#only just found out about this nonsense staff is trying to pull

[lonelyharmonies]

out of the blue

When Huang Renjun enters his classroom on a Friday morning, he expects anything but a cryptic note with a math equation placed on his desk, addressed to him.

pairing: art teacher renjun x math teacher reader. word count: 4.5k warnings: one student has a crush on a teacher (?) a/n.: i love renjun and i love this silly little story 💖

Out of the blue, notes started appearing on Renjun’s desk. 

At first, he thought it was a prank. He was used to it, after all, the staff at Dream High is playful and Lee Donghyuck is particularly fond of pulling pranks on Renjun. That’s why he made nothing of the silly note that read:

Roses are red,  violets are blue,  DaVinci painted Monalisa, ‘Cause he didn’t meet you.

Renjun just put the note aside and moved on with his classes. On the following day, however, the same blue post-it could be found on his table in the art room. This one said:

Is your dad an art thief? Because you are a masterpiece.

He chuckled to himself, in disbelief, and threw it inside one of the drawers of his desk before class started, and just moved on. But the cheeky slash flirty notes didn’t stop there: Renjun spent days finding silly pick-up lines written on blue post-its.

You must be an artist, because I find myself drawn to you.

On the day his class was discussing surrealism, there was even one referring to it:

You must be Salvador Dalí because you are persistently in my memory.

What confused him the most is what’s the reason for it? It wasn’t Valentine’s Day for Donghyuck to be doing something like that and Renjun was sure this is all Donghyuck’s doing (he is the only teacher who is overworked yet acts idle enough to come up with this kind of nonsense just for fun). Confirmation of his suspicions came on a Friday morning when he found the blue post-it on his desk, but, this time, it had an equation.

9x-7i > 3(3x-7u)

During recess, Renjun walked to the teacher’s office stomping his feet as he made his way to Teacher Lee’s cubicle. Today was the last straw, especially because one of the students found the previous notes in his desk’s drawer and the whole class started talking about his ‘secret admirer’ (and Renjun hated being the center of the student’s gossip. When they found his Instagram account it had been enough attention for a lifetime).

“What’s this?” he crossed his arms, wearing a scowl. 

“Damn, not even a ‘hi, Hyuck! How’s your day?'” Donghyuck turned to his coworker with a raised brow. 

"Cut it, Lee Donghyuck, you know what this is about.”

“Do you want me to teach you basic algebra?”

“I want you to stop sending me these ridiculous notes!" 

"What notes, man?” Donghyuck was both confused and curious about how the situation was going to unfold. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I have been finding these cheesy pick-up throughout the whole week and just today i see this studpid equation.” Renjun pointed aggressively to the note on the desk. “It’s obviously you!”

“What does the note say?” Jeno, biology teacher, also got invested and leaned into Donghyuck’s cubicle to take a look at the note. He snorted at the sight of the blue post-it “There is no way.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either!” he fumbled with the pockets of his pants, trying to find the other note. “You even left this one about Dalí on the day I was teaching surrealism.”

“I’m sorry, who? You’re teaching what?” Donghyuck scratched his head as Jeno peeked at the other notes thrown on the desk. 

Donghyuck’s genuinely disturbed reaction made Renjun rethink his accusations. When the pick-up lines started getting too art-related, Renjun should have questioned if it was really Donghyuck’s doing. The math teacher was smart, but Renjun doubted he had enough knowledge of European painters to come up with such a specific pick-up line. But if it wasn’t Donghyuck… Well, he could have googled them, right? I mean,The Persistence of Memory is a very famous painting, you don’t need to know that much about art… right?  Because,well… If not Donghyuck, then, who?

“I don’t know why you keep leaving notes on my desk, but please, stop. The students are gossiping already.”

“Do you think I have the time to leave you notes? I have a student to tutor, Renjun.”

“Then what’s this equation?” Donghyuck sighed and rolled his eyes. “You are the only person who loves making fun of me and my limited knowledge in math.”

Jeno, who was beside them holding his laugh, chimed in. "Did you try to solve it?”

“Why would I?”

“It’s because the answer is this,” He grabbed a pen to write ’ i<3u ’ at the bottom of the post-it. “It’s a confession, Renjunnie." 

When the word 'confession’ came out of Jeno’s mouth, Donghyuck was not the only one to stop his activities to pay more attention to the post-its thrown at the table. A little crowd started to form around Donghyuck’s desk, who was laughing at the note. You were one of the teachers that eventually got closer to his desk and as Donghyuck’s fellow math teacher, you silently inspected the note as well. Renjun asked again if the math teacher wasn’t the sender, getting more and more frustrated by the minute with his friend’s negative response.

"If it wasn’t you, who sent this?”

“Your secret admirer,” Jeno smirked and Renjun felt like punching his face.

“Considering how childish this is, probably one of your students.” Park Jisung, P.E teacher, spoke, munching on his kimbap.

“15 year-olds love a reserved and mysterious artsy man who seems to hate everyone.” He continued, making Renjun scowl and Jeno laugh. “After Jeno, you’re probably the most popular teacher among students.”

“Do you want me to break your other arm, Jisung?” Renjun challenged, making the younger teacher close his mouth and pretend to zip it.

“It’s not childish,” you butted in, sheepishly smiling at the note. “I think it’s adorable.”

Donghyuck snapped his head towards you and scoffed, “Yeah, for 15 year-olds, not grown ass adults." 

"I think it’s sweet and I’d love to get one of these from a secret admirer too.” you said, feeling the blood rushing to your face and a little self conscious about everybody’s judgmental remarks. 

“I told you to stop projecting your high school dreams onto others,” he singsonged, while twirling the pen in his hand.

“Oh, shut up, Donghyuck!”

“And you make it pretty obvious too.” Donghyuck,who always sees right through you, giggled as you punched his shoulder.

“What?” you and Renjun asked at the same time

“Your crush on Renjun,” he muttered absently, scanning the exams he is grading.

“What- I don’t know- You-" 

You staggered, trying to form a sentence but failing miserably. Your brain was too slow to process any words at the moment and the whole room seemed to move in a slow motion. Renjun, who was on the far left side of Donghyuck’s table, lifted his eyes to meet a very flustered you. Jeno, who was sitting right in front of you, turned his chair to see your reaction and even Jaemin and his student who were entering the room, stopped at the entrance when Donghyuck dropped the bomb. 

"Mrs. Y/N has a crush on Mr. Huang?” Jaemin’s student asked, baffled by the math teacher’s confession and Jaemin intervened:

“Yah, Cha Yuna-”

This seemed to wake up Donghyuck’s senses, who realized he had slipped something he definitely shouldn’t have. The way your colleague had his cheeks painted in pink and his mouth ajar are enough to let you know that his thoughts were probably faster than the words his mouth could filter.

“I mean, we all have a crush on Renjunnie, don’t we?” Donghyuck tries to cover for himself, chuckling nervously. "Jeno buys him lunch every other day, simp behavior."

The thing about school is that it is one of the first and sometimes only socializing spaces for many, many students. Which means that their relationships usually revolve around the school grounds. Their conversation topics regard gossip about school events, the student body and the staff. And boy, these kids do love to talk.

You and Mr. Huang had the silent agreement of not mentioning what you called to be ‘just another Donghyuck joke’, so you have both led your routines just like you always had. The only difference was that you actively avoided Renjun for around 4 days after The Incident. You were too embarrassed to face him. Even though Donghyuck apologized profusely, saying how he really didn’t think he had said that out loud, and, somehow, managed to make everyone believe it was a joke, you were still unsure. Everyone could be pretty much pretending not to know the truth and your true feelings towards Renjun were just out in the open.

But while the staff seemed to have forgotten about it a couple of days after The Incident, the students didn’t. After that disastrous recess at the teacher’s office, the rumor about your crush on the art teacher spread like wildfire and it was especially fueled by the sight of you leaving Renjun’s car. 

It was a particularly rainy Monday morning, when Renjun was driving to school and passed by you at the bus stop. Being the kind gentleman he is, he offered what was the most awkward ride ever, but you were thankful nevertheless. It’s better to stay in a warm car than in the freezing cold, even if it means having the shortest and most awkward conversations of your lives. The only problem was that ever since then, for the students, you became Renjun’s girlfriend. 

Well, some theories said you were dating, some others said you were actually engaged and Mr. Lee had accidentally exposed your secret relationship and there were Renjun’s fangirls who would get into arguments to deny any alleged relationship between you and Renjun.

You really didn’t mind it because you knew soon the students would find a new target and the rumors would die. Eventually. But Renjun was most definitely not enjoying all that gossip. Not at all.

He looked visibly frustrated as you approached his desk, placing a cup of black coffee on it. You frown at the sight of a box of heart shaped chocolates at his table.

"Can you believe Cha Yuna just confessed to me?” He sighed and took a sip of the coffee you gave him. “First it was Jeno’s student, now this. What the hell is going on with these girls?”

“Oh,” you gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know how it is…Teenages tend to have a crush on people older than them.”

“I didn’t!”

“You didn’t have an impossible crush as a teenager? Not even a celebrity crush?” You raised a brow at him who just chuckled.

“The worst is that she even wrote this note asking me to break up with you and to wait for her. Can you believe that?” He scoffed and you took the seat beside him.

“Well, will you?” you asked playfully and he frowned in confusion “Will you break up with me and wait for her?”

“Should I?” he joked. “No, seriously, I’ll talk to Mrs. Kim today about this, I’ll ask her to talk to Yuna and give her the chocolates back.” 

“Mrs. Kim won’t be coming to the school this week,” you said apologetically. “Didn’t you get her email about the conference?”

“I guess I’ll have to give it back to her myself…” Renjun groaned, making you feel bad about the situation he’s in.

“Is she leaving you uncomfortable?” he nodded.

“It’s not that… I just worry because I have been the most assertive I can to make sure she understands that I’m her teacher and over a decade older than her, but she doesn’t seem to take it seriously.”

“Do you want me to do it?” You asked, making him look at you with hopeful eyes. “I’ll talk to her.”

You should have not offered to do that. Honestly, you didn’t think straight, it just sucked to see him frustrated and pouty Renjun was too much for your heart, so you just blurted that out. Maybe a part of you also felt very guilty because part of his stress comes from the gossip running around the school about your non-existent relationship.

That day, you interrupted Mr. Na’s class to ask for Yuna and give her chocolates back. She’s Donghyuck’s student, but you like to think you have a good relationship with the student body in general, so you don’t worry too much about the situation. You waited for her to come out of the class and as soon as she saw the chocolates and the note in your hands, you realized you should have thought this through. You — whom she believed to be her crush’s girlfriend — were going to reject her on behalf of Renjun. Of course she was not gonna take it lightly.

She didn’t wait for you to open your mouth, grabbing the chocolates from your hands and stomping on the heart-shaped box until the floor had a mixture of chocolate, paper and broken plastic. When there was nothing else left to destroy, she looked at you with fire in her eyes before walking away and going back to class, silently.

You seriously thought this could unfold into a bigger problem in the future, but after that day you haven’t seen Yuna anymore and Renjun didn’t touch the subject either. Everything seemed fine,so you just assumed his student just needed to let her frustration out and some time to understand her feelings.

Oh, boy, how wrong you were… 

A week or two after the rejection, Mr. Kim assigned some of Donghyuck’s classes to you to balance the teachers’ workload and that was when weird things started to happen to you.

First, your markers started to disappear, leaving you in a very disconcerting position when you looked for them in your bag, didn’t find them and had to go to the nearest classroom to borrow one from another teacher. You have never been the type to lose your personal belongings like that, but you guess you have been just forgetful lately.

Then, the air-conditioning starts acting up. On a particularly cold day, you called maintenance to turn it off since some students complained about it, but it would suddenly turn on in the middle of the class again and again. 

The third situation made you become more alert and realize someone was probably messing with you. It was exam week, so you sat on your chair and just waited until the students were finished. When you stoop up, you feel something on your pair of jeans and see the gum glued to your clothes. Gum. Funnily enough, all of those only happened on Thursdays, in Cha Yuna’s class. No that it mattered, right? Coincidence.

Despite these three "accidents”, you were still reluctant to talk to Mrs. Kim because you didn’t want to sound crazy. How are you going to explain to her the situation? 'Oh Mrs. Kim, someone’s been turning on the air conditioner and I sat on gum the other day. I think the student who has a crush on Renjun is messing with me.’

It would just sound like a conspiracy theory, wouldn’t it? But after exams week, you couldn’t really avoid the situation anymore. 

“What did you call me, Cha Yuna?” you slam the book on your table, making the whole class startled. 

“Bitch,” she spat, “I called you a bitch.”

“Enough. Principal’s office.” you pointed to the door and she raised a brow, as if challenging you. “Now.”

“Or what?”

You feel your blood boil, and the urge to scream, grab the teenager by her hair and drag her to Mrs. Kim’s office was becoming tempting, but you kept your composure. “This is not a request, Cha Yuna.”

Her friends started to hush her to stand up, probably desperate to avoid getting their friends into any more trouble, but Yuna didn’t falter. She didn’t break eye contact with you. 

After about 10 excruciating seconds of pure silence, she stood up hastily, making her chair screech, and grabbed her water bottle. You walk to the exit of the classroom, opening the door and before walking through it, she opened her bottle and threw the water on your face.

“BITCH!” She screamed and the whole class gasped. “YOU GIVE ME BAD GRADES, YOU STEAL MY-”

“CHA YUNA!” You and another voice screamed at the same time. In the hallway, you see a disheveled Renjun holding a box full of art supplies walking in your direction.  

Needless to say, you became the talk of the school for a while. Yuna was suspended for three days, got a month of detention, and was transferred to another class. But Mrs. Kim didn’t let you and Renjun off the hook easily. 

You talked to her separately about how this all started, from the rumors about you and Renjun to the day Yuna disrespected you in front of the whole class. And even though she managed to sort things out in a way neither of the parties involved would be uncomfortable (or have to deal with each other), the principal was adamant about how you dealt so poorly with the situation, starting by not telling her any of what happened before things went downhill. Considering you were both teachers and the situation was not entirely in your control, she just decided to give you a warning in the form of a task: tidying up the teacher’s office with Renjun for a month.

“I have a feeling they are using even more plates and cups now that we have to do the dishes,” you said drying the plate Renjun just handed to you.

“I’ve seen Jisung using three different knives today to make a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Renjun sighs looking at you defeated. “He blames his broken arm but I can see right through him.”

“I’ve seen Donghyuck using all his four mugs to drink coffee and leave them unwashed on the sink before going to his tutoring class." 

"They’re definitely doing it on purpose.”

You chuckled, finishing up the rest of the dishes that are on the counter. “You know, this is my first time in detention.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I never got into detention in high school. I’ve always wanted to know what it was like.”

Renjun laughed wholeheartedly “So you’re saying this is our detention? As teachers?” you nodded and he smiled at you. “Well, I can’t say this is my first time though.”

“Ooh, so Mr. Huang Renjun was a bad boy in high school?” you joked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I only got in trouble once, actually. Graffiti on the school’s wall." 

"No way.”

“Yeah. It was a dare. I felt so cool as if I was a Bansky of sorts,” he said and you leaned on the kitchen sink, standing a little closer to him than before.

“What did you draw?" 

"Oh, it was very cliché,” he shook his head, smiling sheepishly. “Anyways, I think we’re done, right? Do you need a ride?”

“Come on, Renjun,” you whined, pouting at him and stretching the last syllable of his name. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know, I can’t remember it was ages ago,” he tried to brush it off and walked to his desk.

“How come you can’t remember it? You just said it was cliché!”

“Y/N,” he warned, making you whine again. 

“You’re embarrassed because it was a confession, right?” you beamed with his annoyance. “Oh my god, did you confess to your high school crush through graffiti on the wall? That’s so cute!”

“And you get mad when Donghyuck jokes that you project yourself into the high schoolers." 

You looked at him unamused. "Yeah, my high school years sucked but I don’t project myself into the students. It would be a cute confession, though.”

“Well, it wasn’t a confession.” Renjun zipped his messenger bag and put it over his shoulder. “It was a factory named ‘school’ with people coming out of it and the lyrics of Another Brick in The Wall next to it." 

"Are you joking?” you asked and he shook his head. “Why are you embarrassed of that?”

“Because it’s only cool and revolutionary for a sixteen year old who had just found a Pink Floyd disk in his mother’s basement,” he shook his head fond of the memory. “Now, I know smarter and less cringey ways of criticizing and fighting against the alienating educational system we live in.”

You laughed as you followed Renjun outside. The “detention” definitely played a part in making you become closer friends, which felt great. Renjun has always been nice and polite, but he was equally reserved to people he was not close friend’s with. And you did have to acknowledge that, before getting to know him, you felt silly at how your heart would beat faster just at the sight of him in the teacher’s office. You were like a high schooler who got a crush on the cool and popular guy but barely knew him, it felt ridiculous (Donghyuck made sure to point that out a couple of times. And call you a coward too for taking too long to approach him).

But as you get to know Renjun better, you realize he is so much more than that. He is kind, gentle, and hilarious. He might not crack a lot of jokes or be goofy all the time, but he has an impeccable comedic timing, he delivers the funniest lines ever, not rarely leaving you with tears in your eyes. 

And wow he’s so intelligent. It’s unbelievably attractive how smart he is and the way he utters the words in a discussion is so elegant that you cannot not stop and listen to him. He could talk for hours and hours and you would never get tired of it because that’s just how compelling he is.

I mean, you like him a little (too much).

That’s exactly why on the last day of your detention, you find yourself in Renjun’s car heading to a restaurant: because you can’t say no to him. “It’s to celebrate that our detention is over,” he said, but you felt that there was something different going on. Or were you reading too much into this?

“I was surprised that other day,” he said, looking at the road ahead.

“By what?" 

"You,” he smiled and you turned your head to him. “I was talking about that painting the other day and you immediately guessed Monet.” 

“To be fair you mentioned Impressionism.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you of all people to know painters’ names.”

“I only know the famous ones,” you scratched your head sheepishly, smiling at him. “And why the surprise? Can’t a math teacher enjoy visual arts too?"  

"It doesn’t really match with the stereotype, honestly,” he said playfully, making you punch his shoulder lightly. “Hyuck didn’t know who that was.”

“Hyuck is more of a music type of guy, though,” Renjun hummed in agreement, stealing a glance at you. When the car stopped at a red light, he turned to you. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you turned your head to him again, signaling you were paying attention. “Was it you?”

“What?”

“The notes on my desk, was it you?” you stopped breathing for a couple of seconds as the question caught you off guard. Why was he asking about that? Everyone had forgotten about that thing ages ago, why now?

“Why are you bringing this up? It was months ago,” you laughed awkwardly, looking nervously at the traffic light that didn’t seem to be turning green anytime soon.

“Because I never got to know who sent them.” He leaned his body into the console, while you moved closer to the door. “Was it you or not?”

You heard cars honking behind you and Renjun went back to driving the car, not before giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. The question still hung in the air while an indie song played softs on his radio. You didn’t dare to speak a single word anymore. 

“You know, I think the Dalí one was my favorite, but I wouldn’t have written it that way,” he glanced at you, who was suspiciously interested in the road ahead of you and refused to look to your left. 

“What would you have written?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, parking the car in front of the restaurant. 

You both entered the restaurant and Renjun started a conversation about how that became his favorite restaurant in town, seeming to forget all about the question and how you left it unanswered. If it were for you, it would remain like that for the rest of your life. However, after drinking a glass or two of wine and a very exhausting week of work, you can’t expect much from your brain, can you?

As Renjun pays the meal (after you almost got physical for wanting to pay the bill, arguing that he spent with gas already), you take one of the paper napkins on the table and use the pen you keep in your bag to write him something. As he came back to the table to lead you outside, you stretched your arm, handing him the note and walking right out of the restaurant as fast as you could.

“if i were an artist you’d me my muse, jun”

You reached Renjun’s car and leaned on the parked vehicle, wondering if only two glasses of wine were enough to leave you so drunk to the point of becoming this reckless. Can you blame the alcohol tomorrow? Renjun didn’t drink and he knew you weren’t drunk either,maybe just tipsy. You should have just ordered something else, just like he did, but nooo, it was Friday and it was a tough week, you deserved a little alcohol! Now, you had to spend twenty awkward minutes with Renjun, who now had probably connected the dots and knew you had a stupid crush on him. 

Okay, maybe it was time for a confession, but should you have done it through a note? Again? Like a stupid school girl?

You started to wonder if you should get an uber, because Renjun didn’t seem to be coming to his car. He was taking a little while. Maybe he was watching you from the restaurant’s window, hoping that you would go away and he wouldn’t have to drive you back to your apartment. 

Your mental rant stops when he suddenly leaned on his car, but stood very, very close to you. Your shoulders touched and you could smell his expensive perfume, making your heart beat even faster than it was before. He didn’t say anything, just kept smiling as he handed you a folded napkin, just like the one you gave him minutes ago. He motioned his head towards it for you to open the note. 

Are you Dalí’s painting? Because what I feel for you is surreal.

“I’m not as good as you, but-" 

You kissed him.

"I think we make a pretty neat couple, don’t we?” you asked, linking your arms with Renjun’s. “I love colorful clothes, you’re into earthy tones. I teach math, you teach art. I hate spicy food, you love it. We’re living proof that opposites attract.”

“Oh, no, I can’t believe you’re saying we’re a cliché couple." 

"What’s so wrong with cliché?” you pout and Renjun fights the urge to kiss you in the middle of the art gallery. “Cliché is good.”

“Cliché is overdone and predictable. How can it be good?”

“If it has been done a lot, it means it works.Isn’t it good?” You smiled, sneakingly giving him a quick peck on his cheek. “And you’re the one to talk about originality. An art teacher inviting his partner to an art gallery date? Really?”

“Oh,shut up! You were the one who brought up this exhibition,” he clicked his tongue, making you laugh. 

“Just admit you want to dump random art facts at me so you can sound all smart and leave me hot and bothered,” you said jokingly, hoping Renjun won’t think much of the fact that you actually really get all hot and bothered when he is all focused and critical.

“Damn, you got me all figured out,” he huffed, faking annoyance and you smiled so prettily that he couldn’t resist kissing your lips.

On the next Monday, you both find out that one of your students was at the same exhibition and took a picture at the exact moment Renjun stole a kiss. When someone suggested in the comments that it could be you and Renjunon the background, thanks to his two-toned hair, it became chaos. Needless to say, you became the talk of the school. Again. And the most shipped couple in the school among students (a title that Jisung is fighting to revoke). What can you say, the opposites attract trope is really popular.

#nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #renjun fluff #renjun scenarios #renjun drabble #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct dream drabbles #renjun fic

[finniestoncrane]

💚 WIP Snippets 💜

ok the poll is going well, i'm going to be brave and post a couple of lil bits! i don't usually do it because i feel like things are garbage or nonsensical until they are COMPLETE but this year i am not going to be as mean to myself or my work, i write with love and enthusiasm and i should treat myself and my words as such! so here are two little snippets! first one is for a first date with captain boomerang fic and the other is for a little dirty thing with arkham eddie that got stuck in my head after a server chat

Date, Digger Style

"M'lady, your carriage awaits." As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets. "Do you live in here?" "Don't worry about it, babe." Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets. Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your facade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

Unnamed Arkham Riddler Fic

He was nameless of course, they all were these days. The staff turnover within the ranks of The Riddler’s henchmen was far worse than any other gang in Gotham. As far as notorious criminals went, he was by far the worst when it came to any semblance of humanity. You suspected that was why he was so focused on developing his robot army. With them, he only had to press a button to get their attention. He still found it beneath him to have to call out “you there” to whatever poor minion was closest, and the notion of learning the names of the ill-fated fools on his roster was ridiculous. And it really could have been any one of them, any of a number of goons who happened to be walking by him when the moment of genius struck him. This man in particular just happened to be lucky, or unlucky, depending on any of the parties involved were were objectively looking at the situation they found themselves in.

#finnie snippets

[azzurra-astra]

Idefk but to answer a few questions (just gonna round it up) since I’m almost done with my other project and willing to work on a proper expression sheet/profile for her since I was asked. Yes, I put a lot of effort into characters that are only gonna be around for a brief moment or are just one-shots, it’s a very old habit I’ve had since I was fuckin’ 8yo. I don’t like leaving anything surface deep. That’s why even though I don’t plan for Palmira to stick around long term, I still pay an extra amount of attention to these minuscule nonsensical things she’s into or these behavior quirks.

Here have a snippet of her being flustered, for whatever reason. She doesn’t take compliments all that well so….

I tried her without the bruise patch and her face just… felt unfinished and empty, the bruise itself was caused by a stray circle and I just opted to fill it in, found it worked. Originally her hair was to be in a spiky ponytail to replicate pineapple leaves and it automatically didn’t fit, so I just kept the shape of her bangs and sideburns like pineapple slices. It’s her favorite fruit. She likes kiwis too.

1. Of the little things that build her character, she’s got a lot of little dorky points. Is borderline obsessive with experimental pasta dishes or other baked goods like calzones, is indiscriminate with pizza flavors and will try anything once despite her favorites, really likes fish and cats and doesn’t care if she gets in trouble for “not seeing” a stray cat who asks for food in the kitchen and specifically goes to her for fresh handouts.

2. Doesn’t know Peppino or anyone else, not employed in the same place, her boss’s name is Branzino. Loves sweets and won’t hesitate to try and make a fruit or chocolate version of otherwise savory foods.

3. Internalizes depression and self-doubt, secretly thinks she manages to ruin things (even though customers are batshit begging for the dishes) and covers it all with a happy face. Can’t really stand up for herself but if anybody she likes or an animal is in trouble she snaps, like snapping at entitled patrons and covering wait staff if she happens to overhear.

4. Shoves over her own issues to offer comfort or uplift anybody down on their luck or feeling bad. Thrives on making people laugh because she’s unfiltered, helps her combat the negative but is blind to the warm reception some staff have for her. Own laugh is obnoxious and like a hyena that sometimes snorts, isn’t embarrassed.

5. Mastered a worry-free philosophy when trying to encourage people. Humor is zany and graphic, pays apartment rent, appetite of a sand pit, kinda of a prude spender otherwise. Craftier than what she believes.

6. Single and not big on the dating gig, wouldn’t personally know what to do with that idea if someone pulled that on her, but she’d wonder if they were huffing flour.

7. Has a helluva knock out right swing, and she’s had the scar below her right eye since 22yo, isn’t self conscious about it. Self taught with the lasso.

I hope that answers everything I’ve been asked and Jfc I wish I could actually do a character some visual justice but w/e.

#pizza tower #Azzurra answers

[random-movie-ideas]

Clark Kent & Krypto (Movie Outline)

This is another movie part of my plan for a cinematic universe involving most of Superman's core villains and allies, this one a sequel to Clark Kent, a series separate from the cinematic universe (at the moment):

The movie will begin with our young Clark Kent entering high school on the first day of his sophomore year. We will see most of his friend group has grown apart a bit. Lana and Pete have become an official couple, and don't spend too much time with the rest of their friends anymore. Leslie has grown more and more angry and spiteful in the years since her family died, separating herself from the group, and spending much of her time as a "social media influencer," most of the time badmouthing the red-and-blue blur who's been acting more and more as a hero. This leaves Clark with only Chloe.

They join the school paper staff, and Clark meets Chloe's cousin: the paper's editor Lois Lane. The pair clash right off the bat, Lois having no patience for nonsense and taking her job very seriously.

At one point, while watching one of Leslie's influencer videos, Clark and Lois get a clue that leads them to discovering that the school's creepy janitor Rudy Jones is involved in something bad. (Not sure if I just want it to be something like embezzling, or go all the way creepy. The second option feels like it might go a little far. Either way, dude's doing bad stuff). Clark stops him as the Blur, and Lois gets the evidence needed to get him fired and arrested. Their brief partnership does little to improve their relationship.

At home, Clark talks to his parents about wishing to know about his real heritage and where he came from. It's around this point that Clark's enhanced senses detect something crashing to Earth not very far away. Clark flies there to find a ship just like his own, but when it opens, he finds what looks like a pure white dog. The dog looks terrified out of its mind, and lashes out, only to be terrified by its powers manifesting.

The dog goes into full-on panic mode, which makes its powers manifest even more. It's all Clark can do to maintain the resultant damage, but he finally gets the dog calmed down and starts to play with it. When first investigating the ship, he had seen a Kryptonian word on the side, which he found he could actually read, and called the dog after the word.

As Clark takes Krypto home to figure things out with his parents, he fails to notice that the crash and subsequent panic had caused structural damage to the nearby building: the county jail, allowing Rudy Jones to break free. He finds his way to the alien ship, damaged during Krypto's panic and spilling a strange fluid from its engine. Rudy touches it and finds himself growing suddenly sick and passes out.

Clark convinces his parents to let him keep Krypto, if only so that Clark will train him to control his powers and not destroy everything the moment he sees a squirrel. Clark sleeps with Krypto inside a lead-lined room they had in the basement, ready to start his training the next day.

Several hours later, Rudy wakes up next to the alien ship. The entire field around him has become barren, every plant, withered and dead. His skin is a strange sickly pink and he barely feels human anymore. Even more, his every thought is caught up in a desperate unending hunger. Two sheriff's cars pull up, having gone looking for him, and the sheriff and her deputies try to arrest him. Rudy looks at them, seeing only food, and starts to drain them.

The next day, Clark has Krypto out in a park and is starting to train him. He can't even get him to behave, much less start to try to teach him to control his powers. He finds himself approached by Lois, who verbally spars with him initially, before helping him out with Krypto, saying her dad was in the military, so she spent most of her time with her dogs. They spend the afternoon training Krypto in basic concepts, Clark doing his best to hide the random superpower outbursts here and there.

Once he has the basics on dog care, he starts to teach Krypto about his powers on his own. Little by little, they start getting it, and Clark bonds a lot with his dog. Later that night, Clark receives news that the sheriff and her deputies were found dead, no more than dried, withered husks. Clark rushes out to where the bodies are, seeing them as desiccated skeletons. Krypto with him picks up on a scent and starts to howl and panic anxiously.

That night, Rudy Jones lurks around Smallville, consumed by hunger, his mind slowly slipping away and his body completing its transformation into an inhuman pink monster. He carries out multiple attacks that night, draining a couple, a random thief, and an old couple in their house of all life in them, but never becoming satisfied.

Clark and Krypto work together for a few days, trying to figure out the cause behind these attacks. He stops for a short minute, checking his social media and seeing a post from Leslie that gives him a clue. He races there only to find a monster sucking an amusement park worker dry. He knocks the creature over, and Rudy's barely sentient mind recognizes the blur as the same blur that had ruined his life. He turns on Clark, catching his punch and starting to drain him too.

Clark is stunned when he feels power draining out of him. The Parasite stares at him, feeling more power and life force than anything he'd felt before. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet that would never run out. He held onto Clark, draining him more and more, until Krypto bit onto the monster, pulling him away from Clark. Clark slumps to the ground, feeling weak, and watches as the monster seems to gain his super-strength, forcing the dog off of himself, draining him of power, and throwing him hard against the building. Clark, in a rage, blasts the parasite away with a blast of heat vision.

Clark digs Krypto out of the rubble and finds him severely injured. He stumbles away, carrying him, unable to move as fast as he wants. Instead of going all the way home, he finds his way to Lois's house and begs her for help. Lois says he should go to a vet, but Clark refuses to do so. She sees his desperation and lets him in. Together, they nurse the dog back to health, Clark avoiding her questions about what happened.

On the news, they see Leslie being interviewed on the news, supplying all her video of the event. Though Clark's face is not shown, Lois sees enough of him and Krypto fighting Parasite to put things together. Clark admits to it, but tells her he's more concerned about his dog right now.

Meanwhile, Rudy finds himself regaining some small level of sentience alongside the powers he gained from the blur. He finds himself strong, fast, capable of flight and heat vision. He sees a broadcast of the news, watching Leslie being interviewed, and remembers her video being the reason he was fired. While he still has control of his faculties, he starts going after her.

Leslie starts heading home, looking through her videos and catches a brief shot of the blur's face. Just as she's about to realize Clark's identity, the Parasite rushes in and attacks her. While Krypto recovers, Clark's ears pick up on Leslie's screams, and he races off to save her.

The Parasite chases her into an electrical substation. The ensuing struggle leads to her getting a cut on her arm, but also managing to make him bleed in return. The monster manages to catch her, and slams her into a transform her, shocking her with a powerful surge, neither noticing a drop of the Parasite's blood dripping into her wound. The Parasite is blasted back, and Leslie falls, unconscious.

Clark arrives on the scene to see the Parasite a little fried from the blast. It goes after him, but no longer has his power or sentience. It does its best to grab hold of him, but Clark is smart enough to avoid it for a while. A battle ensues, and eventually the Parasite manages to get a hand on him, starting to drain him once again.

Krypto's ears perk up at the sound of Clark's pain, and makes to run for him. Lois decides to set him loose and he races for the substation, slamming into the parasite and biting him again. Together, Clark and Krypto work together against him, deducing that they might be able to overload him. They find the station's central power unit, let themselves get grabbed by the monster, and slam it into the transformer. The combined shock and their two energies fill up the parasite with more energy than it can handle and it explodes.

Clark rushes Leslie to a hospital, where the doctors say she has slipped into a coma. Lois and Chloe arrive, Lois pulling Clark aside and comforting him as he feels bad for failing Leslie again. Jonathan and Martha arrive, and they take Clark and Krypto home.

We get a couple more ending scenes at school, with Clark and Lois still sparring with one another, but in a much more friendly and flirtatious way, ending in them agreeing to go on a date in one of those "Fine!" "Fine!" "Fine!" kind of ways.

In a post-credits scene, we zoom in on Leslie in the hospital, to see that the skin around her wound is turning a grayish-blue. Her fingers twitch and sparks fly from them as the lights overhead flicker.

Anyway, this is a good way to work in Krypto as well as the Parasite. I hope you liked it, and I'll hopefully put out the third soon.

#superman #clark kent #superman movie #rudy jones #parasite #krypto #jonathan kent #martha kent #leslie willis #chloe sullivan #lois lane

[123franksivmblog]

Quick minute to grab some food from a Latin American cafe and snap some photos of the Shopping Centre building site.

I admit, I think I let my depressed state of mind influence the past few weeks of this project. though I still stand by what I've said about Elephant and Castle on the whole. However, today, with the sun out I cycled into The Elephant after the British Museum trip. I cycled down Waterloo Bridge, pulled down my face scarf, closed my eyes whilst I faced the sun, and soaked in a bit of Vitamin D. I genuinely started to grin in such a joyful way. Facing directly at the sun is one of my favourite things to do to lift my energy. This was a distinct contrast to the depressive mood inspired by the British Museum and its fucking colonial bullshit (I've decided that using swear words is the only way to fully express the atrocities of British colonialism after reading about a 100 calmly worded polite descriptions.) Although, I'll get fully go into this on my British museum blog.

I decided to grab a cup of tea from the LCC cafe before going to a planned photoshoot for a friend. Then I though, what am I doing?? I've gotta go to one of the Latin American independent businesses I've been thoughtlessly banging on about.

I passed the open gate to the construction site on the way and decided I'd try and get some photos on the way back, (I didn't quite no what the reaction of the fellas on the gate would be so I began building up some confidence first.) I passed what seemed like a homeless guy (although It could have been just a guy) who shouted some nonsense at me and then said 'please'. I said 'are you alright mate?' and then carried on. I never carry change on me anymore so I'm finding it hard to be any help for people who need it. London is a cashless world and I'm sure the homeless are suffering from it as a result. Although I do think acknowledging another humans existence can go a long way, I'm sure being ignored is part the reason why some people go nuts.

I found a little Latin American cafe just down the road under the bridges, It seemed like a kind of bakery with all sorts of lovely goodies inside. I went in and said hiya to the staff. I asked for a cup of tea and something savoury, telling her I didn't know necessarily which pastry I wanted. She half smiled In a kind of 'awe okay white boy' kinda way and asked if I would like something sweet or salty. I said savoury again, later realising she might not have understood what that meant. She came round to my side of the counter and pointed at like 6 different types of pastry rifling off all the types of sweet things I could get. I couldn't quite bring myself to ask for savoury again so I picked out the funkiest looking one. She said okay in an almost disproving way, although I'm paranoid so maybe it wasn't, and returned to her side of the counter. She turned to the lady next to her and started loudly dishing out directions in what could have been Spanish, but then I'm not sure my knowledge of languages is shocking. I assumed this was about my tea. Then she turned to pick out the pastry I had pointed to, stopped, and smiled and told me she thought I should get THIS one instead, pointing at possibly the sweetest looking thing in sight. I think my dreams of a savoury snack were fully destroyed by this point. I said 'sure if you say so', because I always will take a recommendation. She packed it in a take away box and asked if I would like a 'plastic bawggfbxsd'. I was like 'what?' She said would you like a 'plastic begeufe'. I was like 'what?' She said a 'plastic bfdhgf'. I thought she was saying plastic is bad, the niave little hippy I am. Then she pointed at a plastic bag, and I said 'oh no I'm okay'. She made me pay £2 and then said thank you very much and handed me the box. At this point I was fairly embarrassed, I said thanks and then lingered and then left, assuming the tea had been lost in translation. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe It was just being made. Was the pastry £2, £1? Who knows, but I'd left now and there was no going back to get my tea.

The pastry was fucking delicious.

I went back round the corner to go take some photos of the building site. Feeling thoroughly happy, I decided the sugar replaced what the tea would have done anyway.

After dodging some people running for buses, I went up to the two fellas dressed in hi-vis on the gate and asked if I could take some photos of the inside. I'm a very polite kid and I like to think I can be naturally likeable when I'm in a good mood because I'll have a smile on my face and fairly warm energy. Well that's how I felt afterwards because the guys seemed to like me as they were smiling too. One of them said 'stay there' and opened the gate for me to take some photos. The other guy said 'are these for the Facebook?' which I didn't quite catch at first through a thick accent but once he'd repeated for me I told him 'no' and that instead they were 'for art'. He said 'oh that's nice and very good', or something like that. I thanked the fellas and told them to have a nice day and continued round to the other side of the building site.

I asked the three other builders at the other gate if I could take some photos. Two of them looked confused. One said 'yes'. So I stepped forwards to get some photos whilst the men all smiled. One said 'that'll be £5' so I laughed and said 'alright mate yeah'. I left the fellas with cheery smiles on their faces and wished them a good day.

It's a shame the photos I got were pretty bad but to be honest I quite enjoyed the experience of getting out into Elephant and Castle. It was nice to have these interactions and I felt better for it.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

for some reason i personally am receiving a lot of snide comments (and a few “kill yourself you pink cunt” etc messages) regarding this tumblr+ horseshit....despite the fact I:

only just heard about it, have literally nothing to do with it

have no intention of signing up for it? it’s bullshit?

have already spoken, multiple times, at length, about how i very specifically and purposely avoid putting content behind a paywall, even when it would make more sense for me financially, bc i genuinely believe in the importance of keeping online content accessible.

i’m assuming this is punishment for the fact i include tip jar links in some of my posts (which some of you have been, haha. passionately rude about), despite the fact reader support is how I try to earn a modest living (hi. disabled and unemployed here), while keeping this blog free of sponsors/ads, and (again) not putting extra content behind paywalls, even though that has always been an option (patreon, ko-fi, other platforms exist).

so no, i’m obviously not signing up for tumblr’s new subscription ‘feature,’ as it’s the antithesis of the values i try to adhere to. and that i have talked about. multiple times.

so great job tumblr. you really fucking excel at punishing people for the behavior you claim to want to see.

#c word #ask to tag #serious post #not a shitpost #harassment tw #only just found out about this nonsense staff is trying to pull #i've been sick all week so i haven't been keeping up with things #food poisoning and then depression symptoms rearing up out of nowhere. don't know what's going on #absolutely miserable week and then i finally check my notifs and find THIS #anyway i gotta go take my anxiety medication bc it turns out when you've been traumatized by online harassment over a period of years #that a resurgence of said harassment is in fact. quite triggering #i'm actually quite deeply concerned about my ptsd symptoms bc i haven't had a flareup like this in ages #and i have some family stuff going on right now #so amazing timing. thanks everyone #'hellsite' is an affectionate nickname but it is also a frank acknowledgement that some aspects of being on this website #are genuinely horrendously traumatizing #i don't have a punchline. sorry #i'm sure i could have written this post in a more convincing & compelling way i'm just. i'm so tired #i'm so fucking tired #i'm about to fucking cry why do you keep punishing people for shit they haven't even done

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk x reader #afab reader #fem pronouns #writing #jjk teacher aid au #jjk writing tag

[hanibalistic]

#FFC778 | LEE JENO.

genre | romance, light fluff

word count | 1459

warning | mention of suicide attempt​

note | a concept scenario of a longer story i want to write

the sun was made to kill—your ideology was reinforced when you got off the passenger seat of the van, and immediately, the brimming hot sun rays pierced through your eyes.

one hand shot up at lightning speed—the fastest you have moved for years, really—you covered your eyes behind your hand, feeling frustrated that the sun still attacked your face through the gaps between your tightly-pressed fingers. an opportunistic bastard, tsk! if mankind didn't need the sun to survive, you would have found a way to destroy it years ago.

jeno knew that. you would take the sun down if you could, he knew you were smart like that. so smart that you could recite dictionaries and textbooks like nobody he knew ever has, so smart that even when you talked very little it felt like you said a lot, so smart that he couldn't understand what you were saying sometimes, even though that could be attributed to your silent and somewhat cryptic personality.

so smart that he always found himself awestruck by how you would unintentionally become different ways to make him stumble and fall, make him doubt and stutter, make him want and care. whatever you were thinking about, whatever your words mean, whatever you were looking at—things, you things.

he also knew you would retreat; you always did, obviously, things that would do you good. you knew how to remove yourself from situations that would cause you harm, and at the moment, it was the sun, and the only way to deal with it was to retreat to where you came from: the haven of air-conditioning and black-out windows. the only thing lacking would be that you were without the internet, but you had the sense to bring a book with you so that was eliminated.

"oops, you're going the wrong way!" jeno sang, almost and lowly, when he reached out for the back of your shirt collar and pulled you away from the van.

you made no sound when you surprise-stumbled from his tugging. after quickly regaining your composure, you turned around with a glare ready for him. you realized the intimidating effect of it was diminished when all jeno flashed you was a stupid-eyed grin. it was either he wasn't afraid of you (he wasn't) or you weren't threatening enough when you were trying to keep the sun out of your face (you weren't, even without the shade on your face).

people began to trail out of the vans that trailed closely behind the one you were in. staffs hauled different suitcases and gadgets out from the trunks—cameras, speakers, folding chairs and tables, change of clothing, makeup products; you could name all of them, you waited nearby and watched with boredom when they were packing everything they need for this music video into the trunks.

you watched all of them pass you by and communicate amongst themselves, ignoring you just fine, and you gulped down a nervous breath that wasn't an indicator of your nervousness. you were just annoyed and uncertain because not only have you not been outdoors for a long time, you also have never been far away from where you used to reside. you stood on a stranger's ground, a ghost land that was owned by nobody but you still felt like you were trespassing, and you wanted to go home.

you never wanted to tag along in the first place.

"i'm not supposed to be here," you mentioned timidly to jeno after a moment, and just as you planned to speak again, jaemin hopped off the van and startled you. you avoided eye contact at this moment, what you needed to say suddenly sounding unappealing and nonsensical, so you opted to repeat the same thing. "i am not supposed to be here."

"go!" jeno whispered to jaemin, who appeared to be concerned about your well-being as he left you two upon jeno's request. he returned to you when his friend left, and he leaned down to your face so he could hear you over the shouting of everyone in the area. "i'm sorry, he's gone now. what did you say?"

you looked at him, unknowingly and shyly moving away but not far enough that the shade his broad and tall figure brought you would go to waste. you spoke louder now that nobody was around. "i'm not supposed to be here, i want to go home."

jeno smiled apologetically at you as he straightened himself. he knew you would bring it up, you always brought up your unwillingness whenever you were to tag along on their schedule. everyone got used to it at this point, except for the occasional jabs donghyuck would make toward you, and he knew it was likely that renjun and chenle were secretly fed up with your complaints, and only they kept their mouth shut for good reasons.

"well, you know you can't leave this place," he said.

you huffed and rolled your eyes. there was a rhythm of mockery in your voice when you complained, "yeah, yeah, i'm on suicide watch. big deal."

big deal. big fucking deal. you had no idea, and neither did jeno. the word itself was barely ever uttered in his life, he wouldn't even think about it because he wouldn't come across topics like that in his normal, daily life.

you came crashing down in him, with scars and blood and knives and horror and fear. he has never been so out of breath before when he heard the news of a recent failed attempt, he has never experienced breathlessness like this before, not like he couldn't breathe because of how scared he was but rather like he was ready to stop breathing altogether if the conclusion was that he would never see you again, or hear your voice again, or understand your words again.

you tried to remove yourself from growing in his memory and he wanted to die at that moment—it was a big fucking deal.

"can you at least try?" he asked softly after a moment. carefully, he reached up for your hands, never again your wrists and only so gently if he has to, and he pulled them away from your face. "can you at least try to like the sun? just a little bit?"

your squinted eyes listened to him. your hands laid helplessly in his as he moved them further away from your face, and your eyes slowly opened to the horizon the more they got adjusted to the light that was vastly different than the vampiric darkness in your bedroom.

the horizon was something else. the horizon was a painting—fainted green grass field extending into an unknown distance, you stood on an occupied land of a rich ghost; leaves hummed in trees, their old age making your soul nothing but an amateur to their suffering, yet they never judge; blue as the sky above that was no longer dark and glittery, the distance between you and her something you wanted to close; the sun. and then the sun.

"i haven't come outside in a while," you whispered as you looked beyond the picture you were used to seeing on a screen. "i forgot... i forgot how pretty it is."

your skin must be warm after the sun kissed it, and your lashes flutter as they became sun-soaked. jeno watched the rare smile on your face as you took in the grass field and the pallette of the matching sky, and he felt a clench in his heart where he was guilt-ridden for everything that has happened to you.

he has done nothing and there was no more he could do, but he felt guilt beyond comprehension as he watched you enjoy the world attentively, and he wondered why. why did it have to be you? why did you have to forget the brightness of the sky? why did you have to forget that cotton candies existed in the sky? why did you have to be bed-ridden? why did you have to lose everything?

he never failed, but you did, somehow. you never could hold on, and it was his fault, somehow. your pain was his pain, your failure was his failure, your death was his death—you, his love, his responsibility. everything was you, was him.

"hey, jeno! look at..." you trailed off slowly as the smile got knocked off your face.

jeno realized you were flustered because you found him staring fondly at you. he kept the giddiness to himself as he took a step closer to you and asked, "how do you like the sun?"

as bright as you. you wanted to say.

the sun was made to kill—it was as bright as lee jeno.

#nctcreations #jeno imagines #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x you #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #jeno x y/n #lee jeno #jeno x you #nct dream blurbs #jeno blurbs #lee jeno blurbs #lee jeno imagines #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x gender neutral reader #nct x you #nct x gender neutral reader #nct x reader #nct x y/n #nct imagines #nct scenarios

[hb-writes]

You’ve Always Been Naive

Summary: It’s 1925 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

Characters: Tommy Shelby & Clara (Shelby!Sister)

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, angst, (underage) drug use (requested by anon)

--

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey sour as his sister stepped up to the table, her face a deliberately neutral façade as she set a ledger down in front of him, a week's worth of academic work stuffed inside the front cover.

"Lizzie said you'll need that for tomorrow," Clara offered as she extracted the papers, placing them on top and pushing the pile towards him. "And here are the assignments you've asked for. If that's all, I have plans, so…"

Tommy watched her determination waver a bit as he raised a brow, her confidence retreating the longer she stood planted in front of him, the first she'd been directly in his presence for a little over a week.

A meeting at the Midland Hotel had been Tommy's idea. Clara had accepted the summons, accepted the hotel as a sort of neutral territory though it was in no way impartial. The hotel was Tommy's home more days than it wasn't, filled with a staff as loyal to his payment as the staff of Arrow House, loyal like the staff of the company, but the Midland's staff didn't know Clara Shelby as well as the others. They didn't have their claws in her, couldn't appeal to her on Tommy's behalf like the others did, like little Charlie did, or Ada, so when Tommy requested the midweek meeting as a condition of his allowing her to stay on the lane far more often than she did under his roof, Clara felt she had little option but to agree.

Tommy barely glanced at the things she'd set on the table, more interested in the fact that Clara hadn't yet found her seat, still standing across from him bundled in all the cloth that had protected her from the stinging wind and chill on the walk over, almost as if she was convinced the coat and scarf and gloves would protect her from him too.

"Take a seat."

"I already said I—"

"You're going to make a scene?"

Both of Tommy's eyebrows rose with the question, the words almost a dare, or perhaps better likened to a threat, and Clara glanced about the room only to determine that the Midland wasn't the proper place for a shouting match with her brother. Scheduling the meeting there was meant to keep the two of them in check, but Clara knew Tommy would show no hesitation in raising his voice back should she choose to make a go of it, settling her firmly in the place where he thought she belonged with a mere line or two.

Clara's cheeks warmed at the mere thought.

"That's what I thought." Tommy shifted, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyeing its empty match across the table. "Take a seat."

Clara remained in her spot, pulling her eyes from him as she forced her finger into the opening between her coat sleeve and glove to expose the delicate watch set on her wrist.

Lizzie's handwriting in her diary had marked her down to be at the Midland with Tommy from 6:00 to 7:00, but she's made herself quarter of an hour late by a bit of purposeful dawdling at the office followed by a bit of nervous pacing out front of the hotel that had left her with chilled toes and wind-chapped cheeks.

"I really can't see why I need to. You've seen I'm alive and well—" Clara gestured to the book and papers. "—You have the ledger, have proof I've been doing as I've been told, and I'm certain you've already gotten reports off of—"

"Take a seat."

Tommy finished his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it on the table, all of the force that wasn't there in his voice focused into the gesture before he pulled the papers closer, thumbing through her work though he cared little to see the grades or completeness. He had little concern that Clara wouldn't hold up that end of the deal, her motivations in that arena extending beyond any guidelines he could set for her.

And anyway, Tommy already knew she'd been towing the line. He didn’t need the completed packet of school assignments to know she was following his rules. He didn’t need this encounter to know she was alright either, his curiosity on the matter fulfilled well enough through reports from Lizzie and Ada and Frances and Michael, his confidence bolstered by the lack of contact from the school. Even Finn’s first words to him in every meeting over the last week and a half had been about their sister.

People usually told him things, always had, seemed to give him what he needed in that respect without him having to ask after it, but Tommy didn’t always trust the word of the world. There were some things he preferred to see for himself, some questions he needed to hear the answer to while seeing the reaction on her face before she got the chance to put her clever words in the way.

Something about the power of the impending fourth request to take a seat, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be as much of a request as it was an order coming from Tommy’s lips, helped Clara to lower herself into the chair across from her brother. She kept quiet while Tommy thumbed through her work, slipping the gloves from her hands and settling them on the table though she allowed herself to shed nothing more as she sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, every muscle in her feeling taut and strained while she waited. 

“You’ve been busy.”

Clara nodded. She had been busy, and she was quite certain her brother was at fault for that, accepting her being out from under his roof, but not out from under his thumb, ensuring she had more than enough to keep her busy, keeping her so occupied once she held up her end that all she wanted was her bed. 

The worst part was Clara knew it. She knew this wasn’t really the freedom she was after, the distance she’d said she needed, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to meeting expectations. Clara was losing either way, but the fact that she kept trying bothered her brother, that she knew. That she’d rather adhere to his rule and work herself to death than live under his roof and play that game unsettled him.

People listened to Thomas Shelby for many reasons—because of his influence or his threats, because they hadn’t a choice. He imagined his siblings fell into the last category, left without much of a choice, but he’d always imagined the girls were a bit different. His brothers filed in line like the soldiers they were, but the girls weren’t soldiers. The girls had always seemed to be tied to him and his words in some other way, some sort of different understanding falling between the three of them, but with Clara especially. The understanding didn't seem to be there any longer though, replaced with the same soldiering that he'd seen with his brothers.

“I’ve been doing as I was told,” Clara offered. 

“And what were you told?” 

Clara huffed, settling back in the chair, her shoulders slumping at his question, something about him making her repeat it for him doing the work that his tone alone couldn’t.

Clara fixed her gaze out the windows in the front as the waiter approached the table.

"Anything for the young lady, Mr. Shelby?"

"Tea," he said, not pulling his eyes from his sister, her annoyance at the order he placed on her behalf clear in the twitch of her face though she stayed quiet until the man stepped away.

"I'm not staying, Tommy. I told you I have plans."

He tilted his watch face to check the time. “Not until seven.” 

Clara seemed to accept that seeing as she didn’t fight him, settling a bit further into the chair, shifting her gaze out the window once again.

“So, back to doing as you’re told, then.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, blinking at her long and slow though she’d met his gaze for only a short moment before turning her attention elsewhere, to watch people coming in through the front door. 

“School assignments, exams, the company, Sunday dinners. Your meetings...and all of it’s up to par, Tommy. I’m—”

“And what about this?” 

Clara stilled as he set the blue vial on the table, her pulse picking up as he left it there and sunk back into his own chair.

"Tommy!" she hissed, nearly reaching out her hand to knock it from the table, to remove it from such a clear view, but no one was watching them.

Tommy scoffed, leaning forward and closing the vial in his hand before pointing a finger at his sister. "I told you if there was any fucking nonsense, I'd bring you right back home."

"I am home," she answered. "Can't get more like home than Watery Lane."

Tommy's snort was so quiet Clara didn't even catch it and he nodded, leaning his chin on his hand as he sat back, his finger idly rubbing his jaw as he considered her. "You think you're clever."

"I am clever," Clara answered, unwinding the scarf from her neck, her eyes diverted as she focused on the meticulous folding of the fabric before she set the bundle on top of her gloves. "You've always said."

Tommy shook his head, the second snort almost leading to a smile before he cleared his throat, shifting his position again and rooting around for his cigarettes before he spoke.

"I'm not in the mood for it, Clara. You've been asking questions about things you have no business with and it stops now."

Tommy caught her eye roll as he lit the cigarette, couldn't miss it really, the way the gesture took over her whole expression, her whole body really, and he wondered whether she'd done it on purpose or if it was just a reflex.

Clara was inclined to do far more than roll her eyes at him, a whole queue of arguments settled at the leading edge of her tongue, every part of her except her lips prepared to fight him because everyone else was allowed a bit of snow for the simple fun of it, but Clara had a feeling voicing that argument wouldn't do well in the end. It would only serve to tell him what he somehow didn't yet know, that she hadn't simply asked her questions, that she'd also tried it for herself.

It had just been the one time, to quell some curiosity, a small indulgence, and even if it had helped her stay alert to get done what she'd needed to get done, Clara wasn't keen to try it again. Tommy had no need of knowing it, so she swallowed her arguments, swallowed her pride and distaste for the double standards that ruled her life.

"Fine, Thomas. I've heard you. You want me to stop asking questions. And Michael and Finn are loyal to you, not me. It's all understood, nothing for you to waste your precious time worrying over." She was sitting up straight in the chair once again, perched on the edge and eager to be out the door before the tea came. "Is there anything else?" she asked. "As I said, I do have other plans."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an exhale before tapping the ash at the end of his cigarette into the tray between them and holding her gaze. 

“You’ve never tried it, then?”

Clara opened her mouth and Tommy let out a hollow laugh before she could answer, the cigarette pointed in her direction once again. 

“And don’t you fucking lie to me, Clara.”

His gaze was unblinking and Clara held onto it as long as she could manage, not even allowing herself to breathe for several moments as she stared back at him, a familiar strain falling between the two of them.

Clara allowed herself a small intake of breath, attempted to take in a little air before she'd find herself gasping for it, attempted to extend the standoff a bit longer, but her resolve crumbled with the exhale, Tommy's attack coming before she'd even finished the breath. 

“You’re going back to Arrow—” 

“No, I'm not. It was just the one—”

Tommy's laugh cut her off, set a silence between them as he took a drag off the cigarette. “If you believe that, you’re just being naive, always have—”

“Excuse me?”

“You're clever, but you’ve always been naive,” Tommy said. “And all you’ve done this evening is show me that that is still the case.” He cleared some ash into the tray.  

“If the work’s too much, you cut out the fun with the boys. It’s something you kids don’t seem to understand.” He set his finger down into the pile, jabbing the folder of school assignments and the ledger with each word. “The business comes first.”

Clara scoffed, the force of it so gentle it was barely noticeable, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s five after,” she said, scooping her gloves and scarf into her arms as she stood, pushing her chair back in place.

Tommy nodded. “I want you at the house on Sunday…to see Charlie. We can finish this then."

"There’s nothing to finish," she answered, setting her gaze away from him as she wrapped the cloth around her neck and pulled her gloves from the table, fitting one hand inside. "See you Sunday."

Clara took a step away as she worked the other glove over her fingers and Tommy caught her elbow, his hold far more gentle than any of the words he'd tossed at her during their meeting, more gentle than his stares or the mock laughter.

A wetness grew in Clara's eyes and she stayed faced away from him for a moment as she tried to resolve the tears, swallowing hard, her arm going limp as Tommy's grip shifted, sliding down her arm to clasp her wrist.

Enough. That's what his hand on her wrist meant, a gesture Clara and Charlie used to ask for the end of any bit of play that had gone a bit too far, a signal that communicated when it was too much, a gesture Clara knew Tommy had been deliberate in choosing.

"Clara, I mean it. No more snow, alright? If something were to happen, I…"

His words sent a searing lump into her throat, that combined with the touch sending her mind down into a spiral of guilt and shame, and as much as Clara hated Tommy for his role in it, for having the power to do it, she hated herself just as well for succumbing to it, even more for ever stepping out of line to begin with, disappointed with herself and her choices even though everyone else did it.

Clara cursed her brother and his temperamental provision of care, the sparse deliverance of love, and his double standards, and then she’d cursed herself, cursed the expectations and rules she’d set on herself and everything about the relationship that existed between them. Clara pulled her hand loose, tugging her glove the rest of the way into place before she took a deep breath, her back still to her brother as she bid him farewell.

"I'll see you Sunday, Thomas."

--

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #shelby sister #shelby!sister #tommy shelby #clara shelby #little lady blinder #500 follower celebration #hb.writes angst #wednesday update

[sinner-as-saint]

His Obsession.

Mob!Seb x Housekeeper!Reader

Run-through: You work for the notorious mob boss. You’re at his house regularly; tidying up and cleaning and surprisingly you’re not scared of him like the rest of his staff are. Sure he is authoritative, and mean but he’s never disrespectful or inappropriate, nor does he bark orders at you like he does with the guys. And you were almost certain that he barely pays attention to you. Until one evening he confronts you about something. And what starts out heated, ends in a night neither of you will ever forget…

Themes: mob!seb (because I miss him), jealous!seb, housekeeper!reader, angst, fluff, dark (ish) mob!seb

a/n: this is my thank you note to all of you :) Enjoy! 

“Miss Y/N? Could you come here for a minute?”

You heard the sound of your boss’ voice. His voice.

Sebastian… You stop right at the stairs and turn around to find him standing by the door of his magnificent bedroom. One which you had cleaned and tidied just this morning itself.

You nod and he immediately walks back into his room and leaves the door open. Your heart pounded, and your body felt all cold for a second. Had you made a mistake? Was there something you did which he didn’t like?

You had heard from the butler a while ago that your boss once fired a guy for parking his favorite car in the wrong spot. The mob boss, after all, was a perfectionist. He was a very proper man with rules and regulations which had to be followed within the walls of his home. Hence, you were nervous like never before as you entered his bedroom.

He was sat on the dark grey couch by his bed, looking down at his phone and sipping on his liquor. The couch which always seemed so comfortable, and soft. But you never dared to even touch for too long, afraid to you might ruin it.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find him attractive. He was hot. He was perfect; mean, intimidating, and powerful. All of him screamed danger; but he was also the kind of man one feels naturally drawn to. His effortless bad boy charm, his authority and how he took control in the span of seconds made him lethal. Gorgeous, but lethal.

“Yes, sir?” you spoke up, trying to get his attention.

He looked up immediately and he had that no-nonsense look on his face. Oh you knew that look all too well. Earlier this week, he had the same look on as he punched the living shit out of a member of his gang who was sent to spy on his by a rival gang.

You realized that right now, as your boss looked at you, he was angry. His blue eyes were cold, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver.

He spoke, “Yesterday was your day off, no?”

You nodded. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly through his nose; another sign pointing to his current bad mood.

You tried not to seem too intimidated by his stern gaze. “Yes sir.” You responded, still unsure of where he was taking this. Could it be perhaps that someone had messed up something while you weren’t here yesterday? But that still wouldn’t explain why he couldn’t just tell you outside.

Why did he have to call you into his room?

As soon as that question crossed your mind, Sebastian got up and walked over to you. His phone in one hand, and his drink in the other. He approached you as you stood by the end of his bed; slowly, steadily and making your heart race.

He stopped right in front of you and put his phone screen right in front of your face, showing you a picture. “Care to tell me about what’s going on in this picture?” he tilted his head to the side and stared deep into your eyes with his stormy ocean blue ones.

In front of you was a photograph. A picture of you at the club last night. You were sat on a stool by the bar, talking to a guy. His hand was on your thigh and you remember how much he was making you laugh.

You were shocked at first as you took in the details. A picture of you, out clubbing with some friends and this guy you met a few weeks ago. In fact after last night, you concluded that it’d be better if you were just friends.

“Why do you have my picture? Who took this?” you asked, keeping your calm with your boss even though you were quite irritated. Mob boss or not, how dare he spy on your personal life?

Sebastian smirked, definitely not finding anything amusing. “You tell me why you’ve been out and about with my rivals.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Rivals… what? It couldn’t be, the guy said he worked at… wait, the guy didn’t say anything about his work.

“Your rivals, sir?”

Sebastian locked his phone and threw it carelessly on the couch then turned to face you again. “Now, what does that say about me, Y/N? Why is someone who works for me, out and about with my rivals in my own club?”

His club… that explains how he must’ve have gotten the phototgraph. His people must have sent it to him. But why were they watching you?

“I didn’t know anything about all that. Why do you have people spying on me?” your irritation was taking over little by little.

He stared at you for a few more seconds as he recalled all that happened yesterday…

 -flashback-

Sebastian was at home, in his study when his phone rang. He saw that it was the manager of one of his clubs calling. Weird.

He answered rather annoyed, “What is it?”

The guy spoke up, nervously. “Boss uh, your girl is here.”

Sebastian froze.

“Who’s she with?” was the first thing which came to his mind. You were at his club which meant that you couldn’t possibly be alone. For some reasons, the thought of you out clubbing with another man made him want to punch something.

Yes, he was completely spellbound by you. The big bad mob boss had lost his heart to his daily. How could he not?

You were kind, and patient and always filled the house with warmth whenever you stepped in. Not to mention that the first time he saw you, you took his breath away. And no woman had ever done that before. And from that very moment, Sebastian found himself thinking about you constantly;

When he was at work. When he wasn’t at work. When he was in a boring meeting. Even when he was in the company of other women, he was obsessed with the thought of you.

However, it was hard to get you alone and talk to you. You were always busy and he was always surrounded by his guys or his guards. And he couldn’t seem all soft with his guys around. Although, he often worried about what would happen if you find someone else. Someone less dark and dangerous, someone with a less tainted reputation than him.

You probably deserved it, but he couldn’t let that happen. No, you were his. And he would treat you like a queen, if only you’d notice him…

He tried to talk to you often, calling you up in his room for absolutely no reason. Sometimes to help him tie his tie, or other times to steam his suits. He liked having you around, but he also knew that you would never see him in that light, given who he is.

But despite that, he wasn’t going to give up. He wanted you. Needed you. Craved you. Desperately. He needed you in ways he hadn’t thought were humanly possible. He wanted you in his arms, preferably without the black uniform and little white apron you wore each day. He wanted you in his bed, naked and lying on his sheets as he shows you how well he can treat you. Oh he would treat you like a queen.

And now he learnt that you’re out and about with another man. He was pissed. The manager’s response made the mob boss see red. He was almost ready to drive all the way there and punch the fucker you were with in the face and drag you to his home.

But no, he wouldn’t do that. So you were out clubbing with his rival gang members. Oh he’ll deal with it. “Send me a picture. And follow the guy when he leaves. Also make sure Y/N doesn’t leave with him, you hear me?” he barked on the phone.

“Yes boss.”

-end of flashback-

 “Because you’re mine.” he said it in an authoritative tone which both angered, and excited you. It was a confusing feeling, but you didn’t hate it entirely.

“Excuse m-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you by the waist with one arm and pulling you into him. “You heard me. Now answer me babygirl, why were you with this guy last night?”

Babygirl? Oh the audacity of this drop dead gorgeous man…

“With all due respect sir, my personal life is none of your business.” You sounded less confident than you intended to and it make Sebastian smirk.

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “Is that how it is now?” he pressed your body further into his, allowing you to feel that hard muscles of his tones body along with his body heat. “You’re gonna talk back to me?” he leaned in and nuzzled your cheek, making your heart race, “Disrespect me?” he chuckled right in your ear before pressing a kiss on the shell of your ear. You shivered at his voice.

“I don’t-,”

He cut you off again by pulling away and looking into your eyes. His stare was intense and hot, and so distracting that you didn’t realize his hand was making its way under your skirt. “You dare talk back to me?” he sounded amused, his hand reached further up your inner thigh and you shivered under his touch, “Even when you’ve been out and about, being a little whore,” he whispered, “with my rivals?”

You gasped at his choice of words, and how his fingers gently stroked along your clothed core. Where was this coming from? You also gasped at how you liked it. “I… I didn’t know.” you mumbled as you tried to hold back a moan which threatened to escape your lips due to his salacious actions.

He chuckled, applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throbbing clit and he noticed how you squirmed in front of him. “But now you do. And I’m gonna make sure that you remember from now on that you,” he leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours, “belong to me.”

You felt hazy as he pulled away from you just a couple of inches. Your heart pounded. Your body was on fire, your mind only being able to focus on only one thing – him. His mouth. His body heat. You wanted him closer all of a sudden. So close that you almost began leaning into his touch even more.

You hadn’t realized that the palms of your hands were pressed against his chest. He felt warm, and muscular. Fuck…

“Kneel.” He simply said and you were immediately in a trance. You lowered down on the carpeted floor instantly, on your knees. Sebastian just smirked and caressed your cheek gently. “I want your mouth around me. Come on, make me cum.”

That damn authoritative and powerful tone sent shivers down your spine. You quickly undid his zipper and pulled down his briefs. His hard cock stood proud and tall in front of you. Your mouth watered shamelessly at the sight of it. Thick and big, you realized you wanted him just as much.

He was bigger than any one of your past partners, and that excited you. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his length and you placed the tip against your lips, kissing it and feeling the pre cum coating your lips. You pushed your mouth against it, taking in the tip and swirling your tongue around him.

He groaned, his hand holding your head and guiding you further down his cock. You took him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch; his raw taste drove you crazy. And so did the sounds which left his mouth. Sebastian slid his hand through your slightly messy hair and gently guided your mouth up and down his cock; while slowly sipping on his liquor at the same time.

You bobbed your head around his tip a few more times and soon, he came in your mouth; sending his seeds down your throat. You swallowed whatever he gave you, and stood up after you did so.

He gripped your hips tightly as he dipped his head into the crook of his neck. His hand slipped under your skirt again and he dragged your underwear down your thighs. He placed his fingers against you and rubbed your wet folds again. You couldn’t help but moan, desperate for his touch despite this whole situation being wrong.

“Hmm. You did good, babygirl.” he whispered along your collar bones as he licked and bit the skin; leaving marks behind. Claiming his territory like he always wanted to. “But I’m not quite done with you yet.” He sounded mischievous.

He lifted his glass up to your lips. Still hazy and heart pounding, you parted your lips slightly as he tilted the glass at your lips and let some of the liquor into your mouth. You immediately liked the taste, it burned just a little as you swallowed. However he smirked and tilted the glass more than he should, and the contents went over the lip and down the sides of your mouth – dripping down your chin, your neck and your somewhat exposed chest which was making him go crazy as it is.

“Oh,” he pointed out, pretending as though all that wasn’t down on purpose, “Such a messy girl.” He sighed dramatically while undoing your apron, followed by the zip at the back of your uniform, “Now I have to clean you up.” He looked into your eyes and smirked.

You caught the naughtiness in his eyes. And next thing you knew, you were being pushed back onto his bed; half naked already. “Lay down for me sweetheart.” He ordered and you hesitated for a moment.

“Should we-,”

He cut you off by holding your jaw gently in his grasp. “Shh.” He let go of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips. His tongue gently stroking your lower lip, gathering the liquor which dripped earlier. Then his mouth trailed downwards, kissing your neck, your collar bones down to your breasts – licking and kissing and leaving behind his marks on your skin.

Your body felt hot. Burning under him as he took his time and kissed every inch of your skin. “I’ve always wondered,” he spoke up as he pressed kisses down your chest, “how sweet you must taste. And now look,” he chuckled as he kissed further down, “I get to figure it out finally.”

Maybe it was the sound of his deep voice laced with lust, or maybe it was the confession about how he thinks about you in such an intimate way; regardless, it only fueled the fire deep within you. Supporting yourself up on your elbows, you looked down at him all settled and ready in between your legs. Then you saw the shift in his eyes.

He was all cocky a second ago, but now he was feral. His fingers found their way in between your legs as well, carefully parting your wet folds before slipping inside you. Your body welcomed him in with ease.

Then his following question made your heart race. “Did he touch like this last night?”

You widened your eyes. Does he think that you slept with the guy? “What, no. I-,”

Sebastian leaned in again, and hissed in your ear. “He better not have. Else he won’t live to see another day, babygirl.” His fingers stroked you gently. “You should know, I don’t like sharing. Especially not my girl.”

Fuck… he was messing with your head so easily and wonderfully, and you were letting him.

Sebastian smirked, speeding up and finger-fucking you faster. You whined and squirmed but you wanted more. Oh you wanted more.

You threw your head back and whined loudly, your body betraying you as you felt your walls clench around his fingers. He smirked. “Oh? You wanna cum, is that it?” he leaned in closer, whispering against your mouth, “You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” he teased; chuckling darkly.

You moaned, and whined and tried your hardest to keep quiet but you ended up being loud anyways. His touch, his stare, his words… his cold rings pressing against your hot body each time he pushed his fingers deeper inside of you.

You wanted more. And he knew. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe, kissing along your jaw and biting down on your skin occasionally as his fingers took you higher…and higher, “So perfect… and all mine.” he bit down on your neck as you squirmed; wanting so desperately to crush his arrogance at once, but also wanting him to dominate you. “Cum for me. Now.”

You let go, allowing the warmth to take over you. Releasing and savoring the sweet pressure in between your legs and you came with a strained cry all over his fingers; coating them with your arousal and making his bite his lip and swear at the sight of you so… disheveled.

Your underwear was off, your bra unhooked, your little black uniform on his bedroom floor and your almost naked body on his bed sheets – this was all Sebastian’s ever dreamt of. This moment right here, and now that he had you; he wasn’t going to be easy on you.

“You’re mine.” he repeated. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm that you didn’t realize his mouth was on you again. Closer. Hotter. And determined to make you cum again, his mouth latched on to your core, the lower half of his face completely submerged in between your folds.

You moaned out loud, involuntarily, as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, “You taste so good, babygirl.”

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His mouth felt good. So good that you wanted more and more with each passing second.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the cool satin sheets for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. Intense and hot, just like his touch. He was taking over you and you were letting him yet again. He was hard to resist, you knew that since day one.

“You’re gonna cum for me, is that it, hmm?” he whispered and got back to teasing your clit with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

“Please, please….” You murmured. He chuckled, his warm breath fanning your wet folds.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” He whispered, biting down on your hip bone before kissing his way back to your clit.

Your eyes flew shut and you whined, and begged – not caring if you sounded coherent or not. Once satisfied, Sebastian got back to eating you out like there was no tomorrow. The pressure in between your legs was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face; your eyes watering.

He didn’t stop, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you. He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you. He had that same feral look in his eyes, the desire unhidden. Shameless, and raw. Passionate. He wanted you and he wasn’t hiding it. He wanted to own you. Ruin you in the best way possible. “Get on your hands and knees. Now.” he ordered and proceed to finish his drink before he was onto you again.

Discarding his expensive suit, lifting your hips up and securing an arm around you; you knelt in front of him on the bed, legs spread apart, hands gripping the sheets while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you. Plotting all the ways in which he could play with you.

Sebastian trailed a finger lazily up your spine before sliding his fingers into your hair. He gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so he got your full attention. His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You could feel his warm skin, and his hard on pressing against your butt. And your heart raced in anticipation.

“You’re gonna take me nice and good, aren’t you baby?” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. You whined and nodded, unable to hide the fact that you wanted him bad. So bad.

His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you. “Good girl.” He noted and gripped the sides of your hips tighter. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you. You were all wet and ready for him, and he slipped inside you with ease.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he buried his cock into you. Your knuckles gripped the sheets tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive and sore from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the bed long ago.

“So fucking good… you’re all mine…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words. The air around you smelt of sex, sweat and Sebastian’s cologne.

He pounded into you like his life depended on it. Stretching you out and filling you up each time he rammed his cock into your entrance. You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him. You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin.

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling your orgasm so close that you could almost feel it taking over you. But just as you were right on the edge, he pulled out and flipped you around. His rough manner of handling your body turned you on even more.

He smirked when he saw the look of surprise on your face. “Can’t give it to you that easily now, can we?” he chuckled. “I want you to beg for it.” He parted your legs, and settled in between them again, his cock slipping inside you once again. “Beg for me.”

His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out ragged breaths. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him. While he fucked you raw, his hand moved up to your throat again. His fingers wrapped around your throat and forced you to open your eyes and look into his. “I said,” he growled, “beg.”

A thin layer of sweat formed on his face, as he fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your lips parted as you gasped. “Sir please… please make me cum…” you whined, “I need you-,” you cut yourself off, moaning wantonly as he filled you up nicely.

He grunted and moaned shamelessly right in your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace. He pounded into you incessantly. You could feel the headboard knocking against his bedroom wall, and the sound echoing around the room, along with your moans and his growls.

“Are you gonna cum? Do you deserve it, huh?” he mocked you, his hand reaching up and grabbing your jaw tightly in his grasp. “Look at me, babygirl.” He urged you to focus on him, despite knowing that you were barely able to concentrate on anything other than how well he was fucking you.

You stared into his eyes; tears escaping your eyes, lips swollen and bruised, neck littered with his bite marks, and your eyes just as wild and passionate as his. “Are you gonna remember now? That you belong to me?” He stayed still inside you for a moment, letting you feel just how big he was. You whined and groaned as he stretched you out like no one ever did. “That you’re all mine?” he growled.

“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumbled, pleading him with your eyes. Begging him to let you cum.

Sebastian saw the desperation in your eyes. The silent plea. He knew you wouldn’t be able to take it any longer. But he had to make himself clear. “Tell me, who do you belong to? Hmm?”

“You.” you gasped. Please…

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you gushed out around his cock; moaning and squirming in the process. He moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you, filling you up again.  

He didn’t pull out. He just kept his throbbing cock carefully buried in you as he lowered his face and pushed it into the crook of your neck. Both of you panting and wondering; what the hell just happened, and how did it escalate this quickly.

You recovered and tried to move, but failed miserably. Sebastian noticed and smirked to himself despite the fatigue.

“Come here,” he spoke gently pulled you into him. You settled in comfortably into his side, surprisingly. His body was warm, and he smelt familiar. “Get some sleep. I know you’re tired.”

You widened your eyes and looked up at him. He smiled and reached out to caress your cheek. “Sorry if I hurt you. I- I can’t see you with someone else.” He repeated again, “You’re mine.”

You sighed. “I work for you.” you pointed out wearily.

He scoffed. “Then congrats, you’re fired.” He said it like it was nothing. You sighed and tried to scoot away but his grip was strong. “Hey, I’m serious.” He argued. “Stay, don’t go.” He pleaded.

You were too weak and worn out to move anyways, besides his bed was comfy so you stayed. You were quiet for a minute then you spoke up. “What happens now?” you asked.

He chuckled, and his tiredness could be heard. “Now I ask you out, and you say yes. And we live happily ever after.” He answered.

You rolled your eyes. “And my job?”

“Baby, I have enough money to last us a couple of lifetimes.”

“I refuse to be dependent on you. And certainly not a burden.” You sounded tired too.

“None of that. You’ll be my queen.”

You snuggled closer to his warm body as he covered your naked body carefully with the soft blanket. “You’re so bossy. And controlling. And mean.” You mumbled, half-way asleep.

He gave you a sleepy chuckle. “Yeah but you like me. And don’t you dare lie, I’ve seen the way you look at me.” He argued.

You chuckled faintly, eyes closing on their own. “Bossy and controlling and mean, but handsome.” You corrected yourself.

“Hmm.” He liked how he was right. “Now go to sleep babygirl, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and whispered, “I’m gonna place the world at your feet if you just ask for it. Don’t you worry about a thing, angel. You’re mine now, everything will be alright.”

At last, his girl was finally here with him. Totally, and entirely his.

 ---

a/n: thank you for 14K followers Sin Army! I love you guys so much. I’ll add the tag lists tomorrow I promise ;) 

#sebastian stan au #mob!seb #mob!seb x reader #mob!seb smut #cherry!seb #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

oooh maybe modern geraskefer or geraskier + staying by their side when they've been hospitalized?

hello dear nonnie!! sorry this one took me a while but thank you so much for this prompt!

here is some insecure jaskier + geraskefer - hope you enjoy!

cw: mentions of illness

79. Staying by their side when they've been hospitalised

The first thing he is aware of when he wakes up is lots of beeping, and the sounds of machines, which is not normal.

The second thing he is aware of is Yennefer’s voice, and she sounds annoyed, which is more familiar.

“I know you’re awake Jaskier,” she says and he blinks his eyes open to see her sitting in a chair next to his bed, scowling down at him.

He takes a moment and looks around the room because this isn’t their bedroom, its far too white and clean and then it hits him that they are in a hospital and, judging by the fact that he is lying bed and there appears to be lots of tubes and wires in his hand, they are in the hospital because of him.

“Wha—” he starts to ask what happened only to find that his throat is incredibly dry and his words are swallowed by a cough.

A cup appears in front of him, and he turns to see Geralt sitting on his other side, holding out the water expectantly.

Jaskier takes it, surprised to find that his hand is trembling slightly, and raises the cup to his lips. The water is refreshing and helps remove the dryness in his mouth, and it is now much easier to talk.

“What happened?” he asks again, desperately racking his brain to try and figure out how he ended up here, because the last thing he remembers is—

Well he can’t really remember much.

He was at work, and he remembers talking to Essi about having a headache. He had been feeling a bit under the weather, a few sleepless nights and a bad cough, but he hadn’t felt that bad. Besides both Yennefer and Geralt had been away, Yennefer on a work trip and Geralt had taken Ciri up to visit Vesemir, and the idea of taking a day off work and having to sit in the house alone with nothing but his thoughts had seemed utterly terrifying.

“You passed out at work. Essi found you in the staff room and couldn’t get a response out of you,” Geralt says. “The doctors are saying its pneumonia.”

Well, that’s not good.

But Geralt still has that furrow in his eyebrows and that line on his forehead that means he’s worried, and a quick glimpse to his other side shows him that Yen is still looking absolutely livid.

“What else?”

“That was on Tuesday. It’s Friday. You’ve been in here for three days,” Geralt explains.

“Oh.”

That’s not good.

“Oh?” Yen repeats incredulously.

“Yen, don’t—" Geralt starts but Yennefer ignores him.

“You’ve been in hospital for three fucking days with fucking pneumonia and all you have to say is ‘oh’?”

“Sorry,” he says, suddenly feeling very sheepish.

“Why didn’t you call one of us? Or Essi?” Yennefer demands “God knows what would have happened if she hadn’t found you.”

“I—” It feels pathetic to say I didn’t want to bother youbut it’s the truth. He is so used to just figuring out things on his own, having nobody around to call, to have no-one who particularly cared how he was doing. The years of being alone and all the habits he developed, the way he tries to hide how much he needs other people, tries to not be too much so that they won’t get bored of him. The old fears and insecurities, that still rear their head occasionally, despite how hard he has been trying his best to quiet them, unlearn all his old habits. It’s just hard sometimes, for him to believe that he actually has this, and he can’t do anything that will scare them away.

Geralt must sense that his thoughts are running away from him, because he just picks up Jaskiers hand and wraps his own around it, pulling his focus back to him. “We were just worried, Jaskier,” he says softly.

And looking at the two people sat either side of him, he can see the evidence of their worry. The bags under their eyes, the way Geralt’s hair is messed as though he has been running his hands through it in frustration, the way Yennefer’s make up is slightly smudged, as though she hasn’t been home in days. He can imagine them both getting the phone call, both dropping everything and heading straight to him, as he know he would do for either of them if he was in their place, both of them sitting anxiously by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up, and it brings a lump to his throat.

“Sorry,” he says again, knowing that he should say more but right now he is unable to get any more words out.

“You’re an idiot,” Yen says, taking his other hand in hers, and although she is rolling her eyes, he can hear the fondness in her tone.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to bully me when I’m in hospital,” he points out “It’s not nice.”

“It’s not bullying if I’m just stating a fact,” she replies. “I’m pretty sure the doctor actually put it on your chart. ‘Pneumonia and chronic idiocy’.”

He squawks indignantly, whilst Yennefer just smirks at him and Geralt shakes his head at their nonsense.

But he can see the relief in both of them, and he is relived too, knowing that this hasn’t changed anything, that they won’t be going anywhere soon.

send me a prompt!

#the witcher #geraskefer #geralt x yennefer x jaskier #geraskefer fic #the witcher fic #geralt #yennefer #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #my fic #my writing #anonymous #prompt fill

[fific7]

Fake or Fortune

For @omgrachwrites 1K Follower Celebration - congratulations!

AU: Fake Relationship

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it takes place in my Alternative S1 Punisher Universe, with Arrogant!Billy in attendance.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, slightly questionable consent, some dom/sub interaction, oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Swearing and drinking.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My Photo Edit)

Karen put a large G&T down in front of you, accompanied by a sympathetic look. You picked it up and took a large sip, sighing as you put it back down again.

“I give up, Karen. No matter what I do, without fail I either pick the wrong guy or else think everything’s fine, and then boom - it isn’t.”

This was a commiseration drinking session, which Karen had suggested after she’d noticed you moping around the office. You both worked at the same big newspaper but in different departments, and became good friends after spending numerous lunchtimes together in the staff restaurant.

“What happened this time?” she asked, then winced as she realised maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way of putting things. “I mean, I thought you and David were getting on really well?” You took a larger gulp of your drink, “Well, that’s the thing - so did I. Until I got the “it’s not you, it’s me” talk on Saturday.” You’d been seeing this guy from your Digital News Content section for a few months, and you’d really thought everything had been on track.

Karen sighed, “Oh lord, not that old pile of bullshit.” You nodded, “Yeah, right. I tried to pin him down to exactly what the problem was, but I guess it was just me, when it all came down to it. In fact, I saw him chatting up a girl from Accounts yesterday so he’s already moved on to pastures new. That didn’t take long, did it? Or maybe he’d already moved on but didn’t have the balls to tell me.”

“Look, I’m meeting up with Frank on Friday night for a drink...” her cheeks pinked up, and you smiled at her obvious pleasure in that thought, “....so why don’t you come along? He mentioned one of his friends might tag along.” You held up a hand, “Oh no! No! I’m not being set up.” She shook her head, “It’s not a set-up, I swear. They’ve got a little....issue.... with Homeland and we’re going to talk about it.”

You knew she’d recently met this ex-Marine called Frank when - in her role as investigative reporter - she’d been digging into some big CIA scandal. When was there not a scandal about the CIA, you thought. You knew she’d met him several times over the past couple of weeks and had detected a more-than-just-business interest in him. “Oh, so.... strictly business, then?” you teased. She shifted in her seat, “Well, mainly.... we’ve also been talking about more personal stuff.” “Uh-huh,” you nodded, smirking, “Karen fancies Frank, Karen fancies Frank!” you sang, while she batted your arm and gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh shut up, you,” she said, “...are you coming along or not?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

And that’s why you found yourself sitting in a neighbourhood bar with Karen on Friday night, feeling quite nervous for some reason. Probably because Karen was fidgeting like hell next to you, and you were picking up on her nervous energy. You smiled over at her, “So you really like this guy, huh?” “No!”she denied, then as you raised an eyebrow at her, “Well... okay, yes I do like him. He’s so sweet.” Her eyes widened as she spoke, catching sight of two approaching figures, “Oh! Here he comes.” A big bear of a man came up to your table, smiling broadly at Karen and then including you in the smile as he stopped beside you. “Hey, Karen,” he greeted her, and she beamed back at him. “Hey, Frank,” and then she introduced you to him. His friend, who’d been partially blocked from your sight by Frank’s bulk, moved out from behind him and said ‘Hi - I’m Billy Russo,’ and shook your hand as he did so. “Nice ta meet ya,” said Frank, also shaking your hand and sitting down in the booth next to Karen.

The man who’d just introduced himself as Billy slid in next to you, and you tried not to stare. He was hot. Like, really hot. Dressed in a smart suit and overcoat, he really didn’t look like an ex-Marine, but Karen had told you that both Frank and his friend were ex-service, and that the friend had opened up a security firm called Anvil when he left the Marines. His handsome face turned towards you, and two very dark eyes looked into yours, “So.... you’re a friend of Karen’s?” You nodded, “Yeah, we just worked together to start with but now we’re besties.” “You a reporter too?” “Nah, I’m a lowly sub-editor on the news desk.” A sudden thought occurred to you, “Oh... and just to reassure you, this isn’t a set-up... you and me, I mean.” He smirked, and you found yourself staring at his lush brushed-back hair and sculpted jaw with its light beard. “Would it have been a big problem if it had been?” he was saying to you, and you shook yourself out of your little trance.

“No, I guess not...” you replied, laughing nervously, “...but I just wanted to get it out there.” He looked you over appraisingly, “Well, I wouldn’t have been disappointed at all,” the smirk got bigger, “....so if you change your mind, just let me know.” This left you speechless but he was still looking at you, asking, “Whaddya want to drink? First round’s on me,” before turning his gaze to the others.

Several beers later, you were sitting listening to the other three talking about a lot of indecipherable nonsense (from your point of view), and you were beginning to get antsy. “Karen, I’m going to head off,” you said in a break in the conversation and she looked slightly guilty, “Oh sorry... we’ve been going on about this for ages.” You shrugged, “It’s fine, Karen, honestly. I’ll see you Monday, okay? Have a great weekend.” You turned to the guys, “You too, and thanks for the drinks,” and made to move out of the booth. But Billy didn’t move. “See you home?” he questioned you, and you saw small smiles on both Karen and Frank’s faces. “Yeah, okay,” you nodded, and then he moved, standing aside as you slid out of the booth. As you headed to the door through the crowd of people, you felt his arm snaking around your lower back. Oooh, very confident, you thought. You’d marked him out as a player as soon as you’d set eyes on him.

“Sorry about the boring shop talk,” he said as you both hit the street, “....me and Frankie’ve got some problems with Homeland right now.” “That doesn’t sound good,” you said as you found yourself being guided around the corner from the bar. “Oh, I was going to take the subway,” you protested, but he shook his head, “This time on a Friday night? Nah.” He pointed towards a rather flashy-looking car parked in the street, “Got the car with me so I’ll take you home. I only had one beer, case you didn’t notice.” “I didn’t,” you admitted, “I thought you were sinking beers like the rest of us.” He gave a low laugh, “I was a sniper in the service, so I like to be aware of my surroundings at all times.” A little frisson ran through you, this guy was quite dangerous, you could tell. As you reached the car, he held the passenger door open for you and you climbed in, trying to be as elegant as possible although you weren’t sure you quite achieved that.

As he started the engine and moved the car out into the flow of traffic, he asked, “So what made you come along tonight if it wasn’t a set-up?” “I was bored. I just split up with my boyfriend of a few months so...” you shrugged. You heard a chuckle, “His loss.” “I don’t think that’s what he thought,” you replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, it’s true,” said Billy, “...believe me. He must be mad to give you up.” “You silver-tongued charmer,” you said back to him, and again you heard his deep chuckle.

“Seriously, it’s my gain. Look, this might seem a bit of an odd request seein’ as how we’ve only just met...” he began, looking across at you as he pulled up outside your apartment block, “....but you’d be doin’ me a big favour. How ‘bout you come along to this charity event I gotta go to next week? As my ‘plus one’?” You hesitated, and he carried on, “No strings, I promise. Just come along as my girlfriend and be on my arm all night. Help me ward off the attentions of someone I’d rather avoid.” You scoffed, “Fake dating? Really?!”

Much to your surprise, you found yourself walking into your building a few minutes later having just agreed to go to this event with Billy. He’d looked pleased, thanking you for saying yes. And you’d also been on the receiving end of a surprise kiss from him. He’d suddenly leant in, slid his big hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in, his mouth finding yours as he did. The kiss had been short but very sexy and you were still tingling from the after-effects.

He’d laughed at your look of total surprise, and wished you sweet dreams. You’d better be careful, warned your internal guardian angel, he said ‘No Strings’.... remember? So don’t go getting all invested in this guy. He’s a player.... for sure.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy and you had swapped numbers, and the following morning you were pleasantly surprised to get a text asking if you could meet him later that day. Intrigued, you texted back saying you didn’t have any other plans but why did he need to meet up? He came back saying he’d had an idea to help out with the event next week, and said he could pick you up. Feeling like you could be making a big mistake, you agreed so he said he’d be at your place around two.

You made sure you dressed casually. Not having any idea where you were going, but sure it wouldn’t be a date as such, you just chose a shirt and jeans with some suede ankle boots. When Billy texted you to say he was parked outside, you left your apartment and locked up, feeling a spark of excitement run through you as you did. “This is not a date, this is not a date, this is not a date!” you chanted in your head as you went downstairs. Billy, you saw with relief, was also dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and combat boots. He gave you a big grin as you got in the car, the luxurious leather aroma of the interior filling your nostrils. “What make of car is this?” you asked, being an “it’s a black one” kind of girl. He gave you what could only be described as a smug smile, “Rolls Royce Wraith, sweetheart,” he answered. “Oh, okay,” you said, “....expensive, I take it?” “Very.” “Surprised you park it on the street the way you do then,” you shrugged, and he burst out laughing. “Is it one of those so-called penis extensions?” you asked next, and Billy nearly choked he was laughing so hard.

“Firstly, I take it that means you aren’t particularly impressed,” he gasped, getting his breath back after his laughing fit, “...and secondly, no darlin’, it definitely isn’t one of those ‘penis extensions‘ as you put it. Got no need for one-a those.” You returned his smirk, “Really? Well, I don’t care what car a guy drives,” you said firmly, “...that’s got nothing to do with what he’s like.” He glanced across at you as he swung the car into one of the downtown underground car parks. “And what do you think I’m like?” You looked at his profile as he concentrated on parking the big car in a corner space, “Mmmm... I think you’ve had a hard upbringing and now you’re making up for it. Big time.”

Billy switched the engine off and turned to stare at you, the dark eyes drilling into yours with an intensity you hadn’t been expecting. “Wow,” said Billy, “....you sure you’re not one-a these psychoanalysts or somethin’?” “Definitely,” you replied. “Well, you sure sound like you’ve been analysing me, sweetheart,” he said. You didn’t know him well enough to gauge his mood, and he carried on, “I mean, you got all that from meetin’ me last night and just now?” You nodded, saying neutrally, “I’m just speculating of course... but the expensive suits, the car, and I bet a big flashy apartment too, it just says ‘I can afford this now and I’m gonna enjoy it’ to me.” You were relieved to hear a chuckle as you’d been worried you’d really offended him. “Spot on,” he said, “...yeah, you’re spot on. I think you’re maybe in the wrong business.” You decided to change the subject, “So... where are we going, Billy?” “You’ll see in a minute,” he grinned, “....c’mon, let’s go sweetheart.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Minutes later, you were standing outside one of the expensive and trendy boutiques in the area. Billy’s hand went under your elbow and he steered you inside. “Billy... what’s going on?” He nodded to one of the staff who started making her way over to the two of you. “Look, it was my bright idea to drag you along to this thing, so the least I can do is treat you to a new outfit.” You were shaking your head before he’d stopped speaking, “Oh no, no... I can’t let you do that!” He was nodding back at you - it must’ve looked quite comical to the store assistant, “Oh yes, you will - I insist.” He turned to the woman, “Please can you help my girlfriend pick out an outfit for a formal event?” And before you could say anything else, he’d wandered over to a seating area near the changing rooms and seated himself in a comfortable armchair. “I’ll be right here, sweets,” he said, beaming at you. Girlfriend indeed, you thought.

The store assistant looked expectantly at you and you nodded hesitantly at her, so she led you over to some rails filled with lots of beautiful dresses. “How nice of your boyfriend to buy you a whole new outfit,” she commented, beginning to slide the dresses back and forth along the rail looking for a selection for you, “He’s very charming,” she continued, admiringly. “Yes, isn’t he,” you said between gritted teeth. Truthfully, you were feeling as if you were out shopping with your sugar daddy. But you had to admit that your bank account would’ve been protesting loudly if you’d had to make the purchase yourself, and you definitely would’ve had to buy something new as nothing in your wardrobe was even remotely suitable for a formal event. And he was right, this was all his bright idea. So you’d just suck it up, you thought, however reluctantly.

Eventually the assistant had several dresses folded over her arm for you to try on, and you sailed past Billy to the changing rooms without as much as a glance at him. But you just knew he was staring at you as disappeared behind the curtain.

After twenty minutes of struggling in and out of the various dresses, you had to admit that the assistant had made some good choices. There were three that you really liked, and you finally chose a midnight blue silky sheath of mid-thigh length, an asymmetric one-shoulder-strap neckline and a swirl of sequins diagonally across it from neck to hem. It was tight-fitting but didn’t show off an excessive amount of skin - you didn’t want to have it all out there on show after all.

The assistant had also brought several pairs of shoes to you once you’d chosen your dress, and you picked out a pair of matching delicate strappy sandals. Pleased with your choices, you put your own clothes back on and went out to find Billy. He looked up from his phone as you exited the changing room, a disappointed look on his face, “What.... no catwalk show for your boyfriend?” You leant down and whispered, “Okay, you’re laying it on a bit thick, Russo,” to which he grinned, gently took hold of your chin and softly kissed you. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smirked. Then a horrible thought occurred to you, “Billy!” you whispered forcefully. He looked a bit nervously at you, “What?” “There was no price tag on that dress or the shoes either!” He waved a hand at you, “Yeah? That’s okay, just leave it to me.” “No! That’s not on. I’m going to ask her what the price is.” He jumped up out of the armchair, “Nah, nah! Told ya, it was my idea you come along so just let me do this, okay?”

He set off without further delay to the cash desk, while you reluctantly waited in the seating area. Not particularly comfortable with the idea of him buying you an outfit, you decided that you’d offer to buy him dinner to kind of offset his no doubt hefty bill for the dress purchase. He came back over to you a few moments later carrying a large box in one of the boutique’s carrier bags which he handed to you with a grin. “She’d already boxed it before I could see it so it’s still gonna be a surprise when I see it on the night.” You smirked back, you were quite pleased about that. “Billy, let me buy you dinner as a thank you for the dress.” “Okay, I won’t say no to a free dinner,” he grinned, “...where d’ya wanna go?” You mentally reviewed your bank balance and named a mid-priced restaurant close by.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After a pleasant couple of hours chatting over dinner, Billy drove you home. Debating how to end the night, you came up with what you felt was a decent plan. Not that you were trying to extend the evening of course. That would be just plain stupid as the ‘relationship’ was all a big fake. Remember? your brain asked you. “You know Billy, we haven’t prepared a back story yet, have we?” you said as he drew up outside your place. “A back story?” “Yeah. I mean, if this person you’re trying to avoid happens to ask us - together or separately - about our relationship, we need to be singing from the same songsheet, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful, “Uh yeah, you’ve got a point there.” “OK, well how about you come in for a glass of wine or a coffee and we can get that sorted now?” A devilish smirk appeared, “Plannin’ to ravish me, sweetheart?”

You felt your face heat up with a sudden blush, “No!! Purely to agree on the back story. But hey - we can just text about it if you’d prefer!” Embarrassed, you grabbed your bags, opened the car door and began to get out, but Billy grabbed your arm, “Hey, hey, sweetheart - I’m just kiddin’. Hold on an’ I’ll park up. We can walk up together.” You huffed slightly and closed the car door again, while Billy looked around for a parking space. Once parked, the two of you went up to your apartment and you unlocked the door, waving him inside and over to the sofa while you stashed the bags and headed to the kitchen area. “What would you like? Wine, beer or coffee?” “I’d better just have a coffee,” he said, “...don’t wanna get drunk and pass out in your apartment. Not a good look.” “I don’t see you as a ‘getting drunk’ kinda guy, Billy. You already told me you like to be aware of your surroundings.” He laughed, “You’re right, I don’t make a habit of gettin’ wasted.”

So you switched on your coffee machine and asked what kind of coffee he’d like, holding up a handful of different capsules. He strolled over to you, draping his leather jacket over the back of one of the high stools at your breakfast bar as he reached you. He leaned down slightly and looked at the selection you had in your hand, and you were suddenly very aware of the scent of his aftershave. “Whattya got there, then?” You took his hand and dumped them all in it, saying, “I’m just gonna fill up the water jug while you decide,” and moving swiftly away from him. You were finding it very difficult indeed to ignore the magnetic attraction he was exerting over you, but you really had to try harder as you were only going to end up getting hurt otherwise. He held out a capsule toward you, “Americano’s fine,” he said.

The two cups of coffee made a few moments later, you led him back over to the sofa and you both sat down at opposite ends. “Okayyyy,” said Billy, “....back story then?” You nodded, “Yeah. Nothing too fancy as the less details we have to remember the better.” “Good idea. We should probably add in some truth too. So.... we met through Karen & Frank?” “Yes, that’s a good start. Where did we meet and how long have we been seeing each other?” “Neighbourhood bar, and a coupla months?” “Okay, yeah. Actually is that about it? That was easier than I thought! Or...what else might they ask? Who is this person you’re avoiding - are they gonna be really nosy?” Billy snorted, “Oh yeah! Her name’s Caroline, a spoilt rich bitch. Her father owns a tech company and he supplies some of our equipment. She came along to one of the meetings recently and now she’s stalking me.” You grinned, “And that’s a problem for you? I would’ve thought you’d quite enjoy that, Billy.”

He grinned back, “Are you sayin’ I’m a player or somethin’?” “Well, aren’t you? I’m kinda getting that vibe.” Now he laughed out loud, “Maybe. But I like doin’ the chasing, sweetheart, not the other way round. If she ever got hold-a me, I’d never get outta her clutches.” “What - you wouldn’t? Not much of an ex-Marine then, are you?” He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, this woman’s so clingy she’d attach herself to me like a limpet mine. And I don’t like violence against women so I’d be in a difficult situation. Plus the main thing’s the business link with her daddy. His stuff’s good, I wouldn’t wanna have to replace him as a supplier. So you see, you’re doing me a solid here.” “When you say stalking you, do you mean literally?” “Well, like turning up at Anvil all the time to ‘check on the equipment’ and shit like that.” “So not outside the office then? I’m just thinking along the lines of her not seeing us around together before the event if she’s around you outside business hours. She might not buy it.” “As far as I know, only in office hours.”

“As far as you know? That’s not exactly reassuring if she’s as much of a stalker as you say she is.” He laughed, “No, I’m sure she’s not around apart from that.” “Okay, well is there anything else you can think of that she might ask?” He gave you a sly grin, “If we’ve slept together.” You got up and took your empty cup over to the kitchen sink, “Uh-huh.... well she can ask! We’ll just have to lie, won’t we?” You turned round only to find Billy invading your personal space again, and you moved back slightly in surprise. He followed, crowding you against the counter, dark eyes gazing into yours, “Uh... we don’t have to lie.” You leaned further back, your brain yelling ‘don’t give in to him!’ at you. “Billy... you suggested this whole thing and you also said ‘no strings’, remember? Well, if we did that... that would be strings, don’t you agree?” He reached round you and put his cup in the sink too, “Yeah, I guess so. Just thought we could make things look a little more.... authentic, y’know?” He turned and grabbed his jacket off the back of the stool, but then took you by surprise again by swooping in for a long kiss, pulling you against his body and his big hand sliding around the back of your neck. You pulled away, trying to catch your breath.

Those espresso-coloured eyes were gazing into yours, a lazy grin on his face. “Hey, you’ll need to get less jumpy when I do that else she’s definitely not gonna buy it.” He stood back from you, shrugging into his jacket, “Might need a bit more practice, sweetheart,” he smirked, “....so how about we meet up again tomorrow? We can learn a bit more about each other, as well as you getting more comfortable when I get physical with you,” and wiggled his eyebrows at you. Against your better judgement, you agreed and so he said he’d pick you up at four the next day.

Once he’d gone, you poured yourself a stiff brandy. You couldn’t deny you wanted to spend more time with him, much as you knew you were setting yourself up for a fall. Really... just what the hell did you think you were doing?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was thinking the very same thing to himself as he drove away. He was enjoying those kisses way too much. But he was the one who’d suggested this whole fake relationship thing, and definitely with ‘no strings’. Because that was the Russo Way.

He’d better get his head back on straight, and stop thinking about the gorgeous woman in the apartment back there as anything other than a way to ditch the very irritating Caroline.

He also got the distinct feeling she’d marked him out as a player and wouldn’t want to get involved with him anyhow. Well, he was a player and he couldn’t deny that. Wasn’t sure he could ever see himself as a one-woman man. Caroline was attractive enough and in the normal way of things, he’d’ve taken her out maybe a couple of times, fucked and then forgotten her. But her father and Billy’s business relationship complicated things somewhat.

So yeah, he’d make sure she saw him with a lovely woman on his arm at the gala, kiss (and maybe fuck if he got lucky) the lovely woman at the end of the night and move right along. Apart from anything else, the fact that she was Karen’s friend complicated things way beyond what he wanted to get involved in, because he couldn’t afford to upset either her or her friend, Frankie’d kill him if he did.

Definitely better stick with the Russo Way. It had never failed him before, had it?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next day, Billy glided the car to a stop outside her apartment block at 4 o’clock as promised, dropping her a quick text to announce his arrival. Soon, he saw her figure walking out of the main door and making her way towards him.

Damn! Mmm, she was looking good. Little pink sundress, short denim jacket, bare legs and low wedge pink sandals. Yeah, really cute. Smart and funny too. And sexy, of course. Very sexy. Totally fuckable. Completely and utterly fuckable. Woah - stop that Russo! Right now!

All these thoughts ran through his head in the 10 seconds it took her to reach the car.

He leant over and pushed open the passenger door for her, “Hi sweetheart.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d noticed Billy’s eyes running over you as you went up to the car, and then spotted his tongue making a swift trip over his bottom lip as he greeted you. You got the feeling he was looking at you like you were a snack to be consumed. Determined to resist how attracted you felt to him, you hopped into the car and said Hi back. Billy’s big hand landed on your thigh as you fastened your seat belt, his long fingers sliding upwards. Batting them away, you continued clipping yourself in and he laughed, leaning across and pulling you to him, kissing you long and slow. Breaking apart, he said, “Remember we gotta practice, sweetheart,” grinning at you. “Mmmhuh,” you nodded, “I remember you saying that.” “Just relax! Get comfortable with me touchin’ and kissin’ you. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend after all.” “Mmmhuh,” you said again, and once more his hand found its way onto your thigh and began stroking, eventually inching upwards again.

This time, you decided to stay still, thinking that yes, you had better get comfortable with this if this whole stupid fake relationship thing was going to work. But when his hand parted your legs and one long slim finger swiftly made its way inside your panties and - without further warning - actually inside you, you jumped like a startled deer and squirmed away from him. “Billy!” you protested loudly, but he merely smirked victoriously at you and pushed a second finger inside you to join its cousin. You shoved at his resistant arm, “Stop it!” His mouth found yours and he began kissing you as his fingers moved steadily in and out of you then his thumb was on your clit, and he began massaging firmly. “Sssshhh, sweetheart, we’re just messin’ around,” you heard his low voice in your ear, “...this is high school stuff.” “But I didn’t say you could do this to me!” you snarled, trying to ignore how good he was making you feel, and you felt his fingers leave you. He sat back in his car seat, taking a tissue out of his jacket pocket and slowly wiping his fingers, looking across at you all the while with a contemplative look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but not sounding regretful at all, “I didn’t think you’d mind. Thought it’d loosen you up a bit like we said.” He smirked at you, “You can’t deny I got you wet, and I know you’re attracted to me. Thought you’d enjoy it.” Your mouth dropped open, “You arrogant fucker!” you exclaimed, “You know what, you can take your fake dating shit and shove it where the sun doesn’t fucking shine!” You jumped out of the car, slamming the door with an almighty bang behind you. Stomping back up to your apartment, you opened your front door and slammed it behind you too, angrily throwing your bag onto the sofa as you passed on your way to the kitchen. You took off your jacket and threw it onto a high stool, furious enough to take a bottle of gin out of the cupboard and grab a clean glass from the dishwasher. You were just taking a bottle of tonic water out of the fridge when there was a knock at your door.

Okay, well that was either your annoying across-the-hall neighbour... who complained about anything and everything... here to moan about the door-slamming, or else it was Billy. Whoever was on the other side of the door was going to be greeted by your frowning face, and you really didn’t give a shit which one it was. You dramatically swung open the door, and it was in fact Billy Russo who was confronted by your unhappy visage. He immediately held up his hands in a placatory gesture. “Look, I am really, truly, sorry. I ... can I come in and explain?” You turned on your heel and walked back to the kitchen, leaving him to close the door behind him and follow in your footsteps. “Want a drink?” He nodded, “I’d love a beer if you’ve got one, please.” You took a bottle of beer out of the fridge and handed it to him, then got a bottle top remover for him out of one of your drawers.

He popped off the cap then took a long swig, as he watched you prepare a G&T for yourself. You also took a big sip then leant back against the counter and regarded him with a steely gaze. “You said you wanted to explain.” He took another gulp of beer and began, “I.... look, I’m so sorry okay? I totally misread the situation.” Sipping your gin, you said, “I’ll say you did, Billy! I get the distinct impression you mistook me for one of the easy lays you no doubt pick up in bars. Is that how you treat your one-and-done’s, huh? Well, don’t try that shit with me, okay?” He looked over at you shamefaced and shrugged, “Uhhh...I ..uhh.. yeah, I guess I did.... look, I really am sorry, sweetheart. I can’t apologise enough, and I really didn’t mean to upset you.” You took another big hit of your gin, slightly - but only very slightly - mollified. “And as for your comment that I’m attracted to you...!!!” Momentarily you were speechless, unsure what you wanted to say or how to put it. Mainly because it was the truth, you acknowledged to yourself.

Before you could say anything, Billy held up his hands again, “I’m incredibly embarrassed about saying that. Really crass. And arrogant, as you said.” You noticed that his face had pinked up somewhat. “In fact just forget I said it,” he carried on. “Bit late for that now isn’t it! Did you say it because you’re used to women falling at your feet, Billy?”

He looked down at the beer bottle in his hand, waggling it back and forward before saying, “Yeah. If I’m honest, I don’t usually haveta try too hard.” His eyes met yours, “And if I’m bein’ even more honest, gotta admit I’m attracted to you. Like, really attracted. So, yeah - I was hoping for something more than just going to the charity event with you.”

You drew in a big breath. What? What did he just say to you? No. You mentally shook your head, and then realised you were actually shaking it. “Billy.... you’re a player, that much is blatantly obvious. Would you know what a relationship is if it came up and bit you on the ass? Something tells me you wouldn’t.” He had the grace to look guilty. You continued, “So here’s what we’ll do. If you still need me to come along to the gala, then I’ll do that. And then we’ll go back to being strangers. Okay?”

He twirled his beer bottle between his long fingers, and shrugged, “Okay, sweetheart. M’happy you’re still gonna help me out. But can’t we at least be friends afterwards? Reckon Karen ‘n Frank’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other so we’ll probably keep bumping into each other.” Your face softened into a smile, “Yeah, they like each other don’t they? You’re right, we probably will be spending some time together because of those two. Okay... friends, then.”

He smiled at you, approaching warily and sliding his hand round to the back of your head and up into your hair, pulling you closer. “M’gonna kiss you, s’that okay?” but being Billy, didn’t wait for your reply. His lips met yours in a gentler kiss than earlier, his fingers stroking the back of your neck. He moved his hips against yours, and you knew he’d done this so you’d feel his erection against your body. You moved sideways and pulled away from him, why did he have to make you breathless when you just wanted to be cool, calm and collected around him? He looked a bit crestfallen, but recovered swiftly and asked, “How about we order in some food and just spend some quality time together?” You sighed, “Okay, Billy, let’s do that. But no more groping or anything, okay?” He nodded, looking serious and miming a cross over his heart, “Promise.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You pushed the pizza box away from you, “God, I’m stuffed.” Billy picked up his beer bottle and drank, giving a small delicate burp as he did so, “Me too.” Reaching over, he picked up the remote and began flicking through Netflix, “Whaddya wanna watch next?” he asked. “Mmmm, you pick a movie. But not one about war.” He laughed, “Oh don’t worry, I never watch war films, had enough-a that in real life.” Lying back and letting out a deep breath, you said apologetically, “I bet you did. Sorry.” Shrugging, he also lay back, his head turning towards you, “S’okay. We can talk about it sometime if you like. And about my less-than-perfect childhood. And some of my more recent fuck-ups.” He gave a bitter laugh, “I’m a fuckin’ train wreck, sweetheart - you’ve made the right decision, best you don’t get involved with me.” His eyes looked big and a bit glossy, and before you could help yourself you’d laid your hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you’re not that bad, Billy.” He turned away from you, looking at the TV before selecting a sci-fi fantasy movie, “Oh believe me, I am,” he said in a low voice.

You shifted a bit closer to him on the sofa, “Don’t be so down on yourself, Billy. You’ve achieved a lot of things... got your own company, fancy car, fine suits, lots of money, prestige.” He grinned at you, “But all that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” You shook your head, “No, but they’re still achievements to be proud of.” His head dropped and some locks of hair fell over his forehead. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and you watched as your hand went of its own accord to his face and stroked the errant hair back off his forehead. His head swivelled towards you, dark eyes gazing into yours; he took hold of your arms and drew you against his chest. “Can we snuggle?” he asked you, then wrapped his arms right around you, before lying down and swinging his long legs up onto the sofa, pulling you with him. You snorted out a laugh, “Snuggle? That doesn’t exactly fit with your ex-soldier or current playboy personas!” “Aw, c’mon sweetheart, gimme a break - I’m tryin’ to be a well-behaved boy here!” You snuggled into his chest a bit, “Okay, but remember - no wandering hands!” He held up both hands, “Not wandering - look!” before placing them chastely on your arm and shoulder.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes opened, and you groggily looked around you, disorientated. Hearing soft little snores from beneath you, you raised your head to look at Billy’s sleeping face. Oh. You’d both obviously dozed off in front of the TV, the Netflix menu now on the screen. Moving slowly, you started to try and stand up but two hands went round your arms in a vice-like grip. “Where you off to?” said Billy’s deep voice. “Just...ummm... just...” you stuttered, but suddenly you were underneath him, his weight pressing you down as his mouth found yours in a hungry kiss. You knew you should resist but damn, he was a good kisser! Feeling yourself dissolve into the kiss, one of your hands moved up to his bristly jawline.

His kisses became more passionate and he pushed himself against you even more, his arousal very evident. You tried to ignore them but your feelings of desire for him were becoming overwhelming, and your arms went round his neck almost unbidden. He was smiling against your lips, and you heard, “Wanna sleep with me? D’you wanna?” Your treacherous mouth said “Yes!” in a breathy whisper, and that was all Billy needed to hear.

He picked you up in his arms, whispering “Where’s your bedroom?” You nodded towards its general direction and he carried you across the apartment and into your room. Setting you down, his fingers were immediately at the zip of your dress, pulling it down, pushing the fabric down then further down until your dress was round your ankles, before whipping it fully off and dropping it onto the floor. You watched him as his eyes roamed all over your body, taking in your lacy lingerie and moving the straps of your bra off your shoulders. “Mmmmm, sweetheart - wow - even better than I imagined,” he said hoarsely, his hands going round your back and unclipping your bra. He stripped it off you and dropped it, both hands immediately cupping your breasts and massaging firmly, thumbs running over your nipples as they peaked. Moving you backwards until your head hit the pillows, you felt his fingers pulling the fabric of your panties aside and suddenly the head of his cock was at your core and pushing inside you. “No time for foreplay, sorry,” you heard and you gave a deep groan when he kept going, feeling his balls brushing your pussy as he fully sheathed himself. His head went back and he gasped, “Fuck!” before he began to thrust. He lifted your legs and draped them over his hips, encouraging you to cross your ankles on his back to pull him even closer.

His mouth was everywhere on you, kissing you deeply one minute before his mouth went to one of your nipples, teasing it with his tongue while his thumb and fingers toyed with the other, then his mouth and teeth were on your neck and shoulders while he set a ferocious pace. A constant stream of low groans were leaving your lips as he moved on you, and you could hear him gasping and muttering words above you, not all of which you could catch, but you did hear “Uhhh, been wantin’ to do this to ya since the minute we met” between thrusts. You ran your hands over his chest and up around his neck, threading your fingers through his lush hair, and you felt him shiver as you pulled on it gently. His thumb was on your clit now, rubbing at you relentlessly and your orgasm washed over you like a wave. His teeth were fastened onto your shoulder and he bit down as you felt his body tense as he came. He lowered himself gently onto you before rolling off, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he got his breath back. “Wow,” he said quietly, before moving onto his side and gazing at you, running a finger gently along your jaw. “Yes, wow,” you replied, putting your hand on his bristly cheek.

“Well, if Caroline does ask if we’ve slept together, now we don’t have to lie,” smirked Billy. This instantly ruined the mood and you sat up, prior to wrapping one of the covers round you and getting out of bed. He looked a bit surprised, but you began moving away from the bed towards the bathroom. Returning a few moments later, you hesitated for a moment before climbing back into bed beside Billy, who was still lying there in all his naked glory. He immediately moved next you, his hands on your arm, “Did I say something wrong earlier? You were up and off like a ballistic missile.” You looked over at him, “A girl doesn’t exactly like to hear another one’s name getting mentioned just seconds after lovemaking.” A guilty look passed over his face, “Awww, shit!... I didn’t think, I’m really sorry... I was just so happy you slept with me, sweetheart.” He stroked your hair away from your face, “Forgive me? And my big clumsy mouth?” You huffed a bit but eventually nodded, not least due to the soft kisses he was peppering over your face and neck.

He breathed a sigh of relief, “I seem to spend all my time apologising to you,” he chuckled, “I’m really making a mess of this fake dating.” “Can’t argue with you there, Billy,” you agreed. “Look, I’m gonna try a lot harder, okay?” he said, running a finger along your arm. You sighed, “Okay... well here’s hoping it’ll be alright on the night.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The rest of the week, you and Billy had traded phone calls and text messages but (to your secret disappointment) the two of you didn’t meet up. To your mind that could only mean that Billy, who’d admitted to you that he liked the thrill of the chase, had now already caught you so that was it as far as he was concerned. He’d said that his work had been crazy busy but you didn’t feel at all convinced by that.

Friday eventually rolled around, and you were glad you’d decided to take a half day off work to get ready. Karen had strolled up to your desk as you were packing up your stuff before leaving, and you recognised her ‘Serious Talk’ look on her face. She walked along to the elevator with you and followed you inside. “Y’know I hope you really enjoy your evening with Billy tonight, but....” she bit her lip before continuing, “...you know he’s a player, right?” She quickly put her hand on your arm as the elevator reached the ground floor, “I’m not trying to spoil your fun, honestly I’m not, but some of the things Frank’s let slip recently would make your toes curl. Billy’s totally ruthless when it comes to cutting women loose.” The elevator doors opened and you both walked out, with you saying, “Don’t worry Karen, I sussed that out the minute I saw him,” over your shoulder as you continued out into the main lobby. You stopped and turned to her, lowering your voice and continuing, “But I slept with him last weekend and just as expected, he’s avoided meeting up with me all during this week.” Her mouth tightened, and you knew you were in for a Page Lecture. “Gahhh! What were you thinking?! You’ve just reinforced his impression that he can pull any woman he wants and then disappear on her! I can’t believe you didn’t even wait for this gala thing tonight! You could at least have held off till then.”

“Yes, mom,” you sighed, then smiled at her. “But you know what Karen, he’s so hot I just couldn’t resist! And I knew exactly what his reaction would be, and he hasn’t disappointed. He’s been in touch obviously because we’ve got this thing tonight, but he’s been ‘too busy at work’ to meet up. I’m sure that in Russo-speak, that really means ‘too busy chasing tail’ but I’m cool with that. Like I said, it’s what I expected,” shrugging as you said this. “Hmmmm,” replied Karen, staring at you intensely as if trying to read your mind, “...well as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I do,” you reassured her, hugging her before walking away with a nonchalant wave.

Out on the street you exhaled a big breath. If only you truly believed that.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy pulled up outside her apartment block and, as before, texted her to say he was there.

He was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to meet up with her during the week, and was also aware she probably thought he was avoiding her now they’d slept together. But he’d truly been up to his ears in it at work, and he wasn’t yet established enough in the security market to turn down job offers. So he’d taken on probably a few more than he should have done, and both he and Frank had had to weigh in on a couple of them to make sure they were handled correctly.

So apart from calls and texts, he’d had to miss out on seeing her. In fact, all he’d been thinking of the entire week was the prolonged session they’d indulged in last weekend. Once he’d apologised for mentioning Caroline’s name after they’d first made love, (really smart move Russo, he thought to himself) there had been a whole night of energetic and very enjoyable sex. Then a shared shower late the next morning after she’d woken him up with a surprise and very welcome blow job. God, the things she could do with her mouth! He squirmed in his seat, starting to get hard just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait for another one of those, that was for sure. Tonight after the gala if he was lucky!

He saw the main door to her apartment block open and she started walking towards the car. Wish I could get a better idea of how she looked in her dress, he thought. Oh well, I’ll just need to wait till we actually get to the place.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You slid into Billy’s flashy car, tucking your feet in last in an effort to be elegant. He leaned over, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you long and hard. You eventually shoved him away, exclaiming “Billy! My lipstick!” You peered at his face, “And you’re covered in it!”

He burst out laughing, “Well, hello sweetheart!”

You handed him a tissue whilst you began trying to repair the smudges around your lips. He dampened it on his tongue and then quickly rubbed the burgundy colour off his mouth. Once you’d fixed your face, you leant over towards him and his mouth headed to yours again but you pulled back. “I’m checking your shirt collar to make sure there’s none on there!” Chuckling, he started up the car, “I did wonder why you waited till you’d put your lipstick back on before kissin’ me again.” “You kissed me!” you protested. He just laughed and manoeuvred the car into the traffic stream.

His head then swung towards you, “If you say so, sweetheart! Hey, I’d say you look beautiful but I can’t get a proper look at you in the car. So wait a little while till we get there and then I can compliment you properly, okay?” You nodded, “Yeah, same. I can’t get a look at you either.” Another chuckle, “You can see as much of me as you want later tonight, sweetheart.” “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?!” Billy’s hand stole onto your thigh and travelled higher. “Wearin’ panties?” You tolerated his wandering fingers, “Yes I am, Marine. Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugged, smirk firmly in place, “Fine by me. They’re not gonna stop me gettin’ to where I wanna be anyhow.” Somewhat surprisingly to you, his hand went back onto the steering wheel. “But I’m gonna wait till we’re alone later. See, sweetheart - I’ve learned my lesson!” “Glad to hear it!” you shot back at him, before looking out of the window at the passing streets.

After arriving and parking at the venue, one of the big downtown hotels, you and Billy made your way upstairs to the function room. Leaving your coats at the cloakroom, Billy twirled you round in front of him, looking you over slowly from top to toe. “You look gorgeous,” he said admiringly, “really beautiful.” “Thank you. Not so bad yourself, Russo.” He was in one of his bespoke suits and was looking edible. He mock-bowed then leant down and kissed you on the lips, and you reminded yourself to act naturally when he did that. You both began walking towards the sound of music and chatter, his hand straying down onto the top of your ass as you went. Karen’s voice rang in your ears about how much of a player he was, and once again you fought the instinct to swat his hand away. If you could just do your duty and get through tonight, then you could put yourself deep into protective mode over this handsome devil.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Several gin & tonics later, you were returning from the ladies’ room and heading back to where you’d left your ‘boyfriend’ at the bar, wondering how much more of this tedious event you could stand, when you heard a high-pitched voice trilling, “Oh Billy! There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Hahah! you thought, this must be the infamous Caroline! Well, at least this next part is going to inject some much-needed fun into the evening.

You could see a small brunette standing in front of Billy with her hands grasping his biceps and beginning to pull him towards her. He spotted you approaching over her shoulder and extricated himself from her clutches saying, “Caroline.... how nice to see you! Just in time for me to introduce you to my girlfriend...” “Girlfriend?!” She whirled round and met your eyes, her own narrowing as she looked you up and down in a flash. You continued walking towards the two of them, noting that she was pretty but was heavily made up; she really didn’t need to plaster it on like she had but - whatever, you thought. Billy moved past her to swiftly put his arm around your waist and draw you to him, introducing you at the same time. She nodded her head briefly at you, “Hi, I’m Caroline. A friend of Billy’s.” She emphasised the word ‘friend’. You beamed back a big smile at her, “Lovely to meet another of his friends,” you said, also emphasising the word. You felt Billy tense up a bit, but you thought that playing the jealous girlfriend might be a good way to go, especially when you noticed the little smirk on her face. You tugged on his arm, “C’mon Billy, you promised me a dance,” you said in a ‘little girl’ voice, which nearly made you heave quite frankly but you felt struck the right note.

Billy raised a hand vaguely towards Caroline as he said to you, “Yes I did, sweetheart. Let’s go. Bye, Caroline - good to see you,” and then gave you a long kiss as the two of you headed to the dance floor. Once Billy had you in his arms, you felt his lips next to your ear and he whispered, “So.... jealous girlfriend, huh?” You nodded, smiling up at him, “She’ll like the fact that I think she’s a threat. But as long as you keep up the PDA’s, I think she’ll buy it.” He immediately kissed you, the hand which had been on your waist surreptitiously sliding downwards at the same time. As you broke apart from the kiss, you caught sight of Caroline glaring at the two of you from a table near the edge of the dance floor. You ran your hand up onto Billy’s jaw before continuing to the back of his neck. You’d discovered during your night together that this was one of Billy’s weak spots, so you trailed your fingers over his skin and had him wrapped round your finger within seconds, just as had happened that other night. He pressed his body close against you, ensuring you felt how aroused he was. “When can we skip out of here?” he breathed to you, making you laugh. “I don’t know! It’s your event - when do you want to stay until?”

Before he could reply, you were aware of a figure next to you and a hand went onto Billy’s arm. “Mind if I cut in?” asked Caroline, giving you a nasty smirk. However it dropped off her face when Billy said hurriedly, “Sorry, Caroline - we’re just leaving,” and began leading you off the dance floor. “Oh, that’s such a shame,” you heard, and realised she was trailing after you and Billy as you left the dance floor. “I was so looking forward to hearing all about how you & Billy met.” You stole a quick glance at Billy before saying over your shoulder, “Through mutual friends.” Still following you both as you headed over to pick up your coats, she rattled out, “it’s just that I’m a bit surprised - it seems quite strange that Billy never mentioned a girlfriend before tonight.” Billy looked irritated but his face became blank as he turned slightly back towards her and replied, “Uh, I am right here y’know!.... well Caroline, we never spoke about our personal lives so it’s not that strange at all to be honest.” You’d reached the small counter by now and had handed over the tickets to the attendant, and while you’d hoped that Billy’s answer would have silenced her, Caroline continued, “So how long have you been dating?” You turned and stared at her, and found her already staring back at you, “Mmm, it’s about two months now, isn’t it Billy?” and moved your eyes to his. He glanced quickly behind him at her, “ Yes, sweetheart - a little over two months actually,” he turned back to you, smiling fondly, “and I gotta say, they’ve been two of the sweetest months of my life.” He leant down and kissed you full on the lips.

Caroline’s lip curled up at this and was still curling as you met her annoyed gaze once Billy’s lips left yours. “Well,” she began, but was then interrupted by a tall older man who came up to the three of you and placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Hello, Russo,” he said, shaking hands with Billy who greeted him with a “Hi, Mike,” as the older guy’s eyes wandered quizzically over to you. “And who’s this lovely young lady, then?” he asked but before either you or Billy could say anything, Caroline spat out, “His girlfriend, Daddy - imagine that!” However her father merely gave you a friendly grin while Billy introduced you. After a quick handshake, he commented that it was a real shame that you were both leaving before he could buy you a drink. But Billy said firmly, with a mischievous look at you, “Sorry, Mike.... we’re... uhhh... quite anxious to get home.” Mike laughed knowingly while you heard a loud ‘tut’ from his daughter. You smiled brightly at both of them, “Well.... lovely to meet you and hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. Bye!” Taking your coat from the attendant, Billy helped you into it before putting on his own and the two of you said final goodbyes to Mike and Caroline before making your escape.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Thank god that’s over!” you breathed out a sigh of relief as you settled back into your seat, while Billy switched on the car’s powerful engine and it purred into life. “You didn’t enjoy it?” he grinned, “...even with such a charming boyfriend attending to your every need all evening?!” You laughed, “Sorry Billy, no I didn’t. I hated every second of it! But I think we accomplished the mission, don’t you?” Turning your head and watching his profile as he reversed the car out of the parking space, you asked, “D’you want me to get the dress dry-cleaned and you can take it back to the store? I mean I’ve only had it on for a few hours and I managed not to spill anything down it.” He glanced over at you, a strange look in his eyes. “No, I don’t want you to clean it and return it. It’s yours to keep. And yes, we did achieve our goal.” He started driving away from the hotel, and you realised it was the wrong direction for your place. You’d never been to his apartment but had a feeling that’s where you were heading.

“Where are you going, Billy? I just want dropped off at home so I can get out of all of this and relax.” He laughed, and for some reason you thought he sounded a bit pissed off. “Ahh no, that’s not happenin’, sweetheart,” he said, looking across at you, eyes gleaming with something but you weren’t sure exactly what. Determination? Desire? “We’re headin’ to mine. And yeah, you’re gonna be gettin’ out of those clothes, don’t worry.” “Look, Billy,” you said, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, “...we’re done here, okay? We’ve already slept together, you got what you wanted so now you move on, correct? That’s your usual M.O. isn’t it? You made that obvious this week. Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear. I’m not some clingy desperate woman that’s gonna keep chasing after you. I knew what the deal was with you the minute I set eyes on you. So.... just turn around and take me home.” You’d been staring at the road ahead but were aware of him shaking his head, “No.” You looked across at him, “No? What, you’re kidnapping me now?” “You can think of it that way if you like, sweetheart. I knew you’d think I was avoidin’ you this week, but I wasn’t. I’m not ready to let you get away just yet. We’re gonna go to mine, and you’re gonna spend the night on your back - and in various other positions - cos I need another night of sex with you.”

“And what if that’s not what I want? What if I don’t want to be used like a fuck toy before you disappear over the horizon? Doesn’t it matter to you what I want?” He chuckled, and you felt a little shiver of fear run through you, “Not right now, no. Because this is all I’ve been thinkin’ about the whole week. And because you’re sayin’ one thing, but you mean another.” “Really?! That’s what you think?” you scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that? The level of arrogance....!” He pulled the car over into the inside lane and then turned into an underground car park. He killed the engine, and in the sudden silence you heard him say in a low voice, “Call it arrogance if you like. I call it knowing what I want and makin’ sure I get it.” He released his seat belt and got out of the car, coming round and opening your door before taking hold of your arm and pulling you out of it. He locked the car with a bleep of the remote on his keychain, then dragged you - firmly but not roughly - over to an elevator which he unlocked with a key before calling it down. Once it arrived, he hustled you inside and once the doors closed, his mouth was instantly on yours. He kissed you roughly, open-mouthed with teeth and lips and tongue all involved. His hands were undoing the buttons on your coat and then were inside it, immediately going to your breasts.

You struggled with him, trying to push him off but he continued kissing you, and you heard his voice telling you to just admit you wanted it. The awful thing was, you did want him and it annoyed the hell out of you. However his current attitude was also annoying the hell out of you so you continued to push at his muscled, toned body to get him off you. But you were no match for the ex-Marine and you heard a ‘ting’ and the elevator doors opening as Billy continued to kiss and grope you. He pushed you firmly out of the lift, keeping hold of your arm and propelling you towards a door - the only door, you noticed - and then into the apartment after he unlocked the door. He slammed it behind him then was on you in a flash, grabbing your bag and throwing it onto the sofa before stripping off your coat and dropping it on the floor. You were aware of being in a large open-plan space with floor-to-ceiling windows and trendy furniture, before you were scooped up as easily as if you were a throw cushion and carried into an equally large bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and dumped you rather unceremoniously on the bed, stripping his clothes off in a matter of seconds and letting them fall where they may. Then he was back on you, flipping you over and unzipping your dress in one quick motion. He stripped it down off your shoulders, turned you back over and pulled it off you. You looked up at him, finally finding your voice, “Billy! Stop it.” He shook his head, “Nah, not happenin’ sweetheart. We’re gonna have sex now.” You opened your mouth but nothing would come out. Why couldn’t you say anything else?

Because you do want it, said a sly voice in your head. And whilst the caveman routine might not be the most appealing of Billy’s wooing techniques, he’d excited you beyond belief and you could feel how damp your panties were. You’d told yourself before the evening started that you weren’t going to have sex with him that night, but at the same time had perversely hoped that it would in fact happen. You were absolutely furious with yourself but at the same time, totally conflicted and unable to ignore the desire you felt for him.

You felt his fingers fumbling a bit at your back and then your bra was dramatically whipped off and thrown across the room. His mouth and hands were immediately on your breasts, fingers massaging and toying with one nipple while he licked the other, his tongue roughly raking over its peak and surrounding skin before he started to suck and bite at it, enough to make you squeal but not hard enough to cause you real pain. Then he swapped and your other breast came in for the same treatment. You felt his fingers sliding down your body and pulling at your panties, after a few seconds he then sat up and stripped them off you. They also joined your bra across the other side of the room. He lowered himself onto you, hands parting your legs and you knew he was guiding himself inside you. His hard length pushed into you and you felt the stretch much more than you had the first time you’d had sex with him. Of course he was in a more of a rush this time, seemingly desperate to have sex with you, judging by the way he’d thrown you down, ripped your clothes off and immediately got between your legs.

He slid his hands under your knees and lifted your legs up until your ankles were on his shoulders, deeply thrusting into you as he did so, and you heard yourself give a loud groan. He gave a long, low groan himself as he picked up his pace, and you heard his whispered words next to your ear, “You like that, sweetheart? Feel good?” “Yes!!!!!” you gasped, hating yourself for admitting it but it was the absolute truth. He kissed you passionately, hands running up and down your legs and onto your body as he thrust hard into you, mouth moving to your neck and collarbone, nipping at your skin then licking where he’d lightly bitten you. You climaxed first, Billy’s thumb having found its favourite place on your clit, and you’d dug your nails into his shoulders before running your hands up into his hair and pulling it. Hearing his answering chuckle, his hips cannoned into yours a final few times before you felt him release into you, and he sank down heavily on top of you, panting and trying to get his breath back. He moved off you and laid on his back, seemingly exhausted by his over-eager exertions. His head tilted towards you, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart. Need more.”

You propped yourself up on an elbow, “Just what the fuck is all this neanderthal stuff about, Billy?” He sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. “Remember you said I wouldn’t know what a relationship was if it bit me on the ass?” “Yeah?” “You’re right. I’ve never experienced a loving relationship in my life. I dunno what love is, really.” Then out it all spilled.... his abandonment as a very young kid, the group homes, the abuse, the stigma. How he’d signed up for the Marines as soon as he was old enough, got a business degree before shipping out, how Frank had his back almost from day one. The dark eyes eventually looked into yours, “So just confirmin’ - I’m officially shit at relationships.” You nodded thoughtfully, “Well... now I understand things a little bit better, Billy. You discard women after a very short time as a self-defence measure, because you have a fear of being abandoned again. Ditch them before they can ditch you, right? Because you still have self-esteem issues, deep down underneath that confident exterior. It’s hard to overcome years of being looked down upon and sidelined.” You reached out and ran your fingers through his small patch of chest hair. He flinched slightly so you withdrew your hand, but his own hand went out and he laid it on top of yours for a brief moment.

Then he sat up a bit and stretched, laughing as he did so, “Told you, you’re in the wrong job, sweetheart.” He leaned back onto the pillows, carefully looking away from you, “Guess I didn’t do a very good job of lettin’ you know I want you to stay around and be with me?” You sat up, pulling one of the sheets over you, “What?” you asked. He looked over at you again, “All of this,” his hand waved vaguely between you and him, “This is me tryna let you know I really like you. I honestly missed bein’ with you during the week. An’ I was really busy, me and Frank, all week - I wasn’t tryna avoid you, okay? All I could think about was the night we spent together, how I want that to be a regular thing. Spend time with you.”

You started chuckling to yourself before it bubbled up into real laughter. He’d been looking down and fidgeting with the covers but now his head swung up and his eyebrows pulled into a frown. You calmed down a little and reached out to him, softly stroking his shoulder, “Billy... I’m not really laughing at you. Well, I suppose I am but only because I’m really surprised. That’s not how guys usually let girls know they’re interested! - kidnapping them and telling them that they will have sex with them.” Billy grunted, “Yeah, I realise that. It’s what I’m tryna tell you, sweetheart. I’m shit at this kinda stuff.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Sunday lunchtime, you met up with Karen who was gagging to know what had happened on Friday night. You dutifully recounted everything, even Billy’s metamorphosis into caveman as you left the hotel. Karen’s expression got more and more incredulous and as you drew to a close with his admission of being completely crap at all things relationship-related, she finally said, “Fuck! That’s unbelievable. So how did you leave things? You kick him to the curb?”

You took a sip of your G&T, and smiled back at her, “He wants me to teach him what a real relationship is all about.”

“And you’re prepared to take a chance on him and show him, are you?” You nodded, “Yeah I guess I am, Karen. I know it sounds crazy, but he wants to try. And I’d like to try. So we went from fake to genuine as of Friday night.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and sipping her drink before saying, “Well, you’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll say that for you. And I wish you the best of luck trying to tame that bad boy.” She lifted her glass and you clinked yours against hers, “Thanks, Karen. I’m just gonna take it one day at a time. If it doesn’t work out...” you shrugged, “...at least I gave it a shot.” She put her hand over yours, “Do you think he’ll keep it in his pants? He’s used to putting it about all over town,” squeezing your hand, “...sorry to have to say that honey, but it’s true.” You nodded, “Yeah I know, and all I can say is he’s promised he won’t be doing that from now on. But if I get even a whiff of another woman’s perfume off him, I will be kicking him to the curb faster than he can say ‘it’s not what you think, sweetheart’, believe me! And I’ve told him that too, in no uncertain terms.” She nodded, “Well, you’ve given him fair warning so if he fucks up, that’s definitely on him.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank threw his head back, giving a great belly laugh which went on for a lot longer than Billy Russo thought it should do. After a few moments, Frank’s face had gone beet red and tears were squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Billy folded his arms across his chest, sitting back in the diner booth and scowling at Frank, “Okay, okay, Frankie - enough already,” he grumbled as Frank continued to laugh. Eventually Frank calmed down enough to speak, “Russo! I don’t believe it, I really don’t. Does that girl know what she’s letting herself in for?! She must be missing a few rounds out of her ammo clip.” Billy pulled a face, “Look... I like her, okay? She’s gonna teach me what a proper relationship’s like. She’s willin’ to give me a chance, so cut me some slack over here, will ya?” Frank took a big pull at his beer, “Oh Russo, how the fuck ya gonna keep it in your pants?” (unknowingly parroting Karen’s very same comment to her friend). Billy shrugged, “Look...I will, I tell ya. I mean it, I only want her. The sex is....” he made a chef’s kiss hand gesture, “....and she doesn’t take any of my shit, either. I really like her, Frankie. I think I’m ready to...” “Settle down? Really, Bill - are you? Cos if you fuck this up, you’ve got Karen to deal with as well as your girl.”

Billy took a hit of his beer, “You think I don’t know that? And I’d get a ton of crap from you too, cos Karen’d be upset. You like her, dontcha?” Frank’s cheeks went a slight shade of pink, “Well, yeah. I guess I do.” Now it was Billy’s turn to laugh, “You guess you do? Frankie, you’re like a teenager with a major crush every time your phone rings! ‘Ooh, it’s Karen!’” he said, the last bit in a high-pitched voice. “I do not talk like that!” Frank growled at him, “And you better spend your energy learning how to treat a woman properly, rather than ripping the shit outta me, Russo!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your phone dinged and you picked it up, seeing a text notification from Billy on the screen. Turning your phone briefly towards Karen to show her this, you clicked on it and then smiled as you read it. Showing the message to her, she also smiled, “Wow, seems like he’s definitely trying!” You agreed, “I do believe he is!” Maybe this crazy relationship thing you and Billy had agreed to embark on did have a chance of working out after all. You definitely still had your misgivings - does a leopard (or panther) really change its spots? - but you were willing to give it a try as long as Billy stuck to his end of the bargain. No other women, no lying, spending a lot of quality time together... let’s just see how all that goes, you thought. Re-reading the text, it made you smile once more.

Billy’s text said simply, “I’m missing you, sweetheart. Come over to mine, I’ll cook you dinner.”

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(My photo edit)

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Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry

(Using D&D’s taglist, if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know!)

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#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

[theodora3022]

Selfish Deeds (Yandere! Gojou Satoru)

Summary: Satoru just wants you to be free of danger. If you are so knowledgeable why can’t you understand that he only wish the best for you?

A/N: This is just one snippet of many out of a collection(haven't decide the name just yet)...Since I have not read the manga(anime-only for now) so I just got a vague impression of what Gojou has been through, but that does not stop me from writing him like the cocky bastard he is. Hopefully it is not too OOC(as if yandere variant itself is not OOC enough pfttt) The reader is a stubborn psycho because that is what I am :) Will there be some future pieces that involves nsfw elements? I got a few ideas but no promises.

I blame @popi-the-fatui for my Gojou brainrots. You got your revenge on me by making me attracted to this dubious man. Word count: 1.6k

Banner credit

Warnings: Female pronouns, Possessive behaviour, DELUSIONAL behaviour, non-consensual touching, power inbalance, general yandere content, slight mention of confinement and violence(This is not a healthy relationship dynamic!!!), reader is not a soft UWU girl, kthis is so self indulgent *buries myself into the bottomless pit of shame

It has been nearly fifteen minutes since the headquarter disconnected the call, yet you are still staring at your phone screen with disbelief.

You were supposed to travel to another city for a mission tomorrow, they had notified you of this mission a week ago.

You already got your luggage packed, and your theoretical research on the objective is thoroughly done. Then they dare to inform you: they have found a more suitable candidate! Right on the day before your departure too.

Your curse techniques have already limited you to more of a supporting role for most situations. There are not plenty of missions available for you to begin with. While you are content with educating the fresh blood of the community in classrooms the majority of the time, you still long for field actions every once in a while. It is an essential part of being a Jujutsu sorcerer after all.

Both you and the soft-spoken secretary who made the call know this is nonsense. The higher-ups recognize that you are one of, if not the best sorcerers available when it comes to reconnaissance and espionage.

Letting out a sigh of immeasurable frustration, you swore to yourself that you will find out who is the conductor of this humiliating turn of events. This is going to be difficult since you do not recall having any issues with any of the administration staff recently.

There is no reversing this misfortune, but at least you can be aware of who is responsible for such violation of conduct.

He is only doing this to protect you.

Gojou Satoru tells himself as such, at least.

He is aware of how unfair it is, to make someone less capable to take on the job. But he cannot risk your safety. The man has already got used to your company, and he is not willing to just let you disappear from his field of view for more than a week. Sure, you might have not admitted how much you like him yet, but it is just too endearing to see you flustered at his flirtatious words.

Although there have been some difficulties with rescheduling, he managed to use his connections to exclude you from that first-grade mission at last minute. On the bright side, the sorcerer cannot wait to lend you an ear to vent about how conservative and unfair the higher-ups can be. Maybe you will even say yes to a trip to the newest local bakery! You need some sweet treats to cheer yourself up, don’t you?

But Satoru has never thought about how you specialize in putting two and two together. (understandable since he never saw you in action before).

------------------

Strange, you are not near the usual area in the library.

Sensing his footsteps, you opened your office door before Satoru had a chance to knock.

“We need to talk, Gojou-san.” That expression is new. This is the first time he sees you genuinely angry, which is to be expected.

But somehow he got a bad feeling about this.

You did not even invite him to sit down, instead just standing next to the floor window, arm crossed, with your back turned to him.

“Why would you do such a thing?” You have to use up all of your self-control to prevent yourself from having a full blow-up right at Gojou Satoru. Maintain composure. But it is easier said then done.

Does he think this is funny? To sabotage someone else's sorcerer career like this? You knew you should have kept him out of your daily life, as he is nothing but trouble to you. But you made the mistake of choosing to tolerate him, and some superficial part of you might even enjoy his dallying words a bit too much.

To the extent, you overlooked some red flags. This is a grievous error indeed.

Shit, now that he vaguely remembers what role you play on missions.“(y/n)-chan, what are you saying-” He knows you always act in supporting positions, however, he has overlooked your actual abilities and curse techniques. You collect intel and spy on enemies, how could he forget that? “Don’t play dumb with me. You got your ways, I got mine. There is no use denying what you have done. I thought you out of all people would understand what it means to be a sorcerer.”

This is a violation of protocol, changing mission assignments at the last minute. However, you know this man would not be receiving any solid punishment should you decide to report this. They would say there is “no harm done” and you would just receive a pitiful apology. Suppose you cannot blame them though.

They need Gojou Satoru, the Jujutsu community needs his prowess to keep innocent people safe. He will remain in the system no matter what.

Why are you questioning his motives? Does he have to spell it out for you? Letter by letter?

“You are not a skilled combatant, (y/n)-chan. What if you got yourself hurt?” Or even worse, killed. It scares him to think that you could be gone one day, how he would walk by this office corridor and never sees you sitting behind the desk ever again.

Not much in this world could send Gojou Satoru a chill down his spine, yet the thought of you dying is now on the list. He knows how petty this is, you wouldn’t be the one doing the actual exorcising after all. But the if, the slight possibilty.

He cannot allow that to happen, not ever. Even that means angering you and getting yelled at.

“What am I, some normal lawful citizen? I am a sorcerer just like you, Gojou-san. Putting ourselves on the line for innocents is part of the deal.” You let out a few short, sarcastic giggles, narrowing your eyes at him with fury. “It’s funny that you, out of all people, fail to understand that. If I am needed I will do what I must. If this is some sort of sick joke, stop it already, not funny. ”

Blunt, unrelenting stubbornness. Not like that’s news for him, Satoru has lots of experience with that since the day your path crossed. Although he finds this quality to be adorable most of the time, it can pose major problems like the present.

Oh, he is not angry at you. Satoru is more outraged at himself, don’t you worry. On the contrary, he is rather intrigued by your sarcastic remarks! However…

Instead of walking towards where you stood near the window, the man decides to take a turn towards the door.

That flashing panic within your eyes did not escape his sight.

The illusion figure you were projecting near the window dissipated instantly once he got your left wrist in his hand. Concealing yourself and projecting illusions, a rare techique indeed.

“Clever tactic. Making yourself invisible, projecting a faux illusion to distract me, leaving the door open and staying close to the exit. Your curse techniques are impressive. I almost got fooled, job well-done (y/n)-chan.”

The grip on your wrist suddenly tightens, you have to bite your lip to hold back a hiss of pain. How can he still flash that casual, playful smile when committing such atrocity? Those damned cerulean blue eyes too, you are ashamed of how you tremble and (internally) swoon at it at the same time.

Efforts to get away would most likely be futile, but you have to try. “See, you underestimated your opponent. I do see why you are good with lurking in the shadows now. Do you have any idea what I am capable of though?” Such delicate hands, it would be a shame if they were to bruise.

It’s unnerving how easy it looks for him to maintain a solid grip on your wrist while you pull back with all of your might. You know Gojou Satoru is strong and all, but this simple demonstration of strength is devastatingly effective. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

To your surprise, he softens his grip and you finally distanced yourself from him, panting and guarded. “Who are you to decide what I should and what I should not do? I made it crystal clear on the first day that I do not like you for the slightest.”

You know the walls are thin and coworkers might heard you, but you will have to worry about it later. It is, sadly, a matter of fact that you are somehow attracted to him, but that does not give him the right to use it against you. You must not give in to the temptation.

“You are pretty slow on the uptake for someone so smart. I was thinking of doing this naturally, we can go on normal dates to coffee shops, amusement parks, or even the museum if that is what you wish for. But now I see you do not know how much you mean to me.” Do you think Gojou-san is only flirting with you for the fun of it? It might have been the case in the beginning, but that is not the case since...recently.

He did not stop you again when you turned away, giving him one last menacing look and disappeared from his sight, even if he could see the faint trace of your curse energy. You will return to him and apologize after you calm down, he is confident about that. You value your job way too much to quit.

Then he could finally pull you into his arms, saying he does not mind and forgive your childish tantrums. Satoru does not plan to lock you up in a cage or anything(yet)! The students adore you and they need your guidance. Your clan is insignificant compared to his, your influence? Does he even need to consider that?

Gojou Satoru would always achieve his goals by whatever means possible. You are no exception to this.

#yandere fanfiction #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojou satoru #yandere x you #yandere gojou satoru x you #*screams into the sea of Quanta #I was a clown when I said I won't simp for him #tw: dark content #tw: yandere

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 6: Andersen’s Fairy Tales

…in which Harry teaches Ezi how to read.

Word count: 4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: please please let me know what you think. I can't write without motivation 😭

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When Harry finally decided to answer his mother’s call, he had prepared himself for some verbal ass-whooping. He was twenty-four years old, a celebrity and a millionaire, yet still getting scolded by his mother on a daily basis. Life was good.

“Is your date okay?” The first thing his mother said to him was this. At first, Harry thought he’d misheard it. But then she repeated the question in a more urgent and concerning tone. “Harry, is Ezili okay?”

His mother had never remembered the name of any girl he’d brought home. His mother always had a lot to say about the way those girls had dressed, talked, and carried themselves. Had Ezi charmed his mother with her siren magic?

Harry shuddered at the thought. “Y-Yeah...why?”

“Dawson told me you and Bax got into a fight at the manor.”

Harry smacked his forehead. Fucking Dawson. “How did Dawson know?”

“He found Bax lying on the floor.”

Although Harry hated to recall that night because he couldn’t imagine how scared Ezi must have been, it was funny to think about how pathetic Bax must have looked when Dawson had found him. The mental image made Harry laugh. “See?” he told his mother. “It wasn’t a fight if it was one-sided. I beat him up.”

His mother exhaled sharply. Harry could imagine her with her eyes closed, shaking her head. “The only reason I will let you get away with fighting your cousin in my house is because I know what he was trying to do with Ezili. So I called to ask if she was okay.”

“She’s okay. Don’t worry. I think she also scared him.”

“She’s a woman. Any strong woman would’ve been terrified in that situation,” said Harry’s mum. “I feel bad for having let that happen. I shouldn’t have invited him.”

“It’s not your fault, Mum. He’s always been scum.”

There was a pause, and Harry knew exactly what his mother was going to say. “Bax’s parents have always hated us. They envy your father. I think they’re trying to sabotage our wine business. Maybe if you’d change your mind--”

“Mum, we’ve talked about this,” Harry sighed. “I love my career. I can’t...I’m not a businessman like Dad. Isn’t Dawson doing a good job managing our family business already?”

“He is. But I know your father would’ve wanted it to be you.” When Harry stayed quiet, his mother knew it was a sign that this topic shouldn’t be continued, so she switched to another. “You should invite Ezili to lunch at the manor.”

“Mum, that wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Nonsense! Her first time in our house and she got absolutely traumatised. I’ll make up for it. I’ll send you an invitation in the afternoon.”

“Mum, there’s no need for an in--”

But his Mum already hung up on him.

Sighing, Harry sunk back into his chair. A staff member knocked on the door and informed him that he would have to return to the set in fifteen minutes. He told them he got it and intended to call his mum again and try to talk her out of the lunch thing with Ezi. That was when he got another call.

“Don’t tell me someone’s injured. It’s only been an hour.”

“Worse!” Niall screamed. “Dawson kidnapped the girl!”

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Ezili didn’t know if the bookstore was small or Harry’s house was just too big, but she liked the cosiness of it in contrast to what she’d always been used to. There were bookshelves climbing all the way up to the ceiling. The walls were covered with hundreds of books of all sizes, and there were dozens of piles on the floor in the corners as well. But seeing that most of the furniture was covered in dust, Ezili guessed they didn’t often have visitors.

She wondered why nobody wanted to come into this fascinating place. She loved books even though she couldn’t read or write. She’d found a few books in her room and some of them had pictures, but she could only guess what the stories were about. So she wanted to read, but it would be something her mother would never approve of. If she learned to read, she’d become a laughing stock for her kind for sure.

Entering the bookstore, Ezili and Dawson were greeted by an old lady with crazy chestnut hair that looked like she was wearing a fluffy dog on her head. Her eyes were huge behind those thick round glasses that gave her a psychotic kind of look that absolutely terrified Ezili.

“Hello, love birds,” she said with an ear-to-ear grin. Ezili could not take her eyes off the shiny wires attached to this lady’s teeth. They sparkled every time she opened her mouth. This woman must be rich if she wore silver on her teeth.

“Oh, we’re not birds,” Ezili said as she pulled Chilli tighter to her chest.

The crazy lady hugged her stomach and burst out laughing. “She’s a funny girl,” she told Dawson, pointing to Ezili, then her face turned serious. “But no cats allowed.”

“She’s with me. Her name is Chilli and she’s very nice--”

“She can stay here while you pick your books.” Before Ezili could protest, the lady took the black cat and put it on the counter. “So what are you looking for?”

“Thank you. We’ll just have a look around,” Dawson said with a tight smile and pulled Ezili with him. They turned into one of the aisles and heard the lady telling them she’d be here if they needed help. What kind of help would you need in a bookstore? It wasn’t like books would attack you.

“The Book of Wisdom,” Dawson said as he took out one colourful book from a higher shelf. Ezili peered over his arm as he scrutinised the front cover. He smelled like coconut and summer, which reminded her of those tropical islands she’d visited with her mother. And the fact that he was a lot taller than her made her want to bury her face into his chest to get soaked in that homely smell. But then she remembered what Harry had taught her about consent. Realising her chest was touching his arm, she stepped back and felt him relax a bit more. She hoped he didn’t think she was sexually hairdressing him. She had no idea why they called it hairdressing, and she kept forgetting to ask Harry.

“Hey, why do they call it hairdre--”

“Lesson 1: Be polite.”

Ezili jumped and hid behind Dawson’s back, her heart pounding violently. “Did the book just..talk?”

“Yeah, it’s a talking book for children,” Dawson chuckled. “I like your sense of humour.”

He flipped to a new page and the book talked again, “Remember, kids, if you accidentally raise your voice with someone, always apologise to them. It’s not nice to yell at other people.”

Ezili couldn’t decide if she was in awe or creeped out by the talking book. Maybe a little bit of both. But then her eyes zeroed in on a picture of a beautiful siren on one of the covers. She passed Dawson to try and was trying to reach for the book when his hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up to see him grab the book without effort and hand it to her with a smile.

“You like this? It’s the new edition of Andersen’s Fairy Tale.”

“The Little Mermaid!”

“Yes.” Dawson’s eyes squinted behind his glasses. “You’ve never read Andersen’s Fairy Tales?”

“I have,” Ezili lied, hugging the book to her chest. “I want this book.”

“Great. I’ll buy it for you. As a gift.”

Harry had told Ezili that humans couldn’t just take the things they found because they would get arrested, and apparently, they couldn’t fight and kill each other for things either. It didn’t sound fair and was kind of stupid. Why were humans so dependent on these stupid papers they called money? Ezili couldn’t understand how their inferior brains worked sometimes.

“Hey, look,” Dawson said, holding up his phone that was buzzing in his hand. “Harry’s calling.”

Ezili couldn’t care less about Harry now. She let Dawson speak to him while she flipped through the book to look at pictures. But...why was there a picture of the prince and another girl? Didn’t he marry Ariel? She tried to look for the ones that revealed the new ending, which was apparently different from what she’d seen on the telly, but the rest of the chapter was just text and no pictures. She hated this. She wished she could read.

“Yeah, she’s here with me. The bookstore is just a few blocks near your house…” Dawson finished the call with Harry and turned back to Ezili. “He’s coming to pick you up.”

She found it strange that Harry would speak about Dawson with such hatred, like the way Koa would speak about Ezili, while Dawson had always been so nice about Harry. She couldn’t recall him saying anything bad about Harry when in fact, she could go on and on for days about Harry’s bad qualities. And she’d only known him for a week!

“Why doesn’t Harry like you?”

The question seemed to have caught Dawson by surprise, but he was quick to put on a smile.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m helping his mum run the business his father left for him. But he was the one who didn’t want it. He wanted to become a singer.”

“Harry’s mother doesn’t want him to be a singer?”

“No.”

Ezili closed the book and gave an understanding nod. “My mother never lets me do things I like, either. She never thinks I’m good enough because I’m not like her.”

“I’m sure your mother loves you,” Dawson said. Ezili liked the twinkle in his eyes and tenderness in his voice when he reassured her. Maybe he had a special gift that only sirens had. The gift to charm anybody they wanted. “Every mother has their own burdens and loves us in a different way.”

“But...if they love us, should they want us to be happy?”

Ezili didn’t know where that had come from. For the last twenty years of her life, she had never once thought of this. Why now? Why now that she decided that she could have been happier if her mother hadn’t been the way she was? But sirens were all supposed to be the way her mother was. Cold and dangerous like the ocean itself. So did it mean...did it mean her mother and sister were right? That she was too weak and emotional to become Queen?

“Ezi!”

The sound of her name pulled her out of her own head. She snapped her head up to find Harry padding toward her. He looked just like that night when he’d scolded her for biting his cousin. She hated this Harry.

“Let’s go home,” he told her coldly.

Before she could reply, he took her wrist and pulled her with him. The book fell to her feet and she was too appalled to even pick it up. She was about to remind Harry that Dawson was standing right there, but then she realised Harry had intentionally ignored his cousin.

“Ezili, your book!”

Harry and Ezi stopped before they got into the car parked out front. Dawson handed her the book and beamed. “I already paid for it.”

“Thank you.”

“Very nice. Get in, Ezi.”

Dawson seemed slightly annoyed by Harry’s attitude, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he gave Ezili another gentle smile and told her he’d see her another time. Then, he went back inside the bookstore.

Ezili wished she could have stayed with him.

“Rescue mission accomplished!” said an energetic voice as Ezili got into the back of the car. A stranger she had never seen before peered around the passenger seat and smiled at her before he started speaking in a funny accent, “You’re welcome, by the way. The name’s Niall.”

Chilli was sitting on Niall’s lap, licking her own paw, which showed that she was comfortable around Niall, and Niall wasn’t an enemy. To human Ezili, of course. All humans were enemies to sirens.

“I’m Ezili,” Ezili said, then, she recognised the funny accent. “You’re Niall...Horan?”

“You know me?”

Ezili could feel her grin stretch from ear to ear. “I saw you on TikTok! You’re so funny.”

“Look, H, a fan!” Niall exclaimed as he shook Harry’s shoulder, but Harry didn’t react as he manoeuvred the car back onto the road. “I like her already.” Niall laughed. “I’m Harry’s best friend. Are you following my TikTok?”

“Yeah. I’ve watched every single one.”

“Good, good, good,” Niall said, nodding slowly. He turned to the front and back to Ezili immediately. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened to you. The accident must have been awful.”

“What?”

“Niall,” Harry growled. “Seatbelt.”

Niall flinched. “Sorry.”

Frowning, Ezili hugged her new book and sunk into her seat. She hated this Harry. He reminded her of a whale with a toothache, and even with that image in mind, she still couldn’t laugh. That was how angry she was with him. Yes, she was angry with him being angry with her. And for pulling her out of that beautiful bookstore. For making her drop her book. For holding her hostage like a prisoner. For being rude to Dawson. She hated him. She hated Harry Styles.

So when they’d arrived home and he told her to go inside and hang with Niall, she had to chase after him and let him know how much she hated him.

“Harry Styles!” She called when they reached the white stairs leading to the enormous courtyard where he’d parked his car. “Why are you upset? You have no right to be mad at me after you lied to me.”

Harry stopped halfway down the stairs; it seemed like Ezili’s words had finally hit him. He slowly spun around with a stunned expression as if she’d accused him of manslaughtering. “I didn’t lie to you,” he said, his jaw tight. “I told you to stay in your room. You were grounded.”

“You didn’t tell me that you’d leave me with your assistant and Niall!”

“But I didn’t lie to you.”

“Telling half-truths is telling lies.”

Harry held Ezili’s gaze for a long moment before he started ascending the stairs. She stiffened as he stopped right in front of her, leaned in, and stared.

“Oh, so you’re so honest, aren’t you?” he asked in a mocking tone. “You’ve never lied to me?”

“Never,” she said confidently.

Well, that was also a lie. But since when had Ezili felt bad for lying? She’d eaten men like him. Why did his presence now make her nervous?

She hated that the more she stayed human the more human she became. That thought terrified her even more than the possibility of getting caught and killed in this foreign land.

“I’ve never lied in my entire life,” she added, making Harry's eyes grow wide.

He said nothing, and when he turned to leave, she hurriedly followed him down the stairs. “Speechless by my honesty?” she asked.

“Speechless by the lies that come out of your mouth,” he said. “Is your name even Ezi?”

“No, it’s Ezili.”

Harry let out a scoff but he didn’t stop, so Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Hard.

“Shit! How are you so strong?” he cried out, facing her again.

“Apologise.”

“What?”

Ezili folded her arms across her chest and sharpened her gaze. “Apologise right now.”

“For what?”

“For yelling at me.”

“And why should I apologise for yelling at you?”

Ezili bit her lip. The voice inside her head told her to push him down the stairs. She could just say it was an accident, and no one could prove that she’d done it. However, she needed him alive. Sucking in a breath, she said, “Because that’s what decent people do. A talking book told me that.”

“You mean those children's books you found in the bookstore,” Harry taunted, giving her a despiteful smirk.

She scowled at him even harder. “Apologise.”

“Fine,” he breathed. “I apologise for yelling at you. Now you apologise for stealing my cat.”

“I tried to save Chilli. You see, your assistant said something about the Master of the House being dead. I thought you were dead. But she was only talking about a show--”

“Yeah, famous Netflix show. It’s good. But that’s still no excuse for taking my cat.”

“Fine.” Ezili glared at him. “I’m sorry for stealing your cat.”

“And for getting into Dawson’s car.”

“And for getting into Dawson’s car.”

“And for leaving with him and liking him.”

“And for—What is your problem with Dawson?”

Instead of answering the question, Harry pulled out his phone, looked at it, and then told Ezili, “Go inside. We’ll continue this talk when I get back.”

He was just about to run when she pulled him back by his sleeve. He gave her a ‘what do you want?’ kind of look as she stammered, “When...when you get back…”

“Yeah?” He stressed out the word, an eyebrow arched impatiently.

“Can you teach me how to read?”

“What?”

“Teach me to read. Are you deaf?”

“You can’t read?”

When Ezili shook her head, Harry’s frown transformed into a smile. “That explains a lot.”

She smacked him on the arm and he gasped and leapt down two steps.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Why are you so aggressive?” Harry winced and backed away from her. “We’ll talk about this later. Now go inside and film a TikTok with Niall or something. I’m late for a photoshoot.”

Ezili opened her mouth to ask him what time he’d be home, but Harry had already run back to his car.

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Harry got home at around 10 PM. He’d had a rough day. His manager had been furious because he had run out on a magazine photoshoot without saying a word to anyone. In his defence, he’d been in a rush, and couldn’t figure out an excuse to cover up for the fact that he’d almost let a mythical creature get loose. He shouldn’t have been so careless and left her with his assistant and Niall. That was his fault. Also, he could never think straight when he was angry. He thought about the look Ezili had given him when he’d pulled her out of the bookstore. The look Dawson had given him. Fucking Dawson. If it wasn’t for him, Harry wouldn’t have had to be mean to Ezi.

“Hey.”

“Jesus!” Harry shouted when the light switched on and he saw Ezili sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. “Wha--Why are you on the floor? Get up.”

“This is Chilli’s favourite spot so I thought I might try to see how comfortable it is. Pretty uncomfortable, I must say.”

Harry rolled his eyes and offered Ezi a hand to help her get to her feet. “Why are you still awake?”

She pulled away from him and rushed over to the table to grab the book Dawson had given her. She shoved it at him. “You promised to teach me to read. This is a collection of fairy tales. Andersen’s Fairy Tales. I noticed that one of the details from The Little Mermaid story was different from the film, so I want to know how the story actually ends in the book.”

Harry sighed as he took the book and looked at the cover. When he glanced up, Ezi was giving him these big puppy dog’s eyes with her hands clasped together in front of her chest. “It’s late,” he said tiredly.

She shook her head. “You promised!”

“I can just tell you the ending.”

“No, I want to read!”

“Fine, fine.” He put his hands up, left palm out, the other holding the book. “I guess there’s still time to teach you the alphabet then we’ll call it a day.”

Harry could have sworn he had never seen anyone as excited about learning as Ezi was, which was quite amusing, he must admit. So they sat on the couch as he taught her the alphabet and how to put letters into words. She was a fast learner, so it didn’t take long for her to memorise everything.

“It’s been three hours and I still can’t read,” Ezili whined as she hit him with a pillow.

Shocked, Harry blinked at her. “That’s not how learning works. You need time.”

“You said my brain was more developed!”

“Yeah, but still!”

Scowling, Ezi kicked Harry’s feet. “You’re the worst teacher ever. I’ll never get to know how it ends.”

“Okay, Miss Drama Queen,” Harry scoffed. “How about I read you the story now, and when you can read on your own, you can practice by rereading it?”

Ezi thought for a moment, then the line between her brows eased, and she nodded once. “But you must teach me everyday until I can read.”

“Fine,” Harry breathed as he opened the book. His body stiffened when Ezi suddenly leaned on him like he was a pillow, her cheek against his arm, and he could feel every beat of her heart.

“Go on,” she urged him, giving him a nudge.

He cleared his throat and opened the book, trying to distract his naughty mind with the innocent words of a fairy tale.

Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for the diadem of a queen...

By the time they’d finished one-third of the story, Ezi had already fallen asleep with her head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry wished he’d read this to her in bed so he wouldn’t have to carry her upstairs now. She was small and slender, but he’d had a bad day, so even the littlest inconvenience could bring down his mood. Cursing under his breath, he picked her up and carried her to the stairs as she curled against his chest like a little cat.

When her eyelids fluttered, he thought she was going to jolt awake, but then her brows knitted, and she murmured, “Mother, please...give me more time. I will bring you the heart…the heart...”

He chuckled and put her down on the bed.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x mc #harry styles x oc #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles series

[liaswritesrobots]

You know how idw Megatron was a miner before the war? And miners did not have the best living situation ect. Can i have a scenario in a soulmate AU where miner!Megatron`s soulmate is one of the nobels? (They do not care that he is a miner no matter what other nobels say)

It wasn't often that someone of a Noble title visited the mines. They only really showed up to check in on progress every once in a blue moon. Which is why everyone found it rather odd that you'd go out of your way to visit that Primus awful mining facility almost every deca-cycle.

They would understand if there was some kind of problem, or even if you benefited from these trips, but since the cost to go there and come back was outweighing any kind of gain they found it foolish, especially since you didn't seem to be turning a profit from these trips. It was strange, but if you wanted to waste your own wealth on these little trips then who were they to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own funds?

Normally you'd take these trips alone, with some personal staff of course, but every once in a while one the others went with you. This time Senator Ratbat insisted on taking the trip with you. It's hard to say no to him, as he doesn't really take it for an answer most of the time. This being one of those times.

It made you more cautious on your journey when another of the higher ups went with you, because you now have to make an elaborate excuse of why you're going and why you'll be away for so long with only one trusted bodyguard. It's tiring.

But in the end, it's always worth it. Seeing the smile on your beloved's face as you two sneak off to talk. The way his optics light up when you bring him new datapads to read. The passion of your conversations in private as you lean on each other and make future plans of getting him out of that horrible mine. It's all worth it.

You make it to the mining facility and quickly try to excuse yourself, making up a story about how you have important business to attend to, only for Ratbat to ask to join you. You stop in your tracks, hands clasping each other behind your back as you turn to face him, "I'm terribly sorry but it's a rather private affair. I can show you the progress being made once I return but for now I must depart on my own."

"Nonsense," he exclaims, "All business here is in an equal share. We all profit off of this mine. Unless of course… you're going behind our backs to make a little extra?" He smirks as he circles you, looking you up and down, before blocking the doorway.

You keep your helm forward, never once following his movement with your optics, and respond flatly, "I can assure you that is not the case. I am merely running a routine check on numbers and equipment. The miners cannot mine with broken equipment after all. I take all the broken equipment they show me to repair."

"Ah so that's why you come here so often? To replace equipment?"

"It is one of the reasons, yes."

"And the others?"

"To keep up with the progress that lines our pockets." You respond.

"I see."

"How much longer do you plan on keeping me here? Time is money after all."

"Oh, by all means, do go on ahead," He steps aside, "I would love to see how this works." He says with a cocky smile.

"Again, I have to go alone, save one bodyguard."

"And why is that?"

"The miners don't take too kindly to us visiting. I wouldn't want to be held accountable for anything that happened to you dear Ratbat."

His smile fades, "Is that so? Ungrateful lot then, aren't they?"

You clench your dentae but stay silent.

"In that case I will wait here for you." He says with a toothy grin.

You turn and leave, picking your most trusted bodyguard to accompany you, and you head out towards the mines.

You weren't lying when you said they don't like you Senators being here, but to be honest, you've come to completely understand why. Fortunately, your lover... your sparkmate, has shown you which tunnels to take to let you safely travel to him, the empty ones that have been long used up that lead to a secret hole in the wall that he and Terminus use to hide away from prying optics and audials from time to time.

You leave your bodyguard at the entrance of mines and make your way through the network of abandoned tunnels, finally squeeze past a rafter into the secret hiding spot.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up." You hear your lover's voice say with a hint of worry, "I was afraid something had happened to you."

"I am alright, my spark," you say leaning down to where the grey mech is sitting, closing your optics and pressing your forehead against his, "I just got held up on the ship is all."

He leans into your helm bump, placing a servo on your cheek.

"Here," you pause, pulling away and rummaging through your subspace to pull out a datapad, "I brought this for you." You hand him the datapad and sit down on the ground beside him, "It's a collection of poems from all across Cybertronian. It's not even been officially released yet."

"How did you get a hold of this then?" He asks, skimming over it.

"I have my ways," you smile, "It helps to be friends with archivists. Here," you run a digit along the screen, "I think you'll really like the one on page four hundred seventy-five." You say before leaning against the wall and letting him read.

You smile as you watch his optics move over the words, a small grin setting on his face.

"It's beautiful," He says turning his helm to you, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet beloved," you press your helm to his once again, "I haven't gotten you out of here yet."

"I was thinking about that actually."

"Oh?" You look at him with curiosity.

"When you're able to get me out of here… may we bring Terminus with us? And Impactor?"

"Of course!" You answer, "Anything you want, you'll have. And it may take a while, but I promise I'll make sure that I sway the people in your favor so that we can make things better for those here in the mines." You say grasping his servo in your own and kissing the back of it.

Megatron smiles and leans his helm to yours, "I have to get back soon, others will get suspicious," he lets out a sigh, "It seems like our meetings here get shorter and shorter each time."

"Do not worry, my love, soon enough we'll be able to be around each other as much as we please." You kiss the top of his helm before standing up.

"I hope so," He smiles, standing and making his way towards the rafter, "I'll see you again tomorrow before you leave right?" He turns to look at you.

"Of course." You smile so warmly at him and he can feel his spark skip a pulse.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Be safe, my spark."

"And you too, beloved."

You wait for him to leave before making your way past the rafter and towards the entrance of the mines, humming to yourself as you walk the tunnels.

That's why you didn't hear Ratbat shuffle out from a tunnel just above the one behind the rafter. He watched you leave with a cheerfully devilish grin before dropping down and dusting himself off.

He may not have heard the whole conversation, but he certainly heard enough. A Senator with a miner conspiring together? And they're lovers? This will be the greatest scandal he's shown in eons! He can't wait to come back tomorrow and get some footage of you two together.

#maccadam #macaddam #transformers #Megatron #idw #idw Megatron #Megatron x Reader #MegatronXReader #bot reader #mech reader #Ratbat #my writing #scenarios #asks #anonymous

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

.

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

.

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

.

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

.

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

.

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

.

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

.

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first au #danger first #fic #fanfic