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sl-newsie · 5 months ago

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Falling For You (Robert Fischer x OC)

Summary: A city girl’s life as a waitress can’t improve, can it? Wrong! As fate would have it, one woman catches the eye of Robert Fischer and he offers her a job as his escort. Why choose someone from low society for such an elegant position? Will this employment stay platonic… or will their feelings for each other start to bleed through? Warnings: Inappropriate language (nothing too extreme), hinting at intimacy

“Leave me alone!” I shove the man’s hand off my shoulder and attempt to escape into the city crowds.

Talk about a rainy day. Literally. Not only am I being pursued by a sketchy customer but it’s also raining buckets. Somehow I knew today was going to be a downer. The train broke down so I had to walk to work, nobody felt like tipping, and my boss wants me to do overtime over the holiday weekend. One day at a time, living the full city life as a waitress. And now one customer is getting too attached for my taste.

“We’re not through-!” He grabs my arm again and I kick him in the shin.

“Yes we are! I’m not interested!”

His eyes go feral and before I know it he swipes his foot under my feet and I’m falling backwards to the wet pavement. “You bitch!”

“Ah!” My head’s going to split-! “Oh my God!”

A pair of new hands grab my arms just before I hit the ground. I’m not dead.

“Are you alright?” a gentle but serious voice asks from above.

I look up to see my savior: a lanky man in a business suit with a spiffy tie and suspenders underneath a navy blazer. Not everyone can wear suspenders but he pulls them off well. Is my heartbeat speeding up because of the fall or because of the man’s incredibly handsome face? A familiar face, like a celebrity. Clear blue eyes, cute haircut, sharply-sculpted cheekbones, and soft lips. A rich man, no doubt.

“Hey, money bags. Leave the bitch to me and scram!”

Oh. I forgot the jerk was still here. The rich man, still holding me, doesn’t seem to care. He helps me stand up and takes his time to respond after giving the jerk a look-over. He’s not impressed.

“You will never bother this woman again, or you will regret it.”

His words are steady but hold a threat with new meaning. Both the bully and I know what he’s talking about. This man has half the city in his pocket and could make any death an accident. Thank God! The brute gets the hint and sprints off, leaving me flustered to still be clinging to the rich man’s suit.

“What’s your name?” Even his voice is attractive.

Before I answer I pull away and wipe off what water I can to make myself presentable- although it’s hard to in a rainstorm.

“Margaret Chillinger.”

“Here, let’s get out of this,” the man says and leads me to a nearby restaurant. When we get inside he offers me a seat at a corner table and we both sit. People are already staring and I know what they’re thinking. Why would someone like him be in this low-rate place with someone like me?

The man ignores the stares. “Do you know me?”

Once the rainwater is wiped off (no doubt my makeup is smudged now) I nod my head. “I know who you are. Anyone who reads the papers knows who Robert Fischer is. I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”

Earlier this week I saw a headline claiming that Maurice Fischer, head of Fischer Morrow, one of the biggest energy companies of the world, had passed away. What are the chances I come across his son Robert Fischer? But I don’t feel as odd because Fischer is acting odd as well. Did he whisper ‘not dreaming?’ Why is he even in this part of town anyway?

“Looks to me like you’re in need of a job. A better job,” Fischer observes. “How about considering working for me? Not as a secretary. One that’s more… sociable.”

A new job? Me? Working for a multi-millionaire? A handsome multi-millionaire? What’s the catch?

“Are you saying you are in need of an escort, Mr. Fischer?”

“I need a smart and attractive woman who’s not ditzy enough to trip on her heels.” Fischer never looks away, still with the same no-kidding expression. “Someone the press can admire.”

A showgirl. That’s what he needs. “You obviously come from money. I imagine you already have a large arsenal of pretty girls to parade around with.”

Fischer chuckles. “Looks can be deceiving. What if I told you that I’ve never officially had a hired escort? Only a few temporary employees.” His expression changes. “Will there be any jealous boyfriends I should be aware of?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Looks can be deceiving. Bold of you to assume I have one. You saw how my last encounter went and he wasn’t even my boyfriend.” I arch a brow. “You rich guys usually don’t come here to associate with lower society. Why choose me?”

“Because I take you as a woman who’s bold enough to not be afraid of authority.”

So he needs a girl with guts. “I don’t fear authority, I respect it. Also I kinda owe you for saving my head from becoming a split melon. You need my street smarts, Mr. Fischer.”

The man’s smile brightens at my diagnosis and he pats my shoulder. “You’ll do just fine. How does ten grand sound as a starting wage?”

Ten grand? This is one Hell of an interview. There has to be a catch. “How deep would the… physical details of the job venture?” I ask slowly.

Fischer is quick to explain. “Basic hand-holding, conjoined arms, the occasional kiss on the cheek. Nothing more.”

Wow. This is not what I expected. How is a man this rich so- so… kind? “Could you maybe-?”

“I will put it in writing,” Mr. Fischer finishes for me. “And I always abide by my contracts, Ms. Chillinger.”

I’ve never had a contract before. Ten grand… Ah, Heck. Why not? It’s better than my crummy waitress job. I can pretend to be an escort. Especially to such a generous employer.

“Ok. So when do I start?”

“You started 20 minutes ago. And you’re doing a brilliant job.” Mr. Fischer notices my confusion. “See those men there?” I look to where he’s pointing and spot two men wearing sportcoats, each occasionally looking over at us. If they’re trying to be discreet they’re doing a terrible job of it. “They’re reporters. They’ve been taking pictures throughout our whole conversation.”

That’s how popular this man is. This is how public my job is going to be? I need to alert my family so they don’t die of embarrassment.

Mr. Fischer scribbles something on a business card and slides it across the table. “Here’s my personal number, just so when I call you will know I’m not a stranger.”

“But you don’t have my number.”

He simply tilts his head in consideration. “I have my ways. I’ll send over some supplies for your job.” Supplies? “Your first session starts tonight. I’m flying out to Los Angeles and need you to come with me. You’ll be given a private hotel room.”

Los Angeles? Just how much does-? But before I ask Mr. Fischer gets up from the table and gives a proper goodbye before heading back into the rainy streets. Well done, Margret. You’ve moved up from being a waitress at a greasy spoon to being an escort for a millionaire. A very handsome millionaire. How is a city girl supposed to pull this off?

Well. The question of pulling it off is answered. Outside my apartment door are bags and boxes of unknown department store goods. What’s Fischer done now? I quickly push the pile into my apartment before the neighbors can get suspicious. What is- Oh.

The packages contain every woman’s dream. Gorgeous dresses, elegant evening gowns, classy heels, designer bags, expensive makeup brands. This is the supplies Mr. Fischer was talking about. Something to clean up my image. Clean up his image.

It’s not for you, Margret. He could have picked any woman to dress nicely. Remember that everyone is driven by fear, survival, worry, and anxiety. If Robert’s going to survive the corporate world he needs a woman by his side to show off. The rich man’s world is crazy.

I shower and scrub my skin raw to get rid of the dirt and grime covering me after today’s shift. It doesn’t take as long as I thought to get dressed. I have no idea what event Mr. Fischer is flying to so I choose a simple but classy black dress paired with gold heels. I look the part, now it’s time to test it. Downstairs I find a very sleek limo waiting out front.

“Are you Ms. Chillinger?” the driver asks.

“Yeah, that’s me. Did Mr. Fischer send you?”

“Yes. He instructed me to drive you to the airport. Do you need help with your bag?” I politely shake my head and climb inside, making him look surprised. “That’s the first time a girl hasn’t asked for special treatment. I’m Daniel, by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Daniel. Do you know why I’m here?”

“I have a good idea. My advice? If you want to look legit then you need to pour everything you have into looking confident and rich. Very rich. The cameras love a rich smile.”

Even Fischer's chauffeur is nice! Maybe this job won’t be so bad after all.

“Thanks, Daniel. Now let’s not keep Mr. Fischer waiting.”

“Good evening, Mr. Fischer. Ready to fly?”

Even my voice is different. I take Daniel’s advice and attempt to hide my laid-back city accent with a posh tone. It seems to please Mr. Fischer, who’s wearing a different suit that’s a sharp black with a navy blue tie.

His pleased smile is good praise. “I thought that dress would look nice. Do you like it?”

“It cost more than all of my belongings. You have good taste, Mr. Fischer.” I look across the runway and see a giant white jet approaching. “Private jet? Fancy.”

Fischer shrugs. “This is what a business empire gets you. Now follow closely.”

Right. Time to go to work. I grab my simple carry-on bag and Fischer offers an arm for me to take. I must say it’s not as uncomfortable as I thought. He’s gentle but still tense, something expected from a stressed businessman. He leads me to the plane and immediately the stewardess rushes out to greet us- Or him, specifically.

“Hello, Robbie! Looking handsome as ever-! Oh.” She notices my arm linked with his and her smile stiffens. “Who’s this?”

“Tiffany, meet Margaret. She’s my newest employee,” Fischer answers smoothly.

Aw, that’s sweet. He introduces me as an employee instead of the specific title. Though Tiffany seems to catch on to what I really am because her gaze tells anything but friendly terms.

“Oh. Robbie, what’ll it be? Whiskey or Scotch?”

Tiffany desperately tries to lure him away but to no avail. Mr. Fischer holds his place next to me and we both start climbing the stairs to the jet. His business behavior precedes him. Does he ever break from it?

“Feel free to sit anywhere,” Robert says and takes his own seat next to the window. “Have you flown before?”

“No. But I’m not afraid of it.”

“Before we begin, here is the contract you requested.”

Fischer pulls out a small stack of papers and slides them onto the tray table. How did he draft that so quickly? It looks… surprisingly thorough. ‘I, Robert Fischer, pledge to abstain from physical and mental harassment in favor of one Margaret Chillinger. This includes unconsented kissing, groping, and sexual intercourse.’ There’s also a bulleted list of more restrictions. He’s thought this out well. And my half looks just as laid-out. ‘I, Margaret Chillinger, pledge to carry out the position of a lady escort to one Robert Fischer. This includes appropriate presentation, etiquette, and attire, attending required social events, and consenting to public press.’ Impressive.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Fischer,” I reply and sign my name on the dotted line. “Pleasure to be in business. Would you like to discuss the details of tonight’s event?”

“Robert!” Tiffany’s back. And she’s holding a tray with a hot towel. “I’ve prepped your flight necessities! Oh.” She makes a dramatic performance to see me sitting across from him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know Robert would have a plus one. So there’s only one towel.”

I wave it off to show no offense. “I can handle not having a towel. Thanks anyway.”

Tiffany’s eyes flash and she retreats back to the employee lounge.

“She’s pretty,” I nod to where the stewardess just stood. “Why not use her instead of me?”

“Because she’s a scatter-brained harlot.”

My eyes nearly pop out at his blunt language. Fischer just laughs and continues.

“The only reason she works here is because her mother is the head chairwoman of the airport. Just watch.”

We wait a few minutes and sure enough the stewardess walks by again. This time she’s carrying a tray with a bottle of blue liquid and a single glass. Zero hospitality skills. Even if I hate a customer I always give them my best service. But that job is behind me now.

“Tiffany, what drink is that?” Fischer points to the bottle.

The smiling woman holds it up. “A type of liquor, I think. It was in the cabinet next to the winerack.”

“Tiffany, that’s windex.”

It’s-? Oh my God! I have to look away to keep from laughing at the big mistake. Robert’s right! How on Earth is this lady qualified to work here?

The poor girl tightly grips the tray and stiffly walks to the back.

“See? Completely hopeless,” Robert stifles a laugh. “Now about the event…”

The rest of the flight goes uninterrupted by Tiffany. Robert explains that the event we will be attending is a charity gala held for large companies. It’s a good thing I chose this gown instead of a sundress. He tells me that I’ll be free to wander as long as I don’t leave the building. That, and I’m not allowed to associate too closely with other men.

“That’s no problem for me. Your society is far from my own.”

“Yet you still agreed to work for me,” Robert points out.

“Not every rich guy is a s nice as you, Mr. Fischer. By the way, thanks for treating my job professionally.”

“You’ll do your job well, Ms. Chillinger.”

The jet lands and another luxury car is waiting outside. I could get used to L.A. The evening weather is gorgeous! As we’re driven through the bright streets I can’t stop staring at the many marvels all around us. And it gets better! The building we stop at is, quite frankly, a fortress. Far more wide than tall to accommodate the earthquake regulations, yet still breathtaking.

“Impressed?” Mr. Fischer asks from behind.

All I can do is nod. It’s not until he offers his arm again that I snap back to reality. Get it together, Margaret. Do your job.

“Mr. Fischer! Over here!”

Oh boy. The press. Just like Robert said. And they look hungry for good newsfeed.

“Follow my lead,” Mr. Fischer whispers. “Just smile. That’s all there is to it.”

He starts walking and we do quick work to strut by the photographers, each offering smiles for whatever articles they’re writing. God, I hope it’s not too humiliating. Fischer hires new mistress? Rags to riches? Street trash becomes gorgeous gold digger? As far as I know nobody knows who I am. The public must assume I’m just any ordinary escort.

Inside the building are dozens and dozens of more rich men. Most of them are over 50 but there are a few like Robert who are still young. Aside from looking rich the only thing that most have in common is their escorts. All around me I see women being paraded around like a dog show. Once again I give a silent prayer to Robert for buying me a dress that is classy and appropriate. Some of these girls’ dresses wouldn’t even apply as shirts in my book.

“You look stunning tonight, Mr. Fischer!” A fellow escort compliments.

Now her employer joins the conversation, a shorter man with thinning hair. “And this young lady of yours is gorgeous! Where’d you find her?”

“Actually she found me,” Fischer replies with a smirk. “Margaret is a remarkable person to have around.”

The man lets out a gut laugh and winks. “Not just for social calls, I hope.”

“You have no idea.”

A sick feeling tugs at my stomach and I suddenly want to inch away. You knew this was coming, Margaret. These are business sharks. Not saints.

“Why don’t you go stretch your legs?” Robert’s voice offers an escape. “I’ll meet up with you later.”

Thank you, Mr. Fischer! I make sure to give him a grateful smile and then hightail it to the back. Maybe I can hide here-

“Well hello there,” a new voice lurks in the corner. A tall man in a cream Italian suit struts over with a devilish look in his eyes. “And who might you be?”

Stay strong. “I am Mr. Fischer’s escort. May I take a message?”

He grimaces at the mention of Robert. “Ah, Fischer. You know you could do so much better than him. What does he pay?” He creeps closer and I feel myself getting cornered to the wall. “I can make it worth your while.”

“I’m afraid that is out of the question,” I say firmly and slink past him. “If you have a problem with Mr. Fischer then I’d be happy to arrange an appointment.”

This is where the ten grand comes from. I wouldn’t be surprised if some women charge higher. I sneak around a corner and find a balcony. Good. I can use some fresh air. Outside the familiar noise of the city brings comfort to me.

“There you are,” Mr. Fischer greets and joins me on the balcony. “Doing alright? I saw Nicklson corner you earlier.”

“I will never understand how you can willingly associate with them, Mr. Fischer. They’re scheming, perverted monsters. I’ve met bums in the city who have more morals than them.”

He walks up next to me and puts his hand over mine. It’s not a gesture of business. It’s more comforting, more personal.

“You’ve done brilliantly, Ms. Chillinger.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Au contraire. Ever since we walked in, every guy here has been looking at you. I just closed a very profitable deal that was once impossible all because of you. Some men here are attracted to intelligence, and you’ve delivered most pleasantly. So, ready to call it a night?”

I… I did it. My first night as an escort and I nailed it! I just need to get over this sick feeling.

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” my city slang slips through but Robert doesn’t seem to mind.

When I first told my old boss I was quitting he thought I was joking. After handing in my official resignation, signed by Mr. Fischer himself, he nearly passed out. A few days later my first payment got transferred to my account. Turns out I can stretch ten grand very thinly. That and once every few days Robert will have me run a few errands for some extra cash. Picking up dry cleaning, scheduling doctor appointments, mailing packages.

Four months go by. The pattern I’ve grown used to is simple. Every Friday I need to wear either a sundress or cocktail dress to a company meeting. Every Wednesday is an evening gown for publicity outings. Sometimes Robert lets me pick the place for dinner, other times he surprises me. Before each meeting I practice smiling in the mirror. After a few weeks of escorting I began seeing myself in the papers, even on TV. No surprise there are a few negative reports, with some saying I’m only seeing Mr. Fischer for his money. But for those who have gotten close enough they report differently. ‘Margaret is a delightful person to chat with.’ ‘Sometimes I even forget she’s an escort, she’s so funny!’ ‘Margaret can carry a conversation with a drunk Scotsman.’

The news eats me up with no problem. My family, on the other hand, sees things differently. My father was very proud to see me move up in the workforce. My mother was appalled to see me being towed around by Mr. Fischer on TV. My brother saw the upside with the paycheck but offered to cut off Fischer’s hands if he ever violated our contract.

The contract that Robert has never tested even once. Only simple gestures, nothing more. Just as he promised. The first time he gestured for me to kiss him it came almost too easy. It certainly helps that he’s easy on the eyes but there’s something else about Mr. Fischer. It feels natural to kiss his cheek, to let him hold me for pictures. After a while I can’t help but start to wonder what real love feels like. How it would feel if someone like Robert actually loved me-

“Robert! Margaret! Over here!”

Today’s event is the opening of a new theater. Both of us have a liking for performing arts and decided to attend the opening night of the first show. Of course there were photographers in the theater with us so I turned on the charm. Hold Robert’s hand, lay my head gently on his shoulder. Pretend to fall asleep. They loved it.

Now that the show is over we’re faced with the sea of reporters.

“Margaret! That new dress is dynamite!”

“Mr. Fischer! Mr. Fischer! Stephanie from Playboy. Would your escort be willing for a photo shoot?”

That last one nearly makes my jaw drop but Robert blocks me from her sight.

“Right this way, Mr. Fischer.” The theater owner shows us to the back of the building, where Daniel is waiting.

“Pedal to the metal, Daniel. These people are going crazy.”

I go to pull the door open but Mr. Fischer beats me to it and lets me in first. What a gentleman.

“Good job, darling,” he sighs in relief when the car starts driving.

“God help my poor parents. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“It’s all a charade. They know that.”

I shake my head and take the time to scratch my hairspray-filled hair, messing up the classy hairdo. “It’s still humiliating. When you go out everyone practically bows because you’re… you. With money. I can hardly walk to my apartment without my neighbors teasing about how I’m your “squeeze for hire.””

I was right to assume that this job wouldn’t be as easy as it seems. After almost a week of starting as an escort my nosy neighbors finally spotted me coming home in clothing that is way too extravagant for a waitress’ salary. They put two and two together once they saw the news.

“Then let's work smarter, not harder. Come live at my place.”

What? I turn to face Robert too quickly and he takes my surprise as hostility.

“You’ll have your own room, of course,” he stutters. “This way our arrangement will be more civilized.”

Our arrangement. If this gets any deeper then people really will assume we’re together. But he’s right. If no one sees me outside of work then they can’t make up stories. Right? Still… It feels wrong to take advantage of his hospitality.

“You’ve already done enough for me. I don’t want to impose-”

“You won’t be,” Robert interrupts. “I have more than enough. Too much, actually. I need someone to share it with.”

“Maybe it’s different in the rich world but in my world it’s not polite to live off riches you don’t earn. I feel wealthy enough with how much you pay me already.”

He doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. Mr. Fischer reaches across the seat and takes my hand. “You are earning it, Margaret. You’re working for me.”

It’s a job. It’s… a job. A job hiding in Fischer’s house. “By playing as your happy homemaker?”

Robert’s eyes show he’s thinking. He gets like this when he’s playing chess, trying to think ahead. “More than that. I- I’ll explain later.”

We’ve arrived back at Fischer Morrow, where a group of more business officials wait inside.

I frown at the gathering through the window. “Mr. Fischer, what’s this? I didn’t think we were hosting another dinner until next month?”

“A last-minute party, I’m afraid. Only for board members so it won’t be too big.”

Wonderful. The excitement of the previous show at the theater is fading because now I have to deal with these people. It’s so much easier when it’s just Robert and I posing for pictures.

“Good luck, Mr. Fischer. Ms. Chillinger.”

“Thanks, Daniel,” I say and wave goodbye.

Robert holds out an arm and together we make our way to yet another social gathering. Oh! Here comes Mr. Browning. Mr. Fischer’s godfather is still skeptical of him involving me with so many events but every time the subject comes up Robert always argues in my favor.

“Good evening, you two.”

“Good evening, Mr. Browning,” I greet politely. “Would you gentlemen like a moment alone?”

“That would be very appreciated, Ms. Chillinger,” the man nods.

I pull away from Robert (does he look disappointed?) and slip inside the lobby. My favorite place is the fountain. Why do corporate buildings always have fountains? None of them compare to the Fischer Morrow fountain. Its main attraction is a center sculpture of a bronze Earth with different jets and currents giving off water displays representing earth, wind, fire, and air. Around the edges are real vines and other plants that give the fountain an extra finishing touch.

“Mind if I join you?”

It’s Jolene, Mr. Wallman’s escort. She’s nice.

“Hello, Jolene. How’s the water here?”

Her makeup-heavy face shows a look of warning. “Calm before the storm. The men here could use your pizazz right now. Care to start a conversation? I’ve tried everything.”

“Maybe try to talk about the new member of the Atomic Energy Commission?”

Jolene’s eyes widen. “I forget you’re still new to this. Hon, you never discuss work with your employer. We’re only here to please them and the reporters. If I tried to talk about Mr. Wallman’s work he would be very upset.”

Upset? Mr. Fischer never mentioned anything about avoiding work topics. Does he just assume I won’t talk about it? I’ve never thought about it before.

“There you are, dear.” Speak of the devil. “Would you mind joining me over here?”

I take his arm and resume my smile. “Of course, Mr. Fischer.”

He shows me over to the other side of the lobby where three men are waiting. Jolene’s right. They look bored and uninterested. If Robert needs to sell any new business pitches I need to liven them up.

“Hello again, gentlemen. You know Margaret, I assume?” Mr. Fischer introduces me.

“Ah! Of course! L.A.’s favorite sweetheart.”

“You do know how to pick ‘em, Fischer.”

I take my cue and fish for topics. “Did anyone hear the story about the youth development charity?” All I get are blank smiles. They must not like hearing an escort talk about this, like Jolene said. Time to distract. “On another note, you’ll never guess the dilemma I had last week. I chose a black dress for the New York Stock Market gala, and Mr. Fischer chose to wear navy blue! I had to find a last-minute dress to match him.”

Now all the men laugh at my error (even though both Robert and I went through miscommunication in the predicament) and partake in examining my current outfit.

“You make up for it, Ms. Chillinger. That dress you have now can do no wrong.”

One man continues to lecture me about his water plant and in the corner of my eye I see Mr. Fischer talking business with the others. My plan works because there’s no denying they're distracted now.

“Thank you, gentlemen. It’s been a productive night, but now Ms. Chillinger and I must be heading off.”

“Go easy on her, Fischer. Can’t afford to lose a pretty face like that.”

Those bastards! I swear one of these days I’m going to snap and let out my city side. I wait until Robert walks us outside before letting out a heavy groan.

“I know, I’m sorry. But you did your job well,” Mr. Fischer assures me. “I’ll give you an extra grand, if you want.”

“It’s not about the money, Mr. Fischer. You can’t buy dignity. The only reason I’m still in this is because you’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”

He doesn’t say anything. If he does have a comment he keeps quiet. We keep walking down the sidewalk and there’s still no sign of a pickup car.

“Daniel’s not coming. I thought we’d walk for a while. Is that ok?” Robert asks, almost sounding nervous.

Why would he be nervous? Probably because he’s not used to this part of town. It’s almost near where I live- or where I used to live. Now I have to think about moving to Robert’s place.

“I’m always up for a stroll outdoors,” I try to sound optimistic. “Have you always lived indoors?”

His brow furrows. “Doesn’t everyone live indoors?”

I let out a laugh. “No! I mean, yes people do. But have you always lived in a penthouse? Ever gone outside for the heck of it?”

“Oh! Um, sort of. When I was younger. Now I don’t really think about it too much-”

“Hey!”

A new hand shoves me away from Fischer and I see a new threat, only this time it’s not a corporate shark. It’s a mugger. He’s definitely a rookie because there’s no gun or knife, as if he expects for Robert to simply hand over his money.

“Take out your wallet!”

“C-Calm down. Here, here it is-” Mr. Fischer gives in and slowly pulls out his wallet. Is he serious?

“He’s not giving you anything,” I argue and step in front. “Touch Mr. Fischer again and the hand comes off.”

The mugger scoffs. “Don’t tempt me, bi- Ow!”

I grab his wrist and give it a hard twist, then give him a kick to the groin. He crumples to the ground and with my sharp heel I step straight on his wrist for good measure. He’s taken care of but we can’t stay here for long if Fischer’s going to surrender so easily to someone like that.

“Thanks for that,” Robert says when I pull him away from the groaning victim.

“I don’t kid around. Never let them see that they get to you.”

“Should I hire you as my bodyguard as well?” Fischer half-jokes.

I roll my eyes and can’t hold back a smile. “You definitely still need my street smarts.”

Why did I do that? My job is to look pretty for the cameras, not defend Fischer from threats. It was out of the goodness of my heart. Only that, right? Not because I feel sorry, not because of- something deeper. I’m doing it to be nice, because he’s definitely been plenty nice to me.

I move into Mr. Fischer’s home the following week. ‘Home’ isn’t the right word. More like an empire. He still owns his father’s penthouse downtown, along with a large mansion on the outskirts and a cabin in the mountains. I choose the mansion so I’ll be close to the city but far away from prying eyes. Of course Robert hired workers to help me move, all of which were surprised by how little I own.

“This is it?” The head mover asks.

“This is it,” I shrug. “Please be careful, some of this is fragile.”

“Are these musical posters really signed?”

“Yes. I’ve had them signed, which is why they’re special.”

In a matter of three hours my possessions are moved to the house and I’m already settling in. Robert has a meeting so he can’t show me around in person, but he still left a note.

Feel free to take any room. My quarters are on the second floor. Thanks for being flexible. -Robert

Flexible. That’s what I am now. Following my employer around like a hooker pursuing a money trail. But I am not that. I am a lady. And Mr. Fischer knows that. The other thing that catches my attention is how he signed it as Robert, not Mr. Fischer. Interesting.

I decide on the west wing upstairs, next to Robert’s rooms. The full bathroom, bedroom, and walk-in closet feels like a small house all in itself. What captures me most is the view. Half the room is made of windows that look out onto the woods behind the mansion. This ‘work smarter’ plan might not be so bad.

After I’ve unpacked and done some exploring I discover the kitchen. Another note promises that a cook will be over to prepare dinner but I can’t wait. I’ve been too busy to eat and it’ll feel good to make my own meal. In the refrigerator there’s some precooked chicken and raw vegetables. Perfect! One big skillet and a little olive oil later, I’ve made a fairly good dinner if I do say so myself. I may have grown up poor but I can still cook.

Is this what it’s like? To have a normal life? A wife cooking and upkeeping a house while the husband is at work? No. I am no wife and this life is far from normal.

“Margaret! Are you here?” Robert calls from the hallway. He walks in and does a double-take when he sees me eating. Instead of being angry he seems surprised. “What’s this?”

“Hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t wait for dinner. You’re welcome to have some.” I hold out the skillet and Robert takes a deep smell. “I know it’s not the type of fancy cuisine you’re used to but-”

“That smells amazing. You really made that?”

He likes my chicken? “Umhm.”

A new set of footsteps alert me to the door and Mr. Browning joins us. “I thought tonight’s dinner was pasta?”

“Margaret made dinner,” Robert explains with a hint of pride. “Almost makes me forget the day’s chaos.”

“How did the meeting go?” I ask without thinking. Damn it, Margaret! You’re not supposed to talk about business!

“It was… tough.” Huh? “Mr. Walker’s trying to get me to partner with his oil company because it’s losing money. He’s a friend of my father’s but I’m not sure I want to accept.”

Mr. Fischer’s letting me hear about this? It sounds stressful. Maybe I can help.

“I don’t know about energy. But I do know about business.” I take a bite of chicken and run through Robert’s words. “Seems to me like this is a scam.”

He looks up from staring at the counter, still running a hand through his hair. His eyes search mine for any hesitation but finds none. He seems to have made up his mind about something.

“Come with me to the meeting. You can point out if it’s a fraud.”

Me? In a board meeting? I’ll be cooked alive. I’m a waitress-escort, not a business expert. I won’t last ten minutes-

“Robert, I’m not sure if she’s qualified-” Thank you Browning!

“I trust her, Browning,” Fischer determines. “She’ll do fine.”

That closes the subject. He is the boss, after all. Since he trusts me with this then I can only bring what I can to the table.

“That’ll be all.”

Robert dismisses his godfather, who’s still looking skeptical, and turns back to his dinner. I see now how the day’s been tough on him. He downs the chicken like there’s no tomorrow and there’s dark circles under his exhausted eyes.

“You look tired. Something wrong?”

Robert catches me looking and tries to shake his drowsiness away. “I don’t sleep too well.”

Between balancing his father’s expectations and the mantle of CEO it’s not unusual.

“Ever wonder what is real?”

Oh. It’s that kind of insomnia. Who knew Fischer’s thinking went that deep?

“Sometimes,” I reply after consideration. “I try not to think about that too much, otherwise I fry my brain.”

“Are you satisfied with your lodgings?”

I flash him a wide smile. “Is that a joke? This whole place is gorgeous, Mr. Fischer.”

“I’m glad you like it. You deserve it,” Robert grins. “The press loves you.”

They love me. But what’s the point of being loved by hundreds of strangers when I can’t even have the approval of my own family?

“You don’t know my parents. They will never accept this.” I gesture between him and me.

“You never met my father. I’d say we’re even.”

The distant way he says that labels deeper father-son issues. It’s no secret that they didn’t see eye-to-eye when the elder Fischer was alive, and Robert doesn’t seem to have let the guilt go.

“Did you hate him that much?” Don’t pry too deep.

“He… was a businessman,” Robert mutters. “Being a father came second, despite my efforts to please him. I don’t hate him, Margaret. I know he loved me. He just didn’t show it until he died.”

Sometimes I forget how young Robert was when he lost his father. Something like that isn’t easy to cope with, especially if they didn’t make amends.

“Your mother is dead too?” I ask softly.

He walks over to the wine rack and nods. “Died when I was 11. That young, and my father did nothing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Everyone has their own way of grieving. His must have been denial. Did you two ever recover?”

Fischer pops a bottle open. “Not exactly. He never wanted to talk about her again, so I just clung to what memories I had.” Out of the blue he sets the wine down and I see him disappear up the staircase. After a few moments he comes back panting and holding a picture frame. “See this? This was taken when I was 6. It’s my favorite memory.”

The picture Robert holds up shows a child and an older man, each with the same dark hair. The boy is blowing a handmade pinwheel on a bright sunny day. There’s something innocent about Robert’s young face- before he began trying so hard to earn his father’s approval.

“Before he died, all I could make out from his last words was how he thought I’m a disappointment,” Robert mutters in a distant tone as he pours a glass of wine.

“That’s not true.” Escort or no escort, I’m not ignoring this. “You are not a disappointment, Mr. Fischer. Anyone who spends a day in your shoes would agree.”

“But I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Everyone expects me to be just like my dad, but… Nevermind.”

Don’t ask further, Margaret. He doesn’t want to talk-

“What?” Stupid stupid stupid!

“You’ll laugh,” Robert waves it off.

“I promise I won’t. And if I do, you can subtract it from my salary.”

The man eyes me with a suspicion but doesn’t reprimand me. He sighs heavily and toys with his glass. “Something… Something in a dream told me that I shouldn’t try so hard to be like my father. Maybe it’s right.”

“Why would I laugh at that? Premonition and epiphany come to us in many different forms, Mr. Fischer. Call this God’s way of saying you can be your own person.”

Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad! But instead of scolding me for prying Robert takes in my words gracefully.

“Would you like a drink?”

Drinking with my boss? Normally people might call this inappropriate but then again my job isn’t exactly traditional. A small glass won’t hurt.

“Yes, please.”

Mr. Fischer pours another glass. “Um, you don’t have to stay up long. Since, you know, we’re not getting mobbed by the press right now. I won’t force you to follow me around my own home.”

Wow, this is good wine. I understand where he’s coming from. This situation of living with my boss isn’t traditional either. Am I on the clock now or is this just a social call? I have free time to myself, and yet- This doesn’t feel forced. I’m actually enjoying myself. And judging by his nervous body language Mr. Fischer is too, he’s just too scared to admit it.

“I don’t mind. I’m up for some wine, no payment required.”

Robert’s eyes do little to hide both his excitement and slight fear. “Really?”

“Really. That is if you don’t mind the company, Mr. Fischer.”

He downs the rest of the drink and pours another glass. “I’ve played mind games before. Not a fan. I don’t let just anyone into my life.”

I’m not ‘anyone’ to him? A few months ago any pedestrian on the street would define me as ‘nobody.’ I only knew Robert for a mere ten minutes before he offered me a job. Either he’s quick to judge or his judgment is poor. There’s no half-assing it now. I’ve somehow proven to him that I’m a worthy escort, now I need to stay sharp for his business.

“Me neither. I will do my best, Mr. Fischer.”

He seems confused. “At the…?”

“At the meeting, yes.”

Recognition hits him and he nods, looking at the floor. Of course the meeting. What else would there be? I’ve got serious work to do if Robert is this shy during business meetings.

Last night’s sleep was… serviceable. The first three hours I spent tossing and turning, trying to ignore the eerie echoing of the giant empty house. City life always provides noise so the new atmosphere isn’t as comfortable as it seems. Finally I got fed up and searched for something to make noise and was blessed with a box fan hidden in a broom closet. Ten minutes later and I slept like the dead. However my beauty rest better hold up because so far I’ve hated every second of this meeting.

When Robert walked into the room with me in tow half the men waiting for us laughed. Once they were told I was here as a consultant they laughed even harder.

“Does your consultant do house calls?”

“I’d let her whisper in my ear.”

Disgusting. Relax, Margaret. You’re here to help Robert. It’s all business… right?

“As I was saying,” a Mr. Walker continues. “Walker and Co. has been losing funds for months now and my board agrees it’s best to partner with you. There’s just no oil left in our New Mexico drilling sites.”

New Mexico. Where did I hear that before? Oh! It was Justin! Last week, during my errand to the dry cleaners, he stopped to say hi. What did he say? Something about a new job… For Walker and Co.! There’s no way the company’s going bankrupt.

“Excuse me gentlemen. Mr. Fischer, there’s a call for you in the hall.”

Robert gets the hint and begins to stand-

“He can answer it later,” Walker interrupts. “This cannot wait.”

That bastard! “Very well. Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?” I grab Robert by the tie and pull him to the corner despite his strained protest.

“That’s not true,” I whisper and jerk my head towards Walker. “I’ve heard there’s plenty of oil in those parts.”

Mr. Fischer’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure?”

“Word travels fast in the streets. People want jobs, they go to where the money is. In this case it’s oil. Walker’s mentioned to have a whole row of jobs lined up. I know because one of my friends just started working for him. He’s lying.”

Suddenly I hear someone get up and passive-aggressively pull me away. “Not now, honey. The adults are talking.”

My jaw drops but Robert is quicker to react.

“Don’t speak to her like that!” he barks with murder in his eyes.

Walker scoffs. “Why even have her here, Robert? She’s just a hooker-”

I lurch forward but Robert blocks me with his arm and jabs a finger at the jerk’s chest.

“Absolutely not! She is here for official business, and I will not allow you to talk about Ms. Chillinger that way.”

Now the rest of the men start jabbing at me.

“Do you like that, hm? Using your boss for prime luxury like this?” One man leans in with an accusing sneer.

“Get outta my face!” I shove him away.

“Oh-ho! There’s still some street talk in this one!” Walker snickers. “You like it rough, Robert.”

My eyes narrow and I make a performance to pull out my phone. “Do not tempt me. I could destroy your image in half a day.”

My threat hits him square in the chest but he doesn’t back down. “Oh really?”

I arch a brow. “Really. Ever heard of Phineas Brockowski? He’s a personal fan of mine and would be willing to die for an interview with Mr. Fischer. I could let it slip that a certain Mr. Walker makes weekly visits to strip clubs. Would your wife enjoy hearing that on the evening news?” I strike a nerve. A look of horror slips onto the man’s face and I smirk. “I didn’t think so. Now, it’s been quite a time having you here-” I push Walker away and herd the others to the door. “But I’m afraid it’s time for you gentlemen to leave. Anything to add, Mr. Fischer?”

Robert’s still glaring with a stern frown. “I refuse your offer. And for the record, if you ever insult her again I’ll see to it nobody ever does business with you again.”

The men try to re-appeal to our sympathy but I slam the door shut anyway. Immediately Robert lets out a groan and collapses in his chair, rubbing his temples.

“Margaret, I- I am so sorry. I thought bringing you here was a good idea-”

“No, it’s my fault sir. Mr. Browning’s right. I’m not nearly qualified-”

“No, no! You were perfect. It’s them. It wasn’t a good idea because- because…” He trails off and I see him trying to discreetly look me over. I look presentable, don’t I? I chose a blue blazer and knee-length skirt.

“They don’t take me seriously, do they?” I hang my head to hide my disappointment. “It’s alright. I’ll stick to galas and publicity stunts.” That’s what my job is originally. Why did I ever think I could do something more?

“No, wait. Margaret, I don’t want everyone to think you- you’re not dumb, you’re not an ordinary, um…”

Obviously he means hooker but is too shy to say. God, this man’s innocence is adorable- Cut that out, Margaret! It’s those kinds of thoughts that do turn you into a dumb hooker!

“I know I’m not that, Mr. Fischer. But it’s alright if not everyone else does. Now, would you like something to drink? I know I do.”

I make a beeline for the minibar in the corner but Robert makes no requests.

“Alcohol doesn’t help. I need to keep my mind clear,” he mutters, still rubbing his head.

“How about painkillers? Meditation? Exercise?”

“Painkillers make me drowsy, meditation is too boring, and exercise makes me pass out.”

Hm. I’ll keep grasping at straws. “Maybe you need other methods of… coping with stress.”

This gets his attention. “Like what?”

“Um… Other escorts tell me some men prefer physical means of stress release.”

“Like a hand job?” Thank God I don’t have to elaborate on that.

“Yes.”

Surprisingly Robert still declines by shaking his head. “I don’t work like that. Besides, I'd never ask you to do something like that.”

I almost choke on my martini. My pulse snaps and I need to regain my thoughts. It’s just a misunderstanding, Margaret. “I didn’t mean for me to do it. I meant that you would hire a professional.” A real hooker.

“That’s out of the question.” Huh? “Like I said, I don’t let just anyone into my life. You’re all I need, Margaret.”

I- I am..? He really does appreciate what I do. Even if he does pay for it. Golly. It feels nice to feel wanted. That’s what’s causing the fluttering in my stomach. Get a grip! He’s your boss. You wouldn’t be doing a good job if he didn’t want you around. You’re supposed to look pleasing. You’re an escort! Stop thinking about what it might be like to- Just stop!

I down the rest of the drink and the alcohol’s sting snaps me back. “Will that- ah!”

I spin around too fast and trip over my feet, colliding with Robert and crashing to the floor. As if my heart wasn't racing already, it flies past the speed limit when I realize I’ve landed on Robert’s chest and his face is inches from mine. He’s much sturdier than I expected given his lanky build. His mouth is agape as well. We both freeze stiff as a board, completely unsure how to react. Those crystal eyes stare unblinking, almost daring me to go further.

“S- Sorry,” I stutter and hastily roll off so we can each breathe.

“‘S… It’s alright,” Mr. Fischer mutters, each of us still shocked.

I get up and help him stand, brushing off the accident as if it was nothing and start dusting off his coat.

“W-What are you doing?” he stiffens but doesn’t try to move away, trying to avoid my eyes.

“Can’t have the CEO of Fischer Morrow walking around like he just stumbled through a wind tunnel,” I speak smoothly and adjust his tie. A tie that I could use to pull him- Knock it off, Margaret! “Will that be all, Mr. Fischer?”

Robert’s still staring down at me. “Hm? Oh, yes. That’s all. Thank you.”

“I will return home-” I catch myself. “To your home, and prepare for tomorrow’s brunch.”

“Very good. I’ll be home shortly.”

Before I leave I give him a sincere look of worry. “Don’t overwork yourself, Mr. Fischer.”

A few hours later I notice an extra five grand in my bank account. God, Robert. I feel bad enough taking your money while you’ve also let me live in your house rent free.

Spring cream suit, brown loafers… Will Robert look better with a blue or green tie? Blue, to go with his eyes. Now I just need to check the reservation-

“What are you doing?”

I flinch and nearly drop my clipboard. Jeez, this house is quiet! I didn’t even hear Robert come in. And… he’s caught me looking in his closet. It’s a very organized one, I’ll give him that. The other thing I didn't expect was for him to be a fan of building models. All over his room there’s shelves and shelves of miniature models. Cars, planes, everything. I didn’t mean to intrude but he can’t blame me for planning ahead!

“Well, um… I wanted to make sure my dress matched your suit so I-”

“So you decided to pick out a suit for me,” Fischer finishes.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly and lower my head. “Please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to pry, I swear.”

He sets down his briefcase and walks over. First I crash into him, now he thinks I’m snooping in his closet! He’s going to slap me-!

“I’m not mad, Margaret.” Huh? “You don’t need permission to come in here. I think the suit you picked is perfect.”

“R-Really? I thought it was appropriate for the flower display we’ll be sitting by.” Relief floods through my veins. This man would never hurt a fly!

“A very good choice, Margaret,” Robert compliments as he examines the attire I’ve laid out, looking up with those gorgeous eyes and somehow getting caught in mine.

No, not again. Keep this professional. He’s your boss! He pays for you! For whatever reason my face is good enough for ten grand, so that’s why I’m here.

I’m the first one to look away, gripping my clipboard tighter. “Will that be all, Mr. Fischer?”

The man blinks and shakes his head, seeming to clear himself from a deep thought. “Yes. Yes, Margaret.”

I slip past him and gently close the door. “Goodnight, sir.”

His soft eyes don’t leave mine. “Goodnight.”

God, this job is getting to my head, I pray as I shed my blazer for a comfortable sleep shirt and shorts. I don’t care what others’ say, no expensive nightwear compares to a worn sleepshirt. And it’s no use buying things like lingerie anyway. I never understood that. Why would girls pay hundreds for scraps of fabric that men will rip off anyway? If anything a simple nightdress can be just as attractive. Not that I have anyone who would care.

Robert might care… If it goes with my dresses, that is. Would he? Would it be assuring to know that I can upkeep appearances under the hood as well? No. It’s not worth getting my head wrapped around that puzzle. It’s for the better that I save up and… Then what? Apart from my employment with Mr. Fischer I have nothing. Once I thought that maybe I’d see the world after I’d saved enough but now there’s no point. Robert’s business has flown me to all corners of the globe. Ireland, Greece, Australia, Japan, Mexico. In the past four months he’s given me a lifetime of an adventure. Since that’s crossed off the list… I don’t know. I suppose I’ll just keep working for him until I get too old to be a worthwhile escort or he gets married-

Thump!

The noise jolts me from my half-asleep state. That’s not normal. This house is quest enough to hear a pin drop. Would anyone try to break in?

I slip out of the covers of my giant king-sized bed and creep over to look out into the hallway.

Thump!

That came from Robert’s room!

I throw away all manner of caution and sprint down the wood floor, heaving the heavy door open. Thank God it’s not locked! Now where’s Robert? He’s not in his bed. There’s no sign of a break-in. Where could he-?

“Margaret?” A small voice comes from the floor.

My head snaps around to find the man huddling on the floor next to his bed.

“Mr. Fischer! I thought there was a robbery! Are you ok?!”

I kneel down and search for injuries. There’s no physical sign of distress but Robert’s frantic behavior paired with how he’s shaking leads me to believe something isn’t right.

“C-Can’t sleep- Nightmare.” He tries to wave me off. “J-just go.”

That’s the end, Margaret. You can’t help if he doesn’t want it-

“No wait!”

I freeze midstep from walking away, my heart clenching at his choked up words.

“Stay? Please, please… stay,” Robert says softly. Is he asking or ordering me to? Would this be part of my job?

“You know the terms of our contract-”

“I know. Just- just need someone to…” His frightened eyes silently plead and I know this isn’t business.

He doesn’t need an escort or any other employee. He needs someone who cares. Someone to chase away whatever demons he’s seeing and provide comfort.

“Calm down,” I take Robert’s shaking hand and help him get back into his bed, choosing to sit on the edge. “I’ll stay here, just relax.”

Robert finally closes his eyes and lays his head on the pillow. “Thank you… thank you…”

This doesn’t seem to be covered by the job description but I can’t leave him. What kind of person would I be if I left him like this?

“I- I’ll pay for your time-”

I shake my head and put a hand on his chest to stop him. “This is off the clock, Mr. Fischer. Money’s not important right now. You need to sleep.”

I can’t let the CEO of Fischer Morrow get sleep-deprived. Not only as an employer but as a friend. Yes, a friend. Nothing more.

In the dark his eyes open again and I see the tension in his face melt away. “Call me Robert. Since it’s off the clock.”

Then he falls asleep. His hand goes limp in mine and he finally starts breathing steadily. He must be really tired to fall asleep this fast. That was too close. Too close, Margaret. You’re letting your heart get you in over your head. Robert must still be processing memories of his father. He needs a proper therapist. That’s what I’ll suggest to Mr. Browning tomorrow.

Robert shifts in his sleep and half-pulls me into the bed with him. Uh-Oh. As much as I want to fulfill my promise I also don’t want to leave us both in what might look like a compromising position. Maybe- Bingo! I grab the extra pillows and create a makeshift barrier between us. A better look at Robert shows me his own sleep attire is only shorts and a loose tank top. Guess we both have similar tastes. As sleep looms over me again I can’t help but notice my heart skip a beat every time Robert squeezes my hand.

“He had another nightmare?” Browning asks the next morning.

“Another?” I look up from the eggs I’m cooking. “You mean they’re consistent?”

Mr. Fischer’s godfather nods and sips his coffee. “Even before his father passed. And he let you stay with him?”

My cheeks flush and I keep my eyes focused on the eggs. “Yes. I assure you I had no hidden intentions. Mr. Fischer didn’t want to be alone. He should talk to a therapist about these if they’re not going away.”

He’s still sleeping and it’s already 10 a.m. I slipped away without waking him and decided it was best to let him sleep. That brunch meeting can afford to be postponed.

“It may not be my place to say this, but it’s in Robert’s best interest.” Mr. Browning pauses. Here we go. “I’m glad he chose you.”

I blink in confusion and fold the eggs onto a plate. “Um, thanks?”

The older man doesn't look away, continuing to analyze me with consideration. “You may not be the politician wife his father hoped for, but he loves you. Robert is happy with you.”

Love? In my surprise the plate slips from my hands and shatters across the floor. Oh no, no.

“Sir, he doesn’t love me. He’s a very nice boss, but that’s all,” I stutter and make haste to find a broom. A politician wife?

“Ms. Chillinger- Margaret, surely you’ve noticed that Robert can be a complicated man. He’s been less stressed since you started working. Robert has always been afraid of pleasing people. His father, the press. He never let many women into his life.”

“Then why did he look for an escort?” I whisper and clean up the rest of my mess, my heart racing and tears beginning to blur my vision. What’s happening?

“You know as well as I that half of this business is playing the game of show,” Browning explains. “Showing the cars, the suits, the women. Robert knew he would need a woman to keep up with appearances. When I offered to find him a professional escort he denied and was determined to choose one himself. The next day he came by with you.”

On my knees I keep my head hung and try to piece together anything logical. “I- I’m not even a real escort.”

“You’re not a traditional escort, no. But that’s a good thing.” I hear the godfather get up and walk over to kneel next to me, not speaking until I look up to face him. “He told me about how you protect him. Not every woman does that. I’m glad he found you, Ms. Chillinger. Robert is in good hands.”

We both stay like this for a few minutes, each exchanging a silent understanding. I’ve done what every woman’s dreamt of. At the same time I’ve earned the godfather’s blessing and the heart of Robert Fischer.

“Everything ok?”

We both look up. Robert’s awake and is looking down at the broken glass. He put on a light robe over himself but its loose knot still shows part of his toned chest underneath the tank top.

“I- It’s my fault, Mr. Fischer. I was careless enough to drop a plate,” I speak as evenly as I can while trying to not look away.

“Her eggs make up for it. Definitely a keeper.” Mr. Browning backs me up and I see him give me a wink.

This flies right past Robert, who’s still waking up. “What time-? Oh God!”

“Relax, relax.” My nerves get thrown out and I switch into business mode, putting my hands on his shoulders to calm him. “I called ahead and postponed the meeting. Your sleep is more important.”

He looks down at my hands and his eyes tell me he remembers last night. “Um, th-thanks. For, um, yeah…”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Fischer. What matters now is that you’re rested. Now eat.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Robert digs into my plate of eggs like it’s his last meal on death row. Browning and I exchange looks as if to say ‘he needs a break.’ The godfather excuses himself without a word and exits through the side door. Is he leaving us alone on purpose? He mentioned the word wife. Is that term used lightly or should I be concerned?

“So- what else- is- going on today?” Robert asks between bites.

“There’s a press meeting at the park.”

“Nah.”

I look up and do a double-take. “Excuse me?”

Robert takes another bite. “What else?”

He’s never turned down a scheduled event. “Um… that’s it. Unless there’s a last-minute call from New York-”

“It can wait. What do you want to do?” Robert asks once he’s done eating.

My eyes widen and I point to myself. “Me? My vote doesn’t count, Mr. Fischer. If this is to bribe me for not telling about the nightmares it’s completely unnecessary-”

“It’s not exactly that,” Robert replies, setting his fork down and looking over at me. “I- I want to thank you, properly. For doing that. What would you like to do today? Anything. Anything at all.” Anything…

“You’ve already helped me knock so many things off my bucket list,” I think out loud. “Well… There’s something, but it isn’t a normal request.”

Robert takes my hand and I can’t help but look up at his hypnotizing eyes. “Anything.”

Today is officially marked as one of the best days of my life. My unusual request was granted unquestionably by Robert and he seems to have enjoyed it just as much. I got to see my top favorite band! Not just to watch, no. I got to meet them! I’m still not sure if it was real. The only thing reminding me it was real is that Robert was with me.

“Thank you, Mr. Fischer! Thank you so much!” I say for the billionth time as we ride the jet home.

“So you’ve mentioned!” The dark-haired man laughs as he pours out some drinks.

“I’m serious! That was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me!”

He takes a sip and looks at me with content. “It’s cute to see you so passionate about something.”

The term cute almost flies past me but my overstimulated mind still catches it. Robert must have too because he looks away and busies himself by checking his phone. We fall into a comfortable silence and when the plane lands Daniel is waiting for us once again. Back at the mansion it doesn’t seem so empty now that Robert’s laughter rings through the halls. Browning’s right, he’s much less stressed now than when I first met him.

It’s late but I feel no urge to retire yet. We reach the kitchen and suddenly I’m blinded by two hands over my eyes.

“Mr. Fischer! What’s going on?” I giggle pathetically like a schoolgirl.

Behind me I hear him breathing through a smile as he leads me over to the grand living room. “There’s one last thing I wanted to give you,” he says mischievously.

God, Robert. There’s only so much I can take from you, only so much until it’s too much. What else can he possibly-?

“Ta-da.” Robert pulls his hands away and I’m facing the living room. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary… “Check the cup holder.”

His words draw my attention to the couch cup holders. I peer down and-

“Oh Robert,” I breathe. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

The silver key feels cold against my hand, a simple keyring with the Rolls Royce logo etched in blue. So small and yet so thoughtful that I almost drop it.

“You mentioned that you’re not used to being driven to work. Now you can drive yourself instead of relying on Daniel. Be more independent, as you would say. And you’ve talked about always wanting a vintage Rolls Royce.”

“Rob- Mr. Fischer, I cannot accept this.”

His face falls. Did I do something wrong? Shouldn’t he be glad I’m not draining his money?

“I’m- sorry if I offended you,” Robert says softly. Offended me?

“How could you offend me? You don’t understand.” My hands start shaking and I feel everything bottling up from the past months start to spill. “I don’t come from money, I- I’m not used to just pulling out a plastic card to pay for things like this. A freaking car?”

Despite my frazzled outburst Robert remains calm. “I know.”

“Then don’t take offense when I decline these things, Mr. Fischer. This job? This house you let me live in?” I gesture to our surroundings. “That’s been more than enough for payment.”

“I wanted to make up for having to put you through it. The job.” Robert approaches me slowly to show no harm with hidden guilt in his eyes. He must be disturbed by my job but still needs me to keep up appearances.

I take a deep breath and use a gentler tone. “That’s no problem anymore. I have a thick skin, I can handle it. What I can’t handle is seeing you unhappy when those bastards try to push you around. That’s why you need me.”

That came out wrong. I know I struck something because Robert’s soft gaze has been replaced with a look of provocation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks in a low voice.

“I- You, um…” How do I break it to a grown man that he needs more confidence?

“Go on, say it!” Robert taunts in a slightly shaking voice. “I need a spine, don’t I? You think I don’t know that?! I know I’m helpless without money! If I was tossed to the streets I’d be dead in a week, if that.”

I’ve backed myself against the couch. This is the first time Mr. Fischer’s raised his voice to me. Why is he so upset about this? I’m trying to help him! But if he’s not going to accept it then I can’t make him.

“I’m not a secretary and I’m not a therapist. If you need one, hire one,” I speak in a low warning voice and move around to edge towards the door. “Don’t pile this on me.”

“You aren’t a secretary, and you’re more than just an escort.” Robert clutches his head and stutters what I think is an explanation. “I needed- I need someone to keep me in check with reality. And it’s you.”

Good heavens. I’ve seen Robert look intimidated before but never heard him sound this affectionate. My legs turn to stone and I give in to ignore the urge to run away as Robert walks closer, reaching his arms out to gently grab my shoulders. I could drown in those eyes forever… He steps closer and our chests meet. I’ve been held by Robert dozens of times for publicity. This time is different. It’s intimate, more… softer. And… I like it. Is that wrong?

Lost deep in this thought I hardly notice Robert leaning his head in. It’s not until his soft lips ghost against mine that my body goes even stiffer. My lips. We’ve never kissed on the lips.

“You can leave if you don’t feel comfortable,” Robert whispers, lips still leasing mine. “This isn’t a part of the contract-”

“I’m not thinking about the contract.”

Strength returns to my arms and before I can control myself I push him to the wall. We both stare unblinking at each other for what seems like eternity; silently arguing with ourselves about this contradicting matter. Out of nowhere a hidden feeling that’s been building up inside me sparks to life in my eyes. Robert sees it too and finally closes the gap.

It’s instant energy. As if on instinct I push harder and feel his arms wrap around my waist. Robert Fischer, you’ve been hiding in plain sight. All this time I’ve been escorting him and this is what I’m missing… He may look shy but Robert is a brilliant kisser. Soft and slow and yet full of desperate fire and passion.

“I want this- Oh God.” What am I doing?!

I pull off and jump away as if being doused with ice water. What have I done? I just kissed my boss!

“This isn’t supposed to be real,” I stutter, shaking my head trying to convince myself this isn’t right. “This is supposed to be professional.”

But Robert does not see my attempts at logic. Instead his sad face looks as if I just slapped him. “You’ve been a wonderful- a fantastic escort. And I- I want more…”

My nerves quelch. “If you’re suggesting prostitution-”

“No!” He answers quickly.

“So… a promotion?”

Robert shakes his head and his eyes squeeze shut. “God Margaret, I’m in love with you.”

Love. There’s that word again. The spoken word binds itself into my heart and my head is spinning.

“You never took me for a man who falls in love… I don’t fully understand the concept of love.” I chuckle at my own confession. “I’ve had offers, I could have been married at this point. But I wanted to do what I wanted in life without having a relationship to hold me back.” I scoff and look down at myself, a complicated mix of frustration and sadness swelling through my chest. “And now look how far those dreams got me. I’m an escort.”

Robert approaches once more. “You’re my escort. You’re even more to me than that.”

“But you paid me to do it! Money can’t buy love.”

“Then explain why you just had me against the wall with the biggest erection I’ve ever had in my life.”

My jaw drops. I-?

“You could have left at any time. There’s something you feel, I know it.” Robert grabs my hand and puts it to his chest. “I feel it too, Margaret. I have for a few weeks now. I love you.”

His words cause tears to sting my eyes and I try to stay strong. “How can you be sure? How do you know it’s not just your testosterone talking?”

Despite the instinct to look away I keep Robert’s gaze as he pulls me back to the couch. Those soft eyes have grown determined. He’s not bluffing.

“This isn’t a one-time thing, Margaret. I know because there is no other woman who’s made me feel this. You’re the only woman I want in my life, for the rest of my life.” We both sit down and he’s still holding my hand. “Do you want me to prove it?”

Prove. Have these past months not said enough? All these gifts? Or was it all a transaction? Maybe some proof is in order-

“I need you to tell me,” Robert interrupts my thoughts, his face inches from mine.

I don’t hesitate again and nod. “Yes.” God, yes.

And he does prove it. Not through his kind words or affectionate actions but through something I can’t quite explain… Like an unseen energy. Robert’s soft touch lays me back on the cushion and peppers sweet kisses down my neck. All I can do is lie still and stare up at the high ceiling.

“How can you fall in love with someone like me?”

“Huh?” Robert pants to catch his breath.

“We both come from very different worlds, Robert-”

“If you’re trying to say I can’t love you because you’re not rich, that’s a complete lie.” He hugs me close and can’t seem to stop looking at me. “God… How are you real?”

“You paid for it, you tell me,” I half-joke. But Robert doesn’t see any humor in it.

“If finance was off the record would you still love me?”

I pull on his tie and don’t blink. “Without question. I never want you to think my love for you comes with a price tag.” Now it’s my turn to press a kiss to his soft lips. “This is me, Robert. Loving you.”

“I want this,” he breathes, his eyes closed in bliss. “I want us.”

“Then you can have me. Or at least what’s left of me. I’ll be yours, Robert.”

Boss or no boss, I love him more deeply than any man I’ve ever met. Everything I’ve imagined seems possible. What it’s like to kiss, to feel loved…

Robert slides lower and nuzzles his head against my bust, using my chest as a pillow. No man’s ever done this to me and I don’t want him to stop. If I’m the rock he needs to stay sane then he’s my own as well.

“God, you’re here…” Robert’s voice is muffled by my shirt.

“And I’m all yours,” I speak for him, running a hand through his soft hair.

This gets a moan from him. “You’re all mine… Good thing I was there to catch you when you fell.”

All those months ago. In the pouring rain.

“I did fall for you, Robert. I’ve been falling for you for a long time, and I was completely oblivious to it.”

When he looks up at me again his face is painted with unquestioning devotion. I’ve never seen him smile so wide. Just looking at his happiness would give any person a reason to live for.

Another thing he said clings to the back of my thoughts.”Did I really make you go hard?”

Immediately Robert’s face goes bright red but he muscles through and nods. “Absolutely. I- I fell for you too. And, in the possible near future, if you ever feel like falling a little harder…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” I smirk.

His eyes nearly bulge out and his body starts shaking. “Really? Oh, Margaret. Th-thank you!”

I smile sweetly down at him and shake my head teasingly. “You are such a simp.”

“Hey!” Robert shows mock offense and rolls us over on the couch so he’s on the bottom. “You know I’m a people pleaser.”

“Yes, you definitely are,” I giggle.

“Well then-” Suddenly Robert wraps his arms around me and hoists me up. “How about now?”

My breath hitches. “N-Now? I- Um…”

Robert’s face falls and we both blush. “We don’t have to- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable-”

“No, no,” I groan and bury my head in his chest. “It’s not that. I’m just not… too experienced. I can pull off an escort charade easily but don’t actually know much about… you know. Whatever you might expect me to do I’m not sure I can.”

I feel Robert’s warm hands gently rub my back and pull me closer (if that’s even possible).

“Margaret, I don’t expect anything. I just want to love you. Want to show just how much you mean to me. I-” He swallows nervously and I slowly look up to reach his eyes. “I don’t know too much either.”

How can a man this sweet exist? Never did I ever think a man would be willing to care this much. He needs my street smarts. Now it’s time for both of us to learn something new.

“Then let’s learn it together,” I whisper and his grip on me tightens.

“Yes- Please. Please.”

In one swift motion I’m lifted up and carried bridal-style through the drafty halls. Through the kitchen, up the stairs, down the hall. To Robert’s room. Laid down on the soft sheets. When I look up Robert’s adorable face is smiling down at me. Nervous, but excited.

“R-Ready?”

I feel underdressed (or overdressed?) for the occasion in my plain gray slacks and red blazer. But that doesn’t matter now. I meet his eyes again and give a determined nod.

“I’m all yours, Robert. Always have been.”

Wake up…

My eyes fly open and I burst awake. Where am I? Someone’s next to me-! Oh.

Even in his sleep Robert looks absolutely to die for. Apparently the nightmares haven’t plagued him tonight because he’s sleeping sweet as an angel; breathing softly and clinging to me like a human pillow. How can I squeeze out-?

“Hm?” Robert begins to stir.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. I was just getting up-”

“No you’re not.” Robert sits up and pulls me back down, kissing my ear. “Not yet.” We lay for a few seconds in comfortable silence. “Last night… How was…?”

Last night. My body’s still aching from the memory, one I want to relive over and over.

“Robert. Last night was magnificent.”

He sighs in relief and gets a naughty smirk. “So there may be a chance for a follow-up?”

I grin wickedly. “It’s already in the books.”

“Oh really? So when is it?” Robert asks, playing along.

“Anytime you want, Robert.”

This surprises him and his eyes widen. “Wha- Really?”

“Yes. If each time is going to be like last night I don’t want to waste a second.”

“Well then-” He pecks my lips and rubs a thumb across my cheek. “Round two?”

“Robert!” I chuckle. “We can’t stay here forever.” A new thought hits me. “Oh no. When’s the-?”

“The first meeting isn’t until ten,” Robert replies and rests snugly against my chest. “We can stay here for a while longer.”

I roll my eyes. “Alright then, mister clingy. What time is it now?”

He lifts his head. “Shit! It’s already nine-!”

He jumps as if he’s been electrocuted and tries to scramble out of the twisted sheets.

“Calm down.” I pull him steady and make him face me. “I already pressed your suit, it’s laid out in the bathroom. I called Daniel last night and told him to pick you up this morning. He’s on his way.”

“God, you’re an angel!” Robert praises and stands up. “Thank you, sweetheart!”

“No trouble. What I need from you is for you to stop stressing yourself out. I can’t fight all your battles.”

Something about Robert’s face tells me what I said has him thinking. This is not the time for thinking.

“Get going before your brain catches fire,” I shoo him off. “There’s leftover egg casserole in the fridge. Will you need me for any events today, Mr. Fischer?”

That sounds off. We both think so. We each stare at each other, trying to decide how to proceed. When do I acknowledge him as my boss? Will this relationship be made public? God, I hope not. Then all the tales spun by the media will have come true.

“Y-You’re going to be late,” I finally break the silence. “Better get cleaned up.”

“Right. Yeah…”

Robert walks to the bathroom, still looking confused, and gives me the cue to go find my own outfit for the day. Things are just getting started…

“I’m home!” Robert calls from the door.

I look up from reading American Prometheus and rush down the stairs. All day I haven’t gotten a call to come in so I’ve been trying to find things to keep myself busy. A maid already came in to clean and there’s enough prepped food, so the only thing left was reading.

“How was the office?” I ask after pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Boring. It’s far better when you’re there.”

“Then call me in,” I shrug. “That’s partly why I’m here. For the business, and you.”

“Right. That. Um…” Robert grabs my hand and looks around. “I should- Let’s talk in the living room.”

I don’t question it. We both can feel the unanswered questions clinging to the air. Robert leads me to the couch and sits me down, never taking his eyes off me.

“By now you know how my life works,” he starts.

“Yes.”

“And you know that somewhere down the line I need a wife.”

Just like Browning said. A politician wife.

I nod. “Yes.”

Robert copies my nod and runs a hand through his hair, getting more and more shaky. “I was just- planning ahead. And, um, if you might refuse I understand that you wouldn’t want to keep working for me if I was married-”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Robert. I will marry you.”

The man doesn’t speak. He just keeps staring at me with his mouth wide open. I’m incredibly frazzled myself. God, I hope I didn’t misread the situation. Was that the answer he was looking for?

“That is what you’re asking, isn’t it?” I ask hesitantly.

Robert, still staring, slowly nods his head. “You’d want to marry me? Be my wife?”

His wife. Mrs. Margaret Fischer. The title of being wife to the CEO of Fischer Morrow doesn’t stand out. It’s the title of being Robert’s wife that catches me. To be the one he trusts, the one he turns to during sleepless nights. To see his sweet face every day until I grow old.

“I love you so much, Robert.” I cup his face in my hands and we both try to ignore the tears in each other’s eyes. “I would love to be your wife.”

By now we’re both shaking. Not from distress or fear but bubbling happiness. He asked me. Of all people, me. To be his wife.

“I know this is all very sudden,” he whispers. “So if we want to ease into doing anything…”

“Yes, that- That’s the logical thing to do.” Finally! My brain is working again. “Would- Do you want the engagement to be made public? Or wait until after the wedding? Oh God. My parents are going to faint-!”

“Hey, hey.” Robert takes my hands, a smile growing on his face. “This isn't something to stress about. This is a happy thing, Margaret. The happiest moment of my life!”

My own smile spreads across my lips and I lean up to kiss him again. “That makes two of us.”

#robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #inception #cillian murphy #robert fischer x oc

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stumachersfavoritegirl · 2 years ago

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His Favorite Girl <3

(Stu Macher x reader)

Disclaimer: The use of Y/N pertains to you inserting your own name. The main character in the story is you, but you just have a a different description. Imagination is fun girlies ;3 Thank you for understanding and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Just 3 more hours...

The fourth bell of the day rings, and I'm finally excused from Algebra. I quickly gather my textbooks in my arms, grabbing the strap of my backpack as I head towards the exit of the classroom. Everyone begins to swarm the doorway however, and I'm stuck waiting for them when someone bumps my right shoulder, hard. My glasses fall slightly farther down my nose and I snap my head to the right. "Watch it!" Low and behold, it's Tatum Riley. She basically hisses at me, and I avoid her eyes. Fucking Bitch. I know she did it on purpose, the way gossip flows through Woodsboro High, I'm pretty sure immediately after Stu left my sight, someone already told Tatum he was conversing with me. They probably exaggerated us hugging, or at least, him hugging me. And I could tell this was the case, because until today, she's never even looked in my direction. Now apparently, I'm "in her way"? I mutter a pathetic "...Sorry", and she scoffs dramatically. "That won't be the only thing you're sorry for. Stu is mine. Don't forget it loser." she says before pushing past me and literally every other student in front of her, and no one even dares to open their mouth and protest. She's Stu Machers girlfriend, even me simply saying sorry is the beginning of my demise. But I shake the thought, and as the entryway clears out, I quickly brush past others as I finally enter the hallway. I dig my headphones and cassette player out of my backpack, resting the headphones on my head and pressing play on the cassette. "Bonez" by Mr.Floyd Larry begins to play, and I let the noise take me somewhere serene, somewhere that isn't this hellhole with these assholes. I fix my glasses as I walk to my locker to put my books away, it's finally lunch time and I couldn't be more nervous and grossly, more sweaty. This will probably be the most exciting thing that's happened to me for the rest of the school year and I'm not even mad at it. To have Stu Machers attention about anything, younger me would be excessively gushing at the thought. We're talking sophomore year to senior year long obsession! Wet dreams, fluff dreams, anything my mind could think of pertaining him. But instead of gushing, I feel nauseated. I reach my locker and open it, when a white folded piece of paper falls to the ground. I place my books inside before bending down to sweep it up. I look around me, trying to pinpoint any eyes on me, but when I see none I go back to the note, opening it. It's in big red writing that looks cursive, but it's really just sloppy and the thick ink bleeds through the paper and onto my fingers.

"Change of plans. Meet me at the Woodsboro Coffee and Bagel shop around 4. Maybe dress up a little for me, huh? I know there's something underneath those baggy shirts you love to wear.

-You know who I am ;) "

I definitely know who it was. My cheeks immediately start to heat up and I quickly close the note, looking around before shoving it in my locker. Coincidently, the brews right down the street from my house, and my parents are having a date night tonight so they won't know how long I'll be out. I nod in approval as I close my locker and pull my other bag strap over my shoulder. Ok, not bad. This gives me way more time to prepare. I can run home and quickly change, probably do something with my hair that'll make me look different, but not like I'm trying too hard, ya know? I sigh loudly as the song ends, and I pull my cassette player out of my pocket before entering the lunch room, rolling my eyes at the excessively long lunch line. I drag my feet to join the line when-

"Stop it Stu! This isn't funny, they said you kissed her!"

I look to my right and see Tatum and Stu, with Tatums back to the wall and Stu brooding over her, extending his arm to lean against the wall with it. I quickly step to the side and out of everyones way before standing behind a pillar, pretending to have trouble with my headphones and cassette player. When I notice no ones looking, I peer over and listen.

"Come on, you know I don't like this jealous shit. You're my Tatum." He says, grabbing her face gently before bending down to quickly peck her lips. She closes her eyes as he does this, and he almost lets his lips linger there, before pulling away and leaning against the wall again.

"I only want you babe. Why even believe school gossip anyway? I've heard a lot of stuff about you, but I never believed it." He shakes his head, never breaking eye contact with her, but she does with him as she rolls her eyes dramatically. "Please Stu, what could you possibly have heard about me that I haven't about you?" She says, testing him. She snarls her face as she says this and he grazes the room, hesitating before slightly chuckling. "It doesn't even matter. I mean, why are we still even talking about this? When this day ends, who will I be with?" He asks her endearingly, his voice softens and he bends down to get more to her level. "Huh?" He says, amusing her, moving closer and closer to her face. "Who?" He asks one more time playfully, there lips are basically touching and she rolls her eyes, scoffing meekly before kissing him. "You stupid." She surrenders and he smiles something so mischievous. "Wanna go for a quickie?" He sticks his tongue out to lick her nose and she playfully smacks his shoulder, smirking as she rolls her eyes at his perverse remark. He fakes a theatrical "ow" before bending down again to wrap his hands around her waist, picking her up to bury his face in her neck. "I gotta get you for that. You know better." She giggles rapidly as she tries to pry him off of her. "Stop it Stu!" She pleads out, almost looking around in embarrassment as he continuous to tickle her neck; he makes sounds that are obvious he's biting it. He eventually stops, repositioning her in his arms and she shrieks. "Stu!" She yells out, hysterically laughing, as he holds her in his hands bridal style, almost studying her with his eyes. He licks his lips before asking "You hungry baby?" and she nods giddily, still laughing. "Then let's go!" He widens his eyes and his mouth forms an 'O' before taking off with her, clearing the crowd of students in front of them with the biggest grin on his face. As they pass the pillar, I look back down at my cassette and fake a few scoffs because I'm having 'such a hard time with it'. When they leave my sight however, I put the cassette away and sigh. Ugh, if I had eaten breakfast this morning, I definitely would've threw up from their grossly not faked chemistry. I hated how much he was always on top of her, so overbearing in an overprotective and caring way. I always noticed whenever they were together anywhere, his eyes would be peeled on her no matter where she was in the room. Granted, I've also noticed that when she isn't around those ocean eyes definitely wandered. But, he always made it aware to any and everyone that Tatum Riley was his, to a point where it translated to he owned her. There was something about his patronizing demeanor that always turned me on. I always got Dom energy from him, especially when he was with Tatum. But, around Billy Loomis, he seemed to surrender. Their friendship dynamic was definitely different, Billy always seemed so serious, uptight almost. I never really saw him breathe, or even rest his shoulders for a moment. Stu on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Every time I saw him there was a smile on his face. He moved around so much, there wasn't a time I could recall him standing still. But nonetheless, they always seemed to make it work. Their whole clique seemed so perfect all the time, and I catch myself yearning to be apart of something similar. Things would've probably turned out way different if I had grew the balls to speak to him after hearing a rumor that him and Casey Becker broke up. But in under a week, he was locked in with her copycat and my Mrs. Matcher dream became history...again. But who knows? Maybe things can change later today. It really all depends on how I prepare for this situation. I begin to contemplate everything I need to do to impress him this afternoon as I continue my venture to the lunch line, resting my headphones on my head and pressing play.

//////////////////(lower volume)

I dump the food on my tray into the trash as I place it on the table nearby, tucking the strands of loose hair behind my ear as I exit the lunchroom, dreading the next 2 hours of this day. I couldn't be more anxious about later, but the day just seems to drag on and on. I tilt my head to the side to scratch the nape of my neck when I see Stu Macher ahead of me. He's staring directly at me, his gaze is cold, and I'm almost scared to keep looking in his direction. But he keeps my attention when he motions his head for me to follow him down the hallway. I almost stop walking completely in disbelief, and I look around to make sure he's talking to me and no one else. When I see no one looking in his direction, I turn back to face him, but he's gone. I furrow my brows as I contemplate even following him. The way todays been going, I wouldn't even be surprised if it was a hallucination. But, I sigh as I force my feet to walk forward, towards his direction. Once I turn the corner where I saw him, he's at the end of the hall waiting for me. When he sees me, he makes another turn and I pick up my pace to catch up with him. I end up in the janitors corridor and as I make the turn, someone quickly grabs my arm and pulls me into a dark room. I gasp but someone grabs my mouth and covers it, closing the door. I feel someones breathe against my right ear and my face burns as I purse my lips together, swallowing. Stus smell washes over me however, and I close my eyes and silently moan, pressing my thighs together as I realize the breathe on my neck and the hand over my mouth belongs to him. He reaches infront of me and switches on the light, and I quickly open my eyes and clear my throat, fixing my loose strands of hair. He removes his hand from my mouth and as I turn around, he's towering over me, his dimples deeply pierce his cheeks as he smirks. His pupils are dilated as he burns holes into me. I can tell he was humored by scaring the crap out of me because he teases me as he says, "Don't be scared, it's just me." I smile quickly and look up at him before silently chuckling and looking away. I can feel him continuing to stare at me but I don't dare meet his gaze. I hear him sigh deeply before he states with a taunting grin, "So, I need to know. I've heard rumors are going around about us, and a little birdy told me it all came from you. Is that true?" He begins to advance me slowly, and I end up backed against the wall, his smile almost begins to vanish; his eyes almost turn a darker shade of blue and his gaze goes cold. "You know I have a girlfriend right?" He asks me sternly, and I stutter and nervously chuckle as I say. "I-I-I wouldn't- I'd never, uh st-start a rumor um, I didn't say anything about u-us talking. I don't even- I don't h-have friends here."My eyes are desperately darting the room to avoid his, but when I'm finally done experiencing word vomit while also feeling completely speechless, I look up and him. He stares at me for a while longer before completely bursting into laughter. He spins around in a circle slowly as he cackles, bending over and clutching his stomach as he finally makes a full 360. He meets my gaze again and I'm left to stand against the wall shrinking in embarrassment. "Holy shit man, I was just fucking with you. Holy shit you should've seen your face! Pure fear."

His face is red from laughing so much, but he stops chuckling to stand over me again. "You know, I don't really listen to what these shitheads have to say about me. It's really just Taum that's worried about that shit. And I'm sure you saw that in the lunch room today huh, stalker?" He smirks as he taunts me with this, and I begin to feel my heart beat out of my chest. Jeez, how many times can one person fuck up in a god damn day? First he catches me staring at him like a creep, then he catches me ease dropping on him and his girlfriend? All in the span of 4 hours too, I'm clearly on a roll today. My thoughts race as I stand there like an asshole just staring at him as he stares at me, waiting for my response. I'm completely speechless and he knows this because he bends down and gets close to my face before he whispers, "Cat got your tongue?" He chuckles at his remark and my cheeks heat up as I look down again. "I-I-"

"Relax, it's not the end of the world kid." He pushes himself off the wall as he teases me, maliciously smiling as he examines the janitors room. "Besides, I think it's kinda hot. I mean, you're the reason I need help in English." He turns to face me as he says this, his dimples still showing as his smile grows. "You never noticed I look at you too?" He asks me, as he begins to walk towards me again, slowly. "Maybe because you're always in your own little world, or maybe because you sit in front of me. But I always see when you're staring at me, because I'm really good at not being seen when I stare at you too." He's close to my face again, and I feel my glasses fog up. I'm breathing heavily as I clutch the side of my pants to hold onto reality. "Are you surprised? I mean, did you really think I asked someone about being "study buddies" and they referred me to you?" His question comes with a sarcastic chuckle, and I'm still standing there, my lips slightly parted before I lick them and push my glasses up. "Um- I-I um..." I swallow as I look down, pursing my lips together as I try to figure out how to say something, anything that'll help him understand that this is everything I've wanted since sophomore year. "You know how pretty you are. I mean, without the glasses, the messy buns, the baggy clothes, I always wondered what you'd look like in a tight skirt, your legs exposed..." He leans into my ear as he says this, smirking, and my breathe picks up again.

"...with a tight short sleeved crop top, exposing your belly." He looks down at my body as he says this before locking eyes with me again. "Your hair down, just bouncing as you walk..." He licks his lips, "along with your breast." He looks down again, "...your nipples poking through your top, almost like now. I can see them through your sweater." He repositions himself in front of me and he levels his head with mine so I'm forced to keep looking at his face, "Do you have any idea how crazy that makes me?" His pupils are dilated as he says this, and his smirk is completely gone. I open my mouth to attempt a response, when he takes a sharp breathe in, pushing himself off the wall again chuckling. "You do now. " He says before smiling again, walking around the room. "You got my note right?" He asks me, snapping his head towards me. There's a seriousness in the question, even though he's still grinning. I make sure to lock eyes with him before nodding quickly. He sighs deeply before facing me again, looking me up and down before slowly advancing me one last time. I hold my breathe as he gets closer, and for a moment, time stops. He gets close to my lips, and he licks his and looks down at mine before saying, "Don't be late then. I... don't like to wait." He quickly scans my body again before winking at me and flashing a quick smile, exiting the janitors closet as he playfully waves at me. I finally breathe as I lean back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as I press my hand to my chest. My hearts beating so hard, I feel it in between my legs, and I press my thighs together tighter. What the fuck...just fucking happened? Did Stu Macher really just confess he's always had a crush on me? Did he basically just tell me, that he's always liked me back? Were we both just afraid this whole time? I never saw him as a guy that held his tongue, he always seemed so out-spoken. I guess things would've turned out different then, if I had gone up to him after him and Casey broke up. I wonder how things will be now that I know about him, and now that he knows about me. So many different thoughts are racing through my head about what could've been and what could be, when the door swings open again. I suck in my breathe, expecting it to be Stu coming back to taunt me more, when I see gray hair. Fuck, the janitor. Luckily, they don't look around the room as they walk in. They head towards the toiletries as they store the Mop and bucket away and as the door closes, I slip through. I speed walk back to the school hallway as my heart continues to race. That would've definitely been detention, that would've ruined everything planned later on. I realize that I'm also now late to my next class which might get me detention as well. So I quickly pick up my pace as I head up the school stairway. I just have to get through 3 more hours of this day, and then I'll have his attention again. 3 more hours and I'll feel his touch again, smell him again. Just 3 more hours, and I'm his. Just 3 more hours…

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duskwoodgirl4life · 5 months ago

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A/N Hey everyone, haven't really posted much in the way of fics for along time I really needed the break. I've been working on this for the past couple weeks in really happy with the way it's come out. Enjoy xx

I was heading back to my car after a busy night at the aurora Phil had given me a job there to cover the busy Friday and Saturday nights. It was so much fun being back in duskwood I hadn't seen my friends in so long and now I get to see them every day. Before I could get my keys out of my purse everything went black. I felt a hand press a wet cloth onto my lips. Everything started to get blurry. I tried to fight but my body gave in and everything went black. I have no idea how much time has passed. I open my eyes slowly and they adjust to the dim lighting in the room. I look around and the only things that are in the room are an old rusty bed, a toilet and a sink with a dripping tap.

I could hear footsteps starting to get closer and closer to the door, before I knew what was happening the door started to unlock and In came a man with a mask. I could see his bright blue eyes and black hair peeking over his mask. He placed a tray on the bed and walked back out of the room. I just stood in shock not really knowing what to do next. I hear the door locking again and the footsteps getting further and further away. I sit back down on the bed and my stomach hurts from hunger but I don't eat anything. All I can think about is trying to find a way out of this room. There just has to be a way.

I sit back on the bed and just push the tray away from me completely, I do take the bottle of water it feels like I haven't drank in so long. It feels good to have something soothing my dry throat. The next couple hours pass just when I think I might have an idea to escape. I start to hear footsteps. I grab the knife off the tray and hold it behind me. I hear the door starting to open and it gets pushed open before my kidnapper can react. I stab the knife into his arm. I push past him and try to make my escape. I somehow managed to make it to the front door but it's locked. The windows have bars up at them so that's not even an option.

I quickly scan the room and see a back door rushing towards the door. I feel someone grab hold of my arm pulling me back. I hit my head off the corner of the table. Blood starts to run down the side of my face. I don't remember what happened after that because when I wake up I'm back in my room and have a bandage on my head. The room still feels like it's spinning around and around. I try to get up off the bed but my legs won't let me. I try to take a look around the room and see a bottle of water and some painkillers. Taking hold of the bottle I quickly take the meds and lay back down on the bed.

I feel the painkillers starting to kick in, taking some of the pain away. My head feels less dizzy now. I hear the door starting to unlock and in comes my kidnapper. He places some takeout next to me and leaves the room again under the takeout container is a piece of paper with a drawing of an eye. I know what this symbol is. I could never forget who represents this eye. On the back of the paper is written “sorry for doing this” why was he even doing this? We hadn't even had a chance to meet. I have so many questions that need to be answered. I get up off the bed and start to bag on the door as loud as I can trying to get his attention.

The next thing I know is the door unlocks and the door flies open. The tall figure comes charging across the room and pushes me up against the wall. I feel his hand on my throat he's not holding it tight but just enough for my head to stop moving he leans in and whispers “if you don't keep quiet you are going to end up dead” my body starts to shake as I hear him say these words. I feel his grip loosen as another voice comes from the door. “Leave that bitch alone you have had your fun now get back to work”

I fall to the ground, tears rolling down my face, my whole body is shaking so much that I lose all control. The other man walks across the room and picks me up by the neck as he does. I start to piss myself. Unable to control anything the man shoves me onto the bed and takes off his belt. “You are going to regret ever doing that” he lifts his belt up and smacks it against my bare legs. I scream out in pain as the belt touches my legs after a few more hits the man stops and puts his belt back on and walks out of the room. I don't hear it lock behind me after I just lay there, tears streaming down my face.

The next couple of days just feel like a blur. The door opens and food is brought in each time there is a note left for me. This one said “I will save you” the last one read “it happens tonight” all kinds of thoughts ran through my head. What could he mean “it happens tonight?” Does that mean I will be killed? Dragged out of this awful room or does it mean he is going to save me? Will he be true to his word and save me from this hell. Has all these notes really been true he will save me? Or is this nightmare going to continue.

I can't bank on anything good coming from this so I prepare myself for the worst to happen. At least it won't be a disappointment if the worst happens everything that's happened what's one more torture going to do? I look down at my legs and they are covered in cuts, bruise marks everywhere he made it a regular thing. Whoever he was he would come into my room and in his own words “have a little fun” he always stood there with a sick smile on his face. He always got off on the pleasure it brought him. He would force me to do sick things to him.

Later that day he came into my room and began to continue his sick games, after he finished hitting me he unzipped his jeans and pulled me towards him. At that moment the door burst open and in came the only person that could help me. I couldn't quite see his face because of his mask but I could see his bright blue ocean eyes. He wrestled the man onto the floor blow after blow connecting with his face. Blood started to pool on the floor leaving his lifeless body. He stood up and faced me. Slowly taking his mask off I saw his face. I knew then who it was he had come to save me. Jake had found me and he came to save me from this hell. He picked me up in his arms and carried me out of the room. Tears fell from my eyes. I cling onto him as hard as I can.

Jake puts me in his car and drives me far away from the hell I had been living in. I don't know how long I was in the car for all I remember is Jake picking me back up and carrying me into a house. He places me down on the bed and starts to clean and banged my cuts. He looks up at me with so much sorrow in his eyes I lean forward and lightly stroke his hand. “MC I would like to explain what happened but first I want you to know that you are safe. I will never allow you to be hurt in that way ever again.” All I can do is smile slightly as the tears roll down my cheeks.

“It all started when I accepted a job from someone called “cybercrime” not very original I know but I needed the money. Anyway I continued doing jobs for him and one day he reached out and asked me to do this job for him that would involve the biggest cyber crime yet. He wanted me to break into the national grid and knock out all the power. At first I didn't really question him at first but I thought it strange when he wanted me to do the job in his hideout. It was then when I learnt what it was he was planning one day he had left out all the paperwork and plans for his mission he was going to break into the pentagon. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous and his plan would never work. I tried to tell him that knocking out the national grid wouldn't even be enough to get in there. I told him I refused to do the job and that he would have to find someone else.”

I sit listening to every word Jake is telling me how he ended up in this guy's hideout and working for me. I really didn't know what to say. I don't think I could find the words to even speak. I just let Jake continue with his story.

“When I told him this he just laughed at me and said that if I refused he would make me regret it. I called him out on it and told him whatever it was he was going to do I would stop him. Of course he took no notice and that's when he found the picture of you in my wallet. He figured out pretty quickly what you meant to me. He had someone snatch you after you finished work. He purposely kept me away. It was only when I first saw you I passed you the note. I had to get you out of there, that's the whole story. I'm so sorry I put you through all this. I will understand if you don't want to have anything to do with me.”

The room falls silent. I try to process what Jake has told me, everything feels like it's hit me like a ton of bricks. “I need some time Jake, everything he did to me, everything he made me do to him I need time. I spend the next couple of days at Jake's recovering from what's happened. After a few days passed Jake took me home. I haven't spoken much to him for a long time. I took a lot of time out for myself to help myself heal. I even went to speak with a therapist.

A year passes and I am now in the best possible place in my life, I have reconnected with Jake and we have been spending so much time together. He invited me to his place for the weekend. He has a lovely house out in the countryside. I love the drive up to his house. The countryside is such a beautiful place. I arrive at his house and he's already standing outside. I have the biggest grin on my face. He walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek. He looks at me with his ocean blue eyes. I could get lost in them for hours. “MC there is something I would like to say to you, this past year has been amazing we have connected on a whole different level what I am trying to say is I'm in love with you”

I feel this smile getting bigger and bigger in my face. My heart skips so many beats I know I feel the same way as he does. “I feel the same way, I'm in love with you Jake” Jake kisses me on the lips spinning me around in his arms. He puts me down and takes my hand as we both go walking into his house hand in hand.

#duskwood #everbyte game #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #iamjake #duskwood jake x mc #i love you jake #jake x mc #he loves me #i love you #kiddnapping #please save me #save me

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mutiara-05 · 1 year ago

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A new heavy morning arrived again our guy has survived left his room with a smiley mask wearing is his daily task worried eyes he couldnt hide scared no matter who he's beside begging god to prove him wrong fade his fear like a beat of a song but the sky doors were shut it was real, the feeling in his gut slow steps, head down, heavy chest ready to give up not just take a rest went back to his room and closed the door dropped his bag and sat next to it on the floor when he tried to take the water bottle out the blue cutter shined bringing him doubt not once he looked at it but rather twice heard it saying "I write very nice try me now, on skin not paper give it a go I might be your savior" a loud sound distracted the boy hypnotized, moving like a stringed toy eyelids in love missing eachother maybe now their hug will last forever bare figure laying on the cold ground tired? or did he follow the sound? hours passed as he's laying down not moving, covered by the death gown sunrey creeped into the kid room fell on his wet cheeks hoping they'd bloom lightheaded, he woke in a red rose many small ones, like wine drops that blue friend was in the corner said "morning you pathetic loner" mischievous smile that speaks hate turns he's the keeper oh hells gate

the boy soul went down leaving a lifeless body behind facing this world with no pause option nor rewind his mask fell, he's broken and not so alive fake was the smile that made others think he'd survive used to show with fresh perfume and elegant style to impress now got a yellow face and dark under his eyes, clearly restless lower marks and slower moves cause no energy is left in him used to light up parties so no one knew how his mind is dim took off his red jacket cause he got red all over his skin switched to black with long sleeves to cover up his sin something is wrong and its alerting that everybody can tell "he used to run he used to fly, how come all of sudden he fell?" "remove your sunglasses, cap and dont forget the heavy scarf" but he's the one to grow smeraldo so these requests are rough someone got him a new water bottle so he leave his bag pocket that one doesnt know about the blue friend so why'd they get it? another one who knows tried to wipe all the red off of his desk but he already crossed a line and doesnt need a hint to take a risk some people used to tell him that he's not a human but an angel guess life really wanted to show him things from its every angle was kicked out of paradise so he came down to the earth six thousands and one hundred forty days after his birth he got so fed up and decided to just take his life away left a note to the stars "sorry I cant take another day"

hey little lost boy where is your blue flower? wasnt it the only source of your pathetic power? thinking you're brave going without it another hour? then crawl alone when your energy gets lower he left his phone a couple meters after the door and dropped his back in a corner on second floor on the third he lost his mind and went for more stood at the edge ready to fall from level four thought he would cry but no tears came out "if I don't fall now then I'll blindly cross the route" then stopped and wondered what is it all about took a breath while stepping back filled by doubt went back to the first floor and grabbed his phone up to the second to take the bag and leave alone saw another one beside his which froze his bone felt a shadow behind so he had to control his tone bright smile with a "don't overthink, we're fine" at ten became "bad" what was a "good" at nine he said and said "I got you this, it looks like mine" a door opened and both left like they got a sign

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bledf1rst · 1 year ago

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MALLORY DAVIES / starter [...]

for @thorrncrowned / matthew murdock

to have the survival instincts of a wet paper bag was to be mallory davies, lured under the pretenses of some poor lost soul needing help and mal being helpless to follow because of her bleeding heart.

she's helpless when she's lead to a particularly out-of-place well. whatever structures had been built around it had been reduced to debris and ash. she isn't even in the boundaries of gotham, anymore. and she's helpless when she peers in to the endless abyss and two incorporeal then corporeal hands push her shoulder blades and send her careening over the edge. mallory YELPS and closes her eyes, expecting to hit solid ground.

but the falling stops. mallory is unharmed. she hadn't even felt herself land. she sits up, shaking so badly it takes a whole fifteen minutes for the tremors to stop. another ten for her to calm down and take stock of her situation. she's in city streets. there's wet asphalt under her legs. but it's not GOTHAM.

where had that spirit sent her? her anxiety ticks up again without warning, and mallory scrambles to her feet. her pulse is a hummingbird in her ribcage, pounding blood a racket in her ears, and she exits whatever alley she's in because she doesn't recognize where she is but she doesn't make it very far. someone's flashing a knife in her face. she's being robbed. she holds her hands up in surrender and- she doesn't have much to give him, really. her purse is in her car. in gotham. she tries to offer up her phone, but.

the screen is cracked and black. like she HAD landed on it. it confuses her further and she doubts it'll turn on.

" sorry- " she blurts, and it's just her luck that all this is happening while she's trapped in some unfamiliar place, " -i, i don't have anything else. "

#» ... MALLORY DAVIES ( ᵇᵉʸᵒᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ ) / musings.#i hope this is alright!!! AAA >:oooo #thorrncrowned #violence tw #weapons tw #» ... STARTER ( ᵗʰʳᵉᵃᵈˢ ) / closed.

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corrodedcoffinstan · 2 years ago

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Rock you like a hurricane

A/N: so this is pure fucking filth. I can’t get the image of this out of my head and it’s the hottest thing ever. Not even slightly sorry. Posted on Wattpad too.

Warnings: weed smoking, masturbation, toys, dom/sub dynamic, spanking, handcuffs, marking, choking, oral sex f!receiving, teasing, penetrative sex.

Summary: Eddie and his rings. That’s all I’m saying.

It was a dream evening for the two of you tonight, Wayne was working late and would be back the following day. You were desperate to make the most of it.

You had ordered yourself a particularly sexy underwear set with thigh highs and the belt, knowing Eddie would be obsessed with it. You got yourself dressed with that underneath. Already turned on with the anticipation of his reaction. He had gone out to pick some drinks up, or so you thought.

You hear the front door open and saunter over towards the kitchen counter. “Oh hey y/n!” You hear. That voice isn’t Eddie’s… You turn your head and see his band mates and the younger members of Hellfire. “Oh….hey guys…” you look at them all, then at Eddie with a slightly annoyed look on your face. “What are you guys all doing here?”

“Oh! Well I was down at the store and bumped into them, so I thought they could all come over and we could squeeze a d&d session in!” He explains, his eyes full of excitement. You can’t even be remotely mad at him when he looks like that. You just nod. “Okay, that’s cool. I’ll just grab something and leave you guys to it.” You smile, grabbing a beer from the bag of goodies he has got, sauntering off back to the bedroom.

You feel all of their eyes on you which you can’t help but feel slightly smug about. You shut the door and flopped down on the bed. “Damn it.” You chuckle to yourself, putting your arm over your head. You go over to his prized guitar and pull it down gently, placing the strap over your shoulders and beginning to tinker around on it, you are nowhere near as good as it as he is but you love playing, which is all that matters.

You eventually tire of that, placing it back up on the wall in its holder and you spot the record player with the stack of records. You walk over to his mini record player and grab a record you picked up- mainly for yourself. Sisters of Mercy’s album First and Last and Always. You lay yourself back down on the bed as the album starts, singing along to it. You crack open the beer and take a swig, cringing slightly at the taste.

Eventually side a stops, so you hop up and flip it on the b side. You quickly dash out and grab another beer, shutting the door behind yourself once you’d returned. They were in the midst of some serious roleplaying out there, with Eddie doing the voices of an enemy as they fight it.

You sit back down on the edge of the bed, looking around his room, smiling a little as you see a Polaroid of the two of you propped on his bedside table. You open up the drawer underneath, finding his little stash. You bring it out of the drawer and move to sit cross legged on the bed, he had already ground up the marijuana, so all you had to do was roll it. You grab out some and place it between the papers inside the tin, rolling it between your fingers.

You eventually light it up, moving to lay back down, as you take your first drag. You drift off into a little haze, listening to your favourite album and hearing muffled noises from the d&d group.

You snap out of it as side b finishes on the vinyl, earning a groan from your lips. You get up and flip it back over. You close your eyes and start swaying your hips along to the music. You know the album is roughly 45 minutes long, so in theory another play through of this album would mean they would be nearly done.

After dancing around for a while, you move to lay back down on the bed. Imagining Eddie’s reaction to your underwear. You let your head fall back as you move to slightly roll up your skirt, hands moving to dance across your inner thighs. You can already sense just how wet you’re going to be just by the thought. You pull the thong aside and slowly start to tease your pussy with your fingers, your head falling back as you do so. You let out a soft moan, knowing the music would drown you out. You quickly reach down into your little box under his bed, pulling out your rabbit vibrator.

You bought the vibrator while out of town with your friends on vacation initially as a joke, never expecting you’d actually get off from it. But it was so much better than your fingers and Eddie loved watching you use it too.

You press the button to turn it on, sliding it inside of your dripping pussy, the ears of the rabbit rolling against your clit. You moan at the sensation, moving the vibrator in and out of yourself. Your eyes rolling back as you feel yourself edge closer to coming, you grab his bedding tightly, your legs trembling.

“Hey! Y/n!” You hear Eddie call out before opening his bedroom door. His eyes darken with lust as he sees the sight before him. “T-The guys are leaving now. The youngsters have a curfew.” He says, looking you up and down and licking his lips. You raise an eyebrow with a smirk, turning the rabbit up a setting, rolling your hips into it and whining as you come, knowing you can’t be too loud. “I’ll be back.” He murmurs, shutting the door and heading back out.

You hear the group leave, all of them calling out a goodbye to you. A few minutes pass and Eddie walks back in, slamming the door behind him. “I want you to strip down to your underwear for me, so I can see what you’re wearing.” He commands, taking the handcuffs off of his belt, eyeing you.

You go bright red, turning the rabbit off and placing it down on the bed. You stand up, your legs trembling from how close you were. You pull your skirt off, followed by his band tee, revealing your underwear set, a bra with a built in harness, a lacy thong and your thigh highs. You look over at him, biting on your bottom lip.

“Come here, baby.” He commands, sitting down on the bed, patting his thighs. You look over at him, your eyes wide, playing up to the innocence. “Okay.” You smile sweetly, going to sit on his lap. Eddie tuts and shakes his head, moving you off. “No no. You know what I want you to do.” He states, grabbing you and pulling you over his lap, ass in the air. “Now..you know what to say if you want me to stop, yeah?” He says, pulling you up by your hair to look at him. You nod. “Yeah- pineapple.” You smile sweetly.

He nods in response, shoving your head back down, rubbing your ass before his ring covered hand collides with it. “You look so sexy in your underwear for me..” he mumbles, rubbing over where his hand just slapped your ass, smirking at the pink tinge already forming on your skin. He continues to spank you, each spank causing you to moan in response.

You whine gently as one particular spank lands on your ass quite hard. “You okay, baby?” He asks, stroking your ass. You nod in response, wiggling your ass for him. “Good.” He smiles, admiring the pinkness of your ass, the slightly darker patch where his rings collided with your skin. He lifts you up, giving you a passionate kiss. “Sit on my face.” He commands.

You nod, legs shaking as you watch him lay back, you shimmy out of your thong and move to straddle his face. He immediately starts lapping at your wet pussy, moaning in delight at your taste. You let out a loud moan, slowly starting to grind against his face, your hands gripping his gorgeous hair tightly as you do so.

He smiles into you, spanking you over and over as you continue to ride his face. “Oh my fucking god..” you moan loudly in response, your head falling back as you come on his face.

That doesn’t stop him. He continues spanking you and licking at your dripping pussy. You feel your legs tremble as another orgasm approaches and he just smirks, letting you come in his face again.

He gives your ass a gentle spank, picking you up off his face. “Lay down, ass up.” He smiles at you, moving you down to the bed, bringing his lips to your neck and nipping there to leave a few marks, before kissing up to your lips. He hops up, grabbing his handcuffs from the floor. He takes your bra off in one swift motion before you turn over. He grabs your hands and cuffing them to the bottom of his headboard, smirking down at you as he watches you wiggle your ass teasingly for him. “God you are so sexy…” he mumbles, taking his jeans and boxers off in one swift motion.

He thrusts into you and you let out a loud moan. He moves forward, bracing one hand on the bed, and bringing the other around your neck, tight enough to leave marks. “If you need me to stop, you know what to do.” You moan out and nod, your eyes rolling back at the sensation of his hand wrapped around your throat. He lets out a moan too, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he can feel you getting closer around him. Your head falls forward into your arms and he removes the hand from around your neck, grabbing your hair and pulling it back, thrusting into you harder than before. “Such a pretty little slut for me.” He moans, pressing gentle kisses to the side of your face as you let out ragged breaths.

You let out a loud moan, as you come around him, your eyes rolling back. He moans and comes almost immediately after you. He quickly grabs the key for the handcuffs and removes them from you. He pulls out of you, turning you over and pulling you into his arms. “I love you y/n.. that was really fucking hot seeing you fuck yourself with that toy..” He says with a laugh, stroking your hair.

You just grin up at him in response. “I’m glad I got the reaction I wanted.” You giggle and take his free hand into your own. “Gonna need some cream on my ass though. I can sense that it’s gonna be sore.” You giggle. He just smiles down at you, removing his hand from your hair and going into the bedside table, pulling out some soothing gel. “Got this in preparation.” He says with a smile.

You just grin at him in response. “So thoughtful.” You blush, playing with his rings. He smiles at you. “Do you want one?” He asks, nodding towards your hands. You just giggle and shrug. “No! they’re yours I can’t take one.” You protest, causing him to just laugh and shake his head. He takes the ring off of his right hand, with the snowflake obsidian in. “You can have this one. It’s the one that reminds me of you..” He smiles softly, holding your hand up, placing it on your middle finger. “Fits perfectly.” He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand.

“You have no idea just how happy you make me.” You mumble, tiredness starting to take over. He just smiles down at you and pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “You don’t either, y/n. I love you.” He smiles and moves to kiss your forehead, tracing gentle shapes on your shoulder.

#eddie munson smut #Eddie munson #Eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #stranger things #Eddie stranger things

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eddiesguitarpic · 2 years ago

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HI OKAY YES I HAVE REQUEST—

poly!wolfstar, but they sort of have that casual dom/dom/sub relationship with gender neutral reader and after a super long day, reader is just exhausted and sirius turns into padfoot and remus is just smiling like an idiot as reader is just petting him n stuff!!! ive never requested something before so thank you!!! xx -jaylen

love this request :)

(not proof read, sorry!!!)

warnings: reader having a shitty day?? idk

You mentally curse yourself as you drop your bag, books, snacks, and crumpled papers clattering to the ground as students turn to look at the commotion.

Your cheeks flame as you hurriedly collect your things, stuffing the items into your bag before rushing off in the direction of the Gryffindor dormitories with tears welling in your eyes.

It seems luck wasn't on your side, your professor stopping you to lecture you on your poor exam grade. It only lasted five minutes, but it felt like eternity to you. You had to hold back tears the entire time, willing yourself not to have a breakdown in the middle of the hallway.

Finally, he lets you go with a clap on your shoulder with a good luck kid, and you're off. You're nearly tripping over your own feet as you jog down the hall, materials clanking in your bag at your fast pace.

You don't bother knocking, inviting yourself into your boyfriend's dorm before you could remember your manners.

Remus and Sirius are laid on the bed, the former reading a book while the latter rests on his shoulder, close to dozing off when the slam of the door snaps him to consciousness.

"Hey, darling." Sirius drawls tiredly.

"Hey." You mumble, kicking your shoes off while your bag falls to the floor when your shoulders slump.

"What's wrong, pet?" Remus questions, ever so observant.

"Not feelin' too good." You sigh, trudging over to take a seat on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on the splintering hardwood flooring.

"What's wrong?" He pries further, gently nudging Sirius off to scoot closer to you. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, thumb drawing circles on the clothed limb.

"Had a bad day." Your voice wobbles, the tears you had been holding back all day deciding to show themselves at the worst moment.

Sirius who had been quietly watching this entire time moves so he's to your left side, turning your head and pulling you into his chest.

You let yourself go, all the pent-up emotions and exhaustion manifesting in the hot tears rolling down your cheeks. Their hands on your skin feel like anchors holding you to reality, your mind and body overstimulated with stress.

"You know what they need?" Remus directs his question toward Sirius.

You pull your head from your boyfriends chest, looking between the two who are now grinning like idiots.

"What?" You respond.

"Padfoot." They answer in unison.

"This is nice." You murmur, hand brushing over Padfoot's thick coat.

"Always know how to make ya' feel better." Remus smiles, patting your leg affectionately.

You hum, letting your eyes fall shut as you relax into your boyfriends dog-form. He's soft, and warm, and you feel an overwhelming sense of comfort surrounding you. Listening to his slow heartbeat encourages you to let the stress from the day melt away, thoughts of only Sirius and Remus filling your mind.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when a big, wet tongue laps your cheek.

"Siri!" You squeal, pushing his face away as you burst into a fit of giggles.

He pants, almost looking like he's smiling as his black eyes meet yours.

His eyes are screaming I love you, and you hear it. Every inch of your being feels it, and you let yourself drift off with the reminder that at the end of the day, you will always have them to come home to.

And nothing is more comforting than that.

#concepts #wolfstar #marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #harry potter #harry potter fic

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toomanybandstocare · 2 years ago

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{Getting Through the Day}

Program: The first day of the new school year and semester sits heavy in you. Scorching heat from the summer heat wave and Ian's fleeting touches drive you insane through the day. All you can do it throw it back at him and hope to last until you can escape to his apartment for the weekend.

Pairing: Professor! Ian Malcolm x College Junior, GN! Reader

Genre: Slowburn NSFW, Requested -> Minors Do Not Interact

Length: 6394w

Warnings: Pet Names (Honey, Sweetheart, Baby, Brat), Light impact play (happens once), No genitalia mentioned with reader, Grinding, No protection, Ian mocks reader to tease them, Fingering, Making out, Swears I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything

Counselor Notes: Thank you for my first request!! I'm pretty happy with how this turned out :) This sort of goes along with this thought I had and happens later in the time line. I'll explain better when I actually start writing my Professor! Ian Malcolm stuff.

Camp Isla Nublar Masterlist

Your chest heaves with every step you take as you rush from one building to the next to make it to your next meeting in time. Clutching on your bag’s strap, you hurl yourself across campus as flowers bloom across the small gardens and classmates lounge on the grass. Why did they insist on meeting in the campus center when you shared class not an hour earlier in the same building you were just in? You huff and shake your head in frustration as you near the center, tunnel vision locked on the doors where students, faculty, and staff flow through. Of course your second class would run long the one day you’re back to back with meetings and classes.

Determination fuels your speed as you round the corner to navigate closer to the entrance. Nearly there, just steps away, when a strong chest blocks your path and sends you fumbling backwards. Anxiety flares as you try to catch your balance, books and papers flying out of your hands. The warm smell of smoke and leather engulfs you when the person wraps their arm around your waist.

“You alright there, kid?” Ian’s voice hums lowly as one hand supports your lower back. His palm presses into you to hold you up and sends warm waves across your body.

“Yeah, thanks Dr. Malcolm,” you mutter. Trying to catch your breath, Ian’s growing smirk leaves you even more lightheaded than the collision. Tiny tingles nip at your skin where his fingers dig into you. You wet your lip before darting your nervous gaze to meet his amused look, “I’m sorry for knocking into you- I’m running late for a capstone meeting”.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other when Ian drops down to the ground and peers up at you behind his sunglasses. Gathering your spilt papers, Ian’s shoulder momentarily grazes against your leg when he rises. His hot breath fans across your jaw when he leans down to your ear, “Now, I’ve seen you go dumb, honey. Need you to be on your best behavior if you want to come over tonight”.

Lightly dropping your papers into your outreached hand, Ian’s dark eyes peer over his glasses as he addresses you: “It’s not like you to be so distracted. Be careful where your head’s at, alright?”

Motioning for the other professors to move forward, Ian sneaks a small squeeze to your shoulder. His touch ignites bristles of sparks to span across you and only intensifies when he shoots a cheeky wink at you when he follows his colleagues.

You have to bite back your smile as you fall slightly behind the group. Finding your footing once more, you make your way to the center’s entrance and hurry to catch up as Ian holds the door open for the faculty. Just as he’s about to enter himself, you press past him in the doorway. Your free hand lingers against his lower stomach, and you can feel his breath hitch under your light touch.

Craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder, you shoot him a teasing smile. “Thanks, professor. It’s so kind of you to always lend a,” you pause slightly and watch his jaw clench, “helping hand to students”. You laugh as Ian shakes his head in disbelief and follows you into the building, just one step behind you.

Before you both part ways, Ian brushes past you and mutters low enough for you only to hear, “Behave”.

Watching Ian’s back walk away, you press your thighs together trying to relieve the growing burn stirring inside you. This was going to be a long day, and it’s barely approaching mid-morning. You will yourself to walk up the side staircase as your thoughts race causing a flush to burn across your skin. A night with Ian Malcolm leaves little and everything to the imagination all at once.

Maybe, you wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom this time as the two of you put on a show for anyone who looks out their window and catches a glimpse into his apartment living room. Curtains wide open without a care for anyone who could easily watch as Ian leaves his mark on your neck and pulls a devastated moan from your lips when he moves away. Splayed out on the couch as he throws off his jacket and settles between your legs, pressing searing kisses from your hip bone down your thigh and ghost over your pubic bone.

Or would it be a rendez-vous of fleeting touches? A soft night of featherlike touches tracing the planes and dips of your body while worn record plays in the background. Both of you pull each other as close as possible to feel how you fit together perfectly. Quiet begs for more mix with groans of admiration as you take him so well. His treasure, kept hidden away all for himself to enjoy.

Your body light burns in excitement as the possibilities float through your mind, unable to pull yourself away to join your group’s discussion as you sit down with them. It’s not until the faint snapping sound jolts you from your daydreams, that you recognize everyone’s concerned gazes face you. “Sorry, stuck in my head,” you weakly deflect and clear your throat, “What’s up?”

“We were just asking if you had any suggestions for the project? Now I’m worried that you're getting sick though, you look like you’re on fire,” Laura explains, lowering her hand from your ear.

Your cheeks burn as embarrassment and lingering anticipation mix in your stomach, “‘S fucking hot out there, and I hauled ass to try to get here on time. Didn’t do me any good as I nearly took someone out when I ran into them. I promise, I’m good,” you vaguely deflect, “Frat flu has not got the best of me yet”.

Everyone groans and chats about hangover cures as well as home remedies they swear fixes frat flu like nothing else. Taking a deep breath, you slide further into your seat and chuckle under your breath. No way in hell Ian Malcolm was going to be the death of you. You can’t feed his ego that much.

The morning slowly creeps forwards towards lunch time and every tick of the clock makes you squirm in your seat. Your leg bounces as your feeble attempts to end the ongoing debate about what archaeological dig your group will focus on for the semester. Ian only has so much free time when you’re both on campus, and you weren’t going to let a dragging battle of intellect get in the way of seeing him.

“Okay,” you rest your hands on the table and stand up to direct everyone’s attention towards you, “Clearly, this isn’t going anywhere, or at least not if we keep going at it like this. I propose a vote. We’ve already done the pros and cons of each site, so everyone is well aware of what each would entail in regards to research topics”.

You look around the table, leaving no room to disagree, “I’m getting fucking hungry, and trust me. You do not want to see me hangry. So, votes for Chichén Itzá?” You raise your hand alongside three bashful hands raise, and you nod your head in acknowledgement. “And votes for Domus Aurea,” you follow. Laura shares a small waze as the sole supporter of this site. “Alright, if we don’t get our first pick, are the rest of you okay with choosing Domus Aurea as a back up?”

“We can rank Caral as our third interest as well,” Marcus suggests as Katherine and Neo agree.

“Perfect,” you exclaim and hurriedly grab your belongings, “Now, if you’ll excuse me”. You rush out of the common space and fly down the staircase to make it to Ian’s office in time before his next lecture.

Breaking through the campus center doors, you run past the herd of oncoming traffic as the class hour ends. Shuffling feet trip you as backpacks bump against your shoulders. You push through the crowd and run past the humanities building with its tranquil fountain. The science building stands proud amongst the club tables calling over students to find new recruits. Rounding the corner, you see the mathematics building come into sight and pick up your pace. You launch yourself past all the idle students blocking the entrance and rush down the stairs to the faculty offices. The closer you get to seeing Ian, the more your stomach twists and tingles. Giddiness puts a leap in your step as you finally reach the warm, oak door adorned with a golden nameplate: Dr. Ian Malcolm, Mathematics and Chaos Theory.

You knock on the door and relief floods you when Ian’s muffled voice calls you in. Stepping inside, you’re greeted by the familiar bookshelf walls and teetering piles of paper on the floor. Ian has his head in his hands leaning on the desk directly in front of you with rays of afternoon summer streaming through the window wall behind him. Although you’re buzzing from his presence once again, concern crashes down onto you.

“Ian,” you call out as you carefully walk towards the arm chairs just before his desk. You place your bag onto one of them before you hesitantly move around the desk to get closer to him. Slowly reaching your hand out to see if he’s okay, your stomach drops as Ian pulls you into his lap suddenly. The room fills with your shrieks and his laughter as you try to escape his hold.

His arms securely wrap around you and hold you tight against his chest as he looks up at you with a cocky smile. “Well, if this isn’t a lovely surprise,” he drawls. His arms relax as his hands slide to rest on your hips and greedily squeeze your body. His fingertips dig into your skin and reignite the spark teasing your body.

“Ian, you asshole.” you push against his shoulders and arch your back away from him. A small whimper breaks past your lips when you push against his lap. “Fuck, I was worried,” you swallow as his lips trail acros your collarbone. Shutting your eyes, you let his touch take over you completely. The coarse calluses that tease your skin underneath your top. How his jeans send shockwaves through you as he manhandles you. You can feel the faint outline of his prideful smirk when he presses his face against the crook of your neck.

“How mean of me,” Ian mocks you, “Been good so far, honey?”

His hands guide your hips to slowly rock against his lap while he sucks a mark on the sensitive spot on your neck. Ian scatters scorching kisses up the column of your neck and lightly bites down where your jaw meets your ear. Dragging a small moan from you, Ian darkly chuckles and nudges your cheek with his nose.

“Asked you a question, sweetheart,” Ian pulls you harshly against the growing outline of his bulge.

“Yes, fuck,” you gasp. Your eyes fly open and meet his curious gaze. Fucking asshole thinks he has the upper hand- think again.

“My project group is annoying as shit,” you hiss as you grind down on him. Ian’s hands grip you harder as he groans. “They spent two goddamn hours arguing over what site to research for the semester,” you gasp when he bucks into you, “Only to meet a majority vote on the first site I brought up”. You move your hands to tangle them in his hair and tug on it. His moan courses through you and grows as you speed up your movements. “I swear to fucking god, Ian, I’m going to lose it if I have to make every fucking decision for this class,” you pant against his lips.

“Good thing I’m here to help relieve some stress,” he breathes out chasing after your mouth. Desperate for a taste.

Your legs start to shake as you near your ogasm, and you can’t help but give into Ian just a little. Selfish to feel his lips on your own after so many days apart. His teeth clash with your own as the two of you fight for control. Your mind feels hazy from the overwhelming heat stinging you.

Ian paws at your hips trying to hold himself back and reign you in. Normally cool and collected, desire makes him a mess underneath you. He growls into your mouth as he ruts up into you. His hard on presses against you and hits you with pangs of pleasure. Your content noises spur him further to push each of you over the edge. The small touches from this morning did nothing but linger in the back of his mind. Teasing him as he imagined how nice you would look on your knees for him underneath the conference room table during his meeting.

Ian hastily pulls at your waist band, “How about it, honey? Gonna let me take care of you?”

Just as he’s about to pull the button free, you push yourself off his lap. Breathing heavily, you look down at him in fake care, “You have a one o’clock meeting, Dr, Malcolm. I would have to make you late”. You laugh at his wide eyed shock as you straighten your clothes. Ignoring the pleading voice begging you to go back, you walk over and grab your back to make your leave. “I know how embarrassing it is to walk into a meeting late and all pent up,” you tease and look at him over your shoulder.

Ian leans forward his chair completely captivated by your fighting words. “Sweetheart,” he warns, wetting his lips as he takes you in. Hickies paint your neck so nicely as your shirt wrinkles at the hem. He watches as your chest hastily rises and falls, but the movement of your hand catches his attention. Darting his eyes to meet your fluttering lashes, Ian slightly raises out of his chair ready to chase after you if he has to. His stomach burns as need takes over his sense of control. No longer concerned about how he looks, Ian just needs you bent over his desk if he’s to get through the rest of the day.

“Be good for me, alright?” you tease and quickly exit the office, slamming the door as fast you can. Barely hearing the rush of footsteps behind the door, you take off to make it to the campus cafe. Hypersensitive to everything around you, your mouth slightly waters at the thought of what tonight will bring.

When you exit the math building, the heat sits heavy on your skin as the afternoon sun beats down on you. You quickly walk over to the library and hum at the sweet relief from the AC as it greets you. Only one more lecture to get through for the day, and then you can head to your apartment to get ready for tonight.

Yet, your mind wanders further away from campus and into Ian’s cozy, hidden apartment as the minutes slowly dwindle in the dusty lecture hall. Doodling in your notebook, thoughts of take away choices preoccupy your attention rather than the enticing voice of Dr. Jones.

“But it seems as though my stories of lost civilization can’t capture the attention of everyone,” his pointed joke breaks your daydream.

Your wide eyes peer down the lecture risers to meet your professor’s stern look. Shrinking into your chair, you send him a sheepish smile. Dr. Jones smiles and shakes his head ready to continue his story when the bell trills against the chalkboard walls. You quickly shove your notebook and supplies into your bag as anticipation spurs you into action, but you at least attempt to listen to the last minute homework announcement.

“Alright, I know it’s Friday, and everyone has somewhere to be,” Dr. Jones’ voice shouts over the room’s hustle, “But remember that your capstone proposals are due next Wednesday. It’ll be a cold call to determine order- be thankful I told you that much”.

Your skin feels hot and tacky as you try to make your way through the hoard of students trying to escape campus for the weekend. Ian’s last remark echoes in your mind as classmates chatter about their plans. You huff at how slow everyone seems to be moving even though excitement pulses through the air. The electric energy only seems to stoke the pent up desire that stings your core and clouds your mind.

“And I know it will be difficult to pay attention in a Friday afternoon course, but please try to do your best,” Dr. Jones reminds the class, “This is your second capstone requirement. A requirement to graduate next year”. His gaze locks onto your bashful figure trying to hide in the small waves of students.

The throngs of students pushing and bumping into each other in the hallway as everyone hurries to get ready for evening plans. A date night with their partner at the college diner. Football game under the stadium lights with adoring fans and a pep band performance. Perhaps, a risque hook up that sets the tone for a weekend hidden away. Just as you're about to enter autopilot to weave your way through the changing empty spots in the crowd, a light tap to your shoulder draws your attention behind you.

A wide eyed boy nervously shifts in front of you and looks to be struggling with something. “Everything okay?” you ask and try to keep your tone even. Even though eagerness clips your words, you know it’s no reason to be rude. “Dr. Malcolm said to come find you and tell you that he said he had to move your meeting to the lower courtyard. Said it was a waste of a good day to stay inside,” the underclassman mutters before scuttling into the crowd.

Turning on your heel, you backtrack past your lecture hall and launch yourself against the flow of traffic. Your feet slap and trip over the stairs as you fly down to the lower level that exits to the courtyard. Bursting through the door, the late afternoon sun tickles your cheeks and the floral aroma of the gardens gives you a slight lightheaded high. You look from side to side as you walk closer to the courtyard parking lot. It seems as if the humanities department clears out almost strictly up top.

“Over here, sweetheart,” his voice lightly calls out.

Whipping your head where the voice came from, your smile blooms when you see Ian leaning against his red Pontiac. His arms open to invite you to your weekend getaway and send you running. Throwing yourself into his chest, you press yourself as close as you possibly again.

The warm, black button down scratches your cheek when you nuzzle against it. His belt buckle bumps into you as Ian shifts to hold you more comfortably. One of his legs pushes between your own to support and tease you. His skin slightly damp from the ruthless sun shining down onto the two of you. Ian trails his nose across the crown of your head before pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. Tingles and heat send dizzying ripples through your head.

“Got you for the whole weekend, yeah?” he trails more kisses down the side of your head and murmurs against your ear.

“All yours, baby,” you hum, “Today, this weekend, and everyday yet to come”.

“Then I get to take my time with you tonight,” he nips at your lobe. Pulling away, Ian smirks down at you. The sight of your flushed expression unapologetically taking him in sends Ian into a flurry of emotions. Pride swells in his chest as devotion twinkles in his eye. Wetting his lips, Ian forces himself to breathe when you trail your fingertips down his shirt’s button and rest on his leather belt. “Time to head home, honey,” Ian pats your bum and opens the passenger door for you. Once you settle in your seat, Ian shuts the door and walks over to the driver’s side to join you inside. Turning on the car and pulling it into gear, Ian rests one hand at the top of your thigh and rubs light circles into your leg as he steers the car off campus.

“So what happened with your capstone?” Ian grunts and turns out of the lot. He shoots you a knowing smile and squeezes your upper thigh, “You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart. I was a bit distracted last time we talked”. His words make the air hot thick.

“I, um,” you swallow hard when Ian’s fingers dance close to your crotch. You can feel his fingernails drag up your leg slowly as his hand bumps into your lower stomach when the car goes over the speed bump. “I basically had to force my group to use their brains when they seemed concerned about proving they had any,” you breath out.

Ian laughs, not out of commiseration, but in pleasure. Seeing you squirm in your seat just from a small tough, he’s desperate to get you home. “Good thing they have such a smart groupmate then, huh?” he mocks and presses his hand between your thighs. He knows that he is giving you enough relief when you bite down on your lip. “Keep going, honey. I know you had Indy’s class today for capstone as well,” Ian applies more pressure where he cups you, “I know you’re so tired from using your little brain today, but you know better. Rock your hips, baby”.

“Ian, please,” you whine as you shamelessly rub yourself against his hand. At this rate, you don’t care if any of your classmates see you on their walks home. Everything, but Ian’s touch slips from your mind as the outside world blurs past you. His touch causes warm washes to crash through you and tingle all over your body. Feeling his hand sharply come down on you, you let free a broken moan.

“Almost there, sweetheart. Keep going,” Ian encourages, but an edge in his voice makes you shake.

“Couldn’t pay attention,” you shyly mumble. Your legs squeeze around his hand as you hang your head. The additional friction causes you to throb against his hand and pathetically grind down. Your climax stings as it builds when Ian lightly traces his fingers across you. Then he digs into you and presses the heel of hand hard against your bucking hips, nearly stopping you. “Fuck, I know,” you plead with tears threatening your lashline, “He called me out for it twice, and ‘m not even that embarrassed about it. ‘S just syllabus week, and I’ve been-”. You bite down hard on your lip from slipping too much. Ian’s already proving his point that he’s the one in control. That he has you wrapped around his finger. But you weren’t going to so easily admit that you were left helpless after a fleeting touch and a few buzz words.

Ian looks over at you through the corner of his eyes and sees just how much of a mess you are. Your chest heavy as you try to catch your breath. Wrinkles crease your forehead from chasing your high. Thighs twitching against his warm hand when he moves in the slightest. His mouth runs dry at the beautiful sight. “Just that you were a fucking brat all day and couldn’t deal with it?” Ian hums. Focusing on the road, he counts down the apartment numbers in his head. Just one more block. “That you couldn’t pull your mind out of the gutter long enough to listen to your advisor. It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long with how dumb you get, sweetheart,” he muses. A smirk pulls his lips into a mean expression feeding off the weak sounds coming from you. His hand aches as you use him for your own pleasure, but that won’t last very long once you get home.

“How close?” he demands.

“So close. N-nearly there,” you stutter against his hand. Arousal burns everything you touch and makes the building pressure unbearable. “Ian, please. I know I was a brat-” you plead.

“You really are dumb, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Ian laughs. “I was going to play a little nice if you were just playing dumb,” he emphasizes, “You shouldn’t have confessed, sweetheart. Innocent until proven guilty, right?”

Shaking under touch, you can barely understand what he’s saying. Barely recognizing the dark tone in his voice. All your attention focuses on tipping yourself over the edge as your body shutters. Your legs burn from sensitivity and desperation. Shoulders tingle in anticipation. Any thoughts in your head leave, as your mind becomes hazy.

“I-I’m not dumb,” you pant. A few stray tears bite your hot cheeks.

“Then use your pretty little head and walk”, Ian pulls his hand free and puts the car in park.

“No,” you shout and whip your teary gaze to meet Ian’s challenging look.

“Last chance to pull yourself together, brat” Ian quirks his eyebrow before exiting the car.

The fire licking at your skin starts to sizzle as you try to catch your breath and sniffle. Your mind can’t even process what just happened, you’re too far gone. A muted click vaguely registers in your mind as you gather your bag and slip out the car door. Knees wobbly, you have to lean into Ian to stand up properly.

“Got ya, honey. Come on,” Ian wraps an arm around your waist and carries his bag on the other shoulder. He guides the two of you through the triple decker’s entrance and up the stairs carefully. Even though your little whimpers and thighs pressing together drive him wild at the moment, he deosn’t want either of you to actually do something dumb and miss a step or get caught. Ian’s heart hammers against his chest when presses into your back to unlock his apartment. Your warm body molds against his and shifts under foot. He’s too drawn into how intoxicating you smell. Feeling you hesitantly grind against him makes Ian fumble with the key.

“Brat,” he mutters and shoves the key into the hole. Quickly pushing the door open, Ian forces you to move with his hasty steps and finally enter his home. He nearly breaks the key as he pulls it free and slams the door shut behind him, locking it.

You watch Ian drop his bag onto the side table and throw his keys in the dish. Everything is still as Ian rubs his jaw with a weak smile.

“Bed, baby,” he directs you with his chin. He takes off his sunglasses, and his dark eyes are nearly black when he stares back at you. You turn to run to the bedroom and throw your bag to the living room couch. With every step closer you take off a piece of clothing. Echoing footsteps grow louder behind you, and your heart spikes. You finally got through the day, and you can let go for the weekend.

Passing through the kitchen, you beeline to the bedroom. Still messy as usual with cds stacked haphazardly next to the record player and journals scatter the top of the dresser. The bed invites you with fresh, white and gray linens. Even in the dizzying excitement, your heart swells that Ian wants you to feel comfortable in his home with your favorite morning drink on hand and clean sheets to welcome you.

You throw yourself onto the soft duvet, and Ian falls on top of you. Unable to help the carefree laughter bubbling inside you, you chuckle and pull his head down to press a warm kiss to his lips. His hands run down your sides and squeeze at your soft skin. The dull pain of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip pulls a needy moan from your mouth. Quick to seize the opportunity, Ian slips his tongue past your swollen lips and teases your own. You press your hand against his hard cock and start to slowly rub the little drizzle of precum up his length. An achy need shoots through your stomach when he groans into your mouth.

“Promise that I’ll take my time later. Alright, baby?” Ian trails his nose across your jaw and pants against your neck. “You’ve been driving me insane today,” he punctuated his words with a sudden roll of his hips against your own, “Just need to be inside you, baby. That okay? Gonna let me do what I want to you?”

“I thought you were here to help me,” you tease and meet his hips. Both of you breath heavily at the spiraling sensation your movement caused. Your tummy tickles as Ian grazes your hip bone with the rough pads of his fingers. Slowly, he dips his hand following the slope of your thigh to between your legs.

Ian’s eyes lock onto you as he pauses, his hand hovers just far enough from where you need him most. “I am a selfish man. I have never claimed otherwise,” he growls, “I can still take care of you even if I’m greedy for your body. Even if I’m addicted to you and only want just another taste. I may not be a lover, but I will make sure that the thought of another partner never crosses your mind”. He lightly starts to trace your hole, just enough to catch your undivided attention. “You’re mine, got it? You went after me. You want me. No one else will ever come close to what I do to you,” he says, lips moving against your own as he speaks. His words sit heavy on your chest and make your core burn. Ian’s other leaves the side of your head to reach over and grab the small bottle of lube on his nightstand. The faint click of its cap breaks your gaze to watch him lube his fingers before they return to your body.

Ian slowly sinks a finger into you, not breaking eye contact with you, and pulls a whine from your swollen lips. “I’m going to make sure that I’ve ruined you for anyone else who even thinks they have a shot with you,” he promises and presses a searing kiss to your mouth. Your breath catches as he adds another finger, stretching you out. Carefully scissoring you open, Ian grips your hip with his other hand. Fingers dig into your figure as he starts to make you unwind and lose yourself to him.

“Ian, I don’t want anyone else,” you quietly mumble against his mouth. You anchor your hands in his hair and scrap your fingers against his scalp as you pull him closer to you. His guttural moan vibrates against you making you dizzy at the growing arousal building in you. His fingers press upward into you and hit your sweet spot sending a sting of pleasure up your body.

“Then I'm gonna keep it that way. Remind you who you belong to after the stunts you pulled today,” Ian nips your lip before moving his mouth against your neck.

When Ian removes his fingers from you, a sudden emptiness makes you buck your hips in frustration. Not even able to voice your complaint, you feel the tip of Ian’s dick at your entrance.

He rubs his leaking tip against you, smearing pre cum to help lube you. Ian drags his lips up your neck and rests them at the shell of your ear: “Beg”.

Everything hurts. Everything’s too much and not enough at the same time. At the drop of a single word, you let go completely. All the walls come tumbling down at the growing flames building in you.

“Ian, please. I need you in me,” you practically sob, “I want you closer. I want to feel your thick cock inside me as you use me however you want. Just- fuck, I need more”.

With your broken pleads, Ian sinks the tip of his dick inside you. You sob at the slight relief, and your eyes flutter close.

“Keep going. I know you have so many big words in your little brain, baby,” his hot breath stings you.

“Ian,” you shout as your eyes flash open only. “I haven’t been able to think about anything, but you, Ian. Every thought that I’ve managed to have today has been counting down to coming home tonight. You left me wanting more after this morning, and I’m desperate. Please,” you weep. Your eyes sting as you easily admit what he’s done to you.

A searing cloud of pleasure sweeps across your neck when Ian bites down on your sensitive spot. Dizzy from his sudden movement, you barely feel your legs shake as he fully inserts himself into you. The close proximity overwhelms you as Ian snaps his hips against your own, setting a swift pace.

Your eyes droop as you let yourself completely relax underneath him. The dull stab of pleasure hits every time the tip of his of cock continuously rubs against your sweet spot. Moans echo through the room as both of you lose yourself in each other’s touch. Your thighs sting from the constant denial through the day as you wrap your legs around Ian’s waist.

Now pushing deeper inside you, Ian watches through hooded eyes as you arch your back and a shattering moan passes your lips. “That’s it, baby. Let go, I know you’re close, so just let go. I got ya,” Ian rasps and snaps his hips harder against your own.

“‘S too much,” you whine. The burning crescendo builds in your stomach making you thrash. Either an attempt to chase after your climax or to escape Ian’s brutal ruts- you don’t know or care. All you can feel is Ian’s overwhelming presence. One arm presses your body into the mattress to hold you still, and you feel his veins tickle your skin. His face presses into the crook of your neck and every pepperd kiss flames across your skin. Everytime Ian pushes into you, you feel as if he sinks deeper than the last time. Arousal pools in your stomach when he changes his tempo to a more unforgiving pace and slams into you.

“Thought you said I could do whatever I want with you, baby,” Ian chides and bites down on your neck again. Purple welts blossom across your skin and spur him to keep pushing you further over the edge.”Thought you said you needed me closer,” Ian moans as he moves his hand from your waist and rests his hand against your lower stomach. Both of you feel how far Ian’s dick ruts into you with each thrust. The added pressure makes your toes curl.

“P-please, Ian,” your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. With each movement of his hips, Ian knocks the wind out of you.

“‘Can’t make up your mind, huh, baby?” Ian mocks you with a teasing smile, “You don’t need to think anymore- just focus on me”.

The combination of desire stirring in you and Ian’s words of encouragement, send you over. Your back arches making your chest press up into his own. Hastily running your hands down his neck, you grip his shoulders. Fingertips dig into his broad muscles and irritate his skin with scratches when you drag your nails. It feels like something snaps inside you, and you let out a devastated moan as everything goes white.

Pride stokes Ian’s arousal at the sight of you so far gone on his cock. Moving his hand off your stomach, he catches your back and eases you back onto the bed to press into you with quick ruts. Your incoherent babbles fall mute to his ears as blood rushes through him, and he chases his high. His cock stutters deep inside you with one sharp thrust, and Ian fills you with cum. His hips rock against yours as he rides out his orgasm to your weak whines and whimpers.

Ian holds himself above you as the two of you come down from your orgasms and looks down at your fucked out expression. Tears stains run down your flushed cheeks. Your neck is painted with his signature mark. Chest rising and falling as you desperately breathe in any oxygen you can. A work of art created by Ian Malcolm.

“Need you breathe in, baby,” Ian rubs his thumb against your cheekbone, “And when I pull out, you’re gonna exhale, okay?” His arm holds himself up as he lightly rests his other hand on your chest.

Barely holding onto consciousness, you mumble in response and poorly nod your head. Fatigue envelopes you in a thick blanket, and Ian’s voice does nothing but lull you to sleep. His hand tickles your chest causing you to mutter in protest and try to swat his hand away.

“Deep breath in,” Ian coes at how your face scrunches into a pout, but he feels you listen to his words. “And then out,” Ian pulls out of you as you exhale. His heart pangs when you wince at the movement. “Sorry, sweetheart. Must not be fun,” he rubs his hand up your side to sooth you.

Ian drops to your side and lays down, always keeping at least his leg pressed against your own or a hand on you while he settles. Once the pillows are right and the alarm clocks set for an hour later in the evening, Ian carefully pulls you to his chest and trails his finger softly in random shapes across your skin.

“You alright?” Ians quietly asks. But he’s met only with faint snores and deep breaths as a response. He presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head before closing his eyes. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” he mumbles. A small laugh bubbles against his body as you shift to get more comfortable, quickly returning to deep slumber. Shaking his head, Ian yawns, “So, you’ll hear that, but not when I tell you to behave. Jesus christ, you’re a piece of work”. Draping his other arm around your shoulders, Ian smiles when you rest one leg on top of his thighs.

Finally through the day, the two of you can just enjoy each other’s tender touches and company for the weekend.

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writingsofmax · 2 years ago

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Disarm pt. 11

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Edward and Y/N deal with the aftermath of Halloween night in their own seperate ways

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, chronically ill reader, anti-social Edward, obsessive thinking, classic riddler meltdown

warnings: mental deterioration, depictions of mental health issues/ breakdown, manic episode, depictions of illness, depression author note: i continue to be sorry

Chapter 11- Destroy The Mind, Destroy The Body

Edward heard the door slam, he knew Y/N was gone. He grabbed the bottom of his desk and flipped it, everything falling to the floor. Pens and pencils clattered everywhere. He screamed, kicking at his ledgers on the ground.

He wanted to destroy everything, he wanted it all gone. He tore at his walls, shredding at the paper, pulling everything down in a blind rage. “We were going to have EVERYTHING” he shouted to no one in particular, “I HAD IT ALL PLANNED OUT!” he screamed. “We were going to leave Gotham and be SAFE,” he picked up an ink bottle and hurled it at the wall, watching as it shattered into pieces, leaving a huge black stain. A fitting representation of how he felt. “We were going to watch the whole thing together!” He stood there in the wreckage of his apartment, his breathing ragged. She’s going to turn me in. She thinks I’m wrong, that I’m ‘evil’. He laughed, a bitter and angry sound. I did this for her and she calls me evil?

“How could I have been so stupid!” He kicked his chair and it toppled over, lying on the ground with everything else. Edward grabbed handfuls of his hair, smashing his fists into his skull. “So stupid, so stupid.” he murmured to himself, “We were gonna have EVERYTHING!”

Y/N had flinched away from him when he reached for her. He couldn’t get it out of his mind. Her face had been filled with fear, real fear.

Like the first night he had met her. Afraid of me? He thought, Afraid of me?!

“How could she think that? How could she, how could she, how could she-” he ranted, repeating the phrase over and over again until the words became unintelligible. He sank to the floor, moaning, his face wet, covered in snot and tears. How did this all go so wrong?

He had been abandoned again. Y/N was just another person who didn’t understand him.

“If she wants– If she wants to be afraid of me, then fine.” He reasoned with himself, “That means I’ll never have to see her again.” His heart ached in his chest and his tears betrayed his words. “Stop. Stop crying.” He demanded, hands over his face. “Stop,” he pleaded with himself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His whole body ached with pain. The grief of Y/N’s rejection was too overwhelming. He curled up into a ball in the corner of his destroyed apartment, and wailed, his body wracked with sobs. He stayed like that for what must have been hours, the sky outside changing from black to a deep blue as he willed himself to stop crying. He sniffled, looking out at the brightening sky.

His tears had finally stopped. He glared menacingly at the start of a new day. “I don’t need her.” he announced, picking himself off the floor. He looked out of his window over Gotham, “I don’t need her,” he repeated, wiping his face with his sleeve, his eyes red and puffy. She would turn him in today. He needed to leave this apartment. I don’t need her, I don’t need her. He repeated to himself internally, like a mantra. He would throw himself into this plan with or without her.

He opened his closet and yanked the duffel bag he kept for her out, dumping its contents onto the floor. He tore through his apartment, frantically shoving papers, his laptop, his gun, and other items into the bag. If he kept busy with the plan, he wouldn’t have to think of her. If he kept busy with the plan, he wouldn’t have to be in pain. He wouldn’t give himself time to even think about anything to do with her. He had things to do. —------------------------------------------------------------- Y/N lay on the couch, watching the television screen.

It had been four days and she hadn’t heard anything else from Edward. Not a text, not a phone call, and certainly not a visit. At first, she had really believed that he would come for her, that he would explain. She waited for any sign that he still cared about her, but no. She had been tossed aside.

“You’re not smart, you’re only good for a mediocre fuck.” His words taunted her cruelly. She knew she wasn’t smart, maybe that’s why he hadn’t told her.

And the second thing, well, that made her want to die.

She had feared their entire relationship that she wasn’t good enough for him, and it had been proven. She wasn’t. She hadn’t been good at sex. She hadn’t seen that he needed help, she hadn’t noticed the signs.

She hadn’t stopped any of this from happening.

She had failed him. Over the last four days she had alternated between numbness and waves of unbearable pain ripping through her. She had cried more than she thought a human being could cry.

She had thought about turning him in, but those thoughts brought even more anguish. She couldn’t reconcile the Edward she had known and the Edward she had met on Halloween night in her mind. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe that he would actually flood Gotham.

He won’t. A part of her had to believe that. She was watching the news. Every time he killed someone, it was broadcasted. She didn’t know why she was watching. To punish herself, she supposed.

How did you not see the signs? His distance over the last week, the times she had found him dazed, ink all over him. The rants he would go on, eyes wild, hair messy. She winced. Thinking of Edward’s beautiful face felt like a knife in her stomach.

He hated her. He wasn’t coming back. And that’s why she was watching the news so obsessively.

Just for the chance to see him again. And she had seen him again.

The news station was playing his videos 24/7, it seemed. So it was almost like he was still there with her. Almost. There were two new videos now, one when he had killed the Commissioner and a second one when he had killed Coulson. He had killed them both so violently. It was all so shocking that she felt numb, only feeling pain when she saw that he had built a dedicated following around himself.

That he had told other people about what he was doing, just not her. Edward would—No, the Riddler would appear on screen and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Tears leaking out of her eyes that already burned from crying so much already.

She would watch, her heart in pieces, staring at the glasses she had used to take off of him and set on the nightstand. Watching him rant and gesticulate wildly with the hands that had used to hold her so gently. So far, he had only been taking out crooked cops and corrupt members of the justice system. She knew it was wrong but sometimes she found herself relieved that he appeared to have some sort of moral code. Until he floods the city, she reminded herself. She was a mess of conflicting feelings. She knew murder was wrong, but the people Edward was killing were terrible people. And honestly, wouldn’t it do some good to strike fear into other officials that wanted to abuse their power? She genuinely felt that the city would be better off without the people that he had disposed of. But then again, he had also disposed of her. And still. It was murder.

It hurt so much to see him and that’s why she watched. She wanted to hurt. She wanted to be beaten into the ground and never get back up again. She stood to go to the bathroom, and felt woozy. She hadn’t taken any of her medications since the incident. She sucked in a sharp breath, the memory of that night causing her to wrap her hands around her chest tightly, trying to control the pain.

She never picked her overnight bag off of the floor, she had just ran. It was still at—She winced, unable to think about Edward’s apartment. Her head was fuzzy, pain throbbing through her temples. Nausea ripped through her. She realized dully that she hadn’t eaten since that night either, as she made it past her kitchen. Oh well.

The withdrawal symptoms of going off her medication so suddenly had made it impossible to eat. That and the loss of the love of my life, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, the thought of him tugging at the hole in her chest. He had been… She felt her lower lip tremble just thinking of it. He had been her person. And now he’s gone. She felt hot tears track down her face, her throat raw and painful as sobs escaped her. And he thought that she didn’t love him. She would never be able to remedy that now. Her heart pounded in her chest at the exertion of walking and her legs shook.

Everything hurt.

She reached out to steady herself on the wall, unable to keep her balance. Everything felt like it was spinning. Misjudging the distance she slid to the floor. The floor was cool against her cheek. It felt good.

How funny, she thought. Her apartment was so cold– she could still see her breath but she felt so hot. She stretched out on the cold floor, sinking into it. Maybe he will flood the city. She thought. She found herself hoping that he would. When the flood comes, I hope it takes me under too. She closed her eyes. That would be nice. It would be peaceful. —----------------------------------------------------------- Edward had expected to be turned in. From the moment that Y/N had left his apartment he waited for the sound of sirens. He waited for the police to come and break down his door but they never came. He had been staking out his apartment by hacking into neighboring businesses CC TV signals from a secure location. Some seedy motel he had checked out under a false name with cash. He had only dared to return during the early hours of the morning to grab things he needed for his plans but now he could see that the precaution hadn’t been necessary. So she didn’t turn me in, he mused, editing his latest video. That has to mean something. He thought, picking her ledger out of his bag. He didn’t remember packing it. With a shake of his head he angrily banished that thought from his mind. He had been rejected again. Y/N was just another in the long list of people in his life that had let him down.

Edward threw her ledger away from him with force, watching as it hit the wall across from him with a loud thud. His lower lip trembled and he bit the inside of his cheek, to keep the tears from coming. It doesn’t mean anything. She just doesn’t want to be implicated. He thought, focusing once again on his laptop. She wasn’t like his followers. They understood him, truly cared for him. Saw his plan for what it was. Saw him for what he was.

She was afraid of me, Edward thought bitterly. She thought that I would hurt her. If she thought that then she didn’t know me at all. She NEVER knew me.

He wasn’t evil, he was justice. He had been watching social media sites as well and most of Gotham wasn’t even saddened that he had killed the Mayor, the Commissioner, and Coulson. A lot of people online had been relieved when these scumbags died. Everyone knew that this city needed a change. It was just her that was against him. He thought about killing the Commissioner and Coulson. They hadn’t felt the same as when he had killed the Mayor. Back when he had thought that she would be proud of him.

The Commissioner’s death he could barely remember, that one he committed in a haze of pain and rage. With Coulson, he had calmed down a bit, and had thoroughly enjoyed making him suffer in front of everyone. That slimy little pig.

Sure, both killings had made him feel good for a while. After each one, he had been filled with adrenaline, basking in the glory of his own righteous anger. His divine judgement. He had chased those highs for as long as he could.

Of course, his followers had approved, but it still didn’t wholly satisfy him.

He wanted to save Gotham, but more than that, he had wanted to save Gotham for Y/N. Change it for her. As much as he forced himself to push past it, he couldn’t help but feel like his actions were meaningless without her. And really, what would flooding the city accomplish? Renewal. It would cleanse everything. The city would start completely fresh. Edward answered himself in his head, smiling.

He worked on his riddler website for a couple hours before he felt unsure again. Maybe she was right, there were people that didn’t deserve to die, that would. The ends justify the means. He reasoned, resuming his work. He was distracted though, the image of her face as he had screamed at her came to his mind, and he felt a twinge of guilt. No. He cut that train of thought off immediately. He had let her in, he had loved her, and she rejected him. There was nothing for him to feel bad about. And even if his plans were going a little too far, Which they aren’t, he reminded himself, she would never understand. He couldn’t just let this go. It was his whole life. He needed retribution for his suffering, otherwise what was the point? Shutting his laptop, too agitated to focus, he thought about his apartment. He still needed to go back and collect more things, maybe clean it after his little.. Outburst. He felt uneasy when he thought about that night. He bit his cheek again, this time not stopping until he tasted blood and focused on the sting, forcing himself not to think about it. He was already thinking about her too much and he couldn’t have that.

Soon all of his papers and all of his things would be back in place, in perfect order. Everything will be under control. Until then, he would work on his website and streams. He would work on designing more traps and more bombs. He would look over his plans for the retention wall again. Make sure that the vans were all perfectly placed, he thought, Y/N thankfully gone from his mind once more. —--------------------------------------------------------- Edward hadn’t gone this long without seeing Y/N in months, he realized, feeling a familiar ache in his chest. The streets were quiet at this time of night, he was driving again. Whenever there was a lull in his plans, when he ran out of things to do, he would just go for a drive.

He could not let himself rest. He would not let himself stop. Looking down at his hands he noticed for the first time that his fingers were covered in ink and some of them were bleeding. Hm. He hadn’t noticed before, because they didn’t hurt. He looked back at the road. That had probably happened while he was working on making more bomb mechanisms. He grinned, he had spent hours on Coulson’s. Sad that it had to be destroyed in an instant. Oh well, it was all for a good cause. However, he was running out of supplies to make them. They were back at his apartment. He supposed it was safe to go back now. Since she– No. He carefully tiptoed around that place in his mind. Didn’t need to think about it. Anyway, he would go back and work from there. —------------------------------ Edward awoke confused and disoriented. He blinked his eyes slowly, adjusting to the harsh light. Oh. He was still in his car. He could feel a kink in his neck from sleeping in such cramped conditions. Thankfully his car was parked. He had made it to his apartment complex. He vaguely remembered deciding to go there the night before. He didn’t remember driving here or falling asleep though, he noted with concern. He realized that he couldn’t actually remember the last time he slept at all. With a groan, he extricated himself from his vehicle. What was he here to do again? Clean my apartment…? No.. It was.. For some reason Edward’s mind wasn’t as fast as it normally was. It was.. I was going to… As he walked up the steps to his building, he finally remembered. I was here to make more bomb mechanisms! My supplies are here. Walking up to his apartment he felt unease growing in his stomach. He unlocked the door and was met with his apartment exactly how he had left it. A giant mess. He thought about resting. Just going to his bed and sleeping. The bed where he and Y/N had—No. No resting. He needed to clean. He obviously couldn’t work in this mess. He surveyed the apartment wondering where to start. Probably all of the broken glass on the floor. He had a flash of remembrance, pushing everything off of the table, vials shattering, chemicals going everywhere. The chemicals he needed to work with. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance at his past self. Okay, you need gloves, a bucket, a….a sponge or…… something to clean with, Edward struggled to run through a mental list in his mind, trying to stop the memories of that night from coming up. Going to his kitchen to grab the items, he remembered how he and Y/N had made meals in there together. Ugh no– stop. Just. His heart hurt being here. Just push through it. He rolled his eyes at his own sentimentality while slowly picking up the glass from his floor. He hated the absolute heartache he felt. How much he found himself missing her. It was easier to be angry. While he was in this place, even keeping busy wasn’t helping. Maybe he would sleep instead, just a little, he thought while stumbling over to his couch. Just a little.. —--------------------------- Edward’s sleep was filled with dark and turbulent dreams. He was at the orphanage, watching a tidal wave approach, helpless to stop it. As it got closer he could see small hands reaching up towards him through dark water. Right before the tidal wave crashed over him, he could hear someone calling his name but he couldn’t find the source of it. He was alone in a dark room now, floating in a black sea. Rats were swimming through the water, swarming him.

The commissioner drifted towards him, floating in the water, face down. He reached out to flip his body over and screamed when Y/N’s lifeless eyes gazed back at him. Edward woke with a start, his heart pounding. He looked around wildly, disoriented and afraid. He relaxed back into the couch, exhaling loudly when he realized that he was safe, in his own apartment. He focused on slowing his breathing, calming himself down. How long have I been asleep? He wondered. By the light in his apartment, he figured it was late afternoon. He felt his stomach twist in pain and growl loudly. He was so hungry. Getting up, he staggered to the bathroom. He looked like shit. His hair was a mess, and dark purple shadows ringed his eyes. He had streaks of ink, and grease on his face. He looked down. And all over my hands and body as well it seems. He couldn’t go to the diner like this. He needed to shower, put on new clothes and then go eat. After that, he would be able to reassess his situation. —------------------------------------------------

Wish I hadn’t knocked all of this over. He thought to himself, slowly placing the shards in a plastic tub. He had been avoiding picking up his apartment. He had known that sifting through the wreckage would inevitably bring his mind back to that horrible night.

Instead he had just focused full-tilt on his plans. He took his rage and hurt and channeled it into his livestreams, into his trials, into absolute destruction. He had been blinded by it. His mind was a lot clearer now after he had eaten and gotten some much needed sleep. So now, he was picking everything back up. He frowned with displeasure as he realized that some of the chemical spill had burned a hole through the carpet. God damn it. He felt silly for being angry about it, all of this was going to be gone anyway. Maybe. He thought. He was now unsure of the whole, flooding Gotham idea. It did seem a little… extreme. He picked himself off the floor to go find something in the kitchen to scrub up the chemicals with. In the beginning he had only wanted to root out the corruption, he thought, pulling a sponge and some soap from under the sink. The reason why he had wanted to do that was because of how he had grown up. He didn’t want anyone to suffer like he had. When he remembered that reasoning, the flooding did seem pretty far from his original intention. Y/N’s words about hospitals and nursing homes floated through his head. Orphanages too. Guilt rushed through him, and he felt tears drip down his face. “Ugh!” He angrily threw down his gloves and sponge, standing up to survey the area. The glass was all picked up, most of the chemical spill cleaned. “That’s enough cleaning for today.” He said to himself, harshly wiping away his tears. He needed to go for a walk, and think about things. Really think about them. —----------------------------------- Edward had slept very little after he had returned to his apartment. He watched as the cold morning light filtered in through his windows. How could I have been so wrong about everything? He held his head in his hands, not wanting to face the day.

Y/N had been right. He had gone over the events of that night repeatedly in his mind. The things she had said did make sense. He had just been too far gone to listen. He regretted the way he had talked to her so deeply.

God, I am an evil piece of shit, he thought, desperately wanting a cigarette, a habit he hadn’t had since college. He had let his plans get so far away from him.

As he watched the sun rise over Gotham he wondered just when it was that his plans had become more about hurting everyone as badly as he had been hurt, than saving anyone. And especially not saving Y/N. His gut lurched, and he pulled his knees into his chest. He had said such hateful things to her. He hadn’t meant any of it, he had just wanted to hurt her. And you certainly accomplished that! He thought, thinking of how her face had crumpled. Her tears. He missed her so much, but knew he was so very, very, undeserving. I can’t face her. He thought, Not after all of the things I said. And even if he did go to her, just to apologize, she might refuse to even see him. He thought of how scared she had been that night.

She was terrified of me. That realization made Edward want to turn himself in at Arkham, it was nothing less than what he deserved. The guilt was burning a hole through his chest and he needed to move. He needed to distract himself in any way he could. Picking himself up from his bed, he wandered into his living room.

He kneeled and started sifting through the pages on the ground, collecting them carefully. Focusing on cleaning, focusing on order, maybe it would help clear his mind. Then he would know what to do. He winced as he flipped open a ledger, the pages filled with unintelligible writing. He had really thought that writing had been helping him. He shook his head, looking at the mess around him. He sighed, and continued picking up pages. Trying not to think about the giant mess he had made of his life, about how he would never see Y/N again and that it was his fault. He paused as he heard a rattling sound, looking towards the source of the noise. A bottle of pills had rolled off one of the notebooks he had grabbed. A bottle of..? Edward got up, confused. What had he done after Y/N left that night? Had he actually taken something? He walked over towards it and froze when he saw an inhaler on the ground as well. His body felt cold and his heart sank, She needs that. He dropped down to his knees by the door, digging through the wreckage and— There. Under a file folder was Y/N’s overnight bag. Edward’s heart was pounding as he frantically dug through it. All of her daily medications were in there and her emergency medication.

How long has it been since she was here? He racked his brain– freezing when he realized that he had no idea what day it was.Edward was filled with blind, uncontrollable panic. He raced over to his laptop, flinging it open.

It was November fucking 7th. He had been so out of it that an entire week had passed and he hadn’t even noticed. He grabbed the pills and her inhaler, and tossed them into the bag. She had been without these for seven days. His mind was stuck on that number.

Seven. Seven days.

She needs these, he thought, his hands shaking with anxiety. He remembered that her symptoms had only been getting worse with the fall and the cold. Hadn’t she mentioned something about her apartment being freezing?It was all here. The medicine for her heart, for her lungs. The pills she had to take for her immune system. Her vitamins. Everything. He had read through every last detail in her medical records, had looked up all of her medications when they were together. He knew that you couldn’t just stop taking them. He knew how badly she needed them. Oh god, what if—- what if she had needed her emergency medication? She didn’t have it with her, what if she’s—- He wouldn’t let himself finish that thought.

With her bag in his hand, he grabbed his keys off the hook and sprinted out the door.

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primofate · 3 years ago

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Genshin Modern AU - Stress and Comfort

Summary: Woke up late. Missed a class. Forgot that assignment due. Another one due in two days. People are downplaying the things that you do. It’s raining and you don’t have an umbrella. Sometimes the little things pile up all in one day and it feels like all you want to do is to get it over with... and your boyfriend to make everything better.

Warnings: crying, stress, mood swings, other than that it’s fluff

Characters: Kaeya, Zhongli x gn!reader

Notes: Also a commission <3 Thank you for the love. Once again if you want something written for you I have cheap rates XD and I’ll always accommodate to your wants! Just leave me a message!

Kaeya

“Hey, Y/N, do you know how to write this part of the essay?” It wasn’t as if you were a particularly good student. But somehow, the people in your class liked asking you because you were accommodating. Ready to help with a smile on your face. Always there to turn to and rely on. “Yeah, it’s just like this…” and you spend nearly an hour explaining it.

“Oh gosh, I don’t think I can finish this part of the presentation tonight, something came up at home,” Group projects were sometimes difficult too. You understood. Things happened, but when they happened, you’d be the first one to say, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it,” Even though the presentation is tomorrow, even though you barely get enough sleep for the next day. A part of you just wants to quickly get it over with.

“You said this would come out on the test… It wasn’t even there…” The worst part of it is not even receiving any thanks. It’s the way that they look at you when you make a mistake, despite all of the good things you’ve done for them, one mistake, and they make you out and guilt you to be a bad person.

“Your analysis is all wrong, Y/N. This part over here…” Sometimes the price of that was paying with your own grade. You try to listen as the lecturer explains a part of your essay. You’re listening, but it just doesn’t register in your mind. Something about misunderstanding the concept. Those concepts that you’ve tried so hard to remember and to understand. In the end they were all mixed up and confused.

Perhaps the lecturer sees the deflated look in your eyes, and ends quite happily. “Just do better in the next one!” pats your back and lets you leave, handing you your essay graded with a C.

Do better in the next one. Easier said than done.

You shove the paper in your bag without giving it a second glance.

The cafeteria. It was slightly late for lunch but you like it that way. There weren’t a lot of people at this time, which meant you didn’t have to fight for seats. Still, as you put in your order and bring your tray of food to the nearest seat that you see, you somehow bump into someone who topples over your chosen lunch, the tray completely doing a flip and landing on your chest, then on the ground with a plop and rattle.

There’s an ugly stain on your shirt. Forget about hiding it, it had to be washed. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” and yet they can only stare at the stain. What else could they do? Dabbing it with wet tissue would just make it worse. “It’s…fine,” you wave them away, but you leave the mess on the floor in a hurry and in an embarrassed state.

You sigh once outside again. Deciding that today was enough, you make your way home.

Even then, as you sit at your study table, all washed up and changed, sketching a little something on your tablet, your mother stands at the door, observing.

“…What does that do for you?”

You jump a little in surprise and turn, looking at her blank expression. “What does what do for me?”

“That, your drawing. You’re always on the computer or tablet Y/N. If not that, then your sketchbook. That’s all you ever do,”

You turn around because you don’t want to argue. You don’t want to hear her complaining about how you do nothing but stay in all day after lessons and play games and draw. It was one of the biggest forms of comfort you had for yourself and yet she--

“Maybe try a part time job or join a club or some—”

“Mom, I’m still trying to adjust to uni,”

Why does no one understand how difficult it is to juggle the classes and do all the readings required? Why do I have to do so many things all at the same time? Can’t I do it when I choose to and when I’m ready? Can’t I do things that I enjoy?

“The degree you chose won’t even pay the bills…” You hear her mutter as she walks away. Footsteps receding into the hallways.

You push your tablet away and lay your head face down on the table. You’re trying not to lose it and finally, whatever higher being up there hears your plea to give you a break.

A phone call from Kaeya comes through.

“…Hey,” you answer.

“Hey, hun. You haven’t been replying to my messages,” there’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice. He just thinks you’ve fallen asleep or taken a nap at home or something.

“…Yeah, I—” You try to explain. You try to say that you weren’t feeling well. That you didn’t feel like talking. But would he understand? Everyone today seemed to be against you. “I just, fell asleep,” You lie and there’s a few seconds of silence on the other side.

“…You sure?” Now there’s a hint of unease in his voice. The playfulness is gone. “You ok? Do you want me to come over?” Somehow he senses that it isn’t just “falling asleep”. His simple worry and caring attitude towards you breaks whatever composure you had left. You accidentally let out a sniffle as tears start to pool in your eyes.

“Hey… You don’t have to talk to me, but I’ll come over right now, okay?” The sniffle was enough to tell him that perhaps something had went wrong. You couldn’t help but let out a few more sniffles as tears slowly trickles down your face.

“O-okay,”

Minutes later your blue-haired boyfriend shows up at your doorstep. Despite your mom being a little hard on you earlier, when she opens the door to see him, she smiles and says. “I think they were having a bad day, I might have been a little harsh on them too,” Kaeya only grins and points a thumb to his chest. “No problem, that’s what I’m here for,” He’s still wearing his volleyball jersey.

He knocks softly on the door, “Y/N?” there’s a plastic bag in his other hand.

When you open the door your eyes were already a little red around the edges, but seeing him made your lips tremble and fresh tears fall out. “Shh… You’re okay.” He wraps you in his arms, plastic bag rustling, his hand smooths your hair down and the other rubs your back as you cry out your frustrations for the day.

The two of you stay there for what seems like a long time. You hiccupping into his chest and trying to calm down. At some point he moves the both of you on the bed and lets you curl up against him. When you finally ease up, he pulls away slightly to look at your face, then brushes away the wetness still lingering on your cheeks. “Feel better?” He whispers, as if being too loud will break you again.

You smile a little and nod at how gentle he was being. He smiles back and leans in to press a kiss on your forehead. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Whatever it is, just talk to me when you’re ready,” and it hits you so hard how much he’s willing to just be there with you, even though he doesn’t know what’s happening. How he wasn’t going to judge you for what you say or what you do and your face crumples and grimaces into a face that tells him you’re trying not to cry. “D-Did I say something wrong?” He’s a little startled, but you laugh a little through small droplets of tears that you wipe away by yourself. “No, you idiot. I’m just happy you’re here,”

He sighs and relaxes, taking his own hand and pinching your cheek, pulling at it a little. “Who’s the idiot? Crying and laughing at the same time?” He was joking, of course. He’d only do so when he knew you could take it. You swat his hand away with a slight glare, and he knows that he’s got a little bit of the normal you back. “Alright, come on, here,” He suddenly sits up and presents the plastic bag that he’s been holding all that time.

“Ice-cream, your favourite flavour,” rummages into it and takes out a tub the size of two fists, a little damp from the melted moisture. He’s got spoons in there too. Slowly, as you eat the tub together, you tell him about what’s been going on in uni. How people just expected you to help when you could. How you got nothing in return. How you try really hard and they somehow still end up piling on negativity into your life.

“…It’s okay to help, Y/N,” he thoughtfully says, mouth muffled cause his spoon was still in his mouth. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too,” then he scoops another bite. “…But even if you don’t…it’s okay,” he looks up at the ceiling. “If you don’t take care of yourself…Then I’ll do it. That’ll be my job. Forever,”

You lay your head on his shoulder as he says this, still eating from your spoon “I love you,”. He smiles and presses a soft kiss atop your head. “Love you too. I’m always just a phone call away, babe,”

Zhongli

“Is there something on your mind? You’ve been quiet for the past hour,” Nothing slips by Zhongli. He’s observant. He knows you don’t feel like eating by the way you’re picking at your food. Knows that you don’t want to talk because you don’t even meet his eyes.

“…Nothing, really,” You just didn’t have the energy to talk about it.

He feels as if this date has gone awry, and he didn’t even know where he went wrong. Though, if he had to guess, it wasn’t his fault. You were just in a particularly bad mood. Not that the two of you were anywhere fancy, it was just your usual sit-down restaurant at a mall across the university.

To him, the right thing to do was give you the space you needed. So, after walking you to your room that night, he’d wait till the morning to contact you. Imagine his surprise when none of his calls go through. None of his texts were returned. He was beside himself with worry when suddenly, near the afternoon, he finally gets word from you.

“Sorry Li, I feel a little sick today. Don’t worry though, I’ll be fine in no time,”

You’re bad at lying. Or was he just good at reading you? You tend to have the habit of withdrawing when you’re out of energy. To give too much without any regards to your own state, your own feelings. Sometimes you don’t realize that you had to watch over yourself too.

It’s nearly 8 at night when he knocks at your dorm room. Zhongli went through a few steps to make sure your roommate would be out tonight. It was from them that he found out you hadn’t left the room at all today, but that you weren’t sick.

“Oh… Zhongli,” You’re surprised at the amount of things he’s holding. There’s a plastic bag that seems to nearly be popping and in his other hand was a mysterious paper bag. Under his arm he’s tucked his laptop with him. He lived in the dorms too, and if someone saw him now, it would look as if he was moving into your room. “You could’ve just asked me to come over to yours,” his eyes trail away, a certain brown-headed roommate pops up in his mind.

“No, Tartaglia’s in tonight,” You make a sound of understanding. His roommate was rather…special. Too energetic for your tastes, and sometimes nosy. “What do you have there?” You ask and invite him in. He chucks the plastic bag on your bed, lays down the laptop on your table along with the mystery paper bag. He notes that you’re already in your sleepwear, which was perfect. He starts to take out a throw blanket from the plastic bag and a hoodie.

“…This..is?” You’re a little baffled by what he’s trying to convey. “…My throw blanket that you like so much…and you said you like wearing my hoodie,” then he points at the laptop. “Do you want to watch a movie in bed? I have popcorn too,”

Then you realize that he’s trying to make you feel better. He’s figured out that you weren’t really sick, possibly just mentally drained. You smile at him and lean in for a hug, to which he responds to by wrapping his arms around your back and whispering. “…I’m not…really good at these things… Tartaglia said it might make you feel better…” You chuckle in his embrace and could imagine the kind of conversation they had.

“You’re the best Zhongli,” he secretly smiles while rubbing your back up and down. He doesn’t ask questions as to why you’ve been acting the way you do, but you’re the one who offers him the answer. “It’s just school… Too many things have been piling up… My class they… They’re really nice people you know? But just… there are times where I wish they would stop asking me for help, but it feels so selfish of me… I have my own things too, but they never think about that…”

It’s always about them, you want to say, but keep your mouth shut. He runs his hand through your hair gently, internalizing the things that you’ve said. “…I see… Would you like to hear what I think?” He’d ask first, because he knew sometimes that you didn’t really want an answer. You just wanted to be listened to. You nod against his chest, you could feel his heart beating from the closeness. “I think, you’re a very selfless person, Y/N,” he places a kiss on your head. “There’s nothing wrong in wanting to take a break from time to time, you deserve it,” and he guides you over to your bed, wrapping the two of you up in his throw blanket. Laptop on, popcorn in the mystery paper bag as you put his hoodie on. It smells just like him.

His back leans against the wall and you’re in the safety of his arms. You’re practically in his lap, encased in his scent and warmth. He’d managed to prop his laptop up on a pile of books and the two of you watch a random movie on the screen. You were paying attention to it, but you couldn’t help but be more interested in the way his chest rises and falls. You can feel him against you, and the comfort it brings is like no other.

You turn away from the screen and rest your head at the nape of his neck. He looks down, movie still playing and asks “Tired?” You shake your head, eyes closed. “No, I’m just enjoying this…” There’s a small rumble from his chest as he lets out a small “Mm,” his eyes are glued to your face. Movie forgotten.

“…Y/N, I’ll always… be next to you,” Your eyes flutter open a little to look up at him, curious. “…Always?” He nods his head firmly to confirm, and you lean up a little to press a sweet and quick kiss on his lips. “Even when I’m not my best and I’m moody?” He chuckles at that and responds with a remark that might have slightly brought tears to your eyes.

“Especially when you’re not at your best, I’ll be there. Just call,”

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#genshin impact #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli fluff #kaeya fluff

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sweetbunnykook · 4 years ago

Text

Devotion (M)

Word Count: 5,885 // angst (toxic relationship, friends to lovers, yandere behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of physical harm, mention of neglect), smut (rough sex/slight dub-con, fingering, omorashi, asphyxiation, forced creampie), no fluff

Childhood friend!Taehyung X Childhood friend!Reader

Summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you.

Music: X

Winter darkness came early this season. It’s only a few minutes past five and the sky had darkened and streetlights casted a deep orange hue over semi-empty cobblestone paths. The streets are almost silent except for the faint piano music wafting out into the cool air from restaurants and cafes lining the streets. You keep your fists deep in your coat pockets but the numbness persists. You never thought your hometown would look the same after running away at age twenty with nothing but clothes and a roll of cash – his cash – in your bag. Now, at twenty-three, you wondered if you made the right choice, if the yearning that slept deep in your marrows was the reason why you’re glued to the ground in front of the café you had your first kiss in.

You never thought you’d see Taehyung again – assuming he left not long after you did – but here he is, sitting near the bar with his long fingers grazing over the rim of his whiskey glass. He chuckles at something the bartender says, takes a drag from his cigarette, but his eyes are sad and his smile fleeting. His hair grew longer – past the tip of his ears – and he looks overall larger than life. He’s wearing the coat you bought him for his birthday and you’re wearing the knitted plaid scarf you stole from his closet before leaving. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. It doesn’t smell like his warm cigarettes and aftershave and it takes all your might to not walk in and put your arms around from behind like you used to do when he comes back from work.

Your heart wants him. It craves him. It has spent many nights in your chest begging you to call him and apologize to your tormentor who kisses you while keeping a noose wrapped around your throat. Your Taehyung, your lover, your captor who gave you everything including his own fears.

He doesn’t know why he is the way he is and you can’t find it in yourself to ask. You just know he was easily scared of losing you. The day you found your intimidating and loving boyfriend in your classmate’s house, hovering over the poor boy with his blood-stained knuckles in the air, was the day you knew your love for him isn’t enough to keep himself from hurting himself or others.

Just a moment longer. One moment. You want to stay in the cold for just a moment longer and admire how beautiful he looks without you even if the bags under his eyes are deep and his downturned lips are set in a permanent frown.

Just one moment. Just until he swings the shot of whiskey down his throat and asks for another.

You exhale into the scarf wrapped around your lips.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name into the cashmere wool.

As if he’d heard you, Taehyung briefly glances up at the bartender and you hold your breath, thinking he would turn his head towards the window. He doesn’t and instead stares straight ahead, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lithe fingers falling into an empty dinner plate. Your heart leaps in your throat when he doesn’t move, the finger over the glass paused, his lips falling just slightly. It’s not until you look over at where he is staring that you stumble back a step, meeting his eyes through the angled mirror that gives him a direct view of your figure through the window. His gaze pins you to the floor; you’ve seen it many times in your dreams but in real life it feels like needles down your throat.

When he moves from his seat you tighten your hand around your handbag and run, your lungs burning in the cold as you stumble through the blanket of snow in your heavy boots. You don’t turn to look, not when you can hear the faint bell of the café door opening and your name hollered in that deep, baritone voice that makes your insides clench. He sounds just as guttural as the day he was covered in blood, shaking his head and whimpering your name when you kneel next to your wounded classmate, annotated papers strewn across the broken furniture.

You turn into an alleyway, looking around to see if there is a place you can hide or crawl under.

You’re stupid.

So fucking stupid.

The footsteps grow louder in the darkness the faster you run into the alleyways. The smell of smoke and dirt making you hold your breath as you turn another corner only to face a brick wall and a line of abandoned bicycles. Screaming for help is no use in this part of town.

Your toes curl in your boots as the footsteps grow louder and louder before stopping just a few feet from where you’re standing. Taehyung can see you tremble softly under the small lightbulb from the back of a dormant restaurant building and he is in disbelief.

You, who had torn his heart out of his chest, had the nerve to run away at the first sight of him.

Again.

“Turn around.” He breathes into the air. His voice is shaking, from anger or from desperation, you can’t tell. “Right now.”

You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You certainly can’t run past him. Taehyung has always been stronger and faster, even when you had pulled him away from bullies when you were both children. Even when he had let you ravish him, let him drown in ecstasy underneath as you rolled your heat into his pistoning hips, you can feel his strength. You can feel his capacity to easily turn pleasure into pain.

“Turn the fuck around!”

You wince at his voice, your tear-streaked face disappearing further into the scarf.

When you fail to obey, Taehyung walks forward and grips the top of your arm, his large hand easily wrapping around your limb. He brings you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and neck this time as his whiskey breath hits your face. He breathes in the scent of your perfume when he presses his forehead to the top of your head.

You changed so many things about yourself when you left him. The color of your hair. The shade of lipstick you wore. The dresses you adorned. The thick rimmed glasses you exchanged for contacts. The one thing you didn’t have the heart to change was the perfume he loved to smell in your hair. The faint smell of roses and musk that kept his sanity intact when your eyes lingered too long on another man or when you scream and shout at his reasons for locking you in the bedroom after working so hard to earn your first job.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” He whispers, tightening his hold around your body as if you were an illusion that could disappear any moment. “I looked for you everywhere. Everywhere, baby, everywhere…everywhere…”

You remember. The cries your neighbors in Denmark had to endure when Taehyung’s brother informed you that he crawled on his hands and knees in front of your injured classmate’s porch, hoping that if you saw how apologetic he is you might come back. The police had to drag him away on the third night.

“I’m sorry…” you breathe into the scarf, your shaking fingers coming up to grip his caging arms.

Maybe you wanted this to happen. You stayed another second longer, just another second longer, in front of that café window hoping that he would turn his head. You held your hand over the candle when you know it’d hurt you in the end.

“Don’t run away from me again, baby. Don’t you fucking dare or else I’ll go crazy,” he sobs into your hair. His hold is tighter and your heart is bleeding just like it had when you left. “You’re the only one...”

He pulls back and tugs the scarf down to see your face. You, his moon, his love. Your wet cheeks are still full and soft, your eyes as dark as the night sky, and your lips still swollen and wounded from your habit of digging your teeth into your skin when you’re nervous. You sniffle slightly in the cold and in such close proximity you can’t bear to look at him in the eyes until he takes your face in his big, cold hands and angles you to meet his lips.

You taste the cigarettes and the whiskey. Beyond his tongue, you taste his yearning and pain. You taste the nights he spent lying in bed with the dresses you left behind. You taste his appetite to hurt something – someone – when he comes back to a barren living room from work. You taste his seething, heartbreaking anger that enslaved you as the lover who needed to look at him and him only.

Despite the harshness of his tongue, above all cries, you taste home.

…

The apartment would have looked nearly identical as before had he expected your arrival. Stepping in, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol and leftover pizza on the kitchen counter before you witness the broken television and shards of glass from empty picture frames and bottles. There’s new workout equipment in the corner where an old, broken player used to be. Whatever cleaning he had done in the past three years was minimal. The only object that looked cleaner – polished even – than before was the snow globe with two angels in the center. You had gifted the little globe during fifth grade, gathering coins from underneath couches and stealing a few dollars from your father’s wallet.

Taehyung reaches from behind and underneath your armpits to undo the buttons of your coat and pull it down your shoulders. You turn your head away from the living room and let him without complaint, knowing from his trembling fingers that he’s holding back his unease.

He doesn’t have to say anything. Just from the sight of the place you once called home, the broken shards told you everything you needed to know.

Taehyung’s fingers pauses on the scarf around your neck. Moving your back to lean against the wall, you peek at his face through your lashes and look back down again when his piercing eyes meet yours once more.

“If you still loved me, why didn’t you come back earlier? Why leave in the first place?”

He tugs the material free from your neck and wraps the scarf around his hands before hooking it onto the coat rack next to the entrance. The light switch lays just underneath the rack but he shows no desire to reveal the extent of his anger just yet.

“I was scared.”

“Of me?”

You nod. “Of you and of myself. Of us. Together.”

Taehyung doesn’t comment, merely watching your wet lashes glimmer in the darkness as it catches the hue from the streetlights outside the window.

“D-Did you…see anyone else a-after I left?” You ask him in that soft, airy voice that you used to soften his heart when he’d get upset. Old habits die hard.

He squints just slightly before tracing the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, his arms coming to cage you further against the wall.

He contemplates lying.

He wanted to hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him. He wanted to watch your brows come together and fat globs of tears roll down your cheeks as he tells you he would bring women who looked like you in this space and made love to them. He wanted the satisfaction in feeling your fists pound his chest when he tells you he came inside them with a satisfied groan against their ear. He wanted to tell you he’d fall asleep with them in his arms and he’d lick every inch of their skin like he had done to you. It would be all a lie, but he wanted to. He really wanted to fucking tear your heart apart even if it’d feel like he’s tearing his own.

No matter how much he desired it, he couldn’t do that to you. Even when he knows without you telling him that you made love to other men in whatever place you ran off to, he couldn’t do that to you. Because he’s always known he loved you far more than you loved him.

“No, I didn’t.” He says and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’ve only ever been yours.”

Taehyung takes your hand and puts it on his chest. His wristwatch ticks against your skin like a beating heart.

“Take off my coat.” He commands.

You undo the knot around his waist with a small tug and let the black coat fall open. Taehyung hisses underneath his breath when he feels your hands flatten over his pecs and up his shoulders, peeling the heavy coat off of him until he draws his arms down and let the fabric fall onto the ground. He’s broader than you remembered him and so, so much larger in presence like he’s engulfing your entire being whole. He’s wearing a plain white button down with a pressed pair of black dress pants and a matching belt just like the time you left him on such an ordinary day.

His skin is warm underneath the shirt and you can faintly trace his strong arms and shoulders before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek on his chest. You close your eyes and breathe – in and out – gradual and rhythmic and soft. He can hear you whispering his name underneath your breath over and over again like a prayer, like he’s your religion and you found your way back to him to repent for your sins.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you want to stay with him forever when he suddenly takes your wrist from his waist in a vice grip and pulls you into the apartment, not looking back when you stumble and fall on your knees. He half-drags you into the open bedroom and throws you onto the bed before looming over your curled figure as you rub your sore shoulder. The bed smells like you and it takes a moment for you to see your dresses laying across the pillows and blankets until you’re forced to tear your gaze away as Taehyung wraps his hands around your ankles and pull you towards him.

“Tae!” You squeal when he leaves hot, wet kisses down your cheeks, jaw and throat and nips at your skin with his front teeth. Your skin prickles with sweat and your shoulder still aches from his relentless pulling.

The room is stuffy and you struggle to catch your breath with the windows shut and sheer curtains drawn. It’s stuffy most of all with the memories it held of Taehyung bringing you a heating pad during your periods, tending to your hands when you burned yourself making dinner, watching movies with a secondhand projector on the opposite wall, and stealing each other’s popcorn because you always finish your share before the movie starts. The little things that leave such heaviness in your lungs.

Taehyung’s hands are shaky but firm as he reaches underneath your knitted dress and tugs your panties down your hips along with your stockings. Because you’re still wearing your boots, Taehyung doesn’t wait until he buries his face into the crotch of your panties pulled down to your ankles and licks your essence off the fabric onto his tongue, sucking the satin clean before finally unlacing your boots blind with sharp, uneven tugs and peeling them off your ankles. The shoes fall to his feet with a thump and your panties, along with your pantyhose, falls onto the leather not long after.

He doesn’t recognize this attire and it makes him grip the softness of your thighs harder when he imagines yourself or any other man buying you these dresses. It has always been his pleasure to see you dressed in his money. He’d made a promise to be your provider when your parents threw you out of the house as a teen and out of their lives with nothing but a backpack on your shoulders.

As soon as he brings back your luggage from the worn-down hotel you’ve been staying, he’s throwing every dress he doesn’t recognize into the raging fireplace.

Taehyung pops the top button of his shirt and reaches behind him to drag the cotton over his shoulder and head. His skin glows like molten gold and the silver chain hanging from his neck, curving just slightly over his collarbones, sways with his calculated movements. At the end of the chain is the ring from a cracker jack box you’d engraved with a pocketknife.

So many fragments of your relationship with him surrounds you yet you gathered the courage to leave all those years ago. Three long years it took for you to realize you preferred to be in his arms than be free anywhere else. In his shackles you feel safe. In his shackles you feel loved. Your freedom had its own shackles too – putting on pretenses in front of strangers, trying to meet the expectations of men who could never love you like Taehyung does, molding yourself to fit into who you could be rather than who you really are. Taehyung’s shackles feel like jewelry, like luxury, like comfort.

“Did you think about me?” He runs his warm palms up and down your calves, kneeling between your legs as you squirm on the edge of the mattress.

“Every single day. I missed you…I w-wanted to call but…” I was scared you were going to hurt me like you hurt the people around me.

He doesn’t comment and for a moment you wonder if the years of anger he had built inside him will rush forward like water bursting from a dam. It was strange how you are the same, vulnerable person after all these years despite changing nearly every part of your identity.

When he looks up your heart leaps to your throat. If it were physically possible, Taehyung’s eyes would turn into steel with how hard, how piercing, his gaze is as if he intends to burn holes into your skull. Despite the glare that steals air from your lungs, he’s still beautiful with his uneven eyelids, thick straight eyebrows, chiseled cheekbones, and a prominent cupid’s bow.

“You’re not leaving me again. You hear me? You’re not taking one single step out of this room until I say so. I,” he grits his teeth, tightening his grip around your calves enough to bruise. “don’t fucking trust you anymore. You destroyed us.” His voice is harsh, labored, full of agony. “You destroyed every fucking thing we built together just because I allowed myself to love you.”

“I know, Tae, I know,” you bring a hand over your lips and stifle a sob. Taehyung’s hard gaze falters slightly upon seeing your sadness otherwise his face remains promptly emotionless. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I left, I d-didn’t know what to do. I just…I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah.”

He takes his hands off of you and places them on the edge of the mattress next to your knees, gripping the plushness with all his might.

“You’re not leaving me.” He repeats as if he needed to convince himself more than he needs to convince you.

You shake your head. “I won’t. I swear.”

“If you do this again…something bad will happen. You know that, right? I won’t let you walk away. I can’t let you do this to me anymore, baby. I…haven’t I suffered enough?” He asks and it makes you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips towards you. He devours you like he needed you to breathe. It was obvious he was suffocated in this little apartment just as much as you suffocated in the little den back in Denmark, struggling to make it to the next month.

“I love you so much,” you whimper against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I’m here, Tae. I’m home.”

Your boyfriend groans as he pushes you back onto the mattress and hovers over your body with his knees on both sides of your hips. You bring your legs back, curling them towards your body before hooking it around his toned waist. The warmth that solely belonged to him, you didn’t know how you survived without it. His tongue roams your entire mouth from the back of your tongue to your teeth. You wince just slightly when his fingers trace your slit underneath your red dress, gathering the wetness over your swollen clit in slow circles then moving down to your throbbing core.

“Is this all for me, baby?” He whispers into your mouth as you snake your fingers into his deep chocolate brown tresses and brush his long hair back.

“All for you. I belong to you, Tae, I always have.”

He tsks, watching your hooded eyes suddenly widen and your mouth fall open into an ‘O’ when he impales his index and middle finger into your soaking pussy to the hilt. You had forgotten how long his fingers are until he’s deep inside, until he pushes so hard against your walls that you can feel him from beneath your skin. Your cervix probes his fingertips back and it makes you squirm and wince as he curls his fingers inside and lightly digs digits into your walls. You’ll take the pain with grace.

Your trembling hands reach down to wrap around his wristwatch, slightly wet with your juices trailing down the length of his palm.

“Please, Tae,” you plead, squeezing his wrist. “I want you.”

His fingers move slowly against your walls, leaving you panting and soaking your dress with sweat. He makes no move to be merciless and instead pushes his fingers incredibly deep until your opening burns. He keeps his fingers inside while he undoes his belt, the clinking of the silver buckle raising goosebumps on your skin. All those times he bent you over the kitchen table and lash you across the ass with the belt for blushing when you enjoyed the attention of another comes rushing back, your insides gripping the contours of his fingers as he moves his fingers up and down. Lewd squelches from between your legs make you turn your head away in embarrassment but Taehyung won’t take your disrespect. Not anymore.

You’re left unfilled when he slips his wet fingers out and places them in his mouth to suck, eyes rolling back and his smooth naked chest heaving at your scent. He’s brought back to reality when you work to remove his belt, your palm kneading his throbbing hardness as you unzip and peel his pants open as far as they can go to reveal his boxer briefs. His cock bulges through the dark fabric and you can lightly feel the trail of dark pubic hair above the base. In the silence of the room you relish in his labored breaths and the rustle of clothing. It’s a sound you longed to hear when you’d spend numerous night with your fingers in your panties in your lonely, cramped apartment, fingertips rubbing circles around your clit until you leak all over the vibrating dildo shoved inside.

Taehyung pulls the belt free from his hips and makes you sit up to wrap the belt around your neck like a scarf before lacing the leather back into the buckle and then tightening the loop. He places two fingers underneath where the belt meets your neck to make sure you’re safe. Even with anger radiating off every pore, he cares about you, loves you, wants to please you.

“Okay?”

You nod, palming him and wrapping your fingers around his thick, pulsing length leaking pre-ejaculate through the fabric. He admires the need in your tear-filled eyes and twists the length of his belt around his fingers before pulling you up, earning a whimper as your hands immediately move to your makeshift collar.

The fact that other men had seen you in this position kills him.

Taehyung pulls the thin straps down your arms and peel your dress down to your ankles. You’re not wearing a brassiere and he suppresses a smile. You’d often lounge wearing his shirts in the living room, your perky little nipples peeking through the cotton, all ready for his greedy mouth to latch onto.

When you kick the dress away from your ankles and bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, Taehyung takes the chance to kick off his shoes. He’s too impatient to remove his slightly tight slacks and black socks, choosing to give all his attention to you instead.

“You’re really here,” he breathes, eyes glazed over in remembrance of you over the years.

It started with kisses in cafes while studying together; at the time, he hardly knew how to kiss and knew less about the feeling deep in his belly. Kisses turned into roaming hands, his fingers disappearing under your panties and yours under his jeans. You lost your virginity to him – and his to you – in the backseat of his car after graduating in which half the time was him struggling to put on a condom while your laughs made him giggle along. He had always been yours, and you his.

You couldn’t accept that Taehyung is no longer the boy you used to know. While he accepted your changes and made peace with your mercurial ways, you couldn’t do the same for him.

“I want to show you how much I missed you,” you bring his hands to your face and rub your cheeks into his palms like a kitten.

Taehyung melts, his tired smile plastered on his face as he pushes the dresses on the mattress away and lays next to you. You know what this meant. He wants to watch you come undone, watch you mold into his body as your spine arches and he can tighten the belt around your neck as you spill onto the sheets. You reach down and slide your hands under his pants, gasping slightly when your hands wrap around the girth of his cock. His hips jolt when you run your thumb over his weeping tip and smear precum down his thickness. Taehyung turns you away from him, his perspired chest sticking to your back, and brings your hips towards his lap until he can slip his cock between your folds.

Heat blossoms on your cheeks when he pants lightly in your ear, breath hitching as he slips the tip of his cock into your entrance before ramming his entire length without warning.

“Ah!” You grip his iron arms secured around your waist. He pushes his cock further until he’s fully nestled in your warmth.

“Ung, baby,” he hisses, sliding his left arm underneath your head to reach the end of his leather belt. He wraps the leather around his fingers twice and brings the belt back to him as he pushes your spine away from him in an arch.

He begins moving, his hand around your waist slipping down to your clit as he rubs coaxing circles while pulling the collar back to compress your jugular. In the dark, cold bedroom Taehyung makes you feel every inch of himself inside your starved pussy. Your vision is filled with spots and every nerve in your body curls and bows to his carnal hunger.

“Please…please, Tae, please…” You beg as he pounds without giving you the luxury to adjust to his thickness, tight balls clenching further as he grinds his hips into your little hole.

You cum immediately, legs twitching as you sob his name and curse under a single breath, the wetness from your folds coating the base of Taehyung’s twitching, loaded cock. When you gurgle and cough, he loosens his grip on the belt and listens to you heave, watching your arms pull you up and away from him as you get on your hands and knees to take bigger breaths. You palm your lower abdomen with the heel of your hand, the ache making your head turn towards the pitch-black bathroom connected to the bedroom. Not only did his penetration burned your entire lower body, but you can also feel the pressure inside screaming at you to run to the bathroom.

You underestimated how cruel Taehyung can be. With teeth gritted, he suppresses the need to cum, and bring your hips back towards him to slip his cock back into your battered pussy. You’re tighter after cumming and it takes every ounce of his energy to not spill his load inside then and there.

“T-Taehyung I need to go to the b-bathroom,” you pant as you sweat from the pressure building even more in your lower region.

He doesn’t reply, only spreading your legs further with his knees and grip your waist before impaling you onto his cock over and over again until you slump back down to the mattress.

“It aches,” you breathe as Taehyung throws his head back and closes his eyes, plunging with the ferocity of a man possessed. He finds the end of his belt curled on your back and pulls, yanking your neck back and curving your entire body to take his length. He hardly prepped you enough and he did so with purpose, with the intent to make you release in more ways than one. “T-Tae, I can’t…Taehyung!”

His hips move quicker and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes along with his deep, guttural groans.

“Give it all to me, baby,” he snaps, falling forward to pin your body beneath his as he pistons his hips like a demented animal. You can breathe now but your vision is still hazy and your breathing labored. You can’t move your arms with Taehyung’s hands wrapped around your wrists in a vice grip above your head. “Do it for me.”

When your legs convulse underneath and a scream rips from your throat, Taehyung leans his damp forehead on your shoulder and spills his seed inside. You swear you can feel every lash of his load against your walls. Your ears ring just as you reach your high once more, neck arching back, nose in his hair as you spill your wetness over the sheets along with warm urine that stung as it leaks down to the dresses below. This was his intent all along – to claim you and to humiliate you into accepting that he will take your body as he wishes.

Still, the embarrassment makes you bury your face into your arms and sob.

“You did so well for me, baby,” Taehyung exhales against your jaw and takes your earlobe in his mouth, suckling gently before running his wet tongue over the shell of your ear. You squirm in his grasp, feeling as if your bones had turned into jelly.

Taehyung reaches down and runs his fingers gently over your pussy, rubbing the wetness over your pubic curls before leaning back on his heels to look down at the soiled dresses beneath your thighs. The warmth of your urine no longer lingers and instead you’re left shivering with the collar still tight around your neck.

He takes a clean dress from behind and wipes your fluids from his semi-hard cock and thighs before wiping between your inner thighs and folds. You’re quiet, toes curled as he works his way down to your knees where your urine trailed. He rolls you to the side, gently, and gathers the wet dresses in his arms before stepping away from the bed and dumping the mound of fabric into a half-empty laundry basket.

He then takes a towel from the shelf and disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the faint sound of water running as you reach up to undo the belt from around your neck and let the leather fall onto the floor with a clatter. Taehyung would prefer to remove it himself, but he doesn’t complain when he comes back with a warm, damp towel and wipes your cheeks and neck before roughly wiping down your body.

The smell of sweat is heavy in the air but it feels rather comforting to know you can be disgusting with him and still wake up loved in the morning.

You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling until Taehyung pulls you up to the pillows once the top half of the bed is clean, molding his body to yours as he buries his face in your hair. He inhales slowly, arms locking around your body and keeping you caged inside his embrace. Only when you lean into his chest does he bring a blanket over your body and his and tuck you in.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, eyelids heavy.

The room is even quieter than before. It feels serene under the blanket since nothing strange has ever happened when you’re safe in his arms.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your fingers twirling his necklace on his chest. “So…so much.”

Taehyung’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I never left. I’ve always been here.”

You blink, training your eyes on the broken chess pieces scattered on the floor, and close your eyes. No more lonely nights. No more haunting dreams.

…

‘What’s that?’ Taehyung pouts when you stand in front of him with a small box behind. Every time he attempts to look around your figure, you turn to hide it behind your puffy white skirt. He was really starting to get pissed off and the playground is growing louder with more lousy children interrupting his time on the slides with you. The fifth grade class is the largest in the school after all and there’s only so many slides to go around.

‘You have to guess!’ You insist, keeping the box behind you still.

Taehyung’s frown deepens and then he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, turning away in a haughty manner with his nose turned to the sky.

‘Whatever it is, I don’t care.’ He says, stepping closer to the slides, but regrets it immediately when your eyes fill with tears and your hands fall to the side. You know he hates being teased, but he knows you love to keep him waiting.

He looks down at your hand to see a box with a picture of a snow globe plastered on the cardboard.

His mouth opens and close like a fish as he contemplates apologizing but he ends up walking up to you and putting his sticky hands on your face instead, tilting your face up to him. You don’t say anything before dropping the present on his shoes and dashing away, maneuvering through the monkey bars and sandboxes with your skirt floating around your knees.

Taehyung kneels and takes the box in his hand, shaking the package until the globe falls into his palm. There it is, the two angels and the glitter particles swirling around them, the very object that he admired in the book fair yesterday. He turns the globe around in his hands, careful, until he reaches the writing written sloppily with a sharpie pen on the glass.

‘I like you’

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