff to do for class. See you, losers!”

“What did just happen…”

“Well. Whatever, Sehun is weird,” you dismissed, not sparing his retreating figure any more glance as you turned to your friend. Swiftly bringing out your phone from your pocket, you searched for one contact you saved in the morning, and pushed the device into Yuyeon’s hands, ignoring her perplexed expression. “I need a favor. You need to call the police for me.”

“What?” She was only able to raise her eyebrows and give you a pathetic look. “What is it about?”

“I need them to come during the festival, it’s the security measures,” you said, almost whining because you yourself hated this irrelevant task you were given. “And I can’t risk that someone particular will pick up the phone.”

Yuyeon sighed but she had a soft expression as she nodded. She still threw you a skeptical look. “First of all, it’s bold of you to think that you’d have the pleasure to speak to the captain of the police himself when I’m sure they have some lowly workers doing this kind of job. Second? Fuck Chul. The hell is he thinking - giving you all the trash work, as if he isn’t the student president.”

Yuyeon mentioning Chul when they were just meeting minutes ago didn’t sit well with you. She didn’t mention talking to him whatsoever and you concluded she didn’t have the intention of doing it at all. Observing her for a little longer, you decided to deal with that problem later. She was your best friend. She would never do something to harm you.

After explaining all the details to Yuyeon, she finally called. It took almost fifteen minutes with the whole call procedure until you could talk with the relevant person in charge. To your and Yuyeon’s surprise, they already knew about the topic.

“Oh, so the event has been reported? And you already have a team to send for that day?” Yuyeon was repeating everything the person on the other side told her, giving you a surprised stare.

You shrugged, albeit worriedly before muttering under your nose: “Why did that fucker-“

“Alright, great. Thank you!” She put down the phone with a huff. “Well, that’s that. They already knew about this.” Her knee was going up and down, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip, tearing the dried skin. “Is Chul testing you or something? Why is he making you do stuff only for it to be already resolved?”

You shrugged again. “At least it’s done. Thank you,” you murmured, widening your eyes into those of a puppy before you pushed out your lower lip, pouting.

Yuyeon rolled her eyes and flicked you on the forehead. What was it with your friends flicking you today?

You scrubbed at the red spot on your forehead as she said: “Don’t mention it. What wouldn’t I do for this troublemaker, huh?” She smiled at you and pushed your phone into your hand. “Are you confident about running? And MCing for that bitch?”

You deflated even more. Your body was not built for running. And Siamsa requesting you to be the MC was just as suspicious as the whole police thingy being already resolved. “Nope! But who cares! It’s Oh Sehun’s birthday and you didn’t even bother telling me about the camping trip?”

She looked surprised for a moment before she realized something. “Oh, right, it slipped my mind. I have class projects and well… sorry. I was supposed to tell you.” Yuyeon looked apologetic and you wanted to ask what was the issue but decided against it.

“It’s okay. But I think he is legit mad.���

“I know.”

><

After that, the days became a blur. You tried your best to juggle running between studying sessions. Sometimes you would stay in the dorm room but the squeals of girls on the corridor would irritate you to the bits which eventually led you out of the dorms and into a coffee shop. 

Assignments were piling up and Sehun’s trip was happening just before the midterms which wasn’t the best news. You tried hard to focus but the unstable job you had was also giving you a hard time. There had been another case where you didn’t manage to bring a box to the right door yet… much later you received a confirmation text. It was giving you stress. And you started to regret taking up the job at some point. Someone must have been delivering them. You were suspicious of this for a while but was too preoccupied with the task at hand to try to catch the culprit.

Well, could they be called a culprit when, in fact, they were doing you a favor? If more than anything, it was the unsettling feeling that you were being played by someone you probably didn't know, since Chul was doing anything but talking about this job.

Instead, he was always hot on your heels, were it the running practice that you swore you’d give up, because coach Lim was relentless, or he was bothering you about the damn MC thing, bugging you about doing well and trying to be your best possible version. Just thinking about having to pretend in front of Siamsa, when you knew she was Baekhyun's ex, and a complete piranha behind the scenes, made you go nuts. It had certainly been a while since you wanted to be done with something this much and at the same time dreading the moment it would come.

If that wasn't giving you anxiety, you also had to make sure not to go to the running track outside of your scheduled training. The possibility of running into Baekhyun was scaring you. Unable to pinpoint why exactly, you just decided to ignore the topic, despite finding yourself daydreaming about facing him again. Daydreaming about certain moments with him that actually happened, but they were buried deep inside you, hidden under stocks and stocks of much more memorable memories than those created with him.

Since you never saw him after that incident where you slapped him, you were more relaxed (and a little guilty).

Currently, you took the empty beer bottle in your hands, music blasting loudly as you stood up on the top of the table, enjoying the cheering from your small audience that you stole away from the birthday boy, Sehun.

You pushed me away with your very hands

Once were so wanted by me

As soon as Yuyeon recognized the lyrics, she jumped up to join you, taking an empty soju bottle in her hand and made a microphone out of it. You were fast to drape your heavy arm around her neck and shouted:

What can I do?

What should I do?

I no longer have your breath with me

But I am still loving you

Sehun was facepalming in the background because you had been high on this song since last year, after the harsh breakup. He knew the signs very well and he could only sigh harder when he saw a message from the only person missing at the late night party:

Just arrived

Coming in now

“Oh, dear,” he scrunched up his face, looking at you exaggeratedly rolling your hips to follow Rain's dance moves. He had to admit you were too good at those moves.

As soon as you heard cat calls, your hands went flying up to your hair, lifting it up to reveal your neck before you pushed your bum out, sliding your hands lower, outlining your breasts.

“Jesus, she is on fire!” someone shouted.

You giggled loudly and Yuyeon slapped your butt, making you squeal before the both of you continued with the song that made you want to weep and give up yourself to someone at the same time; give up yourself to a certain someone.

With the way you used to look into my eyes

You dramatically turned to Yuyeon who mimicked you, both of you staring into each other's eyes before you turned back to back, feeling her bum pressed into yours. With a swift sway of your head, you got rid of your messy hair that was obscuring your sight, spotting a mop of messy blond hair before singing:

Please turn back to me and just feel my heart

And could you please tell me

Your eyes locked with Baekhyun's who was standing motionlessly on the doorstep, staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

That you still love me

The words left your mouth, and you became breathless. 

Was it the booze? Or did Byun Baekhyun just look hundred times more appealing to you after drinking? What was the captain even doing there in the first place? Wasn't he a little old to be here celebrating Oh Sehun's birthday with the kids that he thought you were?

Not daring to even blink, you continued your charade, enjoying the way his eyes wandered down your body when you swayed your hips to the rhythm, rolling your hips to the surface of the table and enjoying yourself a little too much. You were wearing hip jeans and a crop top, the textile straining over your breasts just the way you wanted it to be tonight. The revealed belly and the dimples on your lower back just above the belt of your jeans was teasing enough to bring a little craze to the audience you earned. Your want doubled with the knowledge that Baekhyun was present.

Eventually, you turned to Yuyeon and finished singing the heartfelt song, while your brain was trying to ignore the fact that the person you imagined in this song was present in the room.

“Hey, thanks a lot for dropping by,” Sehun greeted Baekhyun when he walked over to him. Baekhyun had a slight smile on his lips.

“Happy birthday, buddy,” he wished and bumped fists before patting him on the shoulder. “You decided to keep a low image this year?” asked Baekhyun when Sehun pushed a red cup into his hand and sat next to Sehun, once again angled the way so that he could see your eyes the whole time.

Sehun raised a thick eyebrow before tipping his chin towards yours and Yuyeon's direction. “Is that what you call a low image?”

Baekhyun shook his head, but he was amused. He let his eyes wander back to you for a moment, just when you were getting off the table. One guy held your hand, helping you down while bulging his eyes at your breasts. Baekhyun suppressed the annoyance bubbling inside of him at the sight. “Did she have a lot to drink?”

“Well, she had enough to become her old self,” mumbled Sehun, taking a calculating sip from his beer. “Enough to want to make a scene, so I'd watch myself if I were you.”

“She hates me. I don't think she'll even acknowledge me.”

Sehun let out a snort and Baekhyun shot him a curious look. “That whole fucking song was about you. She acknowledged you just fine.”

Baekhyun let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. The images of meeting your heated gaze over the crowd while you were rolling your hips around left him just a little breathless. You were too sexy for Baekhyun. And too forbidden.

Before the both of them could fall into silence, Sehun said: “Did you resolve anything with Siamsa? I love you, dude, but I can't let your stupid ex ruin Nari anymore.”

Baekhyun wasn't surprised at the change of the topic. Sehun had been bugging him after he found out you were requested by Siamsa herself to be the MC of her short stage during the university festival.

Baekhyun was restless about the whole deal, especially after her unexpected visit at his place. About that he didn't tell the younger male, not wanting him to worry even more. “Don't worry, Sehunah, I have it under control.”

“Well, make sure you really do,” muttered Sehun as he leaned closer to Baekhyun. “She acts strong, but she is anything but that.”

><

It was two hours later when you found yourself in the crowd, dancing by yourself. Yuyeon wasn't around anymore, being snatched away by a guy while you were drinking shot by shot, enjoying yourself and at the same time desperately trying to stay sober because Baekhyun was lurking around. And that made your heart beat too wildly; the alcohol had nothing to do with it.

There were so many bodies around you, sweating and grinding against each other. It almost made you want to turn back until you felt someone’s front pressed to your back. Under normal circumstances you’d immediately pull away but his scent wafted over your senses and you just knew.

It was him.

His breath was on the back of your hair, a little irregular, and then you felt his feather touch on the inside of your arms as he trailed his fingertips over the sensitive skin of the inside of your elbows until he let them dance over your wrists and pushed the fingers through the slits of your hands, interlacing your fingers.

Spikes of electricity shot through your insides and you hummed though you knew he couldn’t hear you over the loud music. Involuntarily you pressed yourself back and his breath fanned your neck as he lowered his head.

There were so many things you should have done immediately; push him away or walk away but despite your turbulent emotions that kept clashing in a fight with brain and heart, you felt safe in his arms, in his presence and his touch. His nose traveled your cheek and he nuzzled the side of your face with his. Your heart was about to jump out of your rib cage. The urge to just turn and kiss him was so strong but ugh. You still hated him so much. So, so much. To the point you wanted to scream and shout and at the same time kiss him senseless and let him have his way with you.

“Why is it that whenever I try to avoid you, you appear?” he murmured into your ear and you tried to shimmy away from the ticklish feeling. “Why is it that whenever I’m with another one, you’re the one I see behind my closed eyes?” You felt the lightest of touches of his lips that were parted, so smooth and so alluring, teasing you on the side of your cheek. “Why is it always you, Lee Nari?”

You almost thought it wasn't real. It couldn't. Baekhyun would do anything but a move on you.

But one swift turn and you faced him, his eyes focused on yours. “And why is it always you, Byun Baekhyun?” you squeezed his fingers gently, still interlaced with yours. 

“You should go and rest, Nari, you had enough to drink,” he told you suddenly, moving closer. He realized that booze was talking more than what he would have said under normal circumstances.

Breathily, you zoomed in on his lips, bewitched by the way they shaped whenever he said certain words. The would pucker and form a cute pout and-

“Nari, let's get you to sleep,” he repeated.

“Do you still want me, Baekhyun?” you asked instead, almost eagerly.

Baekhyun wasn't surprised, yet he didn't answer. You were intoxicated and he expected some kind of confrontation, but the longing in your eyes spoke volumes and he knew you wouldn't be slapping him tonight. He had only two cups of beer but he already knew he was acting braver than he should have. The need to kiss you and just be with you only grew and alcohol made his well preserved restraints weaker.

“You don't want me anymore, right?” you said, misunderstanding his silence. You stepped away. “If I would have wanted to build up the bridges you would have said no and still play with my feelings,” you whispered, heart-broken. Even though I still want you so bad…

><><><><

A/N: I do not know when will be the next update, sorry about that. Ive been focusing a lot on AY since my writing juices are overflowing for that story for now. Sorry to make you wait and I do hope you stick around ☺💛

This chapter is a little breaking point; next chapter the festival is going down! Poor Nari...

Here is my new curiouscat if you want to let me know your thoughts ^^

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 6

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 with a side of angst. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Running his fingers through his hair, Billy continued scanning the crowded streets. No.... nothing. He grabbed his phone and dialled her number. She didn’t pick up. So he texted her.

“Angel, just saw you in the restaurant. I was there for a business lunch, really hope you don’t think there was anything else to it cos there wasn’t. Please - call me back or pick up when I call.”

He tried another couple of times including FaceTime but no, she definitely wasn’t picking up. Trying once more, he let it ring through to voicemail, and left basically the same message on there. He had no intention of returning to Madani and continuing lunch - too many awkward questions to face there apart from anything else - so he went back to his car, got in, slamming his hands down onto the steering wheel a few times before starting the engine, and driving back to Anvil.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You and your friend had only gone a few doors down to another restaurant, and luckily they had a table available. Once you’d ordered and had glasses of wine in your hands, your friend Karen had fixed you with a steely gaze and said, “Okay, give.”

She worked as a reporter at one of the big newspapers, and you hadn’t had the chance to catch up with her for a good few months. And you knew she wouldn’t let this go until she’d wrung all the juicy details out of you, so you took a big sip of wine and sighed.

Catching her up from the whole ex-boyfriend situation to the cocktail party and meeting your new love interest, through to becoming lovers and maybe thinking it could go somewhere, you finally got to today’s fiasco.

“So, literally as soon as we sat down, I look up and that big fucker’s walking in with some pretty girl and looking extremely comfortable with her!” You gave what could only be described as an angry growl, “I mean I’d sussed out from the get-go that he was a player, but ... uhhh!!!... how could I be so damn stupid to fall for his shit talk?!!! Telling me I was his girlfriend!!!” You blew out a big breath.

“And then...“ you switched to your fake “man” voice, “‘Oh, I got a job I’ll be on for the next couple of days, angel.’” Another angry huff from you. “Yeah, right, on a ‘job’...he was obviously gonna be ON her! For about 48 hours by the sound of it. Bitch! And he’s a fucking jerk.”

Once Karen could get a word in edgeways when your rant drew to a close, she said in a calming voice, “Honey, it sounds like you had a lucky escape. There’s a lot of them in New York, you know... fucking jerks, I mean.”

You felt your eyes welling up, but blinked the tears back fiercely, you weren’t going to cry over that stupid big douchebag. You pulled your phone out of your bag, “I mean, look! Look at what he literally put in my phone yesterday evening...” and, ignoring your notifications for the moment, you scrolled to Contacts and turned the phone towards her.

Karen rolled her eyes, “Urrrghh, how lame is that? ‘Your Boyfriend’?” shaking her head. Even though you were furious at him, you felt a twinge of annoyance at her comment. You’d thought it was quite cute. Well, you had before that little shitshow. Then she put her face closer to the screen, “Hey, wait a minute!.. lemme see his photo?”

You handed the phone to her, and she peered at the image. “Oh my god,” she breathed, looking up at you, “...what’s your guy’s name?” “Billy Russo,” you spat back, loath to even voice it. She handed you the phone back. “Well, that’s just damn spooky,” she said, looking amazed. She leant in to you, “I’ve been seeing a guy for a couple of months, his name’s Frank,” and your mouth dropped. “Billy’s got a friend called Frank!” you said, staring at her. She nodded, “Yep, works at Anvil which is owned by the one and only Billy Russo!”

She sat back, taking a long sip of her wine. “What a freaking coincidence this is,” she shook her head. “Frank’s told me a little about him, you know and I’m afraid you’re right - he sounds like a total player.” She looked at you sympathetically, “Sorry.” You waved a hand in the air, “Nothing I hadn’t guessed for myself, Karen. But... he seemed so sincere.” You laughed self-depracatingly, “I was gonna be the one who tamed the bad boy. Huh!!”

You scrolled through the notifications, realising they were all from Billy. “I think he must’ve seen me! He’s called and texted.” You read the text, huffing and showing it to Karen, who raised her eyebrows and commented, “Nice recovery, Russo.” “The voicemail’s the same,” you said, as you listened to it. “What a load of bullshit. I mean, c’mon, who walks a business lunch date to the table with his hand on her back?”

Karen nodded, “No-one, unless they wanna get slapped with a lawsuit.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy slammed his office door behind him, and threw himself into his chair, tapping out a staccato rhythm on his desktop with a long finger. He reached down, opening his bottom desk drawer and taking out a bottle of whisky and a glass. A moment later, the door opened and Frank came in, looking concerned. He took in Billy’s less-than-immaculate hair, bouncing knee and tense demeanour.

Billy waggled the whisky bottle and quirked an eyebrow at him, but Frank shook his head.

“Okay, Bill, what’s up? Something go wrong?” Billy looked up at him, scowling ferociously, “Fuck yes!” he bit out, “Frankie... everything’s gone wrong.”

Before he could say anything else, Frank’s phone rang and he held a finger up to Billy to say he was going to take the call.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he answered it, “how’re you?” Billy heard a big outburst of indecipherable speech from the phone, and then saw Frank’s eyes flick over to him. “Oh, uhhh okay.. umm right, yeah he’s here. Yeah... yep, I’ll let him know. Will I see you later?” He smiled fondly as he went on, “Okay! That’s great, see you then.” He hung up, hand going to his jaw and running over his stubbled chin, looking worried.

“Bill...” he started, just staring at him and Billy stared right back, “What?”

Frank said a name to him, his angel’s name, and continued, “You know her?” Billy nodded, “Yeah, that’s my girl.” Frank plopped down into the chair across from him, “Not sure that’s the case now.” Billy nodded, “I know. That’s what I was about to tell you. I took Madani out to lunch and my girl was in the fuckin’ restaurant.” He shook his head, “She ran right outta there and I followed but couldn’t find her. So I headed back here. Left Madani sitting there in the restaurant.”

He poured a generous slug of whisky into the glass and knocked back most of it. “Now my girl’s mad at me and Dinah’s mad at me, and this operation could be down the tube.”

Frank sighed, rubbing his big paw over his face. “And Karen’s her friend, can you believe that? So she’s mad at you too. Fuckin’ hell, Russo.”

“Yeah,” said Billy, also sighing. “How the fuck am I gonna fix this?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani was not a happy bunny. She stomped into her office, yelling out “Sam!!!” as she went. He hurried in behind her. “Something wrong, Dinah?” She gave him a contemptuous look, “I see you’ve been working on your powers of observation. Well done! Yes, something’s wrong!” Sitting down behind her desk, she glared up at him, “Russo!!! That’s what wrong. That piece of shit.”

Inwardly, Sam laughed to himself. Despite Madani’s sarcastic gibe at his perceptiveness, he’d quickly realised as soon as Russo had popped up in this case that Madani had the serious hots for him. She thought she’d been getting somewhere with him, both on the case and personally, but now something must’ve put a spanner in the works on either one or both of those.

“What’s pretty boy done now?” he asked, trying and failing to completely hide his smirk. She scowled at him, “We’d gone out for lunch - to discuss the case,” she hastily added, and Sam thought to himself ‘yeah, right, and what were you hoping dessert was gonna be?’

“He spotted someone leaving the restaurant and off he goes, saying he’s got to catch up with them.” She viciously powered up her laptop. “Think it was a woman,” she mumbled. “Sorry, what?” said Sam innocently. “I said, I think it was a woman!” spat out Madani, “are you deaf or something?”

Sam smirked again, “Oh. Dear. Someone to do with the case, you think?” She stared at her screen, “How should I know? But that bastard’s got some explaining to do.”

Well this afternoon was gonna be a complete blast, thought Sam.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d returned to Chelsea, and spent the whole afternoon getting under your team’s feet in the café. Not wanting to sit and brood in your office, you’d busied yourself ‘helping them out’, when in fact they didn’t actually need any assistance. And you could sense you were vaguely irritating them. But you didn’t feel up to telling them what the problem was.

Eventually, you’d asked if one of them wanted the rest of the day off as paid leave, and Gabrielle had jumped at the chance. Her older sister had just recently popped out another baby, and she was keen to visit and fulfill her role as doting aunt.

The two guys had watched you warily for the rest of the day, in case all your nervous energy ended up causing some kind of coffee-shop catastrophe. You sent them off at the end of the day, saying you’d close up yourself. Which turned out to be a mistake. Looking vacantly out at the street, you closed and locked the door when they left, and that’s when you spotted the Wraith, parked diagonally opposite the café.

Resting your forehead against the cool glass of the door for a moment, knowing you should really have anticipated that this would be Billy’s next move when you didn’t respond to his attempts at contacting you. Either turn up here or at your apartment. Not difficult to work out. You got the fright of your life as the doorway suddenly darkened, and long legs clad in suit trousers and a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in your line of vision. You’d jumped back in surprise and Billy leant one one arm on the door, staring in at you and mouthing “Please?” at you, followed by (you thought), “I just wanna explain.”

You’d looked away from his pleading eyes, contemplating what you were going to do. Let him in, don’t let him in. You couldn’t deny you wanted to hear his explanation. In all its no-doubt manufactured glory. So, heaving a big sigh, you unlocked the door and immediately walked away to the counter, leaving him to actually open the door and walk in. A small victory, you thought. You hadn’t actually let him in after all. Sort of.

“Coffee?” you asked over your shoulder. “Please.” You made an Americano for him, and a caffé corretto for yourself. You weren’t too fond of grappa, so topped up the espresso with some brandy. Billy, who was leaning on the counter watching you, raised an eyebrow at you. “Ooh, that bad, huh? Can I get some too?” You just stared at him, and he added, “Please?” so you added a shot to his coffee and handed it to him.

Sipping your own strong and bracing beverage, you leaned back against the unit behind you, face neutral, waiting. He took a long drink of his fortified coffee, eyes never leaving yours. He carefully placed the cup back into the saucer, leaning his arms on the counter and looking back up at you, the tip of his tongue swiftly moving over his bottom lip.

“I know you’ll probably think this is total bullshit, but I promise you it’s not,” he said into the silence. You nodded, “Mmhmm.” His eyes drilled into yours, sincerity shining out of them, “That was purely a business lunch. She’s a Homeland agent, and Frankie and I are... in the middle of something with that agency. I can’t tell you any of the details... yet. I’m sorry.”

You huffed out a long breath. “Firstly, Billy, since when does a business lunch entail walking the woman to a table with a hand on her back?” He winced, but you weren’t finished, “And right now, to me, the only thing you looked like getting into the middle of was her.” This time he flinched back from the venom in your voice, but he maintained eye contact with you.

“Angel, I swear to you... On. My. Life. There is nothing and will never be anything between me and Agent Madani.” So.... Agent Madani, your brain rolled the words around your mind. “We’re in a joint operation with them, and I need to make sure she doesn’t drop us out of the loop, they’re good at doing that.”

“And how’re you doing that, Billy? With ‘business lunches’, with lots of flirting? She got the hots for you, hmmm Billy? Yeah? So, ultimately with sex? Keep her really sweet?”

Damn, you knew you’d hit the nail right on the head. His face had flushed, guilt written all over him and he’d slid back on the counter slightly. You’d like to bet that If he hadn’t met you, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. Maybe he’d just not got that far down his timetable with her yet.

You stared intently into his eyes, “Slept with her yet, Billy?” He straightened up to his full height, looking down at you, a strange distant expression in his eyes. “No, angel, I haven’t. And I can’t deny what you’ve just said. That was the plan. Me and Frankie need to know what information and leads she’s got. Yeah, she’d like to fuck me, she’s made that pretty obvious. But we hadn’t quite got to that stage yet.” He took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “We had a drink after work one night, and I kissed her.”

“Uhuh. Did you.” Statement, not question, folding your arms over your chest.

“Before we met!” he hastily added, emphasising the ‘before’, “...it happened days before we met. And it was purely business to me. Nothing more.” “Really? She’s pretty hot.” You could tell he spent a split second thinking how best to reply and keep his balls intact at the same time. “Well, yeah she is... but the spark’s not there for me. She doesn’t float my boat. Not like you do.” You smirked, good answer Russo!

“So what would your schedule have been?” He looked at you, puzzled, “What d’you mean?”

“Flirt, tick. Kiss, tick,” you made little air ticking motions with your finger. “Fuck...? Now, just when would that’ve been on the table, Billy?” He looked away from you, shaking his head, “I dunno. Whenever it would’ve been necessary.” Glancing back at you, “Look, I know this sounds really...” “Shitty?” you supplied. He allowed himself a small grin, “Yeah, shitty,” then the grin dropped. “But this is life and death, angel, and it means finally clearing our names as long as it all goes down okay.” You decided to spare Billy the verbal barb which had popped effortlessly into your head, along the lines of ‘would it depend on who went down on who?’

But you didn’t, instead saying. “Oh right, that’d be clearing your name from when you and Frank got arrested by Homeland, yes?” Billy gave you a hint of a smile, “So, you have been digging after all.”

You nodded, “Yes, I have. Not that I found out much. The dead CIA guy, him having funded you, you guys getting arrested. That was pretty much it.” He nodded, “That’s the bare bones of it, the important parts though. I promise you that as soon as I can, I’ll tell you the whole sorry story. We’re still right in the... it’s all still goin’ on right now.”

You smirked to yourself, you knew he’d changed what he’d been about to say as he was saying it, in case you took another dig at him about exactly what he was in the middle of.

He moved round the counter, and stood next to you. His dark eyes looked huge as they stared into yours, “I promise you, angel, you’re the only woman I’m interested in. The only one I want to be with. Please say you believe me.” The annoying thing was, you did. You didn’t like what he’d told you - that basically if you hadn’t been on the scene he’d have slept with Madani to keep her ‘on side’ - but you did believe that he hadn’t had sex with her. You thought that the small snippet of her body language you’d observed had screamed ‘I want him’ but not the casual touching and languid looks of ‘I’ve had him’.

You gave a big sigh. “Okay, Russo, I believe you.” A look of pure relief crossed his face, and he immediately grabbed both of your hands, pulling you close and kissing you hungrily. You pulled away after a few moments, just as he was trying to deepen the kiss. “But you’re on parole for a while.” He groaned, which became a laugh, “Okay, yeah... whatever you want, angel. For however long you want. I guess I deserve some punishment.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After closing up, you and Billy crossed the road and headed towards his car. He beeped his car remote at it as he approached and then opened the passenger door for you. As you folded yourself into the seat, he put one arm on the door frame and leant in to kiss you again. “Sneaky,” you said as you moved your lips away from his. “Always,” he replied and smiled widely at you. He seemed very happy to have been granted ‘parole’, you thought.

As Billy drove off in the direction of his place - realising this produced a part-exasperated smirk on your face - you contemplated what a fucking awful, emotional, but ultimately good day you’d had.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Someone else was stewing about precisely the same thing. Only without the good ending.

Dinah Madani had a furious scowl on her face as she put her SUV into Drive and pulled out into the traffic flow, following Billy’s car.

She’d just watched that whole little pantomime as he’d opened the car door for that woman, then leant in and obviously kissed her, although she hadn’t been able to actually see that from her vantage point a couple of cars behind his.

When she’d followed Billy from Anvil out to Chelsea earlier on, for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he’d headed into a coffee shop, of all places. She’d discovered that she couldn’t see into the café from where she was parked, and didn’t want to break cover and walk over to the window in case Billy spotted her.

Then out he’d trotted, hand in hand with whoever this woman was - a waitress in a coffee shop? “Classy, Russo, very classy,” she said out loud, in a bitchy voice. She could ask him about it, she thought, but knowing him he’d more than likely tell her it was none of her business.

Well, she was going to make it her business to find out whatever she could about this apparent liaison of his. She pulled over and watched as his car disappeared into the underground carpark of his apartment block.

It could have some bearing on the case, she thought, trying to justify this course of action to herself.

She ignored that other little voice in her head which said to her that she was just plain jealous.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane

[anonniemousefics]

All Kinds Of New Friends

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 4,700

Rating: Teen and Up

TW: contains mentions of sexual assault

Cross-posted to AO3

Synopsis: The gang has a run in with a couple of unscrupulous characters from Inej's past, and Kaz says a few things in the middle of a rage he wasn't supposed to say yet.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to AO3 user puppy cat, who was such a supportive, lovely fan from the very first chapter of "My Dearest Inej" all the way to the end. They requested a fic based around a particular idea involving the gang at a restaurant and someone harassing Inej and Kaz losing his shit in a very specific way (being intentionally vague here to avoid too many spoilers lol). If you like this au, there's more of it in my recent fic "Samples". :)

--------------------------------------

Nothing brought Kaz Brekker life quite like being paid to argue. And he was good at it, which was why he could charge these student athletes afraid of losing their scholarships two hundred bucks an essay without even flinching. If a more delightful way to make money existed, he had not found it yet.

He was spending his Saturday the way he usually spent Saturdays: rounding out a conclusion to a paper arguing for the death penalty, for a pre-law class he’d never take and a trust-fund upperclassman he’d hopefully never meet. In a few hours, he could drop the doc in a secure server and wait for the Venmo alert that he’d been paid. Nothing was sweeter.

Well. One thing was sweeter.

Inej was in the beat-up old recliner beside him in his and Jesper’s little living room of their third-floor off-campus apartment. This was the best way to spend a Saturday. She was sitting cross-legged and practically drowning in oversized sweats, her raven-black hair piled on top of her head while she hunched over her MacBook. And she was wearing those thick-rimmed, blue-blocker glasses Matthias Helvar had convinced her she needed (which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that he was being paid to promote them on his stupid Instagram, that douchebag). Kaz had cringed both internally and externally when she’d told him she’d bought a pair, but now he was seeing the merit, because, dear God, was she adorable in glasses. They were awakening strange and powerful urges every time he glanced over at her. If she held them in between her teeth while undoing her hair, he was going to have to leave the room.

Because the terrible reality was that Inej had had a rough go of it her freshman year at Ketterdam University. And even though they were sort of together now (Kaz was pretty sure they were?), the last thing Inej needed right now was to be over-sexualized – for anything. Including those really fucking cute glasses.

“I’m starving,” Jesper declared from his prone position on the floor. He had been propped up on a bunch of faded pillows between them, engrossed in shooting undead things on their Xbox. His boyfriend Wylan had spent most of the afternoon napping against his shoulder, but was now blinking awake like a blue-eyed baby owl at Jesper’s sudden announcement.

“I could eat,” Wylan yawned with a lazy stretch.

“Inej? You?” Jesper reached up to tug on Inej’s sock.

“Hm?” Inej looked up from her laptop like she was emerging from a cave while she gnawed on one of the strings of her sweatshirt. It had been like this since The Incident – Jesper and Nina often took turns making sure she would eat. (Kaz had it covered, but that was all right. The back-up couldn’t hurt.)

“Food? Are you hungry?” Jesper repeated, the unspoken question floating in the air: Have you eaten today?

Inej blinked a few times as she thought, her dark eyes flitting back and forth between Jesper and her laptop screen. Kaz knew this internal war well – the age-old taking care of one’s needs versus the siren-song of wreaking endless revenge.

Inej had come to Ketterdam University on a gymnastics scholarship, but that had fallen by the wayside – ever since The Incident. The night everything changed.

Kaz didn’t know Inej Ghafa all that well before it happened – had taken a few classes with her, studied for an exam with her once. She’d been eternally sunshiney, the kind of girl he knew wouldn’t waste her time on dark things like him.

But then she’d started missing classes.

And then showing up to class visibly drowning beneath the weight of sleeplessness and oversized clothes.

And he didn’t really know her but it had bothered him all the same. It was like watching a star collapsing in on itself.

And that’s when the story of The Incident hit the news cycle. From the moment he read the first headline, Kaz couldn’t stop scrolling, growing sicker and sicker in the pit of his stomach.

She’d gone to a party at a frat house with a new friend. (Kaz had even been there before, maybe even the night it happened. Frat parties were veritable breeding grounds for potential clients – full of rich, connected kids too drunk or stoned to be bothered by classwork and crooked enough to pay someone else to do it.) It was suspected that someone had slipped something in her drink, and it was known that the friend who’d brought her there had been entirely useless. Inej had woken up the next morning, half-naked on the lawn, crude drawings in Sharpie all over her, and no knowledge of what had transpired that had left her there.

It should have ended there – that was bad enough. But then the frat boys had started posting the videos of what had happened that night. How she had been used. How she had been touched.

If Inej’s parents were going to have their way, someone was going to jail. If Kaz was going to have his way, someone was going to suffer all the way there.

After he’d learned the news, he’d found her the next day before class started, where she was at the back of the room, hunched over her desk with her hood up. She’d shot daggers at him with her eyes when he approached. He’d liked that.

“I’d like to help you ruin them,” he’d told her. Inej’s glare didn’t relent as she sized up him – his black attire, the leather gloves that clenched his gleaming cane. He usually made a point of looking like the sort of person who ruined things. Nobody bullied a boy with a cane if it looked like that same boy could take your head off with said cane.

Inej seemed to agree that he looked like he could fit the bill. And they began to plot – how to expose her abusers, how to alert every girl they ever came into contact with, how to ruin every single party they would ever throw.

And somewhere along the way, it had turned into…something. Kaz wasn’t sure what to call it. But he couldn’t call it nothing – not when Inej regularly stayed the night in their apartment and did soft things like run her hand over his chest if she liked the jacket he was wearing or blush and smile if she caught him looking at her. He’d even really gone out on a limb one night and told her he liked her, and she’d said it back. He wasn’t sure where that left them at this point. Somewhere, he guessed, with something.

“I’ll eat,” Inej was agreeing, albeit with a bit of reluctance to leave her laptop. She was elbows-deep in a catfishing scheme Kaz had concocted for their latest victim.

“Nina wants us to meet up with her and Matthias at The Sweet Shop,” Wylan said, who was catching up on the texts he’d missed while napping on Jesper.

“I swear, Nina could lure a polar bear into the jungle,” Jesper sighed next to him, because it was a little miraculous to think Matthias Helvar, fitspo Instagram model and purveyor of all things organic and natural, had somehow been corralled into a bakery cafe. Kaz was surprised that Matthias even looked at carbs, let alone consumed them.  

And, even though he was pressed for time on the illicit essay he was writing, Kaz needed food, too. He and Inej both could use the time away from their questionable dealings online.

The Sweet Shop was within walking distance, but it had begun to rain, cold and foggy, over Ketterdam. So, the four of them piled into Kaz’s beat up black Chevy and rolled into town behind the rhythmic beating of the windshield wipers.

“Over here!” Nina waved to them, beaded bracelets rattling in a stack on her wrist, from the far corner as the bakery’s front door swung closed behind them, tripping a jingling brass bell pinned to the doorframe.

The Sweet Shop was a popular spot for the more bookish crowds to crash on the weekends, load up on starchy foods and coffee while rattling out papers on their laptops or flirting under the guise of study groups. Kaz wouldn’t go so far as to call them his type of people, but he was certainly more at home here than the drunken soirees where he spent his evenings fleecing the debauched children of alumni. Here, there were people crowded over old tables with their books, and well-worn leather sofas and faded overstuffed chairs in the corner lined with secondhand books and used board games that were almost always missing pieces. The air smelled like espresso and cupcakes and old pages, and if Matthias Helvar was going to sulk about the lack of kale on the menu, Kaz might have to punch him in the face.

Matthias was already nursing a colorful smoothie while Nina sat next to him on the old leather sofa, her long, shapely legs draped over his and a stack of sugared waffles on the coffee table in front of her.

“Took you long enough!” Nina was scolding as the four of them weaved through tables to the corner of sofas and chairs. “Do none of you check your phones on weekends?”

“A technology fast is very cleansing for our auras,” Matthias countered, with a sage look – Matthias, the self-proclaimed Instagram influencer. Kaz rolled his eyes.

“That almost sounded like real words, Matthias – good job,” Jesper smirked, as he perched on the arm of the chair where Wylan had flopped down. Matthias opened his mouth to retort something, but --

“I was just distracted, sorry,” Inej intervened with an apology to Nina and a sheepish look. (She thankfully was no longer wearing her blue-blockers or it might have been too sweet even for a place called The Sweet Shop.)

“And I was just ignoring you,” Kaz said with a shrug. Inej gave him an exasperated whack in the arm as he sat next to her on an old loveseat, resting his cane against one side, and Nina let out a put-out huff.

“Wylan’s the only considerate one among you,” she complained.

“Yes, that is true,” Jesper agreed, and Wylan grinned widely with his chin propped up on his fist.

“We wanted you here because,” And Nina drew out the because like she had something grand to follow it, “Matthias landed a sweet sponsorship yesterday, and he wants to buy us all lunch!”

Kaz and Jesper groaned in unison, loud enough it couldn��t quite be drowned out by Inej and Wylan’s congratulations. Matthias got particularly insufferable after new sponsorships – there would be strings attached to this.

“That’s very nice of you, Matthias,” Inej said, pointedly, glaring at Kaz.

“It is very nice of you, Matthias, to offer to buy us all strawberry ice cream smoothies like yours,” Kaz said, with an evil glint in his eye as he nodded to the large pink cup in Matthias’ hand.

Matthias gave an uneasy laugh.

“There’s no ice cream in this,” he said, then paused when he noticed Nina’s tight-lipped, icy stare boring into Kaz’s skull. Then his brow cinched up and looked down at his cup. “There isn’t ice cream in this, right, babe?”

“It’s not going to kill you,” Nina replied with an eye roll.

“Babe! You know I can’t do dairy right now! Tomorrow’s Six-Pack Sunday!”

There was no point in trying to stop it: a laugh in the form of a long snort rolled out of Kaz while Jesper and Wylan dissolved into a fit of giggles. Now Kaz remembered -- this is why they kept Matthias around.

“You don’t understand,” Matthias was trying to say. “It can take a whole week to detox and lose the bloat.”

“I’ll finish it for you, you big baby,” said Nina, and snatched the smoothie away from a panicked Matthias.

“I should start running laps now,” he was fretting.

“Make some food runs for us – that’s a start,” Jesper supplied, looking helpful.

“Good call,” Matthias nodded, and hopped to his feet, nearly dumping Nina onto the floor in the process. “Orders? Orders?” He looked to each of them, ready to leap into action and start fighting off the bloat.

He’d gathered up their orders and made a beeline for the counter when Nina turned to Inej.

“You had me worried, you know.” Nina leaned out a little over her knees toward her roommate. “You were just distracted?”

Kaz glanced in Inej’s direction in time to see how she swallowed hard. She’d stuffed her hands deep in her hoodie pockets. Kaz knew the reaction all too well -- what it was like to withdraw and fight to make yourself untouchable, even to those who loved you.

“Just a lot of work lately,” Inej said. And Nina slid a suspicious glance toward Kaz, as if waiting for him to explain himself and what he was getting the two of them into now.

But it had always been Inej’s decision, how she wanted to handle her own revenge. Kaz was only providing tools. He hadn’t answered for her yet, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Nina sighed.

“I just don’t want to see anyone hurt anymore,” she said. The brass bell over the front door jingled again.

“That’s not--”

But Inej stopped short when she glanced toward the sound of the bell. She barely moved, but Kaz could sense her growing rigid next to him. And something about it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He followed her gaze to two boys who were now slouching toward the front counter. Kaz had seen them both before; he was pretty sure he’d written a biology research paper for the one with the pug-nose. They were both tall and conventionally good-looking – the sort you probably didn’t think twice about. Well-muscled, expensive haircuts, brand name sneakers.

Beside him, Inej had started breathing weird.

“Fuck.” Nina had noticed her staring, too, and suddenly all pairs of eyes in the corner were watching the newcomers at the front of The Sweet Shop with murder in their hearts.

Because these two bastards had been there the night of The Incident.

Kaz found himself wondering which one he could make cry first. Probably the bulkier one -- he looked soft and dumb around the edges. His mom probably still did his laundry on the weekends and called his professors when he didn’t get good grades. Kaz wanted to see him cry until snot dribbled down his sweaty face and –

“We should go,” Inej said, abruptly. She was looking pale and shaky, and her eyes darted around as if she needed to gather belongings, even though she’d brought none. Kaz had started to grip the head of his cane, tighter, tighter, tighter.

“Fuck no.” Nina was adamant and fiery, bless her. “We got here first – they can leave.” And then a little louder. “They should be in jail, frankly!”

“Nina!” Inej hissed, and her hand flew to curl against the side of her face when the boys looked their direction. Her eyes were wide and terrified when she looked over to Kaz.

“I want to go,” she told him, and that was all she needed to say. He pushed his weight onto his cane, hoisting himself to his feet.

“Don’t worry, girl – we got you,” Jesper was confirming, and, without even needing to consult each other, he and Wylan and Nina had Inej surrounded from sight on their walk to the door, Kaz at the front.

And it almost worked, too.

“Brekker!” Until one of the boys recognized him and gave him with a jovial grin. Shit. “Hey, it’s Brekker!” The stupid kid with the pug nose gave Kaz a hearty slap on his shoulder, and it took every ounce of restraint in him to not break the dude’s wrist.

“This kid got me an B+ on my bio term paper,” the kid was telling his bulky friend, and then with a shady-ass side smirk, he added: “Wasn’t totally the A I’d paid for, but that was still awesome, bro.”

“With your GPA, an A would have been too suspicious.” Why was Kaz even defending himself to this turd? He made to shove past, to head for the door.

But that kid was still gripping his shoulder. Like he wanted Kaz to remove it from its socket. Like maybe he was just asking for it. Kaz ground his teeth, trying to maintain his resolve. He wasn’t going to do this in front of Inej. He was going to be better than this for her.

“Bro,” the human pile of excrement still touching him was saying, “I’ve been meaning to text you. I have this world religions class this semester that is just killer, and I--”

“Your next words had better be how you’re doing your own damn work from now on.”

A simple “No” would have sufficed, Kaz realized, but his girl was in some kind of state because of this waste of carbon and his patience had never been plentiful to begin with.

Besides, the kid didn’t strike him as the type who understood simple “No”s. He was going to have to make it really fucking clear for this idiot.

Sure enough, the kid blinked hard, like he’d been slapped.

“I paid you, bro,” he said, dumbly.

“Oh, he did not just--” Nina started from the back of their bunch.

“Call me ‘bro’ one more time,” Kaz dared him, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell, man?” said the thoroughly confused bulky friend.

“Kaz, just leave it,” Inej said, softly, and she slipped her fingers into the crook of Kaz’s elbow. “Let’s just go.”

A wave of recognition spread over the pug-nosed douchebag’s face at the sight of her. It was sickening, the surprised rise of his eyebrows, the smug, amused smirk on his lips. Kaz wanted to rip them right off his face.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the dick was saying. “You’re with this bitch--”

That’s when Kaz felt something snap. Oh, he was dead now.

“Kaz!” Inej shouted a warning, but it was already too late. With the cane between his two gloved hands, Kaz rammed his weight into this dead man walking. He threw the kid against the front door, the brass bell jingling as the shades on the window rattled in the scuffle.

“That’s my girlfriend, dipshit,” Kaz snarled.

Kaz was vaguely aware that there was a rising commotion around him, a crescendo of clashing panic and rage. His hand had found its way to the dude’s collar, throttling him; Nina was shouting something at Matthias somewhere behind him; chairs were scuffling about against the floor. But Kaz’s sole focus now was on making this heinous little fucker wet his pants.

“Kaz. The door.” Jesper’s clear-headed voice cut through the blinding wrath, and Kaz was somehow thinking clearly enough to gather his meaning and wrenched the kid away from the front door just long enough for Jesper to shove an arm through and open it.

And Kaz threw the pug-nose brat out into the rain ahead of them. The kid hit the pavement, hard, and scrambled back.

“Dude, you’ve got it all wrong if you think she’s the victim here,” the useless piece of flesh was sniveling. His nose was bleeding – pathetic, Kaz had barely hit him.

“I really think I don’t,” Kaz disagreed, thoughtfully.

“We could have you arrested!” the bulky child was screeching. Kaz turned just in time to see Matthias literally chuck the kid out after them, red-face and snarling. And Kaz had to hand it to him – even with his dairy intolerance, Matthias Helvar could toss frat kids with the best of them.

“Oh, please file a police report about this,” Kaz sneered at them. The wind and the rain were beating back his dark hair and flapping the collar of his black jacket, but he didn’t care. “I would absolutely love to know how you plan on explaining why you called my girlfriend a bitch.”

“Man, it is not my fault your girl can’t handle her liquor.”

CRACK. Kaz barely had time to blink, and Matthias had straight up decked the kid right in his jaw. Nina was rolling up her sleeves, ready to destroy the other one in the pelting rain.

“Hey!” The teenager in a green apron who’d been running the cash register was running out after them, holding a phone over her head. “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t clear out!”

And when Kaz looked back at Inej, there were tears welling in her eyes even though her jaw was set firm. From the looks on the faces of the rest of his friends, they’d all noticed, too.  

So, it fizzled out before it even really began.

The frat boys had slunk off in the rain, and the six of them regrouped and sauntered back to Kaz’s car in silence. Jesper, Nina, and Matthias piled into the back seat, while Inej and Wylan squeezed into the front. And then an uncomfortable stillness descended.

Inej had pulled her hood up again when Kaz turned the key in the ignition, her arms tight in her sleeves. Every once and awhile, she’d sniffle as quietly as she could as the car ride seemed to drag on – but Kaz knew. Everyone knew. That had been awful. And it still felt awful. Kaz’s head was starting to swirl, his wracked nerves still buzzing. He shouldn’t have done it. He hadn’t wanted to do it, not really. And she’d told him she wanted to leave – she’d said it clear as day. And he’d said…oh God, what had he said? What had he done?

Kaz’s stomach was starting to lurch. He’d said a lot of things. Way too many fucking things. Things they hadn’t discussed yet. Things he’d clearly just assumed. What had he done?

“We really should cleanse this negative energy.” Goddamn Matthias was the first one to break the pervasive silence, and he was choosing to break it with this nonsense. Kaz’s glare drifted to the rear view mirror. “I have some sound healing bowls back at my place that are--”

“I swear to God, Helvar,” Kaz snapped, “if you break out even one sound healing bowl, I will make you wear it like a helmet and then drop kick you into the sun.”

In the rear view mirror, Kaz could see Matthias’ nostrils flaring.

“You are such an unbalanced piece of shit sometimes, you know that--?” But Matthias stopped short because Inej had let out a surprising chuckle. Kaz slowly let himself glance her direction – so did everyone else.

She was smirking up at Kaz.

“I just think it’s thoughtful of you to make sure his head is protected before you launch him into space,” she shrugged. Wylan barked out a laugh.

“I just think they should kiss already,” Nina added, waggling an eyebrow at a brooding Matthias, and then Jesper started to laugh, too, which really was the most infectious of laughs. Even Kaz was smiling after a moment – just a little.

Though that faded entirely when they pulled up to Kaz and Jesper’s apartment and Inej asked to speak with him alone in the car first.  

Shit, he thought. Shit. Here it is. He’d royally fucked it up now.

They waited in silence with the rain pouring over the car while the rest of their friends darted into the old Victorian home where Kaz and Jesper lived on the third floor. With each passing second, his stomach sunk lower into his guts. He wasn’t even sure he could form words in his brain, let alone with his mouth. He had no rational explanation for what had come over him back at The Sweet Shop, other than Here it is, Inej, I’m kind of a fucking disaster.

“So, that was…” Inej started, slowly. She was staring out the front window. Kaz felt like crumpling, and he hated it, hated how weak he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, I know…” he muttered. He didn’t really, but he just wanted this to be over. If she never wanted to see him again, he needed her to rip the bandaid off quick.

“So, I’m your girlfriend now?”

Kaz couldn’t decipher her tone, and he couldn’t even look at her. He was just going to stare at the steering wheel until this was over.

But then Inej said: “I just would like to have known before the guys my parents are having investigated, that’s all.”

Kaz looked to her then, lifting his dark eyebrows slightly. She’d let her hair down from its knot before they’d left for the café – she’d braided it loose over her shoulder like he liked. She was twirling the ends now, a tired smile on her pink lips.

“If you want,” he said with a soft shrug. It wasn’t at all like the heroic way he thought she deserved to be swept off her feet. But she was still smiling all the same. It made him feel braver.

Funny – how throwing his weight around against perverts was as easy as breathing, but looking at her like this tore him apart.

“If you’ll have me,” he offered, even softer now.

And Inej reached across the distance between them. Laced her fingers over his, atop his knee.

“I will have you, Kaz Brekker,” she said, tenderly. It took him aback a bit. Made his breath catch. Made his throat sting.

“If I shouldn’t have--” he started to say of the row back at The Sweet Shop. But Inej cut him off instantly, shaking her head. Squeezing his fingers.

“You absolutely should have,” she said, firmly.  “And you should show me how, too.”

Kaz really raised his eyebrows at that. Inej smiled a little wider. His heart was lifting, lifting up and out of the certain doom he was sure it was about to face.

“Come on.” Inej tugged at his hand. “We’d better head up before Matthias starts culture appropriating all over your apartment.”

“You have to admit – he threw one hell of a punch, though,” Kaz pointed out, as he opened his door, and then wanted to punch himself for it. What the hell – was he defending Matthias Helvar now? This whole day was upside down.

Thankfully, there was a different kind of embarrassing going down in apartment number three when they finally made their way up. Kaz could hear it before he even made it to the top of the stairs – the loud, thumping bass, the voices shouting at the tops of their lungs.

Oh, their neighbors were going to love this. They were just making all kinds of new friends today.

When Inej opened the door, all four of their friends were dancing to Cardi B’s I Like It, blasting through Jesper’s bluetooth speaker. It took everything in Kaz to not physically recoil at the assault on his senses.

“Emergency dance party!” Jesper explained, yelling from behind Wylan.

“We’re clearing out the negative energy!” Nina shouted over the noise, her hands in the air. Matthias was jumping around behind her like an absolute madman. “But like in an acceptable way!”

“I think it’s working!” Wylan shouted at her in agreement, with Jesper’s hands on his hips.

They were all smiling.

And beside him, Inej burst out laughing – a wild, fluttery sound he’d heard only a few times before. It caught him right in the heart each time he had, and he knew he’d do anything to hear it as often as he could. He looked down at her and wondered, not for the first time, how she did it. How she managed to wring joy out of even the most dismal of circumstances.

It was something he needed more of – as long as she’d allow him to have it.

“Come on!” she was shouting to him as she took him by the hand. “You heard the man! Emergency dance party!”

And Kaz followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

---------------------------

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

[ffakc]

Isn’t She Lovely? - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

Let me preface this by saying I have ZERO desire to have kids IRL, but the thought of Jeff being a loving, doting birth partner makes me feel warm and fuzzy. He’s also such an amazing Daddy, I just had to... fluff galore! @negans-attagirl @happysgal @iluvneganandjamie

It was my final shift as a manager at the adorable Rhinebeck coffee shop that was my home for the past year. My regulars and coworkers teased me, asking why I still had a job despite being married to one of the top grossing actors on The Walking Dead, but working kept my mind busy during the times my Jeffrey was away. I was also three days overdue with our daughter. My midwife told me to rest, but it’s hard to rest when people call in sick!

“Baby!” I step out from behind the counter and greet my husband with a kiss. He places his large hand on my stomach.

“Look how cute my gal is with her apron and her big ol’ belly,” Jeff gushes.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” I laugh. Jeff scoffs and kisses me.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous,” he smiles. “You about ready to go, doll?”

“If I don’t see you tomorrow, congratulations! You’re going to be a great mom!” my regular Josh tips his cup.

“Bye Josh!” I turn back to Jeffrey, “Yeah, I’m ready whenever you are. I just need to clock out for the last time.”

“We’ll miss you, Boss Lady!” my lead barista Kayla hugs me.

“I’ll miss you too!” I reply, “Bye, everyone!” I call back to the kitchen. Various voices yell back kind words. Kayla wipes a tear away.

“Aww, don’t cry!” I say, tears welling up, “You know I’ll come visit! I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“It’s been wonderful getting to know you, Kayla,” Jeff hugs her as well.

I take my husband by the hand and we make our way to his truck.

“Do you think tonight will be the night?” Jeff remarks.

“I sure hope so. I’m so achy and I feel like my stomach is going to split open,” I laugh.

“Poor thing,” Jeff pouts his lip and rubs my belly. “What do you want for dinner, sweet girl?”

“I’ve been craving sushi all damn day. Cooked, of course,” I reply. I make a quick call to Osaka, our favorite local Japanese place. I hang up the phone and sigh lovingly, “You’re going to be such a good Daddy.”

“And you’ll be the best Mama. I love you so much,” my husband plants a quick kiss on my lips.

***

I wipe the tears away as the music swells. We were watching Phantom of the Opera, one of my favorites. I let out and annoyed groan and Jeff cackles.

“Why are you crying now?!” my husband laughs, “It’s not even sad!” I shove a piece of sushi in my mouth.

“I don’t know!” I giggle, “Stupid pregnancy hormones.” Jeff places his hand on top of the bulge on my side.

“It’s like I’m holding her hand,” Jeff kisses around my navel, “I love my girls.” His kisses make their way up my chest, his hand makes its way through my hair and he sucks my neck.

“We love you too, Daddy,” I moan. Jeff climbs on top of me and I kiss him deeply, gripping onto the neck of his hoodie.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, might induce labor,” my husband smirks and rests his forehead against mine.

“I’ve heard that’s a myth. I want you so bad, Jeffrey,” I lick my lips and run my fingers through his gray hair. Jeff rasps my name, unbuttoning his jeans. I feel a surge of energy in my lower half as Jeff buries his face in my chest. My eyes widen as clear liquid begins pooling between my thighs. I realize immediately what’s happening.

“Jeff...”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“JEFFREY!” I exclaim and gesture downwards.

“Wha- OH! Oh my god! Baby... baby! We’re having a baby!” he stammers, climbing off of me and adjusts my shirt. “What do I do?!” I attempt to calm him, even though I’m quite panicked myself.

“Go get the bag and start the truck!” I breathe heavily. Jeff puts on his glasses and grabs my large black backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m so excited! It’s real! It’s happening!” Jeff laughs. He helps me off the couch and we hustle to the truck. Jeff calls my mom as he lays a towel on the passenger seat.

“Hey Ma!”

“Hey Jeff, how are you? Any baby updates?”

“Well... You’re going to be a grandma probably within the next 24 hours!”

“Oh my god!” my mom sounded just like her mother when she said that. I squeeze Jeff’s hand as he speeds down the road.

“Let me see here,” Jeff pulls up flights on the touch screen on the dashboard.

“Eyes on the road, Daddy, please!” I exclaim, “Hi, Mom! Sorry!” I hear both my parents laugh at me, causing me to laugh too. I sounded like a nervous wreck.

“Hi! Are you feeling okay? Any contractions yet?”

“Not yet, from what I looked up... woah! I felt a little cramping there.”

“I see a five hour flight that leaves in three hours. Do you think y’all can manage that?” Jeff says, “I will pay, don’t you worry.”

“Anything for my first grandbaby,” my mom says. “I can’t guarantee we’ll be there for the birth, but we will be there! See you guys soon, okay?”

“Bye!” Jeff and I say in unison.

***

Four in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink. Labor so far felt like the worst period cramps I’ve ever had. I was only two centimeters, a hell of a long way from ten.

“Jeffrey,” I whimper, my voice cracking, “It hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know. What can I do to help?” Jeff gets close to my face and kisses my forehead, rubbing my hand.

“Something cold would be wonderful. Ice chips, a popsicle. Anything.”

“How about a coffee?” a familiar voice comes from the door.

“You made it,” I smile weakly at my mom.

“No baby, huh? We DID make it!” my dad smiles and pumps his arm in a “YES!” hand gesture. He hugs his son in law and hands him a large Starbucks cup. He hugs me, kissing my forehead.

“Good, Mr. C. Real good,” my husband smiles, sipping the hot coffee.

“Don’t worry, I asked and she said it was fine,” I sit up in bed and hug my mom. She hands me a large iced beverage, “It’s a decaf americano with some Splenda, just something to sip on. I know you like a little bit of coffee with your cream, but you can’t have that right now.”

“Thank you so much,” I take a long drink. “That’s so good... God damn it!” I grit my teeth.

“Another one?” Jeff sits next to me on the bed. “I think they’re close to five minutes apart,” he says to my parents. I rest my head on his chest and groan loudly, “That’s it, pretty girl. Let it out. Scream if you have to. Break my fucking hand if you have to. You’re doing amazing so far.”

“This is the longest thirty sec- ah! Jeffrey!” I grip onto his thigh for dear life. He shushes me softly and rests his chin on my forehead, “I hate my mom and dad seeing me like this.” My mom reassures me that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about and her and my dad go to the waiting room. I try my best to remember the breathing techniques our midwife taught me, but failing miserably. This was going to be a long day.

***

Eight o’ clock. The rays of sun came flooding through the curtain. I close my eyes for a moment as another contraction squeezes me tight.

“Don’t say you’re tired. Come on, Jeff. She’s having your kid and you’re worried about being ti-“ Jeff mumbles to himself.

“You know you’re allowed to be tired too,” I laugh and look at him through slitted eyelids. Jeff smiles and kisses my cheek, rubbing my hand lovingly.

“Hello!” our midwife Lynn pokes her head in.

“Please tell me I’m ready to push,” I let out a deep breath.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” Lynn checks me out. “Don’t hit me,” she chuckles. “You’re only at four centimeters.”

“Oh, Jesus. Just give me the damn drugs.” I glance over at my husband who is drifting off.

“I have to let you know that it will make your contractions stronger and more intense, and I know you’ve expressed being in a great deal of pain already.” Jeff opens his eyes.

“Fuck it, I’ll just sit on the ball for a bit. Daddy?” I turn to Jeff. He grabs the exercise ball.

“I’ll be back soon. Hopefully things will be progressing nicely!”

***

Six in the evening. There’s no possible way I had been in labor for twenty-four hours.

“You’re getting so close, doll,” Jeff whispers and pets my hair. “You’re so strong, Mama, you’re so damn strong. You’re a beautiful, incredible, powerful woman,” Lynn does a brief examination.

“That’s the kind of coaching we like to hear, Jeff! Good vibes only!” Lynn says, “Look at that. You are at a ten, my dear!” I fan my face and a single tear trickles down Jeff’s bearded cheek. I kiss him deeply. I place my feet in the stirrups. “Jeff, are you still okay with catching her? I know you said you wanted to, but sometimes dads back out at the last minute,” Lynn teases.

“Absolutely,” Jeff chuckles.

“All right, sweetheart. On your next contraction, I want you to push hard, okay?” she was so gentle with her words. I nod and exhale. Jeff grips my hand.

“You’ve got this, babe,” my husband kisses me.

The next forty-five minutes fly by and seem to go in slow motion all at the same time. I felt like I had run a thousand marathons.

“I can see her head!” Jeff says excitedly. “You’re almost there, darlin’, you’re so close!” I can’t find the words, the pain is getting to be unbearable.

“I’m going to pass out,” I moan.

“Come on, doll, you’ve got this. You’re doing incredible,” my husband glances between my thighs. “Oh my, she has your wavy hair,” tears stain his cheeks.

“I’m going to guess three more biiiig pushes and you’ll have a baby!” Lynn says.

“You’re so incredible, you’re a fucking warrior, you know that? These are the last few moments we have as just a couple, that’s so wild. After today, we are three. You’re never looked more beautiful, you are glowing. Kiss me, my gorgeous wife,” I feebly press my lips to his.

“Yeah...” I pant, “Oh my fucking god!” I cry out as my face reddens as I push with everything I have in me.

“That’s it! Jeff, quickly, the shoulders are coming!” My husband plants a kiss on my cheek and sits on a stool next to Lynn.

“One... two... three! Push! Come on, girlfriend! Every ounce of energy you have! Good job!” Lynn psyches me up. She mumbles instructions to Jeffrey.

Jeff begins to sob uncontrollably, “She’s so beautiful, you have no idea.” He gasps in awe. Suddenly, a rush of euphoria overtakes my whole body and a loud cry echoes through the room. I rest my head against the pillow and begin crying my eyes out. She’s here! Jeff holds our tiny daughter in his large hands.

“Just place her right there,” Lynn beams with pride. “You did it! Happy birthday, little girl!” She grabs some blankets as our little angel wails. I wrap my arms around her and Jeff bends down next to me.

“You’re so amazing, Mama. She’s so perfect. I love her, I love you. You are such a badass, I’m so proud of you,” Jeff whispers.

“I love you too, Jeffrey. Daddy, she’s all ours,” I kissed him over and over again, “I love you so, so, so much.” I had never felt more connected to my husband than this exact moment. After cleaning her off and doing all the routine checks, I finally get to hold our girl.

“Hi there, little bean,” I kiss the top of her head, my voice shot from crying and screaming, “I’m your Mommy,” I hold her tiny hand, “You look just like your Daddy. And you smell so good!”

“I’ve heard of new car smell, but new baby smell?” Jeff giggles.

“Do we have a name?” Lynn asks.

“Evelyn,” Jeff sniffs and kisses the crown of her head, “Evelyn Alice Morgan.”