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songbirdstyles · 5 years

Text

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well.

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.”

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

---

When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back?

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore.

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is.

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car.

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t.

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

“I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading.

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you.

They make you think of him, though.

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day.

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made. You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance.

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly.

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door.

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #yall i am rlly proud of this but yes im sorry it took so long to come out #i had so much fun writing it and im so happy w it #please leave feedback!!! id appreciate it so much

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sugakoni · 3 years

Note

Fic request please🤗

Daddy Heis is an angsty trash man because he has feelings for y/n but doesn’t think she feels the same.

He think she sticks around because she was more or less forced to become his assistant when she got captured by mother Miranda (y/n got lost, somehow ended up in the village and Miranda gave her to Karl to decide her fate).

Karl gets colder and distant towards y/n because the feelings freak him out.

Y/n gets sick of his shit. There’s shouting, helluva lot of tension that ends in him grabbing y/n and kissing her.

(maybe some rough, passionate smut 👉🏻🥺👈🏻 too)

(a/n): i saw this request last night and i literally needed to write it asap. so,,, here that is. teehee. thank you, anon!

warnings: porn with some plot. this is basically just pure smut after their argument. karl doing something with his cigar. praise. degradation. this was so fun to write.

word count: 2318

pairing: karl heisenberg x fem!reader

one-shot under the cut (heis simps, eat up.)

His somewhat desolate life was disrupted by your abrupt intrusion, though you were given to him under Miranda’s orders to decide your fate, the man seemed to differ from the people he called his brother and sisters. He kept you around, making you an assistant to his creations. But, he couldn’t help but admit his feelings towards you were somewhat more than… professional.

Karl thought he was crazy for feeling this way, feeling as if he knew the answer that he forever longed for from you. You were only there to help him, to survive. Surely, you had no mutual feelings towards him, which made him grow distant.

Any time you waltzed your way into his work room for the day from your room that he made you, his eyebrows would be tightly knit in a slight annoyance. He couldn’t stand to be around you with these nagging feelings, and just hearing your voice made it even worse.

Today, it was no different.

You had made your way into his workroom, a good morning leaving your lips in a sing-song tone. He gave you a small, dismissive wave, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

To you, this sudden distance and cold response from the man you were supposed to work with seemed harsh. You felt like you had done something wrong, but he would’ve told you if you did. Your heart stung, thinking about your own feelings towards the man. You stood beside him, arms crossed, and he didn’t even bother to look over at you.

A huff left you, which caused him to finally glance up. You looked at the pictures in front of you, anger prominent in your face as he studied you. You slammed your fists on the table, and Karl didn’t even budge, just rolling his eyes in response.

“What the fuck is wrong?! What did I do?!” You exclaimed, looking over at him. Karl threw what he was working on onto the table in front of you, a loud clunk being hard once it hit. You jumped, watching him forcibly take off his gloves and put them to the side.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replied, now facing you fully. You turned your own body, hands moving as you spoke.

“You have been cold, distant, and honestly a douchebag. What the fuck did I do to make you want to treat me like this?!” You yelled at him again. His own face then scowled in anger, before he moved to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I asked you a question! What did I do! What can I do to fix it?” You whined a bit as you spoke, everything coming out as a plea. Karl just stood there, trying to think of what to say.

“What can I do!”

“Would you just shut the fuck up?!” Karl snapped, which caused you to wince a bit.

You blinked back the tears that formed in your eyes at his sudden choice of words, glancing away as the tension grew in the room. It felt hot, heavy, and certainly uncomfortable. You played with a stray hem in your jeans pocket.

“You are fucking annoying. I took you in to help me, and now I am stuck here with these feelings I know you will never give back,” Karl admitted. You snapped your head back at him.

“So your response is to be cold and now you call me annoying?!”

You had to admit, him saying that he had the same feelings for you as you did him really lifted a weight off of your shoulders. But, the way he was going about it was testing your patience. You bit at your tongue.

“Yes! You come in here everyday, with a smile on your face, telling me good morning n’ all that shit. And ya don’t like me, so every fucking time I hear it, it pisses me off,” Karl threw his glasses onto the table as well.

You pursed your lips together.

“You’re stupid.”

“What’d you just call me?”

“You. Are. Stupid,” You repeated, pointing a finger at him. He immediately grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him and pressing his lips against yours. You melted under his touch, brain going 100 miles per hour as you kissed him back.

The kiss was rough, teeth clashing together as you two stood there. A moan left your lips at the feeling, which caused Karl to press his tongue against yours. You gasped at the feeling, the taste of a cigar he must’ve had moments prior to you coming in still lingered.

He pulled away after a while, breathing heavy. Your own chest rose up and down with his own, Karl’s eyes flickering all over your face before pulling you in again. The grip on your wrist left, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Kissing him back with such passion, your hands knocking his hat off of his head. He grunted against your lips, moving his hands down to cup your thighs, picking you up, and setting you on the table.

Karl was in between your legs, his hips pressing against your core. The two of you never broke contact with each other, his hands rubbing against your sides, occasionally going up to grasp at your breasts through your shirt. You pulled away to breathe again, looking into his eyes as he looked into yours.

You wrapped a hand around the assortment of things hanging around his neck, pulling him flushed against your chest, your lips against his ear.

“Fuck me, Karl. Fuck. Me.” You whispered, and it caused a small shiver to go down his spine, but he kept his composure.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he chuckled lowly, the sound going straight to your panties. You smirked a bit at his reaction, pulling away slightly before he loved to grasp the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling your head back forcefully.

“You think it’s funny to be a little bitch like that, huh?”

You whimpered, biting at your lip but a small smile was on your face. He tsked, going to kiss at your neck. Biting harshly against your delicate skin, but it wasn’t enough to draw blood. You gasped at the sensation, and he lowly mumbled a “mine” against you. You tried to clench your thighs together, but that ended up making your legs press harsh against his hips.

Karl smirked to himself, moving to remove your shirt. Your bra did barely nothing to cover you, your nipples perked slightly through the thin material. He moved to pinch at one of them, which made you arch your back into his chest.

Karl moved his hand away from your hair, that hand going to the button of your jeans. You blushed, feeling him unbutton it and unzip the zipper.

“Off.”

You obliged, moving to tug your jeans off. He glanced down, seeing that your panties were absolutely soaked. Karl placed his hand against your core, which caused you to shiver.

“Look at ya… all needy for me, makes you regret saying what you said, hm?” Karl asked, glancing up to see your face. Your mouth was slightly open, breathing a bit shallowly in thought.

“I asked you a question.”

You bit at your lip as the tips of three of his fingers began to rub your clit through your panties, a soft whimper leaving the back of your throat.

“Y-yes… It really does,” you whispered.

He hummed at the response, pushing your garment to the side to expose your folds. A blush painted your skin, before a moan erupted from you when he slid the three fingers into you that were just rubbing into your clit. They stretched you slightly, and Karl grinned at the way you reacted.

His other hand pulled your bra off of your breasts, leaving it on but exposing your chest to the air in the room. Karl groped your tit for a moment, fingers curling in your pussy which caused you to gasp. Soon, the hand was on your jaw, forcing your head down.

“See how wet you are for me? How your pretty little cunt is just begging me to fuck it? You really think I’m stupid?” He spoke. You whimpered, squirming a bit as his fingers pressed up against your sweet spot.

“Fuck.. no, I-I don’t… you just don’t think I-I like you and I do… Christ, Karl, keep moving your fingers,” you begged, starting to rock your hips against the fingers in you. He immediately grabbed your hips, forcing you to stop.

“Did I fucking say you could move?”

You whined, screwing your eyes shut as he started to thrust his fingers into you at a rough, fast pace. His hand traveled up to your neck, wrapping around it and applying a bit of pressure. Your eyes stayed glued to his face.

You took in every bit of him in this moment, how he had a small smirk against his lips, a slight bit of sweat on his forehead as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy. A groan left your lips, clenching around him which caused him to laugh a bit.

“Such a needy bitch. Ya wanna cum?”

You gave a nod, and he pulled his fingers out of you as soon as you gave your response. Your nose scrunched up in slight annoyance, and he released your throat from his grip. A prominent mark from his hand.

“What the fuck?!” You whined out, shaking a bit from the lack of a climax you had reached.

Karl moved to unbuckle his belt, undoing the zipper of his pants and moving to pull his cock out. It was hard, the tip glistening in pre-cum. He gave it a few pumps, a soft grunt leaving him.

You bit at your lip, watching him for a moment before he looked up at you. He pulled a chair up, sitting down on it and patting his lap. You shakily got up off of the table, your slick sticking to your thighs. You moved to straddle his waist, his cock nudging against your aching core.

Karl huffed out, going to grab a cigar from the pocket in his shirt and pressing it in between his lips. He lit it up, his other hand against your thigh, gripping harshly at the skin.

“C’mon darlin’. Get goin.”

You gave a nod, moving to press the tip of his cock against your entrance. You slid down, gasping at how he stretched you out in the best of ways. Karl grunted, smoke leaving his lips and hitting you in the face. You started to move your hips, your hands on pressed against his chest.

Tiny gasps kept left your lips, echoing in the room. Karl continued to smoke, watching as you bounced up and down on his cock. Taking in the sight, your breasts slightly going up and down as you moved.

“Ohhh. Look at ya… my little whore, getting off on my cock,” he hummed, moving to press the tip of his cigar against the skin of your stomach. A sharp gasp left you, the pain mixing with the pleasure that you felt. The tip of his cock pressed against your sweet spot, causing you to mewl out.

“So pretty… So so pretty,” he slightly praised, putting the cigar back in his mouth. Karl moved his hands to your hips, halting your movements before he began to thrust up into you.

You cried out, your high from earlier creeping up. You gasped, a thin layer of sweat on your body as you grasped harshly onto his shirt. Karl hummed, the occasional cloud of smoke leaving from his nose. He grunted harshly at how your pussy clenched around him, before pulling you off of his cock, halting your release yet again.

“Karl!” You let out. He moved to make you stand up, placing his cigar on the ashtray on the table. Karl turned you around, bending you over the desk in a sudden swift motion. You pressed your cheek against the cool metal of the table, shuddering as his finger swiftly went up your folds.

He stayed silent, his tip replacing his finger, grabbing his cigar again and placing the tip on the skin of your back. You seethed at the pain, moving your hips back and his cock began to slightly fill you up. Karl bit at his lip, placing the cigar down again and slamming the rest of himself into your aching pussy.

“Fuck!” You cried, and he started to thrust in and out of you at a quick pace. The sounds of his skin slapping slightly against yours filled your ears, your eyes screwed shut as ecstasy filled your body. Release already wanting to hit, and you groaned loudly as soon as your pussy clenched around him, cumming all over.

Karl let out a chuckle, still thrusting as you rode out your high. Whines and whimpers left your mouth, before you felt him release inside of you. The warmth of his seed wanted you to beg for more, but you knew you were slightly spent. Karl’s breathing was heavy as he pulled out, your cum mixed with his dripping from your cunt.

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual,” he whispered, helping you stand back up straight.

You looked back at him, a tired smile on your face as you sighed out. You fixed your bra, grabbing the rag he offered you and wiping the cum that dripped. He watched you, not knowing what to do to help, before handing you your clothes after he got his pants and boxers situated.

“It always has been,” you responded as you put your clothes on. Your hair was a mess, your face still red and ecstasy still laced in your words. Karl smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Good.”

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg smut #heisenberg #lord heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #smut #this is smut #pwp fic #requests

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blinderspeaky · 4 years

Text

Amoret | Tommy Shelby

A/n: So this is my first piece of writing here and I apologise if it's too long! idk how accurate this is but I had fun writing it so that's all that matters I guess

Cora is going through a dry spell because everyone is too scared to make a move on her because of her best friend, Thomas Shelby, so he takes matters into his own hands -- literally.

Word count: 23,450

"I can't believe you did that." I flirtatiously giggle as if I didn't have to scrub my hands raw to get rid of the blood from the gory mess that happened just a few hours prior.

"I needed to get out somehow, I just didn't realise I was trashing hundreds of pounds worth of art." The handsome stranger laughs, leaning into me as we get more familiar and comfortable with each other.

"Terrible, just terrible." I smile fondly, my red lipstick gleaming at him as I fiddle with my fruity cocktail.

"I must say, you have the most gorgeous smile, if I knew how to paint I'd never run out of inspiration as long as you're around." The man charms and I have to suppress an eye roll.

What does a girl have to do to just get a bit of pleasure round here?

I'm not here to be charmed, I'm here for a fun time.

"Thank you, you really know how to charm a girl." I say, crossing my leg over the other, so that my leg is in between his legs from where he's sat on the bar stool.

"Only the pretty ones." He replies, pushing the little curled bits of hair framing my face behind my ear-- the rest of my hair is placed in a delicate low bun, pinned back with expensive pins. He rubs his knuckles against my cutting cheek bone, seemingly admiring my face. "It's unfair how beautiful you are."

"What are you gonna do? Kiss me about it?" I make the first move.

He smirks.

"Thinking about it."

His eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips, and he's about to lean in when a voice interrupts.

"Cora." Tommy says as he walks up to us. "I'm going to head back to my office, I'll see you later to finish business, alright?"

"Yeah, just you?" I question, staring up at my best friend.

"Yeah, Arthur's pissed in the back room, thought I'd let you know, but everyone is still here." Tommy answers, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"See yous." I sing, ready to turn back to my entertainment tonight.

"Bye." Tommy says and gives the handsome stranger a once over before leaning down to say something into my ear. I'm used to his teasing and he's used to my punches after, so I let out a huff, ready to hear what he has to say this time. "Careful, I've heard this one bites."

I look into his eyes with an annoyed look. "That's why I'm here."

Tommy lets out a quiet chuckle before wordlessly leaving the building, leaving me with the pretty boy.

Looking back at the stranger, I'm startled to find him wide eyed and inching away from me by the second.

"What?" I ask, taking a sip from my drink.

"That was... that was Thomas Shelby." He says, frozen.

"So?" I lift a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"He's a Peaky Blinder."

"So am I, yet you've been talking to me just fine." I state, knowing where this is going; this has happened way too many times recently.

People know of me but most people couldn't put a face to my name, which is why this happens a lot. I'm ready for the onslaught of rejection and a hint of terror.

"You're a Peaky Blinder?" He utters as if he can't believe it.

I nod.

"I've gotta, uh, go, have a nice evening but I must get going." He says and quickly gets off his stool to rush out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet.

Letting out a huff, I finish my drink before hopping off my stool to join everyone in the back room, everyone is more or less smashed, a slur of half hearted cheers go around room when I enter and it makes me smile. I sit down next to Finn, who offers me a cigarette, which I accept and light it up, tilting my head towards the ceiling showcasing the thin, long scar on my throat, I blow the smoke out, watching it billow towards the ceiling.

"Why are men so scared of me and Tommy?" I grumble.

"Because they know if they fuck up, either of you will rip their spleen out, darling." Polly comments, her slender fingers twitching her cigarette to drop off the ash. "Individually or together, doesn't matter." She adds.

"Match made in heaven... or hell, depends how you look at it." Michael states before downing his drink.

"How do you do it?" I ask Polly, taking a drag of my cigarette.

"Well, for starters, I'm not as ruthless as you and I guess I'm not attached to the hip with Thomas." She replies nonchalantly.

"What you need to do, right, Cora, is find a man who is handsome and can take a good punch." Arthur tells me and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Because whoever it is, he's gonna get punched by someone you know and by punched I mean shot."

"No one is bulletproof, Arthur." I say, not taking on his drunk advice.

"I am." John laughs.

"No, no you're fucking not." Finn retorts.

"How do girls not get scared of you guys?" I question, fiddling with my necklace. "On an extremely good day you guys can look intimidating and scary, how do you get girls?"

They all scoff at my teasing.

"Fuck off, alright." Arthur grumbles, knocking back another glass.

"The girls like the thrill. They come from a very traditional family and want a part of the danger but they also think they can change us." John answers my question seriously.

"Never fucking works though, does it?" Finn barks a laugh, nudging John.

We continue to chat for a while before I get bored and I'm still slightly pissed off about earlier, so I say my goodbyes not that anyone's really listening, too drunk to function so I slip out and step out into the brisk chilly streets of Birmingham.

Twisting and turning until I get to my destination, I open the door with the key I've had for literal years and brush my shoes off before stepping inside, closing the door behind me.

Making my way through the room, I wordlessly open Tommy's office, finding him sat at his desk going through paper work, cigarette in hand; he looks up, dropping his pen but goes back to his work.

"You're here earlier than I thought." He states, his tone light.

I huff, mad at him although I know it's not his fault.

"Same." I reply tightly, throwing my bag down into the little seating area in the corner of his office before I sit down in the chair opposite him.

"You don't have to be here, I can do this on my own, you know. I'm not forcing you to be here." Tommy replies in a sincere voice, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"I know, but no one wants me out there." I counteract, leaning back in my chair, a sour look on my face.

Tommy looks like he wants to ask but decides against it; he knows when I'll come around.

"Right, uh... so I talked to some connections and they said they know about the plans but are refusing to tell me any details, and I'm debating with either paying them a visit or selling their information." Tommy informs and just like that I'm back into business mode again, forgetting about my interaction from earlier.

Then we talk about business, business plans, plans for the future, and just random things whilst having a laugh.

As things are winding down, Tommy gets up to grab a drink from his own bar cart that he has in his office.

"Do you want one?" Tommy offers, looking over his shoulder at me.

"Sure." I accept and he gets another glass out, beginning to pour our drinks. I sink into my chair, rubbing my eyes as I let out a groan. I'm still bothered about earlier.

That guy just rubbed me the wrong way, it's happened plenty of times before tonight; I'm best friends with one the most notoriously dangerous person in the midlands, I guess tonight was just my breaking point.

If I saw him again, I wouldn't hesitate to send a few promises to him.

"Fuck, how come you can be a manwhore but I can't even get a single person to be interested in me for more than 20 minutes?" I question, accepting my glass from Tommy when he approaches me.

"Long enough to get the job done though." Tommy jokes, sitting down in the chair next to me, our feet hovering above one another where our legs are crossed. "I think it's a little thing called misogyny."

"Little thing my ass." I bitterly chuckle, taking a sip. "You're at fault for all this, by the way."

"The fuck did I do?" He asks with a light laugh, before taking a sip of his drink.

"You're the reason all these people get scared to either even approach me or go any further than some harmless flirting." I explain, tucking some hair behind my ear as I send him a look that only widens his smirk.

"Not my fault people are so delirious with terror when it comes to me." Tommy shrugs, placing his glass on the table beside his chair and he laughs at my disbelief.

"Yeah, because you definitely didn't put on a show at the garrison last month that we're still finding blood from." I roll my eyes fondly.

"Got to show my enemies what I'm capable of." Thomas brushes my words off. "And hey, it's not like you're innocent yourself. Didn't you destroy a guy's face so much they the police couldn't even identify him just a few days ago?" He teases, licking his lips.

"No, doesn't ring any bells." I shake my head.

"Funny, maybe that's why men are scared of you and won't approach you. I for one, am absolutely terrified of you." Tommy states, making me laugh knowing that's he's only half joking.

"Most people can't put name to my face so they generally don't know me, therefore it's your fault." I tell him, placing my drink on the matching side table next to me.

"Really?" He sighs

"Yes! Just earlier tonight I was talking to some guy and then you came along, Mr. I will cut someones ears off if they look at me, and you scared the bejeezus out of him, turned him into a puddle of foolery. Then I told him I'm connected to you and he freaked the fuck out, made an excuse to leave and he practically tripped over his own feet to get away from me." I reply grumpily, sitting up in my chair.

"Are you done?" Tommy asks, sending me a look.

"No, no I'm fucking not. I've not had sex in like 2 months, do you even know what that feels like? Most of the time it's not even me, it's you that scares them off!" I answer exasperated, watching him down the rest of his drink, placing the empty glass back on the table.

"No, I don't, actually. Why don't you just go outside of Birmingham for a fuck?" Tommy suggests, leaning forward on his knees.

"Fuck you. Mate, I've fucking tried and if we weren't literally sewn together that might work but everywhere I am, you are, vice versa. It's also such a faff to go all the way out or Birmingham for some dick that's probably mediocre. You ju---"

I'm cut off from my rant by Tommy's lips on mine.

I'm so confused and stunned by his actions that I don't know how to react. Freezing, I just sit there for a moment before I decide to kiss him back for a few moments before I pull back sort of abruptly, not in a big deal.

"What are you doing?" I question, searching his crystal clear blue eyes that are mere inches away from my face.

"If everyone else is so scared of me that they can't approach you, may as well take matters into my own hands." Thomas explains, and he gingerly cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone, his eyes soft.

I lean in closer to him, thinking over how this could play out, what it would do to our years long friendship.

It's no secret that we find each other attractive, we've said it to each other and everyone around us, but I can honestly say that nothing has ever happened between us. Two best friends that have expressed our admiration for each other.

I don't know if I want to ruin that.

Our friendship is incredibly strong and personal, I don't know if one steamy night could just throw that away.

My desire acts on it's own and as Tommy is searching my green eyes, I close the gap between us, moving in perfect sync with each other as I play with his hair and he squeezes my waist.

It's like I'm slipping into a trance and all I can think of is Tommy, I'm consumed with all things Tommy. This moment right now is making me feel lighter than air, I've got sparks on my stomach at how he's making me feel.

The burning need to be closer is killing me and it seems like Tommy is feeling the same as he uncups my cheek and places his hands on my waist, pulling me onto his lap.

Thomas agonizingly slowly trails his hand up my thigh, his fingertips grazing my exposed skin where my dress has risen up, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Tommy's hand comes in contact with the pocket knife stuffed into my stocking and he pulls away slightly, letting out a low throaty chuckle, "Classic Cora." He mumbles against my mouth, making me smile, and he pulls deadly weapon from my stocking, placing it on the table beside him. Giving my hip a momentary squeeze, Tommy swipes his tongue against my lip asking for entrance, parting my lips, his tongue meets mine and he begins to explore my mouth, seeing what gets a reaction from me.

His fingers find my precariously placed tied up hair, pulling the few pins out and then the hair tie, sending my thick, dark brown almost black curls cascading down my back, causing Tommy to let out a sound of appreciation and bury his fingers into my hair.

I don't usually have my hair down as it's easy to grab on to and it just feels more professional to have it up. I've also got so much of it that it gets in the way when I'm trying to work.

Disconnecting from Tommy I attach my mouth to his neck, leaving my mark. Tommy tilts his head, giving me space to find his sweet spot and he lets out a nice little moan as I set to work.

The pending feeling of his hand trailing my thigh is overwhelming and his fingertips approaching where I need him the most makes me pause, my bottom lip dragging up the skin of his neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas whispers into my ear, his pursed lips tugging at my earlobe.

"Fuck no." I consent, and his hand meets my underwear.

Beginning to confidently rub me through my underwear, I let out a shaky breath against Tommy's neck and I instinctively open my legs wider for him. His touch is as light as a feather, desperate for more friction, I grind on his fingers letting out a moan.

"Mm, sound so good for me." Tommy rasps, his teeth grazing the skin on my prominent collarbone. Moving my fancy lacy underwear to the side, without hesitation Tommy runs his fingers through my folds, collecting my wetness and bringing it up to my clit.

All I can do is bite my lip to conceal my moans.

Trailing my hand down his front until I meet is trousers and I begin to palm is growing semi, which makes him let out a groan.

I declare that as my favourite sound.

Suddenly in one swift motion, I'm moved off of Tommy's lap and placed right on the edge of his hardwood desk and he's standing right in front of me, his gorgeous blue eyes blown out, looking at me as if I were the only person in world, and he's hungry.

"You're really pretty." Tommy utters.

Before I can reply, Thomas captures my lips again in another sensual kiss that's full of tongue, noises of appreciation, and hands are roaming as we keep involuntarily grinding against each other.

Pushing his suit jacket off and watching it drop to the floor, Tommy's hands find the back of my dress, making quick work of undoing the expensive fabric, and pulling it off of me, leaving me in my lingerie that I definitely didn't plan on letting my best friend see tonight whilst he's in his trousers, crisp white shirt, and extortionate looking waistcoat.

"Wow." My best friend says, slightly out of breath, taking in my figure and how off guard and innocent I look.

Unlike the brutally violent and devious businesswoman I am.

"Unbelievable."

"Shut up and touch me." I chuckle bashfully, weirded out at how special he's making me feel.

I feel extremely exposed but in a weird way, I kind of like it.

Tommy smiles fondly and presses a series of short kisses to my mouth before I take hold of his lip, flicking my tongue against him, causing him to tighten his grip on me.

Disconnecting, Thomas kisses down my neck, leaving a mark or two on his way down, until he gets to my chest and I arch into him. Kissing my cleavage as he cups my right boob, his lips trail down my torso, leaving a trail of fire behind him.

Dropping down to his knees, Tommy takes hold of my hips pressing a gentle kiss below my belly button before he snaps open my garter one by one and effortlessly drags my stockings down my legs.

Grazing up my legs with his hands or mouth, Tommy after what feels like years pulls my panties down, throwing them out of sight, I watch as his eyes light up and if possible I feel even more exposed.

Flicking his eyes up to me, looking like he's asking for my consent, I brush my fingers through his hair and give him a subtle nod.

Burying his head between my thigh, Tommy licks a strip up my heat, making me let out a moan, and bury my fingers into his thick hair.

Leaning back onto his desk, Tommy pushes my thighs apart so he can get better access as he attaches his mouth so my core, sending me to all sorts of heaven.

"Fuck, Tommy." I whine, tugging at his hair as I arch my back.

"Let it out, we're here alone, scream my name, let me hear how much you want me." Tommy urges with a slight smirk.

Without any warning, Tommy pumps a finger into me and I conform to his wishes at that, not caring how loud I was being, I let his name fall from my lips along with my moans.

My legs shudder under his hand, he lapped at me as if I were his last meal, reveling in the sounds I was making, the sounds he was earning.

I was close and we both knew that, so Tommy speeds up his movements and adds another finger inside of me, curling up.

"Fuck, oh my god, Tommy, don't stop." I pant, tugging at his hair.

Tommy had me withering in moments, my fingers tugging at his hair which made him groan, only adding to the pleasure he was giving me.

"Fuck, I'm gonna---" I began which only spurred Thomas on, he sucked harder and pumped his fingers faster. My breathing hitched and shaky, breathy, and loud sounds left my lips as I clenched around him, my body shuddering from the orgasm he'd worked out of me.

He continues his motions making sure I'm done, then pulls his fingers out, standing up right, brushing some hair out of my face.

"Such a pretty girl." He whispers, eyeing my lips.

Tommy's thumb runs over my bottom lip and I open my mouth, he brings his fingers that were inside of me to my lips, and I stick my tongue out and he inserts his finger into mouth, letting me suck my juices off of his fingers; his eyes seemingly in a trance at how my mouth is working.

"Mm, just like that." He whispers.

Standing up to my full height, I guide Tommy to swap places with me and he's very much willing to do so, peppering kisses to his jaw before dropping to my knees, I innocently look up at him through my lashes, loving how he's so aware of all my movements and how he's like putty in my hands.

"May I?" I raise an eyebrow, digging my fingertips under his belt.

Tommy leans down and cups my jaw, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. "Of course." I grin in delight and snatch a quick kiss as he begins to retreat.

Undoing his belt, I take that off and throw it away before undoing his button and pulling down his zipper. Palming him through his undone trousers, Tommy lets out a hitched breath, it's a barely there pressure, enough to feel something but no where enough as much as he like.

"Stop teasing." He groans, bracing himself on his desk and his knuckles are milky white from how hard he's holding on to his desk.

I chuckle darkly. "Tommy, I haven't even started."

Continuing my actions mixing up my pressure and pace as he throws his head back in annoyance.

Pulling him out of his underwear letting him spring free, Thomas groans when I grab him, making my mouth water. This sight alone could give me immense pleasure.

The sight of me on my knees in front of him, him practically fully clothed with his dick out, just calling out for me to suck, all whilst in the middle of his office.

With my best friend let alone.

I would love to tease him for hours but the overwhelming urge to hear Tommy moan, moan my name and pull my hair gets the best of me.

Tightening my grip on him, I wrap my lips around his tip that's already leaking precum, sucking lightly, which makes him throw his head back in pleasure.

"So pretty, such a pretty cock." I utter, licking his entire length and wrapping my mouth around him.

"Fuck, Cora." Tommy gasps, threading his hand in my hair to keep me there, and I let out a hum, causing him to tighten his grip on my hair as he lets out an estranged moan.

Taking as much as I possibly can into my mouth, I begin to work my magic, pumping whatever I can't with my hand whilst Tommy breathes heavily and lets out his moans above me.

The sight of him with his head thrown back as he moans my name whilst he half heartedly guides me with his hand, too lost in the pleasure to properly commits to it, is ingrained in my mind.

We're completely lost in the moment, right now it's just him and I, there's nothing else in our mind except lust and each other, and I'm alright with that.

"Oh my... fuck, I can't l---" Tommy cuts his pleasured rambling off and lets out a large breath before pulling me off of him. "I wanna finish inside of you." Tommy states breathlessly.

I wordlessly stand up, more than willing to conform to his needs and begin to undress him, his hands pulling off his clothes as fast as he can until he's completely stark naked in the middle of his office with his best friend.

Realising I've still got my bra on, I undo the back and pull the straps down, watching it fall the floor.

Tommy and I stand in front of each other, completely enamoured with each other, feeling extremely exposed but I like it.

"Gorgeous." Thomas whispers before pressing his lips to mine, gingerly holding my face in his hands.

Thomas guides me back a few steps to his desk and I prop myself upon it, as Tommy's hands roam.

Taking hold of himself, Tommy runs his tip through my dripping folds, the both of us letting out a shaky breath.

"You ready?" Tommy questions, tucking some hair behind my ears before pressing his forehead against mine.

"Mhm." I hum, running my hand down his back.

Capturing my lips in a quick kiss, Tommy lines himself up with my entrance and pushes in until he's done to the hilt.

"Fuck." We say in unison, making us breathe a chuckle.

Beginning to move his hips, Tommy buries his face in my neck, dragging his mouth wherever he pleases, exploring my skin. I hold the back of his neck, trying to stay afloat as my toes curl, and we're too far gone to care when expensive things fall from Tommy's desk.

***

"You should wear your hair down more often." Tommy tells me softly as he's propped up on his elbow looking down at me as I lie on my back, settling into the fairly large seating area Tommy has in his office.

"It's so long, it gets in the way." I pout, rubbing my eye.

"I like it." He sincerely says, picking up a lock and twirling it around his finger.

We're have gentle pillow talk without the pillows, just looking at each other in a different way as we lie in our underwear in the warm room, talking in quiet voices as if the whole world could hear us.

"I like your hair, very imaginative." I tease, combing his locks with my fingers.

"Rude." He grumbles, poking me in the side making me jerk as I let out a laugh.

"When you first get it cut it feels like velcro." I chuckle, making him grin.

"Yeah, I've just got the worst barber." Tommy smirks, playing with my fingers.

"Bitch." I laugh, ruffling his velcro like hair.

Every other Sunday Tommy sits in my kitchen letting me cut his hair as we bitch about business or just forgetting about work altogether.

"Talented at your craft but the most annoying barber I've ever met." He shakes his head, amused.

"I tell you each time, I don't mean to tickle your neck or catch your ear, it just happens." I defend myself, making him laugh.

"I don't mean to stab you, it just happens!" Tommy imitates me, making me poke him in the ribs which only makes him laugh harder. "If only people knew of your barbering skills and not your knife wielding skills, maybe they wouldn't be so scared of you."

"If only people knew of your sewing skills, they wouldn't be so scared of your gun ridden hand." I retort with a fond smile, looking up at how pretty he looks in this light, with the small matching fond smile of his face.

"Shh, or I'll tell people you are a professional at juggling." Tommy smirks, pushing some hair out of my face.

"Yeah, with knives, that's cool as fuck." I reply, passionate about my talent.

"Careful or we'll send you away to go to the circus." Tommy chuckles, pulling me in for a smiley kiss.

I've always been known to wake up really late, always the last one up, the last one to finish breakfast if at all, and always the last one out of the door in the morning. It's not that I stay out really late, I'm usually at home at a reasonable time, I cosy down in my homely home, and I just relax after the usually hectic day and yet I still wake up late.

Except today.

I wake up tangled in a mess of limbs, Tommy's arms wrapped around me and I suck in a breath, wishing on everything in the world that he doesn't wake up. Easily slipping out of his grasp, I sit on the edge of the large ottoman, rubbing my face before letting out a sigh.

I need to get dressed and be out of here before Thomas wakes up, I do not want to have the awkward conversation of the morning after.

Quickly and quietly, I put my dress back on, throw my hair up as I approach the window, pulling one of the slats down to see what it's like at this ungodly hour of 5 in the morning, the Sun is just starting to rise, highlighting the permanent haze of smoke above Birmingham.

Shoving my ankle boots on, I tug the zips up and tip toe towards the door so that my heels don't click against the wooden floors.

Closing the door behind me as silently as possible, I let out a big breath when I succeed and begin to walk out the building that I visit everyday.

I know I'm going to see Thomas again in just a few hours but hopefully we'll both be consumed in work to talk about what happened. God I hope no one will pick up on what happened.

I don't regret last night at all and I can say that with my whole chest but I also love my friendship with Tommy, and I hope one night of mind blowing, amazing sex won't ruin that.

I've no idea where we stand and that scares me.

That's my best friend, he'll always be my best friend.

Opening up the door to my house that I never got to see last night, I begin to tidy up a few things as I've got some time before I have to head into work. This is my haven, this is wear I escape work, I try not to bring business back here, this is my safe place so I have to have it clean.

Shoving an old newspaper into the bin, I begin to make a bite of breakfast and head into my bedroom whilst it cooks so I can get properly dressed.

Pulling my wardrobe open, brushing my fingers over the hangers until I find a suitable item a clothing; a navy blue dress that gives the illusion that it's off the shoulder but it's got a see through mesh-like material hanging from my shoulders with tiny multicoloured flowers embroidered into it, it's cinched at the waist but it's got a wavy extra bit of fabric above my chest, the length is slightly longer than I usually go for as it's inches shy from my ankles, whilst I usually go for just below the knee dresses but I like it.

Just about being able to do it up myself, I pick out some appropriate shoes with a tall heel as I'm surrounded by a lot of men so I hate being the shortest person in the room.

Plus Tommy is quite a bit taller than me and he always teases me for that, so I use my heel to either kick him in the shin or step on his toes.

Gently brushing through my hair to make sure it doesn't frizz up on me, I throw it up in an intricate low bun, leaving some large parts out to frame my face.

Going back downstairs to fetch my breakfast which I eat whilst I read this morning's paper, before I head out of the door.

***

"Well I'll say, this has got to be a first." Arthur laughs, leaning back in his chair as I enter the betting shop.

"Wow," Polly starts, looking at her watch bewildered. "Only 45 minutes late."

Even though I got up at the ass crack of dawn, I'm still late as I may or may not of got preoccupied with the book I've been reading recently and then I got caught up chatting with some people on my way over here.

"I usually expect to see you at around 10 or 11." John smirks, taking his cigar out of his mouth.

"What can I say? Don't get used to it." I say, my eyes flickering towards Tommy's office where he seems to be as of now and I can't help by think about last night.

"It's almost as if you're acting professional and playing by the rules." Polly sarcastically replies, hovering above Arthur.

"Never." I shake my head, placing my bag on my desk then hanging my long coat on the coat hanger.

"Tommy's in a bad mood, so watch out." John jokes, swinging in his chair.

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, looking at him.

"Well, he's not really in any mood, he's just brooding in silence and doesn't want to interact or talk to anyone." Polly rolls her eyes,making her way over to her own work station. "Maybe you can sort him out." She adds, with a small smile.

Doubt it.

"I've gotta get my forms so I have to interact with him." I huff and brace myself as I open the door to his office, I've never knocked before so I'm not gonna start now.

"Good morning." Michael greets me, sitting in the chair that Tommy kissed me in.

"Morning." I say back, my eyes flicking up to Tommy who's not taking his eyes off of his work in front of him.

"Do you even know what this time of day looks like?" Michael teases, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry, Michael, she's been up for hours, I'm sure Cora loves the sunrise." Tommy states before I can even think of replying to Michael.

I glare at him as he leans back in his chair, lighting up his cigarette not even looking at me.

If he wants to be hostile, I can always beat him at that.

"Practically pulled an all nighter, was busy with a piece of work." I tell Michael but my words are aimed at Tommy, and I'm right because Tommy can be a piece of work when he wants to be.

Tommy just exhales his smoke and looks at me devoid of any emotion as I refuse to look at him.

"Should've asked for a hand, I'd of been more than willing." Michael says, completely oblivious to Tommy and I's quips.

"No, couldn't do that to you." I wave him off. "Anyway, I only came in here to get my forms." I say, finally looking at Tommy in the eyes, waiting for him to give them to me as they're in his drawer.

He just stares at me, his cigarette burning in his hand, seeming like there's a million words in his head that he wants to say yet absolutely thoughtless at the same time.

"Run along then, Michael." Tommy says as he hands Michael a file, which Michael wordlessly takes and exits the room.

Letting out a huff, I walk around his desk and crouch down next to him to open his bottom drawer.

"You're a twat, Tom." I grumble, grabbing the wad and standing up.

"No what you were saying la---" Tommy gets cut off by me slamming the stupid forms on his desk and the grabbing his own gun from his holster and pressing it below his jaw as I hold his throat, pushing him back in his chair.

"Finish that sentence, I dare you." I prompt him, looking at his slightly taken aback eyes. "You know I'll do it."

He stays silent, clearly picking up on my vibe.

Putting pressure on my hands one last time before throwing his gun into his lap, gathering what I came in here for and leaving his office.

Tommy and I bicker all the time, disagree on extremely menial stuff but we only properly argue very occasionally but we always come around in the end because despite everything we love each other but god can we get on each other's nerves.

Not that I'd call that an argument, that was just a warning.

"We knew you weren't a morning person but fuck Tommy must've pissed you right off." Arthur laughs, as he chalks some stuff up on the big blackboard.

"More than you'll ever know." I grumble, and begin to get to work.

***

As the Sun sets, people start clearing out of the building as they finish their work, singing or grumbling a goodbye over their shoulder as they go home to their family or lonesome house. I could only dream of clocking out as I've still got a load of work to do and not even the kind I like, it's all admin and menial things that need to be done but I wouldn't consider it fun by any means.

It's kind of nice in a funny sort of way, it's dark outside and the lights are on illuminating the room with a soft glow, there's a slight patter of rain on the windows and it's just relaxing and quiet.

It's giving me a moment with my mind to think things over as I pretty much work on autopilot.

I know Tommy is still here, I can see him through the glass doors to his office, clearing extremely concentrated on whatever he's doing; I wonder if his mind keeps drifting back to what we did on his desk just last night.

I don't what to say to him, he's giving me the cold shoulder, refuses to talk to me unless it's necessary, and I just don't know where we stand. I don't know what I want to come from last night, I'm really happy with where we are right now and although I had - arguably - the best sex of my life last night, not much can come between our friendship.

I felt something that night, Tommy made me feel so special and like I was the most important person in the world to him, and I couldn't deny that those feelings.

Letting out a sigh, I drop my pen and grab a cigarette, placing it between my lips before I search for my matches. Striking a match, I tilt my head back and as I'm bringing the flame to my cigarette my eyes catch Tommy leaning against the doorway to his office, staring at me.

I pause for a moment before lighting my cigarette and waving the match out as I exhale.

"You look really pretty when you concentrate." Tommy states and if there were another person in here I don't think I would of been able to hear him.

"I don't do it often so you're welcome." I reply, never one to take compliments. "But thanks." I bashfully add.

"We both know that's not true." Tommy smiles ever so slightly.

"You look really pretty when you smile." I reply, taking a drag from my cigarette.

Tommy steps down the few steps and approaches me.

"Cora... what's going on?" Tommy asks, turning the chair beside me around so he can sit on it backwards, his arms folded on the backrest.

I look down, not sure what to say or where to look or how to react.

"I don't... I don't know." I say quietly, almost ashamed to admit. I'm always in control of a situation, I know the ins and outs but this time I have no idea where I stand, what's going on and I'm definitely not in control; neither of us are.

"Do you regret it?" He questions and I look at him properly.

"No, I don't. I can honestly say that I don't regret it." I answer sincerely, and a shimmer of relief speeds across his eyes. "Do you?"

"No. It was great and you don't regret great things." Tommy replies after a few moments, watching me stub out my cigarette. "But... I was hurt that you left before I woke up." He hesitantly adds, as if he doesn't know how to put his words together.

Neither do I.

Looking around the room as I try to gather my words, I can feel his bright blue eyes boring into my side and its quite unnerving.

"I didn't know what to say to you. Tommy, you're my best friend, you have been since year 9, we've gone through so much together and I can always rely on you ---you've always just been my best friend. Then suddenly when I get rejected by some twat who's scared of either women in general or the fact that you are my best friend and you decide to kiss me and then things escalate, things change. For good or for bad I don't know." I try to just put some of my thoughts into words.

"You could've left a note, woke me up if you really needed to go, silently got dressed with me and then we parted ways, anything... anything other than wordlessly leaving. Everything stopped, I slept a full night, I didn't have any messy dreams, I woke up rested, then when I saw you weren't there with me, none of that mattered anymore." Thomas explains with a small shrug, his eyes burning for a conclusion, a cohesive answer, anything.

"Only because you had company, female company no doubt." I state, sending him a tired look. His face is illuminated by the standing lamp behind me, highlighting his slight frustration, hurt, and confusion.

"No, I'm almost 100 percent sure it's not just female company. When I got back from fighting and I was having my night terrors, I'd call you up and you'd come sleep in my bed, and you'd help me fall asleep again and at least help with my dreams. When I was using you'd demand that we share a bed because you knew that I knew that you hated it. You've always helped me sleep." Tommy insists, leaning forward in his chair.

"I was just being a good friend, Tom."

"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend or to marry me, I'm just saying I sleep better with you around. I don't know what I want to come out from this or where we stand but please promise that at the end of the day we'll always be best friends." Tommy pleads, grabbing my hand, clasping it with both of his.

"We'll always be best friends, Thomas. No matter how mad I am at you or you at me, I'll always be there for you." I assure, squeezing his hand with a small smile. "I hate not being in control, my whole life I've always been in control, had a grip on things, and just knew the ins and outs of every situation, then suddenly I don't it scares the living hell out of me, Tom. I don't know how to react."

"I'm not asking you to, I'm just as confused and lost as you are, I don't know where we stand or how to be normal again." Tommy says, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know what I want to come from this, but I know I'll always want you around."

"Same, always." I tell him, looking deep into his eyes. "I've gotta go, Tommy, I'll see you tomorrow." I lie, I've still got a load of work to do but if Tommy keeps looking at me like he is now, I'm not going to be able to make it out of here without my hair a mess.

Standing up, I push my chair back in and take a step away before Tommy says something.

"You can't keep running from your problems."

I pause, turning to look at him.

"Sorry?"

"You can't keep running away from things that you can't solve in 5 minutes." Tommy expands, looking up at me. He looks uncertain, as if he doesn't know how I'll react.

Keeping my gaze on his for a split second more before I swiftly bend down to press my lips against his, cupping his cheek. He seems surprised and stills for a moment then eagerly kisses me back, his hand also on my cheek.

We kiss for a few more moments until I pull back slightly, our faces inches away. "Watch me." I whisper, looking into his stormy sea of blue eyes, and my eyes flicker down to his lips before I stand up to my full height.

Taking a step back to make my move out of here but Tommy suddenly stands up straight and grabs my hand before I can escape and pulls me into him, immediately cupping my face with his soft hands and softly crashes his mouth to mine.

Without any hesitation I kiss him back, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck as I slowly relax into him. Tommy pulls me impossibly close to him, feeling every contort of his body, his hands steadily trail down my back as I work my mouth against his.

Once again, Tommy pulls my hair out of my hairband, letting my wild locks bounce free around my back. He buries his fingers into my curls whilst his other hand wonders, feeling my waist, hips and ass.

I press my hips against his and he leans against the nearest desk, he lets out a moan at the feeling of my hips and I take advantage of that so my tongue can get reacquainted with his.

Last time it was slow, hesitant touches, taking our time but this time it's eager, fast moving, and hungry.

I let out a moan when Tommy flicks his tongue against mine, completely lost in the moment; I can feel that I'm losing myself in him, his touch, his mouth, his mind. Disconnecting, Tommy attaches his mouth to the sensitive skin on my neck, dragging his lips up to the sweet spot below my ear.

The fast that he knows that fact sends me reeling over something so silly and simple, but it wakes me up.

Immediately I push myself off of him, taking a few shaky steps back with wide eyes. He looks shocked, his blown out eyes shining in concern, and he takes a step towards me.

"Co---"

"No." I shake my head. "We can't do this, I need to leave." I blurt out and make an exit, not bothering to pick up my coat on the way out as Tommy calls after me, but I slam the door on him, blocking out his voice that's always been comforting for me.

***

"Turns out it was just a fluke then." Polly teases, lighting up a cigarette as I enter the building.

"Seems like it." I agree, glancing at the clock, seeing it reads 10:45.

"Who's this raven haired beauty walking in?" A familiar voice asks, and I look to my left to see Ada proudly sitting on the closest desk to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not being able to help the grin on my face as I approach her, pulling her into a quick hug.

"Thought I should come up as I haven't seen everyone in a while, and you even longer." Ada explains, and it's true as the last time she came up I was busy visiting my family that live down south.

"Well, it's great to see you again. Did you bring Karl?" I question, and as I'm looking at her I can't help the guilt that tugs at me as I slept with her brother just a few nights ago.

"Yeah, he's busy making a mess in Tommy's office with Finn." She answers, folding her arms.

"I'm sure he'll look forward to finding that." I smirk. "Is Tommy here by the way?" I ask curiously, hanging my bag up along with my coat, next to the coat I left here last night when I made a hasty exit.

"No, something happened at The Garrison or something and he had to go sort that out." Ada informs me, sending me a quizzical look when I let out a sigh of relief.

"Michael said someone got too rowdy and fired some shots at someone, no ones seriously hurt but Tommy went to go sort it out." Polly says, walking towards us creating a trio.

"When did your hair get so long?" Ada asks fascinated, her slender fingers coming up to grasp a few loose curls.

"I've not seen you without your hair up in what? Two years, maybe?" Polly comments, also looking at my hair.

"I just didn't have time this morning to do it, rolled out of bed, parted it and left." I tell her, running my hand through it.

"Didn't have the time? It's nearly 11 o'clock and you're only just strolling into work." Ada exclaims with a laugh.

"It took me ages to get to sleep, and I need my 8 hours." I retort, the reasons I couldn't get to sleep need to remain a secret.

Her damn brother.

"And just because you're you Tommy won't get mad. If any of us are more than 20 minutes late, Tommy will act like a child." Polly roll her eyes.

"How do you do it?" Ada asks genuinely.

Suck his dick apparently.

"I simply just show him my knife and he does whatever." I joke, with a smirk. "Hey, it's not like you have to be here at 8 or 9 on the dot, you're all founders of this company, you have just as much of say as that dumb fuck."

"True, but you can't deny that Tommy will throw a fit if we're late, where as you..."

"What can I say? Shelbys love me." I tease and leave the room.

It's just pushing 3 pm when Tommy walks into the room again, the first time I'm seeing him since I freaked out last night. It's been a busy and chaotic day so far, people coming in and out, I had to go deal with someone who wasn't paying up which got a bit messy, then I had to catch up on all the things I didn't do yesterday after leaving prematurely, and to do that with a messy head on top of that is difficult.

Tommy searches the room as he continues to walk through the room until he finds me. "You, my office." He points his finger at me and then towards his office doors.

"No?" I shake my head, quirking my eyebrows.

"It's fucking business that's all." Tommy huffs from across the room, giving me a slight glare before looking down and heading towards his office.

Pushing my chair out, I let out an even bigger huff than Tommy's and stand up, meeting him at his office doors. Our eyes flicker over each other extremely briefly before he opens his door and lets me enter first.

We both stop short at the sight of a man sitting in the chair opposite Tommy's desk.

"Who's that?" I whisper to Tommy, neither of us taking a step further.

"Mr Parsons, wants business with us." Tommy briefly tells me before moving forward. "Good afternoon, Mr Parsons."

"Ah! Good afternoon, not that good in a place like this." Mr Parsons states, looking up at Tommy as he goes to sit in his desk chair.

"Good afternoon." I greet and sit down in the chair next to him.

"Oh, a woman, a pretty woman that is." He comments with a weird smile of his face.

I send a quick look to Tommy who looks just as speechless as I am. "Thank you, business --- what can we do for you?"

Ever since I joined The Shelby Company Limited all those years ago Tommy's always asked me to join in with meetings. Not entirely sure why if I'm honest, he's always said and I quote 'you give me a level headed opinion', whatever that means.

"I need protection, I've recently moved to this shithole and I've heard that you so called Peaky Blinders are the best people for the job." Mr Parsons states, intertwining his fingers over his chest.

Tommy and I share a look at his choice of words.

"What do you need protecting?" Tommy questions, leaning back in his chair.

As Mr Parsons answers Tommy's question in his unique way of vocabulary, I take a good look at him. He's probably at the higher end of middle-aged, a full head of black hair growing white, a rather slim and tall build, well dressed, a thin greying moustache, and a sinister smile. He's not unattractive but there's something just off about his face.

"We will definitely look into that, Mr Parsons, we'll need to assess the situation ourselves first." Tommy says, gesturing with his hands.

"This pretty lady, I hope of course." He gives me a grin, and I grip the arms of the expensive chair to stop myself from showing him what I really think of him.

"No." Tommy bluntly tells him. "My brother will."

"That's a real shame." Mr Parsons sighs and looks at me as if I were his last meal on earth. "I must say, I think it's really great that you have so many women working for you."

"First of all," Tommy starts, leaning back in his chair and lights a cigarette, "They work with me, and secondly if you weren't so creepy and weird, you'd not speak of women as if they're a rare breed of dog."

Mr Parsons takes no notice of Thomas, just keeps his smile as his green eyes take me in, making my skin crawl. If the circumstances wear different and we were in a different environment I'd of either punched the guy in the face or threatened to do something worse by now, but because this is business and he could be important, I can't.

I lead forward in my chair to be closer to him despite my whole body screaming no. "You're coming on a little strong."

"That's just the way I act with beautiful women. A good one only comes around once and a while and you have to snap them up real fucking quick." He replies, with a wink, looking proud of himself.

"And you think it's working?" Tommy sasses and I stifle a chuckle, pursing my lip to conceal my smirk.

"I know it's working." He states over confidently, which even if I were into him, that would be a big turn off.

Like Tommy, he has a certain confidence about him but it's not stifling, big headed, or cocky, it's subtle, he demands it without verbally demanding it, and it's attractive.

Ew, since when did I use my best friend as a model of what is hot and not?

"Business, Mr Parsons, we're here for business." I remind him, sending him a stern look.

"See." Mr Parsons smirks at Tommy, and I roll my eyes as Tommy just stares straight through him, his cigarette seemingly forgotten as it burns in his fingers. "My business need protecting because I've made a few enemies in my year, and people like trying to tear me down."

"Wonder why." I mumble in a huff.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

"Oh nothing, just talking to myself, nothing for you to worry about." I wave him off, throwing a glare at him I how intrusive he's being.

"Anything that concerns your gorgeous mind is my concern, darling." Mr Parsons states softly before he grabs my hand that was dangling off of the arm of my chair.

I throw my head back in annoyance; I'd give anything to show this bitch my knife. I pull hand back, wanting to wash hands immediately.

"Why should we give you our protection?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Because, you clearly need it." Mr Parsons says, taking his eyes off of me from practically looking through my clothes to look at Tommy straight in the eyes.

Tommy abruptly gets up and rounds his desk towards me, he nods his head for me to get out of my chair, which I do and Tommy places his hand on my waist as we switch places to me sitting in his chair opposite Mr Parsons to Tommy sitting next to him, I can feel Mr Parsons' eyes on my body as I move. Tommy leans forward in his new chair, looking deep into Mr Parsons' eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questions, looking scary but it's kinda hot and to be honest, I'm slightly turned on.

"You live in a place like this, it's pretty self explanatory." Mr Parsons replies, crossing his leg over the other.

"I choose to live here, you don't have a choice." Tommy points out, clearly knowing more about him than I do.

"If that's what you want to believe, sure." He chuckles, throwing his head back.

"I'm not accustomed to being spoken to like that, especially not in my own fucking office." Tommy states, shaking his head slightly.

"What? No one been brave enough?" He chortles. "I've always been---"

"No one's seen the next morning after." Thomas cuts him off bluntly, and Mr Parsons stills for a moment.

This is such a dangerous and tense moment yet all I can do is keep my eyes locked on Tommy and all I want in the world right now is a repeat of the other night.

"I'm here to make a deal, Mr Shelby."

"Fine, give me your proposition." Tommy says, leaning back in his seat.

"50 percent of what I can--- no, will bring into The Shelby Company." Mr Parsons states with no remorse.

"And how do you expect to do that?" Tommy practically almost laughs, and I bite my lip to stop my guffaws coming out.

"With my business. If you protect me and people know that we're in bed together, you'll get even more people coming to you, you won't know where to put all the money." He answers, clearly delusional.

"Anything more you want from your so called deal?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"A night with the girl."

We both freeze at that, both of us not believing that he just said that.

Tommy's always been protective of me, especially with people like this. I can even remember when I'd get people a year or two above me in school hitting on me or flirting with me, Tommy would always put them in their place and then ask if I was okay.

Yet at the same time, he knows to give me space and when I'm at my breaking point. He knows I don't like being smothered and accommodates for that.

"She's off the fucking table, untouchable." Tommy states with no hesitation or room for arguing. "Get the fuck out of my office." He shakes his head.

"I said sh---"

"Out." I push and he turns to look at me, his eyes widening at the sight of a gun pointed at his head.

"Yo---"

"Out." I push and pull the slide back.

He wordlessly gets up and Tommy and I escort him out as he swears a storm, slamming the door after himself.

Tommy and I stare at each other, alone since last night.

We both act on our own accord as I'm suddenly pressed against the wall, with Tommy's mouth on mine. I grip the back of his neck, my nails tickling his skin as Tommy pins me against the wall with his hips whilst his hands grip whatever he can.

Tommy wastes no time letting his tongue get reacquainted with mine, and I let out a moan at the feeling.

Last time it was soft, gentle, and slow, this time though, this time it's a lot more heated, passionate, and rougher.

"Jump." Tommy mumbles against me, and I do so, wrapping my legs around him as his hands go to my ass to get a steady grip on me.

I can tell he's holding back, almost as if he's refraining himself

"You can be rougher with me, by the way. I'm not made of glass." I quietly tell him, tracing his face with my fingers as we search each others eyes.

"Yeah?" He raises an eyebrow. "How rough?"

"We could set up a safe word?" I suggest.

"Like what?"

"Juggle?"

Tommy laughs before he presses his forehead against mine. "That works."

***

"What the fuck was that?" Tommy asks shocked, trying to catch his breath as his hand trails down the bare skin on my back.

"I don't know but oh my god." I shake my head, resting my forehead on his shoulder.

"This needs to be a regular occurrence, it's too good not to be." Tommy states, throwing his head back in his leather desk chair.

"Definitely." I agree, beginning to catch my breath.

I pull back, looking at Tommy who looks at me with hooded eyes and a small genuine smile, seemingly in a daze; we both are.

"You look pretty like this, no walls up, exposed and genuine." Thomas tells me softly, pushing some hair out of my face before quickly yet gently brushing his lips against mine.

"You're only saying that because I'm naked on top of you." I retort, beginning to have feeling in my legs again after riding him in his chair.

"I've always thought your were the most gorgeous person in the world, you know that, fuck, everyone knows that." He says and my stomach turns into liquid heat.

"Stop." I bashfully reply, burying my face into his neck as he breathes a laugh, continuing to stroke my back.

"You're so cute." He chuckles, kissing the side of my head.

"I've gotta get back to work, as much fun as this was, I like making money." I state, swiftly sliding off his lap and searching for my clothes that are strewn about the room somehow.

"So, what do you think we should do about Mr Parsons?" Tommy asks me, watching me fasten the back of my bra.

"You're not considering doing business with him are you?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"No, fuck no." He shakes his head, getting up out of his chair to also get dressed. "Can't just let him come out of here with no repercussions."

"Probably just scare him, he didn't necessarily do anything, was just extremely unprofessional and disrespectful." I give him my two cents, before slipping my thick and dark jumper over my head. "But if there's anything that needs blowing up, you know where to find me."

Tommy chuckles as he buttons his shirt up.

"Of course." He nods with a smile, watching me slip into my skirt. "I'll send Finn his way."

"Terrifying." I smirk, finding it hard to believe that the boy I watched grow up could be intimidating.

"You seemed scared of him when he knocked on the door." Tommy teases, brushing his hip against mine as he walks past me.

"Well obviously, you had me up against the wall he was on the other side of; anyone could've caught us." I retort, looking in a mirror to sort my hair out as Tommy seems to have a fascination with it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of me now are you?" Tommy asks, a teasing glint to blue eyes.

"Yeah, you're my dirty little secret." I laugh, before tying my shoes up.

Tommy tilts his head back to laugh as he slips his blazer back on, both of us looking put together again as if we didn't just have mind blowing sex.

"I'm going to have to kick you out of my office if you're going to speak to me like that." Tommy states, as we both near the door.

"We should really stop fucking on here. Next time my house." I tell him, looking up at him and the funny bright look in his eyes.

"Oh, so their is going to be a next time?" Tommy smirks with a raised eyebrow, look in proud of himself.

"You know as well as I do that there's going to be a next time." I send him a knowing look and he subtly licks his lips, looking pleased. "Can't get rid of you Shelbys if I tried."

Tommy laughs and presses a quick smiley kiss to my lips, "Don't ever change."

That's the start of an extremely natural, fulfilling, fun and sensual relationship. Nothing really changed within our friendship, only that we see each other naked a lot more.

It's definitely brought us closer together. We were extremely close before everything happened but now it feels like we've gotten to a new level, definitely a more intimate level but we're closer than ever before.

It kinda feels like we should've been messing around the whole time, it feels silly that we weren't. What we've got is so much fun and honestly it's a nice stress reliever at the end of the day.

It doesn't feel like we're tarnishing our years long friendship, this feels natural and free flowing.

No one knows, we made that a strict rule. We always try to mess around in the privacy of our own homes, but sometimes when it's late and everyone's gone home we can help ourselves or if tensions get high throughout the day.

I'm pretty sure no one knows. When this all started Ada was visiting and we were slightly sloppy with our secrecy, and she kinda cornered Tommy and I at different times but we got away with it as she never mentioned it again. After that we got our act together and any suspicion that was around died.

It's relatively unexpected from us, although we've expressed our attraction and admiration for each other to other people, we've always said we'd never act on it or that it was even possible to feel anything but appreciation for each other.

I've always joked that it'd be awful to be in a relationship with Tommy and that I'd hate to wake up to him everyday.

We also have another rule to not fall in love, which I laughed at when Tommy asked me to not fall in love with him, and then I told him to not flatter himself.

It's been kinda exciting sneaking around with Tommy. I feel like I'm hiding the resident bad boy of the town from my parents, but in this case it's one of the most dangerous people in the country and I'm sneaking around in front of his family, friends, and co-workers.

We generally don't really see each other outside of work besides on the Sundays that he comes over to my house to get his hair cut. Almost everyday we spend a lot of time together when everyone's gone home or ended their work day, we work together a lot, and I guess we see each other at the pub a lot; but to see each other outside of those premises isn't often. I occasionally go to Thomas' house but not by choice, only if he needs me there or there's a crises or an event going on but if I'm honest I don't like his house, which I've told him before and he always laughs at me because of it.

I love my flat in the heart of Small Heath and you couldn't get me out of their if you tried. I've lived there for years and it's my own place to call home. I could easily afford a house like Tommy's but you'd have to kill me to get me out of my flat.

In recent times, my house has sort of become his residence as he's spent so much time here recently. It's not just sex, we'll sometimes go to my house after work or after some evening entertainment, have a meal or just talk which leads to sex, and then half the time Tommy will stay the night; which leads to us having to sneak into work together without raising any suspicions.

Like now, it's honestly too often you'd find Tommy in my bed the morning after as the sun is beginning to shine through my bedroom windows, talking in quiet voices and having a few laughs.

Letting out a soft laugh at Tommy, I rub my hand over my face wake myself up a little bit more.

It's well into the morning, Tommy and I are lying in my bed, surrounded by sun spots that are pouring through my worn French windows, the Birmingham bustle is in full swing a few floors below us that we can hear small swings of from the window that is just slightly open, yet it's calm and quiet in this plant ridden room.

Just our quiet voices as if we were confessing our darkest secrets with the occasional stranger's shouty voice drifting through the window, and soft touches like we're handling a rare and ancient piece of history.

"Do you miss it?" Tommy asks as we're going through old memories.

"I miss my only worries being if Matthew Kennedy liked be back or not and being young and carefree, but I also love my life right now." I reply.

"Oh yeah, you planned out your wedding, how many kids you were gonna have and everything." Tommy laughs, his eyes glazed over as he thinks back to simpler times.

"It was gonna be outside with as many flowers as possible and we were gonna have 3 children, twin girls and a boy." I chuckle along with him, looking up at the crisp white ceiling. "But it turned out he was a shit kisser and only wanted to see my bed."

"I can still remember the black eye you gave him for that." Tommy grins, almost proudly.

"Deserved it, knob." I shake my head as he snickers before pulling me into him with the arm under me, curling me into his side, leaving the cracked open window to tickle my bare back with soft gusts of air.

"You're so violent." Tommy mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to my hairline.

"Only to those that deserve it, which is a lot." I explain, before looking up at him. "So I can see how you got confused in perceiving me as a violent person, it's okay, Tom."

He send me an annoyed look as his fingers trace my back.

"You're so annoying, I've never met someone who annoys me so much." Tommy shakes his head, but despite his words his fingers stay consistent in tracing my back, running over my scars and smooth skin.

"You love it." I grin up at him.

All he does is grunt in response.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, with my head rested on his shoulder and my body pressed against his side whilst he has his arm wrapped around me, almost sending me to sleep again with his soft hands tracing my body.

"I can't believe you took a bullet for me." Thomas breaks the silence, running his fingers over the scar in my back.

"Only by accident." I reply, still slightly pissed off, making Tommy chuckle.

"Well if you hadn't moved I'd be dead." He states, looking up at the ceiling and easy smile on his face.

"And to think that you thought I was joking when it happened and you laughed." I shake my head, not being able help my smile.

I still remember that day as clear as ever.

We were outside the betting den with Arthur and Michael and I went to give Tommy a hug before I said goodbye and left but as we went to embrace each other I got a bullet straight into the back. I originally crashed into him and he thought I was joking before I crashed to the floor and my blood soaked my flowery blouse, that's when the laughter died.

"I said I was sorry!" Tommy claims, sounding anything but sorry. "I took care of you in the end though."

"You tripped as you entered the door, you knob!" I counteract, remembering how I was losing blood rapidly soaking his shirt, and as I was in his arms I laughed when he tripped nearly falling over.

"I was only trying." Tommy pouts, brushing his knuckles against my shoulder.

"Thank you." I breathe a small laugh before pressing a feather like kiss to his collarbone.

"You're not welcome." He jokes, before grabbing his first cigarette of the day.

Rolling out of his arms and onto my side of the bed, I do the biggest stretch known to man along with a loud and long groan. When I open my eyes, Tommy's giving me a look which I only grin at to annoy him, laying my head on my folded forearms as I lie on my stomach; I can't help but sigh as all I want to do I stay in the bed all day, preferably with him, not that I'd ever tell him that.

"Want one?" Tommy asks, offering his cigarettes to me.

"You know I don't smoke before 11." I tell him.

"I still don't get why." He shakes his head, exhaling the smoke.

"Habit." I shrug, knowing that it doesn't make any sense but I still do it anyway.

Running my fingers through my hair, I glance at my wardrobe, knowing that I should get ready sooner than later. Shuffling up onto my knees, I make my way over to Tommy's side of the bed as my wardrobe is situated on the left side of the room, I swing my leg over his, taking a brief pew on his thighs.

"You need your hair cut." I note, combing through his slight bed-head hair with my slender fingers.

"I know, but someone keeps putting it off." Tommy drawls, sending me a brief look be for he taps off the ash from his cigarette.

"It's not my fault that you come over to do it but you end up doing me instead." I chuckle, and he smiles.

"What can I say, it's just more fun."

I roll my eyes with a fond a smile before I go to get off Tommy's lap and venture out of this unbelievably comfortable bed but Tommy stops me by placing his hands on my hips, locking me in place.

"Yes?" I raise an eyebrow.

Tommy presses his lips against mine, pulling me in for a sensual, gentle morning kiss which leaves me breathless and wanting more. So much more. His touch is softer than ever as he cups my face in one hand and trails the other over the skin of my waist.

"That's all." Tommy shrugs, brushing his nose against mine with a small smile.

I mirror his smile and capture his lips one last time before I finally get out of bed, making my way over to my wardrobe and pull both doors open, my eyes darting over the hangers.

Picking out a dark dress with bright coloured flowers that has slight and subtle bell bottom sleeves, I shimmy into that before I make my way across the room to look out the window.

"Aw, it looks like it's going to rain." I frown, closing the window.

Tommy puts out his cigarette and gets out of bed, joining me at the window. "When doesn't it?"

"True," I shrug, then turn my back to Tommy. "Can you do me up?"

"Mhm." He hums and begins to do the buttons of my dress up.

"Thank you." I flash him a grateful smile and make my way over towards my vanity to do my make up as Tommy starts to change into one of the handful of suits that he leaves at my house.

This has sort of become the norm for us, Tommy spends the night, we spend a little too much time in bed in the morning until we ultimately have to get ready do the day and we have some banter whilst we get dressed and ready, the friendly banter is usually halted with kisses that make me feel warm inside as well as make my toes curl which always throws me off with how we can go from being best friends to acting like a couple in seconds.

I guess we are called friends with benefits.

Then we go downstairs and I make him breakfast, we talk about anything that's going on around us, business or people before our day starts and as soon as my front door swings open, we resort back to being best friends like we've always been, as if the night before didn't happen.

It didn't start like that.

At first it was strictly just sex. He'd only stay for a couple hours unless I really wore him out and he'd stay the night as much as he didn't particularly want to. We were kind of keeping it a secret from ourselves, reserving it strictly for behind closed doors, you wouldn't of suspected a thing; we slowly began moving forward, we stayed the night more, touches weren't just for nightfall anymore, and we knew where we stood with each other.

We don't refrain from showing each other affection anymore. Before this all happened Tommy and I would go through phases of giving each other affection but now it's different. I'd place a lot of money down for a bet to see if Tommy could walk past me without brushing his hand over my waist or back; he just subconsciously does it every time.

Sometimes there are moments where Tommy will be speaking with someone across the room or there's a family - even though I'm not family - meeting, and all I wanna do is just kiss him.

"You look nice." Tommy comments, coming up behind me as I'm putting some earrings in in front of my vanity mirror, bowing down to look at what I'm doing.

"Thank you." I reply as Tommy wraps his arms around my waist and leans down to press his chin to my shoulder blade, looking at me through the mirror. "You look alright."

Tommy flashes me a boyish smile before pecking the skin showing through the little triangle cut out in the back of my dress.

***

"See you tomorrow." I send Polly a smile when she makes her way out of the workplace.

"Bye, love." She mirrors my smile and closes the door behind her, leaving just a few Peakys peaking around.

Casting my eyes back to my desk, I carry on with my important task at hand before it swallows me whole.

As time goes by I sink further into my chair, the lights get softer as more people leave and my workload goes down. A loud groan disrupts my flow and it sounds like it's coming from Tommy's office.

Pushing my chair out, I head over Tommy's way not bothering to knock and I find him leaning back in his chair, looking stressed and defeated. His head whips up to look at me, his hard eyes softening when he sees it's just me.

"Why's it so dark in here?" I raise an eyebrow, noting the few lamps that are on in here, casting the room in a subtle orange glow when I walk towards him.

"Hurts my eyes." Tommy grumbles and I round his desk, taking a seat on his lap, his hand grazing my ass in the process.

"What's got you so gloomy?" I enquire, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, feeling some tension release from his body as he settles into me.

"Just so much to do, so little time." Tommy replies with a soft sigh, placing his hand on my thigh and with his other hand he brushes some hair that got caught on my lipstick before he settles it around me.

"Seems that's how life's going these days." I mumble softly, sweeping the hair off of Tommy's forehead, causing him to close his eyes momentarily. "You should be careful not to overwork yourself, Tom. You make shit decisions when you're tired."

"What can I say? You tire me out." Tommy says with a fond smirk and slightly hooded eyes.

"You're a piece of work, got to put you to bed somehow." I fire back, matching his smirk.

Pressing my lips to the sensitive skin on his neck, working my way up towards his sharp jawline, Tommy lets out a satisfied sigh, beginning to properly relax. Connecting our lips in a sweet and short kiss, Tommy squeezes my thigh as I kiss him one time, two times, three times before going back to his neck.

"Mr Shelby?" Someone calls from behind the closed door with a hesitant knock.

We're too far gone to really care who it is or what they want so Tommy sighs and grants them entrance as I continue to work my magic on him. In comes a new lower ranked Peaky Blinder who's eyes widen at the sight of us, which it would be shocking to see us right now as everyone assumes we're still just best friends but here I am sat comfortably on Tommy's lap, marking him up.

"What can I do for you, Frank?" Thomas questions, trailing his hand up my thigh.

This poor boy is speechless, not knowing how to react and he looks like he wants to get out of this room as soon as possible.

"Uh, I just came in here to tell you that I've uh finished everything you asked me to do and it uhh all went smoothly." Frank states with anything but confidence.

"Great, thanks." Tommy responds, tilting his head to the side to give me more space.

Frank escapes the room as soon as possible and I chuckle at the hard working boy. We both know that he'd never utter a word to anyone about what he saw, that's why we didn't freak out. The boy want to go up in this company and he'll do anything to please anyone higher than him; he's too gentle and easily persuaded for this world.

"Is that everyone gone?" Tommy asks me.

"Should be." I confirm with a small nod.

"Perfect."

The next thing I feel is Tommy's hand creeping up my skirt.

***

"What?" Tommy utters, staring at a lower ranked Peaky Blinder with an ice cold stare.

"It's not my fault! I tried to get him to agree but---"

"Not your fault? This whole plan went down the drain because of you!" Tommy states, not believing the man.

"He had a gun to my head, what was I supposed to do?!" Matthew asks outraged.

"You should taken someone fucking with you, not just thought that you knew best! You need a wake up call because if you want to remain in this company you should know that that shit doesn't fly around here. Could've taken John, Arthur, Cora, fuck, even Michael for fuck sake, not just make decisions as you go along." Thomas retorts, frustrated beyond belief as he rubs his hands over his face.

"What's all the shouting about?" Polly questions as she comes up beside me from being in another room.

"Mathew fucked up and gave away Tommy's plans and shit, along with some other stuff that i don't quite know the details of, so Tom's losing his shit." I fill her in, looking up at her from where I'm sitting and she's standing.

"How the fuck did that happen?" She asks, confused.

"He ran into some trouble on the way or something, I'm not sure, I only came in half way through." I take an unsure guess.

"Men." She shakes her head, letting out a sigh.

"Boys." I correct, making her cackle as she turns to move further into the room.

"I don't need a babysitter, and I sure as hell am not gonna take a female with me." Mathew states in defence, his so called manhood damaged by the thought of a woman being able to do his job better than him.

Tommy huffs a small laugh.

"I wear heels bigger than your dick!" I joke from across the room, not taking his serious comment seriously.

"Just get out of my sight before I force you to." Tommy huffs, turning around and heading up to his office, not being gentle with the door as he closes it behind him.

"I'll go talk to him." I roll my eyes, getting up out of my chair, grabbing the knife from off my desk with me. "And you..." I start, showing Mathew my weapon. "Try not to be a sexist twat next time you're even vaguely threatened by a woman. We hold a lot more power than you can, so remember that next time." I give him a sly wink as I twirl the extremely sharp knife around my fingers.

Heading into Tommy's office, I lean against the door after I close it, watching Tommy lean over his desk, head hung low, tension present in his muscles.

"What is it with people not sticking to the plan?" Tommy grumbles, not bothering to turn around and face me.

"Some people think they know best, I guess." I say, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling some tension leave his body.

"He's my employee, this is not what I'm employing him for. I'm not paying him to fuck up." Tommy shakes his head as I press my cheek against his back.

"I know." I say, knowing he doesn't really want me to say anything, he just needs comforting and someone to vent to.

"This whole plan has gone to shit, I've spent weeks trying to perfect it, and the easiest task got fucked." He huffs.

"You shouldn't of trusted him to it, the man can't even tie a tie." I state, looking out of the window.

"I just thought I'd give him a chance, a try, whatever, but I shouldn't of." Tommy replies, lifting his head up.

"You learn from these things, got to know where you stand with the people around you." I tell him, moving my hands from around his waist to hooking under his shoulders.

"I guess, but I just expected more from him." Tommy responds.

And so I let my best friend vent some more, not just about this incident but anything that's on his mind, only replying when I feel the need to, and I think it worked because he's not all worked up anymore, the tension has dropped in his body, and he seems at peace.

"Thank you." Tommy utters, taking my face in his hands.

"For what?" I breathe a small laugh, holding onto his forearms.

"For just always being there for me, day or night, for the big things and the small things, I don't know how I could ever thank you enough." He says, stepping into my bubble, looking more sincere than ever.

"You do the same for me, that's more than enough." I assure, looking deep into his deep blue eyes. "Thank you for being my best friend."

Tommy smiles a small smile, before giving me a kiss, pulling me impossibly close to him, both of our smiles growing.

***

Glancing over towards the clock on the bedside table, seeing the time reads 6:30, I've got a long day ahead of me and I need to catch up on quite a few things as I seem to be slacking because I've been spending all my time with the duvet hogger to the left of me.

Granted it's not my house or room so I have no claim on it, but I seem to spend more time here than my own house; it feels more like home here, anyway.

Letting out a quiet yawn, I look over at Cora next to me, seeing how she's dead to the world looking effortlessly gorgeous whilst she's fast asleep. Her dark hair is splayed out on her pillow, her long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, and her bare shoulders are poking out of the duvet, with a small sun spot shining on her, and she just looks so pretty.

It feels weird not waking up next to her nowadays, it feels so natural seeing her warming up the other half of either mine or her's bed.

Sitting up, I shuffle out of bed and start to get dressed and I can't help but think of how I could get used to this.

Beginning to get ready for the day without waking up Cora, I don't bother with breakfast as I just don't have the time. Doing a once over in the mirror, I head over to Cora who's half awake to let her know that I'm leaving.

"Cora, lovie." I say softly, placing my hand on her exposed arm.

"Hm?" She hums, giving me a peak of her green eyes as she purses her lips briefly.

"'M gonna head into work now, I'll see you later on, eh?" I inform, watching her slowly wake up.

"Okay, have fun." Cora wishes, readjusting the sheet on her bare chest.

"Oh I'll try." I joke, brushing some hair away from her face with a fond smile. "I'll see you later." I tell her, planting a quick kiss on her lips.

She chuckles.

"Look at us, like an old married couple, who'd of thought?"

"Terrifying." I laugh, asking her laugh as I leave the room with a smile on my face that stays on my face until I open the front door, and as I'm walking to work I can't help but think that that doesn't sound so bad.

Leaning back in my chair, I grab a cigarette and flick my lighter against the end, quickly exhaling what I inhale before clearing my throat a little.

"I look forward to what the future holds for us, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo states, clearly chuffed with the way this meeting went.

"As do I, Mr Cliffo, as do I." I reply, wanting to get him out of my office as soon as possible as I've still got so much to do today.

"You've got a nice thing going on here, great business attitude, trust worthy co workers, it seems like your family really has its heart in this company." Mr Cliffo drawls, looking around the room.

"Yes, all of us here believe in this company and always want to strive closer towards our goals and ambitions." I nod, bringing my cigarette to my mouth again.

"I have to ask as curiosity has gotten the best of me, where's the woman that usually attends our meetings?" Mr Cliffo questions, and I sigh, it seems like everyone takes interest in my best friend nowadays.

She's extremely captivating and has a mysterious aura to her, Cora just has this way of drawing you in and making you want to know as much about her as possible.

"Busy." I inform, watching him carefully, how he has a ghost of smile on his face and seemingly looking back on his few interactions with her.

"I've missed her little quips and ideas." He tells me.

Widening my eyes as I let out an exasperated huff, I stand up and head towards the door, hopefully giving him the hint to get the fuck out of my office.

Which he does, so he stands up whilst doing the buttons of his blazer up, approaching me by the door.

"Pretty little thing she is." He says fondly, but not in a creepy way just a genuine compliment.

"She's certainly a head turner." I nod, not being able to deny it.

"Well, I must get going, errands to run." Mr Cliffo states and opens the door. "I'm sensing a promising future here, Mr Shelby."

"I'll look forward to it." I say, escorting him out to hurry him up.

We enter the main room where everyone seems to be, the shouting across the room and bustling noises greet us.

"Have a good day, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo bids and we shake hands briefly before he leaves, leaving me to head into John's office to relay some information about the meeting I just had.

"Good meeting?" John questions as I lean against the door frame.

"As good as a meeting with Mr Cliffo can go." I half joke, folding my arms.

"Still a boring middle aged fuck?" John laughs, dropping his pen.

"More of less." I confirm with a small chuckle.

I'm half way through telling John about what happened and our plans when there's a commotion on the other side of the room. I look over my shoulder and find Cora pinning Mr Cliffo against the wall with the knife that she keeps in her stockings under his chin

He looks sheepish, slightly terrified, and completely taken of guard whilst she looks dangerous, pissed off and not the slightest bit hesitant.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" John enquires, joining me in the doorway. "Fuck yeah, I love when she brings the knives out." He practically cheers for her.

"Touch me or any of the woman in here again and you won't see the next sunrise." Cora promises, and in some weird way I can't help but smile a little as she looks so natural at this.

"What's some woman gonna do?" Mr Cliffo attempts to belittle her in order to save his so called manhood.

That's not what he was saying about her earlier.

Cora sharply brings her knee to his crotch making him pale and let out an agonising groan. The impact enough to make any man wince.

"First time a woman's touched your dick in years, is it?" She taunts, pushing the knife into his skin.

He can't get any words out, clearly in too much pain.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" She all but smirks. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret." Cora states and Mr Cliffo stumbles out of the door, no doubt planning to avoid this building for the rest of his life.

"Fucking hell, I learnt the day I met her not to fuck with Cora Witton and I'm still scared of her." John tells me, subtly interlacing his hands over his crotch making me breathe a laugh.

"Ladies." Cora grins at the women who she just protected from Mr Cliffo, and they mirror her smile.

"She may be small but she will hurt you." I comment watching her tuck her knife back in her stocking, not caring that people can see.

"No hesitation." John adds before he goes back to his desk.

"What the fuck were you thinking doing business with him?" Cora questions as she comes up to me, not mad just curious.

"We've worked with him before, thought I'd take it further." I shrug.

"And after each meeting he grabs my ass." She rolls her eyes, mirroring my folded arms.

"That's him?" I raise an eyebrow, surprised.

"Kinda." She nods, widening her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't know, lovie." I say softly before kissing her cheek breifly. "This is why I need you in my meetings, give me honest and better judgement."

"Speaking of which, business is done and dealt with, Finn and Isiah are just finishing it up." Cora informs.

"Did it go smoothly?" I question, staring down at her.

"More or less." She nods and she's about to explain before Michael calls her over. "I'll tell you later." Cora tells me, gently fixing my tie before she heads over to Michael.

"You're close." John states, a teasing tone creeping into his voice along with the growing smirk.

"Fuck off." I grumble and leave his doorway, entering mine.

***

"Hi." Cora sings when she enters my office, an unfamiliar baby on her hip.

"Who's this?" I question, leaning back in my chair.

"My neighbour's son." She says, tucking some blonde hair behind the baby's ear.

"It's illegal to take people's children, Cora." I tell her, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

"My neighbour needed someone to watch him for like 15 minutes." She informs, sitting down in the chair opposite me, situating the young boy on her lap who's fascinated with the bracelet on her wrist.

"What's his name?"

"Ronnie."

"Is this the neighbour that complained about the noise?" I ask, with a cheeky smirk

"Yeah, I still can't look them in the eye." She bashfully answers, smiling through the pain.

I laugh as I look back on that experience, it traumatised her so much that we did all our rendezvous on my house for the next month until people started getting suspicious so we went back to her house most of the time.

"You do a lot of things, Cora, yet you can't look your neighbour in the eyes because they heard us one time." I state, amused.

"Uh, I highly doubt it was just the once." She confidently claims.

"Why don't you just move somewhere more remote?" I suggest, already knowing the answer.

"I can't! I love my place, you know that." Cora replies, readjusting Ronnie on her lap. "Isn't that right, Mr Ronnie?" She coos.

I rest my chin on my palm, hiding my smile behind my knuckles. She looks like such a natural with him and seeing her with a baby makes a weird thought come into mind and I can't help but entertain that thought.

Half of me and half of her, dear god help the child who's cursed with that.

A sarcastic and cocky bastard riddled with trauma and seemingly never ending problems.

I'm not planning on having a child with Cora ever, but the idea is entertaining and gives me an odd feeling.

She'd be an amazing mum, she would do anything for anyone that she loves, and to receive her love is one of the greatest things in the world. As I'm looking at her now, I want some of that.

I'd like a beautiful baby who's half me and half her.

"What you daydreaming about, Shelby?" Cora brings me out of the thoughts I'd never utter to her.

"Nothing." I shake my head, and try to busy myself with the work in front of me.

"In all the years I've known you, Tommy, there's always something in your head." Cora says knowingly, a teasing smile creeping on her face.

"Not true." I deceive.

"I'll find out, some day, I always do."

Not even over my dead body.

"Are you coming over tonight?" She questions, crossing her legs.

"Depends, do you want me to?" I retort, looking over at her.

"I think you know the answer to that." Cora tells me, meeting my eyes, a sly glint prevalent in her eyes.

"No?" I guess.

"Of course I do." She chuckles, her smile lighting up the room.

"Tell you what, I'll finish this in the next... 20 minutes/half an hour then we'll head over to your flat, and see where the evening takes us." I suggest, despite the fact that I still got at least a third of work to do today but this girl just does things to me.

"You and I both know exactly where the evening will take us." Cora laughs, running her hand through her hair.

"The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get there." I reply, sending her a knowing look.

"Sounds like a plan." Cora grins, gathering Ronnie before leaving the room.

***

"Ready?" I ask, brushing my hand over Cora's shoulder as I walk past her.

"Mhm, just need to give this to Michael." She hums, getting out of her chair to head over to Michael as I get my coat.

"Where are you two going?" Polly muses, leaning back almost smugly in her chair, a cigarette burning in her fingers.

"Home." I answer, turning to look at her.

"Early for you." Polly acknowledges, looking as if she knows something I don't.

"Maybe so, Pol, maybe so." I nod as Cora walks over towards us.

"Ready?" She questions and I nod before I guide us out of here by draping my arm over her shoulders, opening the front door, seeing its beginning to rain. "Shit, I didn't bring a coat." Cora pouts.

"I did." I smugly say, stepping outside and she tugs at the sleeves of her dress until she steps out, too.

We begin to walk the 15 minute walk to Cora's place, chatting about random things on the way, the rain only getting heavier; luckily we're sheltered by the roofs of the houses hanging over the pavement.

"No one annoys me more than my sister, not even you and you're really high up there, like too high." She tells me, making me grin, that's my favourite pastime.

"It's just so easy to do, nothing amuses me more than when you're annoyed." I chuckle, looking down at her annoyed glare and feigning pain when she punches me in the arm, watching her fold her arms to keep herself warm.

"I retract my statement, you annoy me the mos---" she cuts herself off when I drape my coat over her shoulders. "Tommy Shelby, you're so romantic." Cora laughs, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"I try." I mumble, with a small smile as we turn a corner.

"Fuckin' hell, rain's giving no mercy." She points out, and we both look out at the rain that's pelting down, making puddles and leaking through unlucky people's roofs.

Luckily we're sheltered by said roofs; for now.

Grabbing Cora's hand, I pull her out of the protection of the roofs into the rain, making her squeal and laugh which is just music to my ears as I laugh along with her.

"Tommy!" She exclaims and I pull her into my arms, pressing her against me as our hair and clothes get soaked.

"Cora!" I imitate to annoy her, as she wraps her arms loosely around my neck, bringing us even closer. I look into her eyes, seeing how carefree she looks, how much her face is lit up, the smile that always makes me weak in the knees, and how happy she looks, it makes me unbelievably happy. "Kiss me."

"What? Out in open? People can see us, rumours will spread." Cora tells me as she sweeps some soaked hair off my forehead and to the side.

"So? People are already suspicious." I shrug, cupping her cheek. "Kiss me."

She breathes a laugh before pressing her lips to mine, the both of us smiling into it.

I've never smiled as much as the time I spend with this girl.

We stand in the middle of the road, raining cats and dogs on us, intertwined with each other, more than just physically, out in the open.

Pulling back slowly, we take each other in with soft eyes and smiles, and as I'm looking at her right now, all I can feel is love.

I'm in love with my best friend.

Deeply in love.

I could call myself crazy but the way she's looking at me right now and how she's making me feel, I'd say she feels the exact same.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, aching to be said but I'm not brave enough, so I settle with kissing her again instead.

I'm scared to the bone but I'm also kind of revelling in it as it's a new feeling and fuck does it feel good.

"You look pretty in the rain."

"As do you."

***

After a successful business move that we've all been hard at work on for the past month, that called for a celebration, right? Which is why we're in The Garrison this evening, nestled in the private room full of Shelbys, Grays, and a few other Peakys including myself.

Which is predictably chaos.

"To business." Michael toasts, holding his drink up.

"To business." We all toast, clinking glasses.

"Michael, for fucks sake, you've made that toast like 10 times tonight." John groans, rubbing his forehead clearly exasperated.

"I'm a little drunk, and you keep joining so you're all as bad as me." Michael states, and there's some truth to his words.

We're all a little drunk, some more than others. Not to name names or anything but I'm definitely looking at Arthur, Finn and possibly Polly, not to mention Michael. The rest of us are tipsy, definitely feeling the buzz in our systems, but not off our face.

Although that might change as the night goes on.

"To business!" Arthur vindicates, and I groan, making Tommy chuckle.

"On behalf of my family, I am so sorry." Tommy jokes from beside me.

"What is it with you Shelbys and your liquor?" I question, leaning my head on his shoulder as I look at him.

"Born with it in our bloodstreams." Tommy tells me, brushing his fingertips against my arm as his arm is draped around the back of my part of the booth.

We're kind of in our own bubble in the corner, occasionally piping up with a quip or an opinion but we're mainly talking to each other like we've always done in these sort of circumstances.

"I assume you came out of the womb with a cigarette too, right?" I tease, crossing my legs.

"Yeah, the midwife was waiting with a match." He jokes with a small laugh, his smile staying on his face.

"I can't imagine you as a child. Of course I've known you since we were in year 9, and I'd seen you around a few times in secondary school, but to imagine you as an 8 year old is really hard." I tell him, smiling at the thought.

"Well first of all I was adorable, let's get that out of the way." Tommy states, trying to conceal his smirk.

"You still are!" I tease, earning myself a blank look.

"The ladies loved me." He continues.

"Even with your bad haircut?" I laugh, I've heard so much about his haircuts in the past that family members did for him.

"That's what brought them in, you whore." Tommy laughs which makes me laugh.

"Of course, all that extra hair just propelled these so called ladies to you."

"Exactly." He confirms as if it's obvious. "I've heard stories from your childhood from your family or partners." Tommy informs, a mischievous look in his eyes

"You know only what I want you to know."

"You're forgetting that I know every single thing about you, everything." Tommy says, nudging his knee against mine.

"I highly doubt that, every single thing? Really?" I question, nudging him back.

"Yeah."

"How old was I when I stopped hating you?" I test him, turning slightly to look at him.

"Trick question, you never stopped." Tommy answers, grinning because he knows he's right and I huff. "Yet you still suck my dick almost every night." He mumbles, making me punch him which only makes him laugh.

"I don't hear you complaining." I retort.

"I'd never." Tommy shakes his head. "Why don't we go back to your place and I'll show you how appreciative I am." He suggest, placing his hand on my thing under the table.

"Don't you want to celebrate with your family?" I question, looking over at everyone who's more or less plastered.

"Lovie, you are my celebration." Tommy tells me fondly, tucking some hair behind my ear.

This is the thing with Tommy. He can make you feel so special and make you feel like you're the only person in the room, despite the fact that it's filled with loads of people. He can set off a load of fireworks inside of you without even really trying.

"How about you meet me in the back room in five minutes..." Tommy suggests, sending me a mischievous smile.

"Sounds like a plan." I reply, matching his smile.

"I'm gonna go get more alcohol." Tommy announces, but no one's really listening, and Tommy leaves the room, leaving me alone with his family.

"I'm so glad that I never have to talk to another Bulgarian in my life." Finn says, as I tune into the family's conversation.

"What if you fall in love with one one day?" I question and he turns to me.

"Simply impossible." Finn shakes his head.

"You can't control who you love; you can lie to yourself, deny yourself of it, but it'll always be there." I tell him, sitting up straight ready to go.

"You can definitely control who you love, I can also choose who, when, and where." Finn disagrees, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, say you chose to fall in love with the old lady that lives next door to you. Could you do that?" I question, watching him falter as everyone chuckles at him.

"What do you know about love anyway?" Finn asks in a grumble, downing the rest of his drink.

I know a little something about unrequited love.

"I got proposed to." I retort, sending him an obvious look.

"Which you laughed at before walking away from him." He argues, with a laugh.

"Broke the poor guy's heart in front of everyone." Arthur stifles a laugh, refilling his glass.

"Who proposes after 2 years together?" I question, folding my arms.

"Loads of people." John answers, an amused look on his face.

"Shit, maybe I don't know much about love." I join the laughter almost sheepishly.

"I love being in love, it's one of the best feelings in the world." Polly states, leaning back in her chair with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Love is whenever something happens in your life, good or bad, you immediately want to tell them. When you know you can go to them for anything. Knowing you can do anything and they'll always be there for you. When they can always make you laugh, despite anything. Just feeling at home with them, basically. Love is when they're your home." Arthur despite being drunk, eloquently speaks.

My mind instantly goes to Tommy.

He's all of that.

Always has been.

"Love is never far, it's always closer than you think." Polly states, and I look over at her and find that she's already looking at me. Her eyes boring into my soul.

"The only things I love in my life is me and my flat." I announce, and get up to go meet Tommy.

"What about me?" Finn questions, looking up at me with puppy-like look adorning his face.

"Aww." I smile and ruffle his hair. "No."

Opening the door to be greeted with the rest of The Garrison that isn't closed off, I step out and close the door behind me, my eyes scanning the room. Rolling my eyes when I see Tommy talking to some guy at the bar.

He spots me as I approach him, a small smile quirking at his mouth.

"Sorry, I've got some business to attend to." Tommy excuses himself and swiftly yet subtly follows me through the room.

"Is that what I am now? Business?" I tease, as we're out of earshot from anyone around us.

"No, you're a lot more fun than business." Tommy says, grabbing my hand as we push past the doors that lead to the backrooms down the long corridor.

"I don't know, sometimes you get quite excited when things are going well." I tell him, making him laugh which resonates in this empty corridor. "Although---"

I'm cut off by Tommy pressing me up against the wall as he attaches his mouth to mine eagerly. Cupping his face, I match his pace and pull him closer as he buries his fingers in my hair and pins me against the wall with his hips.

"You're so pretty, lovie." Tommy whispers, making me grin.

"So are you." I chuckle, knowing how much he hates when I call him pretty despite the tiny blush that flushes his cheeks.

"You just love to remind me that you're my best friend, don't you?" He asks with a smile.

"Yeah." I laugh and kiss him again before Tommy begins to guide us to a more private area as our kiss begins to heat up and hands are roaming.

The door slams against the wall as we enter a storage room that is surprisingly clean, the heavy wooden door closes itself and Tommy and I stumble our way through the room as our bodies heat up until we hit a wall, I let out a breathy moan at the sensation of being able to feel ever curve and dip of Tommy.

Disconnecting our lips, Tommy dips his head to attach his mouth to my neck as I pant, beginning to fiddle with the buttons of my dress.

"Uh, Tommy? Cora?" A voice hesitantly speaks up, and we freeze.

You could hear a pin drop.

I look to my left and see Michael staring at us with wide eyes, looking scared yet too shocked to really form an opinion.

"Hi, Michael." I sheepishly greet as Tommy drops his head to my shoulder in defeat briefly.

"Has this been going on this whole time?" Michael asks after some silence, rubbing his nose.

"What are you even doing here anyway, Michael?" Tommy asks, turning to face him.

"I was uh... meeting a friend." Michael says. "Not your kind of friend though."

I look past him and see the small container splayed out on some stacked up pallets. "Friend, really?"

"Yep." He nods, inhaling sharply as he refuses to look us in the eyes.

"Not doing lines off old rotting pallets?" I suggest, putting my weight on one foot.

"To--- Who are you to judge me when you guys are fucking or whatever under people's noses?" Michael accuses, acting out. "Has this been going this whole time? You've been sneaking around for years?"

"What does it matter to you?" Tommy and I say simultaneously.

"Are guys together or what?" Michael questions, looking between us.

Tommy and I look at each other, not being able to come up with an answer.

"How does it concern you with what we do privately?" Tommy questions, looking pissed.

"I don't know about priva---"

I cut Michael off as I push him against the wall, swiftly pulling my knife out and holding I under his chin whilst I have my hand pressed against his collar. "You say a fucking word to anyone, your mum, your friends, your butcher, your fucking dentist and you'll be fresh meat." I warn as I look into his blown out eyes. "Understand?"

"Cora---"

"Understand?" I repeat, pressing the blade into his skin.

"Yes, I won't utter a word!" Michael conforms, keeping eye contact.

"Good." I grin, and affectionately clap his cheek. "Tell your mum I'll be in late tomorrow." I inform as I put away my knife before stepping back to Tommy, who runs his hand down my back and rests it on the small of my back.

"We're trusting you, Michael." Tommy tells him, giving him a stern look before we head out the door.

"Stay off the snow will you, Michael?" I suggest over my shoulder before the door slams shut.

"You're so violent, like my little weapon." Tommy teases, intertwining our fingers and I squeeze his hand lightly.

"How much do you trust him?" I question, as we walk down the long corridor.

"As long as we've got you around, I'd say 100 per cent." Tommy jokes. "As long as we don't have any interactions like that again, I'd say he's pretty trust worthy."

"Right." I nod, taking in his words. "Back to my house?"

"We're still celebrating, aren't we?" Tommy states, making me chuckle but it's short lived as I can't help but frown when he drops my hand as we enter the open again.

My heart sinks.

"Just wanna remind you that we've got a wedding next week." Tommy says and I roll my eyes.

You forget one important shoot out that's been planned for months and suddenly he has to remind you of every important thing for the rest of time.

"You didn't propose though?" I reply, gliding through groups of people.

"I didn't?" He raises an eyebrow, looking down at me with a small smirk.

"No, you didn't." I shake my head, smiling.

"Oh, shame, you look good in white."

***

"Well Arthur, the big day's come." I say, as I flip my collar up to put my tie on.

"Indeed, it has indeed." Arthur nods, taking a seat on the large ottoman in the middle of the room.

"Our Arthur's finally settling down, eh?" John smirks as he looks in the mirror to do his hair again.

"God help Linda." Finn grumbles, slipping into his blazer.

"Already is." John widens his smirk.

"I don't see any of you getting married so fuck off." Arthur replies, disregarding John.

"To be fair, he's got a point... god can only do so much." I state, tightening my tie and putting my collar down.

"Oi, you can barely keep your woman on the reigns." Arthur retorts, pointing a finger at me, as the others snicker.

"I've not got a woman." I reply although I know who and what they're talking about.

"You know, the girl you're always around." Arthur tells me, and I huff with a small smile at their tomfoolery.

"You mean the girl who punched you and you practically cried when she was like 14?" I ask, pulling my cigarettes out.

"She'd fucking kill you if she knew you were talking about her like this, Arthur." Finn says, smirking.

"Even if she were my so called woman, not that you'd ever be able to make her conform to that title, she cannot be owned. Not just because of feminism but she's too wild for that, she'd also punch me and that hurts." I state, lighting my cigarette.

"I think it's the other way 'round." John muses, gesturing with his cigar. "She's got you on the reigns."

"Have any of you lot seen Cora?" Polly asks as she bursts into the room, dressed in a fancy dress.

"No."

"Not seen her all morning."

"Not seen her since this morning."

"Me either."

"Fuck sake. She can do everything but turn up on time." Polly grumbles, shaking her head. "Well come on then. Time's getting on and the bride won't wait forever."

We all exit the room one by one, following Polly through the building but we stop short when we see Cora stepping into the entrance hall, looking up at the ceiling as she lights a cigarette, showcasing the thin but long scar on her throat that gave me nightmares when it happened.

"Shelbys!" She beams when she sees us, taking a drag of her cigarette, looking temptingly appetising.

"What time do you call this, Witton?" Polly barks, sending daggers Cora's way.

"There's plenty of time! Don't worry about it." Cora waves Polly off but all I can focus on is how good she looks.

Her dress has a few layers of thin, see through tulle with flowers embroidered into it, the underneath is a champagne sort of pink coloured dress that shines through subtly, the length sinks all the way down to her feet, it's cinched in at the waist with a controversial slit at the side showcasing her leg, and her sleeves are made of the same see through tulle that hangs off her shoulders to tickle her elbow in waves. Her hair is pinned up with a handful of thick curls dangling around her face, and her make up is subtle which really makes her green eyes pop.

She looks like an angel to put it simply.

"Careful, you'll catch flies." John smirks, elbowing me.

I push him back making him knock into Finn which causes him to start an argument.

The art of diversion.

"Nice dress." I comment when she looks over at me.

"Thanks, it has pockets." Cora replies, giving me a demonstration.

"Thought it was supposed to be the bride who's the prettiest today." I state quietly as no one seems to be listening to us.

"Aw, you're too kind." She smiles before pecking my cheek and guiding us towards the church.

***

An around of applause and cheers resonate in the tall church as Arthur and Linda kiss, I can't help but smile at the happy couple.

"How long?" Tommy jokes when he mumbles into my ear.

"Stop!" I laugh, continuing to clap.

"We're married!" Arthur announces as he and Linda turn to face everyone with grins.

Another round of applause goes around the room, mixed with whistles, hoots, and cheers. Arthur and Linda walk down the aisle as a newly wedded couple before everyone slowly begins to follow them for photos outside.

"I can't imagine you getting married." Tommy states when we stand up.

"I'm hurt, Thomas." I reply, shuffling out of the pew.

"You seem too... independent and strong." Tommy digs himself a bigger hole.

"What? So the point of marriage is supposed to break me?" I question with a chuckle.

"No, just the traditional way is that you'd stay at home, looking after the children, cooking or baking, and waiting for your husband to come home." He answers. "And that's not you... but I like that about you."

"I'm never stopping for some man, men don't deserve rights." I shake my head.

"Oh right." Tommy laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders as we walk down the aisle. "I guess you work with a lot of males so you can say that."

"Thank you, for letting me, a woman, know what I can say and what I'm allowed to say, thank you husband." I joke and he bumps his hip against mine in response.

"The nagging wife part though, you've got that down." Tommy replies, weaving us through people as I lace our hands together with the hand that was dangling in front of my chest from where his arm is draped over my shoulders.

"Fuck off." I laugh, the fresh spring air hitting my face as we enter the outside, gathering at the back of the large group of people posing for photos.

"You love it." He grins before pressing a kiss to my cheek as I laugh.

A flash blinds me momentary, and I inwardly groan.

A few more photos, Tommy and I trying to annoy each other, and laughs later and we head off to the party.

***

"I've known Arthur since I was like 15, it feels weird to watch him get married after all this time." I tell a stranger that I've been talking to for the past 10 minutes.

"I've grown up with Linda, I've not heard the end of this wedding since she was 10." Linda's cousin makes a joke which I fake laugh at, before taking a sip from my flute of champagne. "Are you getting married anytime soon?"

"Oh, no, god no." I shake my head, chuckling.

"Really? Aren't you with Arthur's brother, what's his name? Thomas is it?" She questions.

"Tommy? We're not really together, well we aren't... Thomas is amazing but..."

"But?" She smiles warmly as if she's just done something.

Why aren't we together is the better question, Tommy is everything I've ever wanted, he respects me, makes me feel like I'm more special that I am, is always there for me no matter what, and can make me feel so carefree, I'm in love with him but he's just not.

"But he isn't one for relationships." I answer. "I'm gonna go annoy some of your family, you make me think when I'm here to get drunk. I don't like that."

Her smile falls and I float off towards a group of strangers, ready to judge.

"I heard that the Shelbys shot someone who accidentally bumped into them once." A middle aged man says quietly.

Perfect, this is the group I want to annoy.

"Really? I heard that they give their children guns." A little younger woman matches his tone.

"That's nothing, I heard that they stab children who beg." I cut in, doing this big exaggerated look around the circle.

"I heard that they hurt people who gossip." Polly comes out of no where, and I can't help but smirk at her when she meets my eyes.

"Are you two Shelbys?" A snooty woman questions with a sigh before sipping her drink.

"No." I answer, which isn't a lie.

"I'm Arthur's aunt and she's his brother's girlfriend." Polly states and I glare at her, before tucking my hair behind my ear and subtly flipping her off, which she suppresses a smirk at.

"Oh, I see. You seem like lovely people." Another woman replies with a tight lipped smile.

"We are." I nod.

"If you stay on the right side of us." Polly adds, lighting a cigarette.

"But if you don't, we'll drag you through hell."

"Simple really." Polly shrugs lightly.

"Of course... we're family now, nothing but love." The same woman replies with a nervous laugh.

As Polly makes them more uncomfortable I look over my shoulder at Tommy across the room, who's sitting at a large table with a few people but I don't think he's interacting with anyone really, cigarette and liquor in hand. He gives me a wink which makes me smile, and he gestures for me to come over with a nod of his head.

Leaving the group and Polly, I cross the room all the way to my best friend who takes a drag from his cigarette as I stand behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, letting my hands dangle above his chest life a necklace.

"Are you done antagonising Linda's family?" Tommy questions with a tiny chuckle.

"Not yet. They're so judgy." I reply, accepting Tommy cigarette when he offers it to me.

"Where do you think Linda gets it from?" He rhetorically asks.

"You look very pretty." I inform, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead when he looks up at me.

"If I look pretty you must be the prettiest person in the world." Tommy says, fiddling with my hands.

"Always a charmer you Shelbys." I tease.

"Eh we know how to talk the talk." He jokes, squeezing my hand. "Do you wanna dance?"

I look out at the dance floor where all the couples seem to be, it's a little bit crowded but seems comfortable.

"Sure." I nod and Tommy stands up before offering his hand with a boyish smile.

I match his smile and take his hand, Tommy leads us to the dance floor where I place my hand on his shoulder, keeping the other comfortably in his hand, whilst Tommy places his hand on my lower back. The song is quite a fast paced one, so there's no room for a slow dance.

Tommy and I expertly shuffle through the dance floor, him twirling me out every now and then, as we talk and laugh. "Why are old ladies so judgy?"

"I don't know, their better days are behind them and they can't get over that." Tommy offers an amused suggestion.

"I think it's because they---" I cut myself off with a squeal when Tommy surprises me by twirling me out into the dance floor making me laugh. "Give me a warning next time!"

He just smiles down at me as he looks into my eyes. "No, I like making you laugh."

"You always make me laugh, especially with your questionable choices." I tease, squeezing his hand. "I mean what were you thinking letting Finn---"

"I'm not going into this again, he wanted to do it and who am I to say no?" Tommy replies with a light laugh. "That would make both of us a hypocrite."

"We were more mature at the time..."

"Oh really? That's what you call maturity?" Tommy questions amused, as we swiftly move through the crowd as the song begins to end.

"We may have broken a few things but there's no harm done." I state, letting Tommy spin me one last time before a slower song comes on and we match our dancing to the rhythm.

"Sure, no harm done." He mocks me with a laugh, which makes me laugh.

Thomas sways us through the bunches of people as we lapse into a comfortable silence, settling into our own worlds.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Cora." Tommy tells me, continuing to sway us as he looks deep into my eyes and it feels like he's looking into my soul.

All I can do is smile.

"Yeah? You think?" I chuckle and he matches my smile.

"Mm." He hums, with a nod.

"That's alright, because I think I'm falling in love with you, too." I reply, causing him to break out into the biggest smile.

We pause our moving, standing still amongst all the other couples dancing. Tommy cups my face with his hands and goes to kiss me. "What about your family?" I question, when were mere inches away.

He smiles. "Fuck 'em, they all practically know anyway."

I reply by closing the gap between us, kissing my best friend in the middle of the dance floor as couples dance around us whilst we're stood still, in the midst of his brother's wedding. Tommy's thumb brushes my cheekbone gently as we stand in our own bubble, oblivious to what's going on around us, smiling into our kiss.

"I love you, Cora Witton." Tommy utters, pressing his forehead against mine with a smile.

"I love you, Tommy Shelby." I utter back, kissing him again which makes my toes curl.

"What do you say we finish this dance, get a little drunk, and then go home?" Tommy suggests, tucking some hair behind my ear. "If you can handle Linda's stare that long that is because from where I'm looking, she doesn't look that happy that we stole the spotlight from her on her wedding day." Tommy chuckles, looking over my shoulder at his family.

I look over at them too, seeing how they look shocked yet look like they expected it, and I meet Linda's glare, happy at how I've pissed her off.

"You're such an attention whore." I joke, looking back at Tommy.

"You know it." He smirks and begins to sway us again.

It feels like everything I've ever worked for in my life has led up to this moment. This is what I get after years of struggling, and fuck is it worth it.

"I want this song to play at our wedding."

"Oh, we're getting married now are we?" I chuckle fondly, liking the sound of that.

"If all goes to plan, yeah."

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa

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your-brilliant-lady-m · 3 years

Text

Part 4 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Glamour

You can call it however you want: kid's show logic, superhero disguise logic, magical girl show logic, cartoon laws, suspension of disbelief, etc. But the fact that nobody recognises Marinette, Adrien and others when they are suited up IS NOT BAD WRITING. It's one of the main laws of this genre. That's not because characters are stupid, okay? So, being frustrated that everyone in the show acts stupid about this "wearing a mask that covers only eyes" trope is strange. This criticism is not valid or fair.

But, this trope has to make sense in-universe as a worldbuilding and narrative element.

Miraculous doesn't give us much direct information on how glamour works. And in this case, I think we need both SHOW and TELL. Because if you don't establish the glamour rules clearly, you are going to run into problems and create unfortunate implications with your storytelling choices.

Appearance

Miraculous obviously gives our heroes magical glamour. In "Lady WiFi" we find out that masks can't be taken off. It's magic. No other explanation is needed.

Miraculous can slightly change the appearance of users (eyes, face shape, height and hairstyles). People can identify and notice the hairstyles of heroes (numerous Ladybug wigs, statue in Copycat). Jagged Stone points out the change of hair when he mistakes Chloe for Ladybug ("Antibug"). But it's just a costume. There is no magic that prevents Jagged from understanding that Chloe isn't Ladybug. So, how does it work? But it's forgivable because it's cartoon logic. Suspension of disbelief works here, I suppose. I won't judge this too harshly.

Glamour also obviously prevents people from making a connection that Marinette and Ladybug have identical hairstyles. So people know that Ladybug wears her hair in pigtails, but magic does not allow them to notice similarities.

Another important question. Does glamour work on Kwamis? Can they see who is behind the mask?

New York Special makes it clear that magic does not affect robots and they can see through glamour. Does that mean that Markov, AI built by Max, knows the identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir? And it's never addressed.

Plagg in "Frightningale" says that holders can subconsciously choose their superhero appearance. This is actually pretty interesting and I like this idea a lot. Except the show is not consistent with this. The transformation of Master Fu looks identical to Nathalie's. And we have seen how different from each other Ladybug and Black Cat holders looked in the past. At the same time, Master Fu and Nino have different takes on Turtle superhero suit.

Age Glamour

Does age glamour exist? Do people see Ladybug, Chat Noir and other heroes as adults even when they look like teenagers to the audience (their height and build are smaller even when they are transformed)? Is that why no one ever questions the fact that children nearly die on a daily basis?

I mentioned unfortunate implications earlier. Well, this is where they come into play. Let's talk about "Copycat". A lot of people discussed it before me, so I won't bore you with details.

When I watched "Copycat" for the first time Theo's crush on Ladybug didn't bother me, because I thought that he sees Ladybug as his peer, a girl who is about 20-23 years old. Theo is an artist, his character design is that of an adult. He has his own studio, its appearance indicates that he did serious commissions in the past. The guy has no idea that Ladybug is like 13.

But then we get "Heroes' Day" and "Ladybug". And Hawkmoth calls them "kids", which means that there is no age glamour. Others see Ladybug and Chat Noir as teenagers. Perhaps, other Miraculous users aren't affected by age glamour. Therefore regular people see all heroes as adults but other heroes are able to guess their age more or less correctly. But you must spell this thing out because the audience can interpret "Copycat" differently. If there is no age glamour, then Theo is crushing on a teenage girl and he is fully aware of this fact. And this doesn't look good for your show.

The "No Age Glamour" theory is further confirmed in "Sapotis" where Alya just straight up analyses voice recordings and says that Ladybug is a girl their age. If glamour exists then it should also cover technology. Kwami can't be photographed. Face and voice recognition software shouldn't be able to analyse transformed superheroes and detect their identities in any way.

Besides, after "Sapotis" Alya should definitely be sure that Ladybug is not 5000 years old (also not an adult), especially after she wore Miraculous herself and was one door away from detransformed Ladybug.

SEASON 4 UPDATE! There's no age glamour after all.

In "Furious Fu" Su Han calls Chat Noir a child without knowing his identity. It means that everyone knows their superheroes are teenagers. "Copycat" can't be saved from that, uh, subtext anymore. No one questions the danger of their job or the balance of their lives outside of the mask. No one doubts their competence after "Origins" ever again. No one becomes annoyed after being bossed around by two teenagers in spandex. You had many opportunities to drop these details into the narrative. Someone could have been akumatized over this (I will not be ordered around by some magical kids!).

I don't know why writers decided not to use at least this idea and slightly adjust "Copycat" if they got rid of the age glamour completely. It can be explained as kid's show logic, but unfortunately, I'm reluctant to do it. If many characters sympathise with akuma victims on-screen, why not with the teenage superheroes who must fight them?

New York Special had this weird focus on collateral damage out of nowhere (the damage done by sentimonster Robostus) and yet it has 0 effect on the main story. No one in Paris is pissed that their 2 teenage protectors weren't there.

Ironically, "Furious Fu" and that one remark made by Su Han also created unfortunate implications for other moments in the show. Just hear me out. Apparently, Jagged Stone wrote a "thank you" song for Ladybug knowing that she is 13-15 year old child back in "Pixelator". Fandom is more than happy to roast Lila for lying about saving Jagged Stone's cat and him writing her a "thank you" song. Fandom claims that Lila's tale could harm Jagged's reputation, when he wrote a song for teenage Ladybug several weeks prior. Meanwhile, in-universe this lie is 100% believable.

If we put on "realism glasses", then both this whole song situation and Theo's crush in "Copycat" have uncomfortable implications. However, the show's canon can't be viewed and criticised through "realism glasses". I admit that bits and pieces of my criticisms are affected by these "glasses", but, ultimately, I'm trying to be fair and concentrate only on things that can't be justified by "cartoon logic and worldbuilding".

Could the existence of age glamour solve this problem of unfortunate implications and other concerns mentioned above? YES. Is it better for the narrative? YES. Is essential for the story? NOT QUITE. Could the absence of age glamour be called an irredeemable storytelling flaw? NO.

Disclaimer: On a side note, only older audience can notice these implications. Children, the target audience, most likely won't understand this subtext simply because they don't have enough experience. So, perhaps, this criticism is unfair, because these moments only look weird to me as an adult. It's like an adult joke in a cartoon that you don't get until you reach a certain age.

There's nothing technically wrong with adult writing a "thank you" song for a teenager. It's just an expression of gratitude. However, unfortunately, we live in a world, where adults normally wouldn't write songs for teens to express gratitude only. In real life similar actions would imply pedophilia and would be actively scorned by the public. No one would risk their reputation like that even if their intentions were genuinely pure and sincere. But this show can't be viewed through "realism glasses", because it's a cartoon and in certain cases we as the audience must use suspension of disbelief and pretend that certain things are possible for plot to happen.

Su Han also wants to give Ladybug and Black Cat to adults. Why didn't Master Fu do this then? Writers don't give us any explanation. Throughout the show we never question this up until the moment it's revealed that adults don't have time-limited powers. Then comes "Furious Fu". Story suddenly becomes self-aware here. Because apparently nothing prevented Fu from giving the most powerful Miraculous to adults who won't have time limit and will be more effective against Hawkmoth (see part 3 for more details).

I have a very good example of Age Glamour done right. It works in the story. There is no confusion or unfortunate implications. There is like one plothole connected to the glamour (it's been years and I still can't forgive them for Cornelia and Caleb) but otherwise, it's a pretty solid example of both show and tell. Clearly, writers wanted to avoid uncomfortable implications which are present in "Copycat". I am talking about W.I.T.C.H. comic books and animated series.

If you are not familiar with it, I'll give you a brief explanation. The story follows 5 girls, the Guardians of Kandrakar who are chosen to protect their world and parallel ones from evil. They receive magical powers from the amulet known as the Heart of Kandrakar. Their powers are based on elements: fire, water, earth, air and energy. Our main characters are about 13-15 years old. In the animated series they are younger and they attend middle school, making them 12-14 years old. But the transformation makes them look 18-20. They look like young women to each other and to other people. At the same time, people can recognise them, their looks and voice don't change. Most people don't know that they are really teenagers when they are not transformed and these people don't know that magic can make them look older. That's why everyone treats Guardians like adults when they are transformed. Comics establish this fact in the very beginning. In first issues characters state that they look older, we are also shown this multiple times.

In fact, one of the first side plots revolves around the fact that Irma uses her powers to sneak into the disco club to meet up with her crush. Irma is 13 at the beginning of the series, she is a high school freshman. Her crush, Andrew Hornby is a senior guy 17-18 years old. Irma has liked him for a long time and wants to impress him, so she decides to be clever about this. She transforms into her Guardian form of the 18-year-old girl, hides her wings, sneaks out to the club after her parents are asleep without any problem, and meets Andrew, who obviously doesn't recognise Irma in this girl who looks about his age. Smitten Andrew offers her a ride and 13-year-old Irma doesn't understand the implication of that offer, so she accepts. And, obviously, he decides that she is interested in more than just a ride home, since she agreed, and the comic implies that he fully intended for them to have sex in the backseat of his car. But Irma understands the implication only when Andrew tries to kiss her. She panics and turns him into a frog. And she actually pulls this "I need to look mature" trick more than once over the course of the series.

It's not the only situation where this age difference is handled well and makes sense. People who know the main characters in everyday life remark on their older appearance during transformation. Sometimes people flirt with Guardians when they are transformed. In one of the side-novels centred around Cornelia, she is worried that the prince of the realm they helped to save from famine would try to marry her. That never happens, but Cornelia actually brainstorms with her friends about how to tell the prince that she is really 15.

There are many other plot points where this happens, but I think that you got the idea. I really like how "Age Glamour" was handled in W.I.T.C.H.

How do we fix this? Create the situations where people offhandedly mention "Age Glamour" in the presence of Marinette or Adrien, use Kwami for this.

"Don't worry, dear. Chat Noir and Ladybug are adults, who know what they are doing. I am sure that they will handle this. "

Theo could say: "Oh, I wonder which university Ladybug goes to?"

"So, does that mean that other people see us as grown-ups, Tikki?"

A few words and boom, problem solved. Then allow the "show don't tell" rule do the rest.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous analysis #miraculous meta #ml meta #ml analysis #miraculous transformations #miraculous critical #miraculous ladybug critical #miraculous glamour #superhero glamour #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

Text

MVA In Memoriam (3/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia) (Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party)

Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade

Chapter 229 – All It Takes Is One Bad Day

• The full first page, of Jin getting mobbed by Puppet!Jins, them tearing his mask off, and flinging it and then him away. Saved them a bit of budget, I suppose, but it’s a shame to lose the drama and the violence of Twice having his mask pulled away, since it’s decent foreshadowing (indeed, possibly intentionally so, on Skeptic’s part) for the violent bewilderment he’ll be subject to shortly.

• Re-Destro’s line, “Not when he’s using his meta-ability to puppeteer, unless you want another nagging lecture.” They didn’t keep the first nagging lecture, so of course they wouldn’t keep this. I’m still annoyed, both on general principle and at the loss of RD’s implication that these nagging lectures are a regular occurrence, especially if one tries to bother Skeptic when he’s using his meta-ability. Has RD himself been on the receiving end of one? Possibly so! But you’d be less likely to think so just from the anime.

• Re-Destro’s line, “This allowed our warriors to momentarily hold back and stay out of danger.” Because why would the audience need to know that Skeptic planned for and Re-Destro cares enough to observe something like that lol?? Obviously the MLA is perfectly content to just throw their peoples’ lives away because, whatever, more where that came from! Dammit, anime, the fandom believes this enough as it is without confirmation bias from your cuts!

• Skeptic’s “fufufu” laugh, because the anime is allergic to the MLA having fun.

• The police officer’s line, “Sure, but in a case like this, you’re still to blame.” The rest of the exchange hints at it, of course, but there’s a horrifying callousness to a police officer just saying straight to the face of a teenaged orphan facing his first offense, “Yes, you were obeying the law perfectly and this guy just ran out in front of you, but it’s going on your criminal record anyway, whatever.” A weight the anime lost, and another that makes me very suspicious of the patterns behind what, precisely, was put on the chopping block.[1]

• Jin’s narration, “That police officer couldn’t have known. Me neither.” Demonstrates that Jin doesn’t really hold his fall against the one policeman. It’s a consistent thread with Jin’s character that, while he’s very jaded, he’s not actually vengeful, nor is he looking to enact systemic change. While he’s very defensive of his friends, people who hurt Jin himself are never in any real danger of him coming to collect his pound of flesh in return; he just rolls with it as part of how the world works, in the way of someone who was never given reason to believe any different. This line is a good example of that.

• From Jin’s old employer’s angry rant, deletes the note that the client that called is angry, and that the client said, “That young punk of yours did this!” It’s nothing that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the conversation, but I do I think cutting it loses a sense that this guy is just unloading all of his frustration and fear on Jin. The length of the screed, the extra details—it clearly communicates that Jin’s boss is so angry and upset he’s not paying any real mind to filtering, but just recounting every point of contention the moment they come into his mind.

• In modern society, when you’re someone without roots… Well, not a lot of people can relate to that.” It isn’t just the police that failed Jin; it’s a whole society that’s distrustful of people who don’t have a place in the fabric, and thus are unwilling to try and bring them into it. Like Tenko, there are a thousand little places where someone could have reached out a hand, but no one ever did. The audience can intuit this, but I feel it’s better to be clear about it—it’s not just the legal system that screwed Jin over; it’s every other person that never tried to help him because they were afraid of his eyes or distrusted a guy who had no connections. When Shigaraki comes, he’s not going to be coming for heroes alone; he’ll be coming for this entire tapestry of indifference and timidity.

• Skeptic’s lines, “Hrm? Fighting back? I was sure he’d either flee or cower in place... We didn’t anticipate such unity between them.” This gets at two things. Firstly, and once again, that the MLA did their research; that they came into this with educated expectations and a definite plan. Secondly, an in-character observation of what the arc has been showing the audience all along: that the League isn’t just a disparate gang of hoodlums anymore; that they’re developing real bonds. Those bonds mark them as unusual—Re-Destro comments on it in 223, as did Overhaul in 147; even Mr. Compress remarks disapprovingly on Twice’s “habit” of getting overly attached to people. It’s striking that, even though the MLA knew from Giran’s records that the League was uncommonly well-bonded, Twice’s devotion still fell outside Skeptic’s parameters.[2]

• Again Skeptic’s line, “Now his legs.” The drones don’t actually get this far (though you can see them gearing up for it on the next page), so it’s a reasonable enough cut, but it does emphasize the ludicrous, over-the-top extremes Skeptic in particular is willing to go to in securing what he wants. If, you know, “Kidnap the doubler so we have a method to make copies of the Grand Commander at our leisure,” wasn’t bonkers enough.

• Twice’s line, “Even against Gigantomachia!” It really highlights just how much mental energy Twice has been dedicating to avoiding injury, that he was able to keep it in mind even fighting a foe as overwhelming, and for as extended a period, as Machia. And like, the anime blitzed over the Machia fight so quickly, and with so little visible wear and tear to the League, that it really could have used all the reminders it could find room for about how intense those six weeks were.

• Twice’s line, “I won’t watch a friend die!” Such an important line that the composer named an entire track for it, not that the anime gave us that track in the moment it was clearly scored for. They added in a new line later in the scene which mostly gets the important sentiments back in, but loses out in being slightly less fitting to his breakthrough. See the Additions portion of the write-up on Chapter 230, following.

Framing Shifts

• The policeman in Jin’s flashback looked up at him in the anime, where in the manga, his eyes stay down on his paperwork the entire time. I realize that anime can’t just still-frame every panel of a manga and call it an adaptation,[3] so characters will do things like move and look around in different directions just in the course of inhabiting a room, Still, in this case, it has the effect of making the officer look more alert and engaged than he was in the manga, and given that this whole chunk of backstory is about Jin slipping through the social safety net, it feels appropriate to me that the officer should be completely checked out.

Additions

• A new shot of Jin(s) in his pre-massacre doppelganger army days. Didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know—it’s little more than a new angle of the gang in the truck—but it was nice to see.

Bonus Note

• They left Re-Destro’s phrase, “My company,” alone when he was talking about the micro-transceivers Skeptic was using. That’s accurate to the manga, but I’d like to remind everyone that, at that point in the anime, viewers whose only reference is the anime itself have no idea that Re-Destro is a businessman. The show skipped the commercial, RD’s intro, the dinner scene where his company comes up, and Giran’s association of RD with Detnerat; it will further go on to skip Shigaraki recognizing him from the commercial. The news report mentioning Detnerat was ten full episodes prior to Episode 110, and was followed up on in not the faintest degree. For heaven’s sake, would it have been so hard to have Hirata Hiroaki say, “My Detnerat’s,” instead of just, “My company’s”?

Chapter 230 – Sad Man’s Parade

• Deleted the MLA members that are attacking Compress as they get pushed off by the Twice wave. Not the first time, and not the last, that the anime didn’t animate the random MLA people on the street. It’s hard to take the threat of their numbers seriously when the anime kept deleting them from what are supposed to be crowd scenes, you know?

• Mr. C thinking worriedly about Dabi as he’s mulling over Geten’s strength and disregard for catching his own people in the collateral damage. It’s just a, “Dabi—!” but it’s yet another tiny cut that shaves away at the manga’s clear depiction of Leagues’ concern for one another—even Mr. Compress, who claims that such things aren’t very villainous.

Framing Shifts

• Changed the random MLA’s exhortation to kill all the Twices to a generic, “Damn—!” I know American censors have often taken issue with the words “Kill” and “Die” in kids’ cartoons, but I was never of the impression that that was the case in Japan. And it’s not like the show made any bones about Curious planning to kill Toga. A rephrase to save a second and a half on dialogue, maybe?

• Had Skeptic give his lines about failure on the way over to the elevator instead of stalking over in silence, and then dumping the whole monologue all at once. The manga’s extended silence over three identically sized panels is much funnier and more characterful. I grow ever more confident in my assessment of Skeptic as the second-most ill-treated MLA character in this adaptation.

• The return of the Doom Choirs for the Twice Parade. I really wish the anime would lay off slathering Doom Choirs all over everything, especially a moment like this: a triumph for Twice, and, true to form for Twice, also crammed to the gills with visual and verbal gags. The Doom Choir is out of keeping with both the victory and the comedy—Mine Woman, later on, served the Parade much better.

Additions

• Gave Twice a new line, “I will protect my comrades!” It was nice to make up for his, “I won’t watch a friend die!” but the latter is more characterful, especially since a more literal translation is, “I won’t kill my friends!” Which is, you know, relevant to the fact that Twice has problems telling himself apart from things that just look like him, and he just had to intervene to stop some of those look-alikes from killing one of said friends. At least it got his use of nakama back in.[4]

• A new little cut of animation as the action went back to Geten and Dabi. I suppose the Dabi fans liked it, and it was nice to see more of Geten’s ice dragon, but I’d have much preferred they could keep the scenes we already have before adding new ones.

Chapter 231 – Path

The scene of Hawks wondering why he hasn’t heard from Dabi and his subsequent flashback to the last time they spoke were relocated to the beginning of Episode 102, the first thing the audience saw after the prior episode ended with Shouto inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at Endeavor’s. In the manga, of course, it’s not “a few weeks ago in Kyushu,” it’s “meanwhile in Osaka.” Also, the order of the scenes was flipped—the episode led with the flashback, then returned to the modern day. It really makes the timeline needlessly confusing—the viewer has no real context for what we’re seeing and when, especially since the anime neglected to specify how much time passed between the two scenes. You have to assume it was enough time for an outcry to be raised over Jeanist’s disappearance, but the random shot of a bird flying over was not at all helpful there.

Alterations included (as usual, outright removed material is in bold text):

1. Cut Hawks’ thought, “That’s why you keep calling,” and his line, “What’s the job?” I know I should give a breakdown here about Hawks’ mentality and training, but I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to complain about any lines Takami Keigo loses. God knows the anime gives him plenty enough bonus material.

2. Spliced in the flashback scene of Hawks reporting to the Commission from Chapter 243, but subtly changed it to suggest that it took place after the phonecall in which Dabi demanded Hawks kill a non-Endeavor top hero, rather than it taking place right after Hawks and Dabi’s first contact, which is what the manga implies.

3. Deleted several key shots in the Jeanist apartment scene, with the effect of making Hawks way less creepy. We got an anime-original shot of his eyes, narrow and serious, but not either of the shots of his big, off-putting grin and widened eyes as he pulls a feather-blade on Jeanist. We also lost a shot of Jeanist turning to face him, framed between extended primaries of Hawks’ Fierce Wings. It’s not like the anime dropped the fake!Dead Jeanist plot, so I’m not sure why the shift, unless it’s just that they wanted to keep Hawks likable for the merch-buying crowd, not creepy and unsettling. And while I personally never believed that Hawks really killed Jeanist, a lot of people thought it was plausible, no doubt based on how off-kilter he comes across in this scene. It loses a real frisson, to just play it straight.

• Shigaraki decaying a missile in mid-air. So Dabi can get those little animation flourishes but Tomura can’t, huh, anime? I see how it is. I. See. How. It. Is.

• Spinner’s little side comment about all the ice everywhere. A nice demonstration that Geten and Dabi’s fight really is affecting huge swathes of the city; that’s certainly apparent already in a bunch of the wide shots showing exactly that, but it’s helpful to have the more zoomed-in moments, too. Also, I do enjoy those little side quips wherever we get them, and the anime often removes them.

• Thinned out the crowd guarding the route to the tower somewhat (it’s particularly noticeable on the mid-distance rooftops) and, as best I can tell, removed Shigaraki and Spinner from the shot. Why keep all the lines harping on the 110,000 number when a) it’s not even accurate to the MLA’s forces, just the League’s assumptions, and b) the studio doesn’t even have the resources to adequately convey the numbers the manga does portray?

• Somebody in the crowd being defiant about Twice’s multiplication and vigorously declaring that the League are all just sacrifices for the MLA’s Revival Party anyway. The background nobodies? Allowed to express even bog-standard over-confidence? Well I never. How dare those people think their lives count enough for them to get dialogue.

• Spinner’s, “This keeps happening!” Of course he couldn’t have that line in the anime, since the anime cut the other big place Trumpet clearly used his power to rile up his followers. What other times were you even talking about when you said, “Every time he talks,” Anime!Spinner? That scene was the first time we even saw Trumpet since he welcomed you guys to town.

• Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. He just called him a damn moron (bakayarou) in the anime; he uses the considerably more specific baka kyouso (Google Translate gives “guru”; jisho gives “founder of a religious sect”). He uses the same term again immediately afterward—Viz’s translation gives, “More like chrome dome cult!”—which the anime also deleted.

So here’s another example of the anime doing everything it could to erase the presence of cults in the HeroAca world. The easy assumption to make is that this was tied to broadcast standards about the depiction of what Japan refers to as “new religious movements,” which—and pardon the brief swerve into real life historical horrors here—have been very unpopular in Japan since Aum Shinrikyo and the sarin gas attacks in 1995. But were these elements removed because the anime didn’t want to represent anything that smacks of new religious movements at all, or because the depiction of both the MLA and particularly the CRC are explicitly villainous and calling religious movements, even made-up ones, evil on TV leads to a lot of angry phone calls?

• Re-Destro’s line, “Unlike my good Miyashita, there’s nothing charming about you.” Of course they’d cut this, having cut the Miyashita scene, but I hate it anyway. As I said earlier, RD’s invocation of Miyashita in front of two people who are going to have not the slightest clue who that is tells me that Re-Destro really does miss and feel bad about killing the guy. Cutting the reminder that RD still feels that sting makes it much too easy to assume that Shigaraki’s right about RD hiding up in his tower, uncaring of the blood shed on his behalf, when if you read Re-Destro with even the slightest of attempts at good faith, it’s clear that those losses weigh very heavily on him.

Incidentally, and not to harp on the art again, but in the manga, Stress is still visibly spread down from RD’s temple to the ridge of his brow over his eye socket. The anime returned it back to its normal resting state, again suggesting that the death toll mounting in the streets below (as well as, possibly, the new stress of confronting a quirk as powerful as Double) left RD completely unmoved. The spread was back in the following shot, so it was probably just an art error, but it would be nice to have had fewer of those, especially when they impact characterization as much as what RD’s Stress blots are doing at any given time.

Framing Shifts

• Had Machia doing this weird cannonball skim just over the ground, when in the manga, he’s still half-buried, spraying earth and stone everywhere. The manga never namedrops Machia’s Mole quirk during the story itself, but it’s important to know for later that Machia can not only tear through obstacles, he can tear through obstacles extremely quickly.

Additions

• Gave Hawks a few new lines about how too many unexpected things happened for their last arrangement, and that Dabi should have given him more warning. Largely seemed to be there to give the anime an excuse to flashback to the High End fight, in case the viewers had completely forgotten about Hawks and Dabi having a clandestine meeting and sniping at each other in the aftermath of that event. An understandable addition, but deeply frustrating in the context of all the lines that got cut.

Chapter 232 – Meta Abilities and Quirks

• Dropped a third instance of Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. I don’t know what the S&P restriction is on this, but given that the movie was allowed to create and villainize an entire international terrorist cult, it is really incomprehensible that the MLA doesn’t get to keep their designation as such. Why?? Because the movie involves going out and defeating its cult, but the series is going to engage in a more sympathetic treatment?[5] Because the self-selecting movie crowd is less likely to complain than the TV audience? Did they just not want to draw attention to how much the movie was ripping off the MLA’s whole shtick? What??

• Missed that RD’s swole arm swipe wipes out the puppets Skeptic left behind; they just vanished from the scene entirely after Twice’s arrival. It’s hard to blame the anime for this; the manga also seems to lose track of the fact that they’re right there in between RD and the elevator—they’re nowhere to be seen anywhere between the end of Chapter 231 and the aforementioned arm swipe, where you can see them getting obliterated. Both versions could have stood to be more attentive to this; indeed, the anime could have fixed it, small error though it is.

• A sort of twitchy sparking around Shigaraki’s hand right after he decays the tower. This is foreshadowing that Shigaraki’s big AOE decay attacks are hard on his body, which will become extremely apparent after he unleashes it on the city at large during the climax, and factors into his decision to accept the mysterious power Ujiko offers. The damage Shigaraki sustains there doesn’t come out of nowhere; Horikoshi is, on the whole, extremely good at layering in foreshadowing many chapters before the foreshadowed elements come fully to light. It makes the writing look much messier than it actually is—more convenient, more pat—to delete this stuff.

• Shigaraki recognizing RD from the Detnerat commercials. Well, they ditched the Detnerat commercial, so of course they ditched this. Still, it lost one of the indicators that Shigaraki is, despite not receiving a formal education, actually quite up to speed on current events—even, apparently, when those current events are happening while he’s been fighting Machia in an isolated stretch of mountains for six weeks! I already suffer enough through fanon characterizations of Shigaraki in which he’s a basement-dwelling feral manchild glued to his gaming console whom AFO bans from accessing information about the outside world, anime! I don’t need you dropping the scenes that most clearly demonstrate otherwise!!

• In the anime, Baby!Chikara’s face was unmarked, just a normal infant face—you’d never even know the kid had a meta-ability just to look at him. In the manga, the skin of his face is clearly darker, contrasted against the paleness of his mother’s hand. It’s obvious that he’s not “normal” looking, and thus equally obviously would have attracted negative attention in his era.[6] Also had his mother smiling; her face in the manga is too shadowed and vague to make out an expression, befitting the murky tragedy of her story and the fear she must have been living with.

Framing Shifts

Additions

• A little thing: they had Twice echo, “Cushion?” when Clone!Shigaraki told him to get ready to cushion Giran’s fall. If anything, Re-Destro and his little thought-bubbled question mark is probably the one who should have had this reaction line.

• Added a visual for Clone-araki catching himself on the window. A perfectly reasonable way to fill screen time while a dialogue beat was ongoing.

• Added a panning still over a reaction shot from a bunch of Twice clones when the tower came down. It had a few good faces in it.

---

So, generally, this episode was better. I definitely still had issues with it, but compared to what came before, when they were trying to cram 5+ chapters into the episodes, there were far fewer cuts, and what cuts and tweaks there were, were relatively minor. Definitely nothing that made me want to throw chairs Jerry Springer-style the way 108 and 109 did.

Sadly, I can't say the same for the remaining two episodes. Come back next time for Part Four, Episode 111: Shimura Tenko, Origin.

FOOTNOTES

[1] After witnessing the massacre that was Episode 108, I was convinced they were going to cut the policeman scene entirely, and just go right to Jin getting fired for hitting someone with his bike, letting the audience think it was his fault completely rather than cast aspersions on police and the justness of the law. I was pleased they kept it at all, but less pleased with the steps taken to soften the sharpness of its accusation.

[2] Of course, it’s not like the MLA themselves don’t understand the willingness to give everything for the people who matter. They just label those feelings Devotion To The Cause, and don’t think the League is capable of such resolution.

[3] Netflix’s Way of the House Husband, be told.

[4] Nakama is, of course, a shonen standby, but, to the best of my knowledge (which is admittedly limited; I don’t follow a lot of shounen series), it’s pretty rare to hear the word coming out of a villain’s mouth! Jin calling the League his nakama ties into how the League are both sympathetic villains in the larger story and also the protagonists of the current arc, thereby operating under a lot of protag tropes for the duration—foreshadowed by Spinner’s earlier talk of Shigaraki and his boyish, dream-chasing eyes.

[5] Sometime after the mass arrests, one hopes.

[6] This could well be a coloring error in the manga, but if so, you’d think they’d have corrected it for the volume release. Especially given that, again, the color is in a different shade/screentone than the shadow that covers most of his mother’s face, and her hand stroking Chikara’s chin isn’t shadowed at all.

#my villain academia #bnha #bnha meta #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my writing #stillness has salt

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licieoic · 4 years

Photo

“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.”

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years

Text

Dean Winchester: New experiences

*not my gif*

Pairing: Dean X Reader/Y/n, Mention of Sam X Eileen

Pov: Deans

Warning: fluff, cuteness, protective Dean, Domestic Life, Painting skills

Summary: With Y/n being pregnant Dean and her need a room for the new life that they are bringing into the world. That includes painting the walls, a task that Dean has given to himself “Honey, where are you?” “Oh hey sweetness.” “No you can’t help!” “And no buts just sit in the rocking chair” “It’s amazing. I love you and the walls.”

Word Count: 1,745

MasterList

Tag List: @akshi8278

After finding out that Y/n was pregnant the preparation for the new arrival came in hast. Y/n was only a few months pregnant, but my need to protect her and the baby was more than instinct.

I had promised Y/n that she wasn’t going to have too much but keep growing our child. I’d do everything else, which included going out late to pick up Y/n cravings, not going hunting when Y/n needed me to be around, giving Y/n massages.

Y/n was everything to me. She had brightened up my world 5 years ago. She was another hunter, her family had all been killed over the years by the job. We met and I had a hard time at first expressing my emotions, and feelings to her. She was so easy to talk to. Sam teased me about having a soft spot for her, which in hand I teased him about his soft spot for Eileen.

When Y/n had told me that she was pregnant it was a slap in my face, reality that had slapped me in my face. Sam and I were sitting in the kitchen we’d had been talking about Eileen coming and staying in the bunker.

“Dean? What do you think about Eileen staying here with me?” Sam asked me. I looked up from my cup of morning coffee. “I don’t see why not. It would probably be good to have more than just the 3 sometimes 4 of us.” I said.

“Defiantly would make it less scary” I heard Y/n say as she walked into the kitchen. She came over kissing my forehead, I put my hand on top of hers on my shoulder.

“I need to tell you boys something important,” Y/n said sitting down next to me. “Did you find another hunt?” Sam asked eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Dumb ass let her talk!” I said. my hand going to rest on Y/n thigh. “Well, it’s more like a surprise. For both of you.” Y/n said. She was stalling, she’d say pretty much the same thing just a different way.

“Y/n, just say it. We can take it.” Sam said I kicked in his shin. “Well since you insist Samuel. Are you ready to be an uncle?” Y/n said and then looked over at me “Dean are you ready to be a dad?” It was quiet for a minute the both of us progressing what she had just said.

“Huh?” Sam said. “Bun in the oven?” I said. Y/n shook her head up and down. “So let me ask again. Are guys ready for a little kid hanging around the bunker?” Y/n said.

I sat up real quick. I hugged Y/n and whispered in her ear “I’m gonna be a dad.” I hugged her once more before looking over at Sam “Sammy, I'm going to be a dad...holy shit!” I said.

That was five months ago. Since then Eileen moved in bunking with Sam. Y/n baby bump only grows she was having a harder time fitting in her clothes. One day I had caught Y/n looking through my draws. A pair of panties on and she already had one of the lounge t-shirts I wore during the downtime. “Baby what are you doing?” I said leaning up against the door frame.

“I can’t fit into any of my pants. This is a lot more frustrating than I thought it was going to be.” Y/n said sitting down on the bed. A small whimper falling from her lips. “Baby... You can borrow my sweats.” I said sitting down next to her.

She smiled up at me and rested her head against my shoulder. “I know that this is frustrating and hard for you, but think of the outcome baby,” I said. “I know I can’t say I completely understand your pain, frustration, or mood swings, but I do know that you and I will have a beautiful child that you helped grow,” I said placing my hand on her stomach.

She then placed her much slender, and smaller hand on top of mine. “Ya know I think he’s gonna love her daddy! I know I do.” Y/n said kissing my cheek. “You still think it’s gonna be a boy?” I asked. “I think it’s gonna be a girl, with your eyes, and a soft smile,” I said.

When we went to figure out the gender of our baby and at the last minute Y/n decided that it would be a surprise and we would find out on his or her birthday. I really didn’t have any say seeing as she was the one carrying our child.

When I was sitting with y/n I had an idea. “Honey, why don’t we go get you some maternity clothes, and then we can go get some paint for the baby's room?” I asked her. “Well, I can’t go anywhere without pants on!” Y/n said.

So I got up, walking over to my side of the bed. I throw over my shoulder my gray sweats. “Here baby. I’ll grab your flats, so all you have to do is grab your phone and not bother with shoes till we get to the car.” I said kissing her temple then leaving our room.

“Dean, I’m ready” I heard from the garage. We spent what seemed like hours in the shops, finally after finding what Y/n said was enough stuff. We left and went to the hardware store, and since we didn’t know the gender of the baby I had a feeling that this was going to take a few hours. “What color are you thinking about baby?” I asked Y/n as we both looking through the color cards.

“How about a light green?” She asked. “Green, okay. With an orange accent wall,” I said with a stupid accent. “Yeah, I heard that orange and green are actually really good for the beginning of your child's life!” She said.

“If our kid doesn’t like the color as they grow up then we can always go get the color they want and repaint the room. Big family experience.” I said in response.

After a long day out, it had tired Y/n out. When we made it home Y/n was out cold in the passenger seat. So I carried her to our shared bedroom, slipping off her flats and pulling the covers over her body.

I slipped from the room and went back out to the garage grabbing the bags of clothes, and paint. It wasn’t late seeing as I could still hear Sam and Eileen’s TV throughout the hallways.

I dropped the bags of clothes into our room and shut the door slightly. I figured that Y/n would wake up in a few hours since I wasn’t in bed with her. I went to the closest room to our, the number door was 13.

I walked into the room, and noticed that I was probably going to need help from Sam about moving all of this furniture. So I left that room and knocked on Sams door.

Sam opened his door, his annoyed tone telling me either that two of them were about to get it on, or they were about to fall asleep. “I know it’s late for you too, but I need your help Sam! I need you to help me move some furniture in room 13.” Sam ran a hand through shrugging, before turning to give Eileen a kiss on the forehead and walking out with me.

“This better be quick Dean.” Sam said. “It will be I promise you. I’ll get you back to Eileen in a few.” I said.

As we walked into room 13 I explained my plan on painting the room and just moving all the furniture into the middle of the room, so it wasn't in the way of everyone. Sam pushed the bed from the back wall into the middle of the room while I grabbed side table and other small shit and placed it all on top of the bed.

And before I knew it we were done with moving everything. I had also ought a few things prior to our outing. A rocking chair, a few hangers for their clothes, and a bookcase. “Goodnight, Dean. I love ya.” Sam said before walking out of the room shortly after I heard his bedroom door shut.

I ended up putting together the rocking chair first, testing it out a couple of time to make sure that it didn’t fall apart under Y/n. She was already feeling self-conscious about her extra weight that she has already gained.

Afterwards I started to mess with the paint containers. Pouring some of orange color first wanting to get the accent wall done first. I ended up choosing the back wall for the accent wall, which meant that all the surrounding walls were going to that light green Y/n had thought of.

I thought I had heard the door creak, but wasn’t sure until I heard Y/n’s tired voice come from the hallway. “Honey, where are you?” I peaked my head out of the door frame “Oh hey sweetness.” I said with a cheery smile.

I grabbed her hand softly dragging her into the room, I had already put 3 coats of the orange on the wall. “You know this would probably go quicker if you had more help!” Y/n said hugging me

“No... You can’t help me.” I said stubbornly. “You’re already doing everything I can’t you know.” I said. “Dean, I was just saying that because it’s 2 in the morning right now.” Y/n said and she went to go sit on the bed, a few things falling.

“I know that, but no more buts how about instead of sitting on the bed with all that stuff on it, you go sit in the rocking chair in the corner!” I said a little bit of excitement seeping through my voice.

“Aw, when did you get this Dean?” Y/n asked as I helped her sit down. “When you weren’t with me a while ago actually.” I said having to really think about it. “You know it looks amazing! I’m really happy with the way this is turning out, baby.” Y/n said.

“I love you too Y/n!” I said. Y/n pulled me down by the collar of my shirt and wiped some remnants of paint off my nose. “What were you doing saving this for later?” She said. I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

Completed 01/18/2021

#dean winchester #deangirl #dean x reader #dean x y/n #daddy dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatualfluff #support #pregnant #pregnancy #domestic life #uncleSam

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berrynarrybanana · 4 years

Text

sounds just like a song - ws pt. 3

A/N: This is a rewrite...I did not edit...and I just...might have added a few things that some people will hate me for. I love you all though :)

Warnings: Mentions of ex girlfriends, mentions of bullying, self doubt, smut for sure, alcohol obvi, and...maybe other stuff?

Word count: 10K

Watermelon Sugar masterlist

July 14, 2018 Bea’s POV

“I find it kind of hysterical that we had to sneak off to a bathroom to say goodbye properly.” I let out a series of girlish giggles, dropping my head against the door as Harry continued to kiss down my neck. “Harry-”

“I don’t want to say goodbye yet.” His words were muffled by the skin of my neck. “Give me five more minutes.”

“Champagne makes you needy.” I gasped, lifting my hips up when he bit a little harder than the few times before, his tongue immediately swiping over the skin. “Fuck, that feels so nice.”

“I bet it does.” He hummed out, his chest vibrating under my palms as he tilted his head up to nip at my earlobe. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

“Believe me, I can’t either.” I pressed my palms against his chest, slightly holding him back from my body. “But you have to get to soundcheck eventually, and I have plans with the girls.”

“I know.” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I just….fuck, I think I’d take you with me everywhere if I could.”

“I’d gladly follow if I didn’t have prior engagements.” I gave him a soft smile, brushing my thumb over the collar of his shirt. “We’ll only be apart for a few hours, that’s not so bad.”

“It can be when we know our time is limited together.” He nibbled on his lower lip. “We only have until Tuesday-”

“Which means we still have three days.” I reminded him. “Besides, I’ve spoken to Claire about Saturday, and I think I might be able to sneak away.”

“Yeah?” His brows lifted, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I guess it’s a date then.”

“I guess so.” I chuckled. “Now, give me one more good kiss before I go.”

Harry smirked, his dimple flashing as he leaned forward like a shark chasing after it’s prey.

🐙🐙🐙🐙

Harry’s POV

I pressed the key to my Tesla into Bea’s palm as I kissed her forehead.

“Don’t argue with me.” I whispered, glancing down at her as she squinted up at me. Her empty hand rose to her forehead, shielding her sensitive, blue eyes from the california sun . “Just take my car so you don’t have to uber around, and we can drive it home tonight from the venue.”

“But Harry.” She sighed, licking over her bottom lip as she looked back at my car. “That thing costs more than...well, everything I own.”

“Shut up.” I snorted, rolling my eyes at her before I stole another kiss. “Take it, okay? It’s just a car, and it literally can drive itself. If you have any questions about it, just shoot me a text and I’ll respond.”

“This is unnecessary, but I really appreciate the gesture.” She smiled. “Thank you for not leaving us stranded.”

“I would never.” I pressed one more kiss to her lips, my fingers squeezing her sides. “Alright, go have fun with your friends. Send me a few pictures while you’re out, yeah?”

“I will.” She took a step back, watching me with an almost sad smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours, darling.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” I repeated back to her. “Be safe, and have fun.”

“You too.”

I turned on my heel, checking both ways before I jogged across the street to the car Gemma and Michael drove to brunch. I slipped into the passenger side, shutting the door with a quick huff as I reached for my seatbelt. I looked across the street as Bea turned to Claire, her arms crossing over her abdomen as the wind blew her long cardigan around her body.

“She’s a wonderful girl.” Gemma gave me a smile, her eyes practically sparkling. “Mum thinks so too.”

“You’ve told Mum about her?” I asked her, pushing my sunglasses up with raised brows as Gem smiled wider. “Gemma, tell me-”

“I didn’t tell Mum, The Daily Mail did.” Gemma rolled her eyes, putting the car in drive before she pulled out of her parking spot. “The bloody paps have already sold pictures of us at brunch to the rags, and I guess a few fans got some snapshots of you and Beatrice entering and leaving the bathroom.”

“Grand.” I huffed, slumping in my seat. “I didn’t want that for her.”

“Harry, she’s a smart girl.” Gemma said. “She knows what she’s getting into with you. She might not know the extent of what she’s getting into, but she knows enough about it.”

“I just don’t want them to chase her off.” I mumbled, pulling my phone out of my pockets, pressing my finger to the home button. “She’s got such a good heart, Gemma. She doesn’t deserve to have her name raked through the mud because of some asshole like me.”

“She doesn’t think you’re an asshole, and I guarantee if I asked her right now, she would say that you're worth it.” Gemma glanced at me with furrowed brows. “Don’t be bothered by it, Harry. Beatrice seems like a strong girl, and she’s got a decent sized support group to look after her.”

I sighed, biting my lower lip before I nodded.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I whispered. “I just can’t help but worry about her.”

“I think that’s natural.” Gemma hummed out. “But I do have to say, this is the first time you’ve ever been worried about your bird and not yourself when it comes to being in the papers. You aren’t even a little bit annoyed that they plastered your face on the front page.”

“I couldn’t care less about myself right now.” I cleared my throat. “She’s not used to this, I am.”

“Well, maybe you should just have a talk about it.” Gemma said. “And you should definitely call Mum before she decides to fly over here to meet Bea herself.”

🐝🐝🐝🐝

Bea’s POV

“Do you think I can pull this off?” I held the maroon colored bodysuit up, twisting the hanger around as I looked at the lack of fabric. “I mean, it’s really cute, but I’m just-”

“Perfect in every way, shape, and form.” Tara pressed her hands to my shoulders, kissing my cheek as I rolled my eyes at her. “I think you would fucking kill in that thing, babe. It’s perfect for your body shape.”

“My body shape is blob, Tara.” I glanced back at her with a wild expression, shaking my head as she laughed. “What could I do for this thing?”

“You have a fucking hourglass figure.” Jackson snorted out a laugh. “And you keep it locked up all the time, so let it out.”

“But I have a tummy.” I lowered the bodysuit, turning towards my friends. “Won’t that look a little unflattering if I just walk around with my stomach sticking out? And my arms-”

“Go put the damn thing on.” Tara carefully ushered me towards the dressing room, snagging a belt and a leather jacket along the way. “Try it, I think you’ll like it.”

I inhaled sharply, pushing the velvet curtain aside before I slid it shut again. I put the items down on the bench in front of the mirror, wiping my palms on my pants as I tried to soothe my nerves. It wasn’t like I was anxious about trying on clothes, I just hated the entire process. I had to undo my shoes, slide my pants off, put the bodysuit on, and then put my pants back on. After I finished all of that, I’d have to do it over again to get redressed. I started the process, balancing my hand against the wall as I stood on one foot. It took me a few minutes, but when I finally finished getting into the bodysuit, I looked at my jeans with a heavy frown.

“Hey, Tara?” I moved the curtain aside, catching her attention. “Can you find me black jeans? I don’t think this shade of blue is gonna look good with the maroon.”

“Yeah, give me a sec.” She turned on her heel, strutting towards the jeans without a care in the world.

I pulled the curtain back before I turned to face the mirror.

The bodysuit had a bottom that was far more comfortable than any other bodysuit I’d worn. It was almost as if it had a pair of boyshorts at the bottom, the material stretchy and comfortable as I moved around. I especially enjoyed the zipper on the side that made it easy to slip on. I didn’t have to flail around like a fish out of water to pull it over my hips or to get it zipped up either. It was absolutely perfect, and the more that I looked at myself in it, the more I loved it.

I twisted and turned, looking at myself from different angles as I waited for Tara to return with a pair of jeans for me. As I turned around, admiring my bum in the pair of cheeky boy shorts, an idea popped into my head. Harry did ask me to send him pictures throughout the day so that he would feel like he was with me. I rolled my lips in, holding back a giddy laugh as I thought of sending him a picture of me in just the bodysuit. It was quite a scandalous idea to me, though I knew there were people who’d sent pictures of far more intimate things to their boyfriends.

I nibbled on the inside of my cheek as the wheels in my brain turned. On one hand, I knew that Harry would never say anything insulting to me about my picture. He would never point out a flaw, or offer a backhanded compliment. He would tell me that he loved it no matter what I sent, I knew that...but I was still nervous to show him my body in such a vulnerable state.

I didn’t even know how to pose for those types of things, and surely someone else would need my dressing room before I finished figuring out the perfect post. I hesitated, my heart beating faster and faster in my chest. I finally grabbed my phone with a heavy exhale, trying my best to expel all of the negative energy from my body as I swiped over to my camera app.

I held the phone up, tilting myself to the side before I looked at the screen of my phone.

I groaned when I saw how I actually looked in the bodysuit.

My legs were far too short, and my skin was far too pale.

I looked like an old picture of me as a chubby child in a bathing suit, my stomach pushing out ever so slightly and the skin of my thighs dimpled. I rolled my eyes, pushing away the tight feeling in my chest as I lowered my phone down. It was no use even trying to take a picture of myself for Harry. The lighting of the dressing room wasn’t exactly helping me too much either.

“If you want to take a picture, you weren’t doing it right.” Tara’s voice interrupted me, causing me to jump as I looked back at her. “You need to learn your angles, babe.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, pressing my hand to my chest.

“I walked in when you started pouting at your phone.” She snorted out a laugh, tossing the jeans onto the bench. “Give me your phone.”

“I don’t think-”

“Listen to the master.” She glared at me, holding her finger in the air. “Do exactly as I say, and we’ll get the perfect set of naughty pics for your man.”

“Tara-” I felt my cheeks growing warm, my eyes growing wide as she swirled her finger around.

“Turn around and drop it girl, Harry will literally have a heart attack.” Tara said.

“I’ve never dropped it, and I never will.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not….I don’t like my ass, okay?”

“It is one of your best features, babe.” Tara looked at me over my phone, a soft look in her eyes as she sighed. “Do you feel insecure?”

“No, I just…” I shifted on my bare feet. “I’m just not as confident as I could be, that’s all. I’m working on it.”

“I truly think this will help.” Tara said softly. “We’ll save dropping it low for the wedding pictures, okay? For now, just… turn towards the mirror and stick your left over your right...that’s perfect Bea! Now just turn your head to the side, hold your hands in front of your stomach, and glance back at me like you’re modest.”

“I am modest, you heathen.” I grumbled, following her instruction as she snapped a few pictures. “How did that look?”

“Perfect.” She said. “Your hair did a lot of work, and we got the perfect shot of your ass without making it the focus.”

“Oh my god, I don’t want to see it.” I groaned, turning towards her with a pout on my lips. “Can you see-”

“How positively exquisite you look in that bodysuit?” She asked. “Yes, you can. Now put the pants on and sit on the bench for me.”

I did as she said, sitting down on the edge before I crossed my legs. I extended them out, pressing my palms to the edge of the bench before I turned my head just like Tara asked me too. I wasn’t sure how she managed to avoid putting herself in the photo, but she did an excellent job of getting me in a raw, natural state with a smile on my face.

When we were done playing around, I changed back into my old clothes before tossing the bodysuit, the belt, and the jeans over my arm. All three articles of clothing would be going home with me, and they would carry this memory with them forever. Tara handed me my phone back with a proud smirk, the device buzzing in my hand as I noticed a picture of Harry on the screen.

“You sent them already?” I asked her. “Fuck, I’m not prepared.”

“Go take the phone call.” She said. “Give me your shit, I’ll get you checked out.”

I handed her my purse and the clothing before I answered the phone, holding it to my ear.

“Hi.” I said softly.

“You’re trying to kill me.” Harry whined out, his voice strained. “When I said send pictures, I meant ones with you doing innocent things. Now I have to wait for hours to touch you again, and all I can think about is you in that changing room.”

“I thought it might be a nice preview of things to come.” I bit my bottom lip as I crossed my free arm over my stomach. “I hope that you liked them.”

“I fucking loved them.” He said. “I plan on having them framed.”

“No you don’t.” I rolled my eyes. “No one wants to see those hung up in a gallery anywhere.”

“That’s not a bad idea…” He hummed out. “I wonder if the Guggenheim will take them?”

“Stop being so cheeky.” I tossed my head back, laughing loudly. “I allow you to put one in your wallet, so that you shall have to squint to see any flaws.”

“That just won’t do.” He tutted softly. “I’m putting them in my house, in large frames! I might even commission an artist to paint you like a little renaissance princess...but you’d have to send me one without the lacy thing for that.”

“In your dreams.” I mumbled, snorting out a soft laugh. “Have you done rehearsals yet?”

“Just about to go on stage and test it all out.” He said. “I was at the mic stand when I got those pictures by the way. I might have had to wobble off stage to take care of some things before I called you up.”

“Did you jack off to those?” I asked him bluntly. “Holy fuck, there’s no way-”

“Um, yeah, I did.” He said plainly. “My girlfriend sends me pictures of herself in lingerie, giving me bedroom eyes, and you expect me not to get hard? You’re insane.”

“You are insane.” I chuckled. “I’m happy to give a little inspiration to you in such desperate times, darling.”

“You sound so smug right now, honey.” His voice was soft, but there was a teasing edge to the tone of his voice that sent shivers down my spine. “Just you wait until I get on that stage tonight. I’ll have you dripping down your legs the second I walk out, and you know it.”

“Fuck.” I all but wheezed the word out. “Maybe I should cut my shopping trip short?”

“Now, now.” He taunted. “I don’t think your friends would like that very much, honey.”

“Alright, I’ve learned my lesson.” I cleared my throat. “Don’t tease if I don’t want to be teased back.”

“My clever girl.” he laughed. “Thank you for the pictures, honey. I think you looked positively stunning, and I really love them a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled, looking down at my feet. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”

“See you soon, Beatrice.” He whispered. “Be good.”

“Same to you.”

I hung up, taking a deep breath in attempts to hold in a squeal.

I fucking loved having a boyfriend.

🍯🍯🍯🍯

Harry’s POV

I slammed my fist into Dave’s covered palm with a loud grunt, biting down harder on my mouth guard as I ducked to avoid his right hook. I didn’t need a bruise on my face during the last show of my world tour, even if everyone would love that. I jumped back up, swinging my arm around for a side hit as Dave grunted in front of me. I took a few steps back, exhaling heavily as I heard chatter around me. I turned my head, my eyes landing on Beatrice and Claire standing by the ring. Claire was busy talking to Gemma, but Beatrice had her eyes glued on me. Just as I lifted my hand to wave, I felt a hard hit land on my ribcage, causing me to fall to the ground.

I heard Bea gasp as Dave laughed loudly.

“You shouldn’t have let your guard down, mate.” He tapped my hip with his glove. “Number one rule.”

“You prick, I was admiring my girl.” I groaned, falling onto my back. “It’s not my fault she’s so bloody gorgeous.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” Bea’s laughter caught my attention, my head lolling to the side to see her standing at the side of the ring with one hand pressed over her lips.

“You think this is funny, huh?” I asked her, my words muffled around my guard. I turned my head to the opposite side, spitting it out before I looked back at her. “You wanna get in here and show me what you’ve got?”

“No thank you.” She laughed. “I’d rather stay down here and watch.”

“I see.” I looked up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath before I sat up straight. I started removing my gloves, pulling at the velcro around my wrists with my teeth. “Come in here and give me a kiss at least?”

“If you insist.” Beatrice mumbled, pressing her hands onto the floor of the ring before she hoisted herself up with a small grunt. “This is too much physical exercise for me, Styles. I’ve already done one workout with you.”

“I’m just getting you prepared.” I smiled up at her as she stood over me. “I want you nice and prepped for our big workout tonight.”

“You two are disgusting.” Gemma groaned, her face twisting up. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Bugger off then!” I laughed, tossing my hand about. “I ain’t gonna stop now, so here’s your warning.”

Beatrice dropped to her knees beside me, holding back laughter as she grabbed my arm.

“I knew you boxed, but seeing it in person is extremely erotic.” She mumbled, pulling the velcro away from the glove before she pulled it from my hand. “You’ve already seduced me, you don’t have to keep trying.”

“That goes both ways.” I let out a breathy chuckle, shaking my head at her. “What on earth possessed you to take those pictures in the changing room?”

“You.” She glanced up at me as she started to undo my wrap. “I was sitting there, looking at myself in that bodysuit...and you just popped into my head. I wasn’t gonna do it first, though. I couldn’t get a good picture by myself, so Tara helped out a little.”

“Remind me to buy her a car or something as a thank you.” I teased, bumping my shoulder into her arm. “You do know that you’re beautiful, right? Like...not to be a proper dick, but you’re one of the fittest girls I’ve ever seen in my whole life, and that’s coming from my heart and not my trousers.”

“Harry.” She laughed, shaking her head as she moved to the other wrist, her eyes avoiding mine at all costs. “You don’t have to sing such high praises-”

“Apparently I do, because you don’t seem to get it.” I whispered, sliding my free hand to her side for a quick squeeze. “You. are. Beautiful.”

I watched her cheeks turn red, her hips shifting about as she pulled the other glove off.

“I won’t stop saying it until you feel it.” I leaned closer, pressing my lips to her collarbone as she started working on the wrap. “I’ll say it a million times a day.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you see me that way, Harry.” She mumbled. “It’s just that I can’t believe it or see it myself, you know?”

I stopped, looking at her as she continued to work on my hand.

When my wrap was fully removed, I lifted both of my palms to her face as I sat up on my knees in front of her. I brushed my thumbs over her cheeks, my brows pulling together as she swallowed harshly. I could see a light glaze over her eyes, almost as if she were going to cry.

“Who made you feel like you’re not beautiful?” I asked her, watching her eyes cast down towards her knees. “Who hurt you?”

“No one.” She mumbled. “It’s not like I can sit and point fingers at every major company or magazine that put me down because of my weight or my body. I can’t individually list every person that’s ever called me names. I can’t sit and add it all up, because that makes it worse. So I just...let it go. You should too.”

I watched her look up at me with an unsure smile, and it nearly broke my heart.

“You are perfect the way that you are.” I moved my forehead closer to hers. “Fuck them all, Beatrice. From the magazines, to the fashion industry, to the people around you that make you feel less than perfect for feeling comfortable in your own skin. I saw how much fun you were having when you took those photos, and I knew that you were feeling good about yourself...so why let those people drag you back down?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s just how the female brain works. We take one step forward in progress and then we leap five steps back when we get a glimpse of peace.”

“Well, we’re not taking steps back anymore.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of her shampoo. “I know it’s hard to love yourself, especially when the whole world is telling you not to, but we have each other now. We’re not alone in this.”

I watched her eyes narrow, her head tilting to the side as she stared at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Who hurt you?” She asked. “Harry, please tell me that you don’t...if anyone in this relationship is perfect, it’s-”

I pressed my lips to hers, sliding my palms to the side of her neck as she let out a surprised squeak. Seconds later, she melted into my kiss, her fingers gripping my shirt tightly as I brushed my tongue over her bottom lip. It took us seconds to find our way to the floor, her legs spreading just enough for me to slot my hips between them. I felt my hand slip down, cupping her breast over the thin, satin tank top that she put on. The soft pink color looked beautiful on her, and I was envious of the blouse as it clung to her body in such a flattering manner.

“Don’t ever do that.” I pulled back, looking into her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. “I know that the world has me on some pedestal, but I’m just Harry. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m going to make mistakes just the same as you. I’m not any better than you, Beatrice, and I never want you to feel that way. We’re equals, and I will never let you put yourself down just to build me up.”

“Kiss me.” She gripped my shoulders, pulling me into her lips again.

I felt the stirring in the lower pit of my stomach, a soft burn accompanied by the blood flowing straight to my cock. I groaned, sliding my tongue past her lips just so I could hear those beautiful noises she made in the heat of the moment. It was almost as if she couldn’t contain her feelings in her body, so they had to escape in soft hums. I felt her fingers gripping at my arms, desperate to pull me closer to her body as she shifted her hips against the mat.

I pulled away, pressing my forehead to hers as my chest heaved.

Kissing her made me more breathless than my workout.

“You’re intoxicating.” I let out a breathless chuckle, sliding my palm from her breast to her neck. I brushed my thumb over her jaw, closing my eyes. “And you smell fucking amazing, what is that?”

“I spoiled myself with a new perfume today.” She chuckled, sliding her fingers over my forearm before wrapping them around my wrist. “It’s by Chloe.”

“It smells delightful.” I ducked my head down, brushing my nose over her skin. “Like roses.”

“I think it’s called Roses De Chloe, if I’m not mistaken.” She let out a shuddery breath when I kissed over the skin of her neck. “You’re dangerous, Harry Styles.”

“You have no idea.” I chuckled, lifting my head up. “C’mon, I need to shower before dinner.”

“And I need to be present?” She lifted her brows up as I settled on my knees.

“I would prefer that you’re present.” I chuckled, reaching for my water bottle. “I want to hear about your day.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” She sighed, raising her upper half with her palms behind her on the mat.

“And maybe, I can sneak in a couple more kisses before tonight.” I watched her drop her head back, laughing until a little snort slipped out. “Just when I think you can’t get any cuter, you do something like that.”

“Oh, yes, the snort is so cute.” She rolled her head forward, sending me a blank stare. “Let’s go, casanova, you do need a shower.”

“Rude.”

🐟🐟🐟🐟

Bea’s POV

“I almost got a haircut today.” I scrolled on my phone, curling my feet under my legs as Harry continued to shower. “I mean, that’s not that interesting seeing as I didn’t, but I thought about it.”

“I think you would look cute with short hair.” Harry called over the spray of the shower. “I just don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have something to pull into a ponytail when you’re-”

“Don’t say it.” I glanced over my phone, watching him smile at me through the steamed glass of the shower.

“C’mon, you know you’d miss that feeling.” He chuckled, sliding his abnormally large hands over his head as he tilted it back towards the spray of the shower.

“I’ve only given you one blowjob, sir.” I tilted my chin up. “I don’t know that I would miss it.”

“Giving me blowjobs or having me pull your hair?” He asked. “We can test both of those theories out right now if you want.”

“Maybe later, darling.” I rolled my eyes, glancing back at my phone. “Are you excited for tonight?”

“I am.” He said. “I’m so thrilled to get this tour over with, honestly. I love every single moment of it, don’t get me wrong, but I need some time off.”

“You’ve been a busy boy.” I nodded. “You never really took a serious break between the band and your solo stuff, squid.”

“I didn’t want to.” He said casually. “I need to be working, Beatrice. I literally don’t think I could ever stop.”

“I know what you mean.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I mean, I’m not necessarily pulling the hours that you are, but I am a workaholic like you.”

“That’s not good.” He turned the shower off, talking through a soft chuckle as he pulled the door open. “If we’re both workaholics, who’s going to take time off to visit the other.”

“You.” I pointed at him with my phone, offering him a smile. “You’re the one on break, aren’t ya?”

“Touche.” He stepped out of the shower, reaching for the towel on the hook next to the sink with furrowed brows. “Why are you on the floor?”

“It’s comfier than sitting on the sink.” I shrugged, looking up at him. “You smell delectable.”

“Thanks.” He leaned down, stealing a kiss. “Want a taste?”

I rolled my lips in, looking into his eyes as he toweled his hair off.

“Yeah, actually.” I mumbled, dropping my phone to the floor on top of my shoes. “I might want a taste.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to mine as I rolled onto my knees, pressing my palms to his damp thighs.

“Fuck.” He whispered. “I didn’t actually think… you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” I dug my nails into his thighs, smirking when he hissed out. “Lean against the sink for me? I don’t want you to fall.”

“Okay.” He shuffled back a few steps, pressing his bum to the edge of the sink as I moved closer to him.

Harry’s eyes were glued to me as I kissed over the small tattoos on his legs.

They were mostly silly little words, but I found them adorable.

I let my right hand move from the tiger tattoo on his thigh to the base of his cock, my fingertips trailing over a vein in his shaft. I watched his cock twitch, a small drop of precum bubbling from the red tip. I was curious to know more about Harry’s body, and the things that I could do to it. He was only the second guy that I had seen naked like this, but I was proud to say that he was my favorite. I liked his cock, and I loved how it reacted to the smallest of touches from me.

“You have a very pretty cock.” I mumbled, glancing up at him as he gripped the edge of the sink with white knuckles. “It seems to like attention, huh?”

“Just yours.” He cleared his throat, shifting his hips around. “Please, angel.”

“Be patient.” I whispered, sliding my forefinger over his tip. “I’m admiring it.”

It was slowly growing harder with each second that I stared at it, my fingertips still lightly tracing over the shaft. Harry was breathing heavily above me, his chest heaving and his grip tight on the porcelain behind him. I loved watching his thighs and his tummy tense when I leaned closer, my breath brushing over the sensitive area ever so slightly. I had him wrapped already, and I couldn’t wait to test just how much willpower he had.

Part of me wanted him to tangle his fingers in my hair before pulling my mouth onto his cock. I wanted him to groan and growl out filthy words while I gasped for air. I wanted to be everything he wanted me to be while I was on my knees in front of him. I knew that he had a bit of a dominant streak in him, just like I had a submissive one in me, but we weren’t quite there yet.

“What are you waiting for?” I glanced up at him. “I thought we were testing out if I’d miss having your hands in my hair while I sucked you off?”

“You are trouble.” He lifted a hand from the sink, cupping my chin gently. “I see it in your eyes, you know? I know what you want me to do, but I won’t do it unless you beg.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I said sweetly.

“Don’t play coy, angel.” He brushed his thumb over my lower lip as he mumbled, causing me to smirk up at him. “You want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?”

“Sounds pleasant, I suppose.” I shrugged my shoulders

Harry’s lips curved into a smirk that reminded me of the cheshire cat.

“You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?” He tilted my chin up higher, watching my face as I tried to contain my smile. “Sweet Beatrice, you are treading on very thin ice.”

“Am I?” I asked softly. “I feel like I’m being such a good girl.”

“You know that you’re not.”

I moan when I felt his thumb slip past my lips, brushing over my tongue before he pulled it right back out. I leaned forward, pulling it back into my mouth as Harry’s eyes turned from light to dark. I could see the intense look burning behind the soft Jade color of his irises.

“You’re teasing me again.” He let out a shuddery sigh, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when I get you home.”

I pulled back from his thumb with a pop, smiling up at him as his hand gripped the base of his cock. I watched him stroke over the shaft twice, holding back soft whimpers as he did.

“Open your mouth.” He said it sternly, but I could see the hint of softness left in him.

He wanted to make sure that I was okay.

I stuck my tongue out, settling my palms on my thighs as I waited for him to finally give me what I wanted. He rested the head of his cock on my tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixed with a hint of his body wash. I closed my mouth around the head, lapping my tongue over the slit of his cock as he hissed. Seconds later, his right hand was digging into the roots of my hair.

“Your fucking mouth, angel.” He dropped his head back, letting out a high pitched whine. “Feels so good wrapped around me, Beatrice.”

I hummed softly, moving as far as I could go on his shaft.

He was thick, but not overly so, and the length of his cock was perfect for my mouth.

I could hardly make it to the base of his cock, but I was happy with making it halfway at least. I pulled back, suckling harshly when I made it to the tip. Harry’s hips jutted forward in response, causing his cock to slip right back into my mouth. I moaned around him, closing my eyes as I dug my nails into his thighs. I moved my head slowly, trying to figure out the perfect pace.

I hadn’t had much practice, but this was my third blowjob, so I liked to think I had the basics down. Harry seemed to think so too, his fingers pulling my roots tighter as he moved his hips gently in and out of my mouth. He was nowhere near my throat, and I was thankful for that. I wasn’t quite ready to test out that area of pleasure when it came to blowjobs. I didn’t know how I would handle having someone literally pushing into my throat just yet.

“I’m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Open your eyes, Beatrice.”

I did as I was told, looking up at him.

“Use your hands and…” He inhaled sharply when I suckled on the head of his cock again before moving my lips down. “Please just play with my-”

I knew what he was trying to ask, my fingers already finding their way to his balls.

I brushed my thumb over the skin at first, testing out the waters before I started to really massage them between my fingers. Harry’s hips stuttered forward as he cursed loudly, dropping his head forward as I stared up at him. The second his glazed over eyes locked with mine, it was all over. He lowered his left hand to my head, sliding his fingers through the roots as he held himself in my mouth, his cum coating the center of my tongue as he cried out.

When he was done, he pulled himself out, and I swallowed with a scrunched up nose.

“You didn’t have to swallow.” He chuckled, reaching down to brush his thumb under my lips. “I would have moved for you.”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Your face said otherwise.” He laughed a little harder. “Thank you, honey, that was really nice.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I rolled my eyes, holding my hands up towards him. “Help me up, my knees are sore.”

“Sorry.” he grabbed my hands, pulling me up to my feet. “Give me a kiss.”

“You want to kiss me?” I asked him, pulling my head back as he leaned forward. “Don’t you want me to like, brush my teeth first?”

“No.” His brows furrowed. “I want your lips.”

“But...I thought guys didn’t like…” I paused, tilting my head. “Nevermind.”

“No, finish that sentence.” he said. “You thought guys didn’t like what?”

“Kissing someone after they’ve...you know?” I felt my cheeks heat up as Harry stared back at me.

“Is that what the guy before me said? The guy that you tried this out on a while ago?” He asked softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand in soft circles.

“Yeah.” I mumbled. “He also kind of didn’t give me a choice on the whole spit or swallow thing.”

“He sounds like a fucking prick.” Harry’s jaw tensed as he inhaled sharply, shaking his head with a stern expression. “Don’t ever let a man treat you like that again, do you hear me? I don’t ever want you to do something because you think I’ll like it. We both have to enjoy it if this is going to work.”

“I wanted that with you.” I brushed my palms over his pecs, sliding them up to his neck. “I just...I didn’t know.”

“Well, you do now.” He leaned forward, brushing his nose against mine. “I’m a lucky bastard for being able to have your mouth like that, the least I can do is kiss you after and call you a good girl.”

“Don’t call me a good girl.” I closed my eyes, pressing my thighs together.

“S’that turn you on?” He laughed, sliding his hands to my lower back. “But you were so good for me, angel. After you were a total brat, of course.”

“That’s my favorite part.” I opened my eyes, offering him a smile. “I like being a brat.”

Harry let out a soft sigh, his lips pressed together as he tried not to smile.

“We’re going to have so much fun.” He whispered, leaning closer to my lips with his own. “I’m going to wreck you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I snorted out a laugh, but Harry cut it off with a kiss. “You really are the type to kiss someone in the middle of-”

His lips pressed into mine again, and I melted.

🍆🍆🍆🍆

Harry’s POV

Beatrice and Claire were a force to be reckoned with.

Three tequila shots and a watermelon margarita later, and they were both ready to party. I watched Bea toss the tequila shots back like water, reaching for the lime as her nose scrunched up ever so slightly. I tried to hide the proud smile I was wearing, but it was hard to do that when my girlfriend was crushing my favorite liquor like it was water. Gemma wasn’t quiet about catching my smile either, her elbow digging into my side.

“You’re in love.” She sang out. “Look at her, like another version of you.”

“In my younger days.” I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can’t party like that anymore.”

“Yes you can.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “You’re dramatic.”

“Eh, just a little.” I smiled over at her. “Have you two been getting along?”

“We’ve talked some, yeah.” Gemma nodded, digging her spoon into a mountain of mashed potatoes. “She reminds me a lot of you in certain ways, but there’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on.”

“Something that you don’t like or?” I waited for her response as she let out a soft noise of uncertainty. “What?”

“I just think that she’s one of those people that puts her own needs aside to please everyone else, you know?” Gemma sighed. “It's not a bad thing, but it can be harmful.”

“I’ve noticed that too.” I scratched at my jaw. “But it doesn’t make me want her any less.”

“Oh, I know.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “When you fixate on someone, you’re like a fucking dog with their new favorite toy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I bumped her shoulder with my own. “I get it, you think I’ll forget about my favorite sister.”

“You did when you were with Hannah...and Madison...and Samantha-”

“Got it.” I said sharply, glaring at her. “Gemma, I know that I’ve been a proper dick about relationships in the past, but I just...I want someone to love. Is that such a bad thing?”

“It is when you put everyone else aside and focus on someone toxic.” She was such a smart ass sometimes, and I hated it. “But I don’t think Bea is toxic. I just think she’s a little innocent.”

I snorted, but I quickly wiped my hand over my mouth.

“You’re disgusting.” Gemma narrowed her eyes at me. “I meant in worldly matters, not in the bedroom.”

“She’s pretty innocent in the bedroom too.” Claire’s voice made me jump, my hand pressing to my chest as Gemma turned her head back. “She’s still a virgin...right, Harry?”

“Oh my god.” I felt my face heat up as Claire plopped into the seat beside Gemma. “Can I see your spoon, Gem? I would like to scoop my eyes out now.”

“So many things that I didn’t need to know.” Gemma mumbled, glancing at Claire. “You’re insane, I like that.”

“Good.” Claire smiled at Gemma, reaching over to steal a green bean off of her plate. “I think you’re pretty fucking awesome too.”

Gemma laughed, shaking her head at Claire as she reached for a water bottle.

“In all honesty, she is pretty innocent, but she’s also pretty smart.” Claire said. “Even though she’s most definitely losing it with Sarah over there.”

I turned my head around, watching Sarah and Beatrice lean into each other as they both laughed. I raised my brows, looking back at Claire who just shrugged her shoulders.

“They both had an emo phase, and to them, that’s hysterical.” Claire sipped at her water. “I didn’t know Mitch’s birthday was yesterday, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “We did a pre-party for him, it was fun.”

“I feel bad for stealing his birthday thunder.” Claire pouted her bottom lip out. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have soaked up being in the spotlight light last night.”

“I’m sure Mitch enjoyed it.” Gemma said. “He’s not one for being the center of attention.”

“Very odd, isn’t it.” Claire hummed. “For both of us to be cancers, but to be so different.”

“Natal chart.” Gemma pointed her spoon towards Claire. “It makes a world of difference.”

“On that note, I’m leaving.” I stood up from my chair, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Gemma’s head before I nodded at Claire. “I’m keeping my eyes on you two tonight, you seem dangerous.”

“Wait until she starts trying to take her clothes off.” Claire moved her eyebrows, biting her tongue between her teeth.

“Oh fuck me.” I groaned, dropping my head back before I walked around the long table, heading in the direction of Sarah and Bea.

“You two look like you’re having a good laugh.” I looked between them with raised brows.

“Sarah showed me a picture of her hair in highschool.” Bea pressed her palm over her mouth, her eyes watering as Sarah laughed harder next to her.

“Oh my goodness.” I chuckled, sitting down next to them. “I haven’t seen that, let me see.”

“No, for Bea’s eyes only.” Sarah wheezed, snatching her phone against her chest. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re stealing my friends.” I glanced back at Beatrice as she silently laughed, hunching over as I let out a breathy laugh through my nose. “Is this the tequila, or do I need to get you an inhaler, honey?”

“I’m fine.” She waved her hand about, taking a deep breath before she wiped under her eyes to collect the fallen tears. “I just haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

“I’m glad my hair was amusing.” Sarah giggled, patting Beatrice’s thigh. “I’ve got to go find my boyfriend, I haven’t shown him this picture yet.”

“So everyone gets to see it but me?” I watched Sarah nod as she stood up. “Rude, Sarah Jones.”

“I love you, Harry Styles.” She dropped her hand to my head, ruffling my hair. “But, no.”

Beatrice let out another round of giggles at that, and I turned my eyes towards her.

“I’ll get you for this later.” I reached over, tickling her side before she squeaked out. “You seriously can’t get any cuter.”

“Stop.” She groaned, swatting my hand away as she pouted. “I’m ticklish.”

“Good.” I chuckled. “I’ve been away far too long, where is my kiss?”

“Needy man.” She leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine. “I’m excited for the show to start, I can’t wait to see you dancing around like a fool on stage. What was it that you said earlier? You were going to have me dripping down my legs?”

I inhaled sharply as she tilted her head, kissing the soft spot below my ear.

“Claire warned me that tequila made you horny.” I brushed my palm up her thigh. “Easy there, honey.”

“Oops.” She pulled back, her cheeks practically glowing red. “I forgot about the other people in the room.”

“S’alright.” I lifted my hand, brushing my thumb over her chin. “Just don’t want to get worked up before I have to sit in the hair and makeup chair.”

“Oh, makeup!” She exclaimed. “I still have to get ready.”

“You can get ready with me.” I said. “We’ll sit side by side.”

“How cute.” She pouted again, tilting her head to the side like she’d just seen a cute puppy dog walking down the street. “You’re sweet.”

“And you’re tipsy.” I laughed. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

She shook her head. “I was waiting for you.”

“C’mon, let’s grab a plate or two and figure out what we want.” I reached for her hand, standing up before she followed suit. “One more kiss?”

“Okay.” She pressed up on her toes, kissing my cheek. “Oh, I wonder if you have fries around here somewhere. You know the old saying, fries before guys.”

“Excuse me.” I followed behind her as she giggled, shaking my head. “No, it’s guys before fries here.”

I was going to have my hands full with this one.

🍟 🍟 🍟🍟

Bea’s POV

When I walked out of the bathroom, pulling my faux leather jacket on, my jaw nearly hit the ground. I stopped in my tracks, looking at Harry with parted lips and wide eyes as he turned around and held his arms out for Lambert. I watched him shrug his jacket on, shimmying his shoulders until it rested comfortably on his frame. Harry looked up at me, shooting me a grin that made me knees feel wobbly. I cleared my throat, adjusting my own jacket before I walked closer to him with sweaty palms and a frog in my throat.

“You look gorgeous.” He leaned forward, holding my elbow with his massive hand before he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Have you put on the lacy thing for me?”

“Yeah, I have.” I sucked in a breath as he lifted the lapel of my jacket, his eyes burning when they landed on the bodysuit. “Better in person?”

“Much.” He mumbled, glancing up at me with a lopsided grin, his dimple just barely visible. “If there weren’t other people in this room, I’d kiss the breath right out of your lungs.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back a groan as his voice dropped.

“Sadly, there are plenty of people!” Lambert interrupted. “And I refuse to see this shirt ruined by that gorgeous red lipstick you’ve got on, Beatrice. What is that?”

“Um, Revlon.” I said softly. “I think the shade is Black Cherry or something like that.”

“Revlon.” Lambert muttered. “You wear it well, darling.”

“Thank you.” I felt my cheeks heat up as Harry smiled at me, almost as if he was proud of my ability to impress his friends.

“Now, you two are off to watch Kacey’s set, but please be careful with the jacket.” Lambert brushed his hands over Harry’s arms. “We don’t want too many sequins gone before your set.”

“I’ll try to keep the dancing to a minimum.” Harry laughed, shaking his head at Lambert. “Thanks for being such a wonderful addition to the team, mate. I don’t know what the fuck I would done without you.”

“Probably would have worn those dreadful black skinny jeans on stage for the entire tour.” I tried to hold back my laugh, slapping my palm over my hand at Lambert's words. “And those chelsea boots, the tan ones? I’m getting nauseous thinking about it.”

“Oi, I was fit!” Harry exclaimed. “I pulled it off well, didn’t I Bea?”

“There was a reason Niall was my favorite.” I shrugged.

“Excuse me?” He blinked at me, his face blank. “Niall looked like a fucking frat boy-”

“You had a phase.” I pointed out. “You all went through a frat boy phase with your snapbacks and your cut off shirts.”

“But I was the only one who pulled it off well.” He held his finger up, waving it about. “Niall was nowhere near as attractive as I in the snapback.”

“You fucker!”

Harry and I snapped our heads around at the new voice in the room.

The second I lay my eyes on the dirty blonde Irishman, I felt like my heart was going to fall out of my ass. Niall stood there in the doorway with his hands held up, a look of mock offense on his face. I turned to Harry, my jaw practically on the floor as he stared at his old mate.

“Niall!” Harry said. “You made it, lucky charms!”

“I heard what you said, Styles.” Horan pointed his finger, putting on a fake angry expression before his eyes darted towards me. “Is she alright?”

Harry looked back at me, his brows raised as I looked between him and Niall, my finger weakly pointing at my childhood crush.

“That’s Niall Horan.” I said softly as Harry walked up to me. “That’s Niall Horan.”

“Okay, let’s breathe.” Harry chuckled, brushing his hands over my biceps, holding me in place as I tried to peer around him. “I’m offended that you weren’t this shell shocked when we met.”

“You aren’t Niall Horan.” I said, looking up at him. “That’s….I had such a huge crush on him.”

Harry ducked his head down, his breath tickling my ear.

“Do I need to take you into the bathroom and remind you who you’re here for?”

I felt my eyes flutter shut, a soft whine catching in my throat as Harry nipped at my earlobe before pressing a quick kiss to my pulse point. I almost felt dizzy when he lifted his head up with that dazzling smirk on his lips. I cleared my throat, shifting on my feet.

“Answer me.” He said. “Do you need that?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“Oh, angel, you look flustered.” He cooed, brushing his knuckles over my cheek.

“I’m good.” I cleared my throat, willing my voice to go back to normal. “I was just a little shocked, that’s all.”

“Gimme a kiss.” He puckered his lips out dramatically, and I let out a breathy laugh. “There she is.”

I pressed up on my toes, kissing his cheek.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I just...he just popped up out of nowhere. I need a warning for these kind of things.”

“Next time I’ll sing a good ol’ pub song while I’m walking down the hall so you know I’m coming for you, love.” Niall laughed at himself, and I couldn’t help but laugh along as Harry turned around with an unamused expression. “You gonna introduce us, Styles?”

“This is my girlfriend, Bea.” Harry slipped his hand over my back. “Beatrice, this is Niall.”

“Hi.” I held my hand out, but Niall swatted it away before opening his arms.

“I like hugs.”

“She’s not hugging you.” Harry held me back, scowling at Niall.

I turned my head back to look at Harry, my lips pressed together and my brows raised as if to say ‘oh, really?’ to his comment. I could hug whoever I wanted, and right now, I wanted to make Harry jealous by hugging Niall fucking Horan.

“I’m hugging him.” I said, moving closer to Niall. “Don’t be sour.”

“He is a bit of a sour patch kid, isn’t he?” Niall laughed as I wrapped my arms around his middle, giggling when he tossed his arms around my shoulders. “I can’t believe Harry’s got himself a decent girl.”

“You just met me, you don’t know that I’m decent yet.” I pulled back with a laugh, retreating to my spot next to Harry. “But I’ll take the compliment all the same.”

“Thatta girl.” Niall winked at me before stuffing his hands in his pockets, turning towards Harry with a bright smile. “I’m excited to see your show tonight.”

“It’s gonna be weird, knowing that you’re out in the crowd watching instead of performing with me.” Harry blew out a nervous breath, shaking his head. “And it doesn’t help that you’re not the only one here. Liam is coming tonight, fucking Kendall will be here...I’m pretty sure a few other people will be here tonight too.”

“Well, Kendall is fucking tone deaf, so I don’t think she’ll notice if you fuck up.” Niall cackled, tossing his head back. “And I doubt you’ll fuck up at all, you’re a star mate.”

“So are you, Horan.” Harry reached out, tapping Niall’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too.” Niall’s voice was softer, a happy smile still on his face. “Can’t believe it’s already been two years apart.”

“I’m gonna cry.” I whispered, waving my hand in front of my eyes as they started to water. “I’m having flashbacks of the History music video, I don’t need this today.”

“You got yourself a fan.” Niall asked, his brows shooting up towards his hairline. “Is that why she was so wigged out a second ago?”

“Yeah.” I spoke up. “You were my favorite.”

“I was?” Niall asked, his head tilting to the side. “Am I not anymore.”

“I mean…” I turned towards Harry, sliding my arm around his waist before I looked back at Niall with a small giggle. “Look at this one, mate! He’s so dreamy and he’s romantic.”

“I can be romantic.” Niall exclaimed.

Harry snorted, turning his head to spit out a fake cough to save himself.

“What was that for?” Niall said. “I can be romantic!”

“Sure, mate.” Harry reached out, patting Niall’s shoulder again as a knock sounded at his dressing room door. “Oh look, more people.”

I turned my head to the doorway, suddenly intimidated by the three women walking in.

Claire, Kendall, and Hannah (Harry's most recent ex) walked in together.

I automatically felt inferior to them, and not just because I was much shorter.

Even my own best friend fit in better with that group than I did, her perfect brown skin and long legs practically identical to the other two women. Harry clearly had a type for summer goddesses with a knack for modeling, and it made me wonder why he didn’t pick Claire over me. They would have made such a beautiful couple.

“I want you to meet Kenny.” Harry squeezed my side. “She’s a good friend of mine.”

“Sure.” I gave him a tight smile, swallowing my nerves as I felt my palms sweat.

I didn’t know a lot about Kendall or her family, but I never heard anything good.

I also didn’t know how to talk to someone of her status.

“Ken!” Harry said her name so casually, like he was used to calling it out. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

Fuck.

She set her eyes on me, scanning me from head to toe before plastering on a smile and strutting over in her mega high heels. I owned a pair similar to hers, but mine came from Walmart, and hers were probably from Dior. She stopped in front of us, affectionately touching Harry’s bicep with a soft hell before she turned to look down at me.

“Hi.” She said. “I’m Kendall.”

“Beatrice.” I stuck my hand out to her nervously, but she just looked at it. I had a feeling that she wasn’t a hugger like Niall. “Um, you can call me Bea though.”

“Bea.” She nodded as I pulled my hand back. “Where did you two meet?”

“At a bar last night.” Harry laughed softly, squeezing my side as he shot me a wink. It eased my nerves just a little. “Swept her right off of her feet.”

“So that is how we’re telling the story?” I chuckled, turning my attention towards him instead of the nerve wracking situation in front of me. “I suppose you’re not entirely wrong.”

“I never am.” He sighed dramatically, pursing his lips before he leaned in for a quick kiss. “So, Ken, where’s your man tonight?”

Oh, thank god.

“He’s just talking shit with Jeff, I think.” She turned her head, scanning the dressing room before she rolled her eyes. “I honestly don’t want to see his face tonight, he’s being annoying.”

“Oh no.” Harry laughed softly. “What have you done?”

“Me, I did nothing?” She pressed her fingers to her collarbone, scoffing playfully. “I merely said we should vacation in Mykonos with my family-”

“There it is.” Harry interrupted.

“What’s wrong with vacationing with my family?” Kendall asked, tilting her head to the side with a frown. “Everyone loves it!”

“No, they don’t.” Harry shook his head. “I remember your Mum made us-”

He stopped, shifting on his feet as he looked at me.

“Don’t mind me.” I said. “You can keep talking, I can go find Claire or-”

“That would be great-”

“Don’t go-”

Harry and Kendall spoke at the same time, and I rolled my lips into my mouth as they both looked at each other in shock.

“Um, well,” I stuttered, slowly pulling myself from Harry’s arm. “You clearly need a moment, so I’m just gonna go somewhere that isn’t right here.”

I turned, walking towards Claire and Niall like there was a fire under my ass.

“Oh my god.” I whispered, grabbing Claire’s arm. “I feel like I was just met the fucking queen or something! I mean, the way she looked at me, Claire-”

“She’s not very nice.” Claire laughed, sliding her arm around my shoulder. “It’s alright though, I’m a much better model than her and I plan on dragging her ass down the runway one day.”

“Thank you.” I squeaked out, letting out a laugh as Niall chuckled in front of us. “Sorry, I know you’re probably friends with her too, I just-”

“Not friends.” Niall said, shaking his head. “Never have been, never will be.”

“Fair.” I sighed, taking a few deep breaths. “Oh, Claire, it’s Niall!”

“Yeah, we’ve been chatting for a minute over here babe.” She laughed. “He introduced himself.”

“Right.” I laughed nervously. “There’s a lot happening.”

“You need a break?” Niall asked. “Because the three of us can sneak off for a drink, I doubt anyone will notice we’re gone.”

I turned my head, looking at Harry as he laughed with Kendall and Hannah.

It hurt just a tiny bit to see him so chummy with his exes, but who was I to judge.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” I turned back to Niall with a fake smile. “Let’s go.”

Harry’s POV

“So, what’s the deal with this new girl?” Kendall asked. “She’s...different.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.” I said slowly, my brows pulling together. “Why did you say it like that?”

“She just, doesn’t seem like your type.” She shrugged, brushing it off as if it was no big deal. “I haven’t seen you with someone like her before.”

“Kenny has a point.” Hanna interrupted, looking at me with raised brows. “You don’t typically go for her type.”

“Okay, you’re both being vague and annoying.” I let out a frustrated huff. “What are you getting at?”

“She’s not stepping on the cover of Vogue anytime soon.” Kendall shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Because-” I waited for them to speak, but they both glanced at each other.

“Well, she’s bigger than what you normally go for, and she’s a little plain.” Hannah said. “It’s not really like you to downgrade.”

“Right.” I let out a bitter laugh, lifting my hand to scratch at my jaw as I felt anger boiling up from my chest to my throat. “Fuck you...both of you. I don’t know where you get off insulting someone you don’t even know, but that shit doesn’t matter to everyone. Beatrice could put a paper bag over her head, and it wouldn’t make me want her any less. Do you know why?”

They both stared at me as I waited for an answer.

“Because she has a fucking heart, and a beautiful mind.” I snapped. “You two are a bunch of gossiping trust fund babies with no morals.”

I turned around, stalking towards the door of my dressing room without second thought.

I slammed it behind me before I turned down the hall, walking straight for catering.

When I walked into the room, Beatrice was sitting between Niall and Claire sipping on a watermelon margarita with pink cheeks and a bright smile. I felt my anger dissipate in my chest, her laughter distracting me from the cruel words replaying in my head. I let out a sigh, feeling my shoulders slump before I walked towards the cheerful group.

“Hey.” I said, dropping into the seat next to Bea’s. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” She asked me, squinting playfully with pursed lips. “You seemed like you were having fun.”

“It was dreadful, believe me.” I leaned closer, stealing a kiss from her. “Are you having fun?”

“So much.” She smiled, kissing me once more. “I can’t wait to get out there though. I think Kacey is on in ten minutes.”

“Sounds right.” I let out a breath, pressing my palm to Beatrice’s thigh. “Finish up your drink, honey. I’ll have Larissa make us more before Jeff takes us to the side stage.”

“Okay.” She gave me a bright smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked, tilting my head to the side curiously.

“For being so sweet.” She mumbled. “I adore you.”

My heart practically screamed in my chest, the hairs raising up on the back of my neck as I felt my lips pull into a huge smile. I let out a giggle, ducking my head down as my cheeks warmed.

Beatrice brushed her fingers over the back of my neck as I moved closer to her, wrapping my arms around her the best that I could from my chair.

“I adore you, too.”

#honeybee #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles series #harry styles multi-chapter fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #harry smut #harry angst #tw: kendall jenner #tw: bullying

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

you’re the one that i want (part 12)

word count: 3k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 11) (series masterlist)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21; @lokicaramel ; @ttalgimin ; @sakura-uji ;

seonghwa knew this breakdown was coming.

he knew it was only natural, given the way you’d been reacting in the days leading up to this night. the last night before your parents came and got you tomorrow at noon. before you two were ripped away from each other and, in just a few weeks time, thrown back into the swing of classes.

you’d be dealing with new friends and a new school and a whole new neighborhood while he’d be dealing with living back at home with his dad. he’d inform his friends of what he did before they tell him all about the parties they went to, the girls they fucked and all the stupid drama he missed.

like any of it’s gonna matter when he’ll be plagued with the memory of you. the happy things like your breathy moans and smile and giggle that make him happier than anything he thought possible.

but he thinks the worst thing will be remembering your cries and whimpers tonight. the way the tears are building in your eyes and you’re trying so hard for him and yourself not to let them fall.

"i’m gonna fall!” you squeal, attempting to balance your feet on the board.

it was your second day of learning how to surf and had been nothing short of a disaster, seonghwa’s hand on the board as he assures that even if you do fall, it’s gonna be painlessly into water.

“that’s not really helping,” you grumble, his wet face smirking at you.

it amazes you, really, how the sun is shining down so brightly on him and there’s not an imperfection in sight. dripping blonde hair with a sharp jawline and shining eyes. you know you probably don’t look that nice, your face red and blotchy from the uneven burn as he smirks up at you in a way that makes you incredibly nervous.

“you get too caught up in your own head,” you hear him say, squinting at him with a slight pout on your lips.

“because i’m scared,” you tell him quietly.

and even though you were only talking about surfing, it felt like more at the time. you were scared of starting a friendship with him, scared of opening yourself up and being in his way because you can’t even imagine why he wants to be around you.

you didn’t know why he was doing that and that’s why you were scared. didn’t know why he’d look up at you with such an...intrigued look in his eye, like you were something to be curious about; what you see is what you get with you and that’s an extremely nervous, blabbering idiot.

“there’s no reason to be,” he says to you quietly, your eyes meeting and something heavy settles in your heart.

you also didn’t know what that feeling was at the time but you knew that you liked it. that even though you couldn’t quite make out what this boy wanted from you, you were gonna give him anything. even if it that was you and your already fragile heart.

“nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“nothing bad like that is gonna happen, baby,” he says against your head, listening as you tell him you’re scared of you both losing contact or interest over time. you sigh against him and nuzzle your face into his arm, watching the setting sun from your balcony.

he turns and takes your face in his hand, frowning when he sees the sad look in your eyes.

“i hate seeing you like this,” he mumbles, his thumb rubbing over your face gently.

it had been a good day prior to this, spending the morning down at the beach with the boys before eating lunch with them at the diner; you both even took them to the aquarium you had gone to all those weeks ago, where you couldn’t stop the memories from your first date playing through your head.

planning your second date accidentally, educating him on nemo and dory and crush and walking hand-in-hand through the nearly empty building.

that had been a day that could’ve been ruined, honestly, given the date’s shaky start. he could’ve taken you home to finish his business with those boys or you could’ve demanded to leave after overhearing what you did.

but you both stayed and that was the night you really thought you were falling for him.

when your nervousness slowly dissipated and you just knew he wasn’t gonna hurt you like everyone else in your life; because it seemed silly at the time but he really did calm you, the way he handled you with such care and allowed you to drag him around from tank to tank.

"why are you laughing?" he asks softly, the smallest hint of a smirk on his face as amusement laces into his voice.

"because you make me nervous," you admit, looking up at him. "more than usual."

a breathy chuckle leaves his mouth as he moves his hand away from you and puts it on the glass, watching that same clownfish that was swirling around yours move to him.

"dory's not scared of me," he says lowly, not even needing to see your face to know you look outraged and annoyed. "so you don't have to be."

but now with the night time approaching, you know it’s coming and you’re unsettled.

you’re trying so hard to be happy and you want to be but it’s hard not to think about tomorrow. it’s hard not to think about how your closet and drawers are packed back up in your suit case and in less than fifteen hours, you’ll be back in your car and going to a new house.

the thought brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes and you’re quick to let out a sigh, going up to wipe at them before seonghwa’s thumb flicks them away.

“did you not just hear me?” he asks sternly, the contrasting small, sad smile on his face causing you to giggle slightly.

“i’m sorry,” you whine, nuzzling your face back into him so he doesn’t have to look at you. “i just can’t stop thinking about it.”

and with that knowledge, seonghwa stands up and abruptly throws you over his shoulder. you let out a surprised yelp as you scream his name, squealing as he walks through your bedroom and down the stairs.

you pass your aunt and her friend’s who watch in amusement from the dining room table, their glasses full of wine and a cheese platter in the middle. you hear one of them compliment seonghwa on his strength and the shudder you feel go through him immediately makes a laugh bubble out of your mouth.

but the moment the warm night air hits your body and you sense seonghwa walking towards the pool, your laughs quickly stop.

“hwa, don’t you dare!” you squeal, hitting at his back and flailing in his hold.

but your voice only holds amusement and you’re giggling and that’s all he wants for tonight so he doesn’t think twice about flinging your clothed body right into the pool.

your body hits the cold water and you jump up to scream at him just to see him sitting on at the edge, his feet in the water as he looks at you with a smirk.

“are you kidding me!” you squeal, swimming over to him and splashing him violently.

“sorry, baby, but it had to be done.”

you jump up and out of the pool, your clothes dripping next to him and he’s about to ask what you’re doing when you run directly behind him.

“then so does this,” you say with a content smile, his loud groan when he hits the pool filling you with a sense of satisfaction.

he pops up and shakes out his wet hair, his tongue poking at his cheek as he looks at you sternly.

but he can only keep it for a few seconds because you’re smiling so bright and it tugs at his heart; that’s all he wanted to see tonight, you smiling and laughing and not crying into his shoulder.

so instead of pretending to be mad or chastising you, he holds out his arms and tells you to jump. you narrow your eyes at him because it feels like you’re a child learning how to swim but you do it anyway, landing perfectly in his hold as a tiny grunt leaves him at the impact.

“hi,” you say with a small innocent smile.

he rolls his eyes before grabbing you around the waist, your legs wrapping around his body before he dunks you back and gets your hair even more wet. you giggle and smack at him playfully, splashing water up at him before jumping off him and swimming away.

your aunt watches from the window as you two swim around, his chuckle and your whine of his name grabbing the attention of all of them.

the group of women watched you two progress over the summer, how your gazes turned softer and sweeter and how seonghwa would always have to touch you.

whether it be guiding you by the small of your back or having his arm around your chair; it was something that warmed all of their hearts, which was pretty amazing since almost all of them were, admittedly, bitter divorcees.

“they are so sweet,” one of the lady’s says, watching as you jump out of the pool followed shortly behind seonghwa. you don’t get very far before he catches you around the waist and picks you up, your squeal promptly followed by a splash.

“i know, he’s been here every night this week,” your aunt informs them.

she doesn’t mention the way she’s heard your soft cries when she’s out on the porch and you two are on the balcony. nor does she mention that after you fell asleep, seonghwa had come down and asked if everything really was okay for you at home.

“i know she’s your sister so i’m not implying anything,” he said over the table, the cup of chamomile tea she always offers him but he rarely drinks next to him. “but she’s so scared to go back to them and i...do they hurt her?”

she couldn’t control the way her eyes widened when she heard him ask that, the boy maybe mistaking it for an insult but not even bothering to apologize. because she saw it, the anger and disgust in his eyes that if she even thought you were being hurt and sent you back, he was gonna go ballistic.

“they’re assholes, seonghwa, i’ll be the first to tell you but i don’t think they would physically harm her.”

and those were her honest thoughts, she’d never think in a million years that they’d stoop that low and abuse you in a such a way. and a part of her hoped you would tell her, that if you were in danger and needed a safe place to stay, that you knew you could come to her.

the answer seemed to simmer the boy and he nodded his head, calming the thoughts that have also been invading him in the days leading up to your departure; he was just better at hiding his sadness over it than you and it showed itself in a different way.

his brain convincing him that something’s not right and that neither of you are gonna be okay without each other. but that’s absurd, he thought, you didn’t even know each other two months ago and now you need each other to survive?

but his heart pulling in his chest scares the shit out of him, preparing him for your separation and knowing that once you two are apart, he doesn’t fully know how he’s gonna react.

he’s never felt like this before. he’s never loved anyone and has never had to leave someone he loved; but he’s just hoping, praying, that he doesn’t react to this heartbreak like a fucking idiot.

“what do you think they’re gonna do?” another woman asks, sipping from her glass of wine as he looks at your aunt. “i think they could do long distance. look at their love.”

“oh, jesus christ rose,” the older woman says, throwing a cracker at the woman when she sees tears welling up in her eyes. “you are absolutely ridiculous.”

“young love is the best love!”

they look over to see you both back in the pool, your arms around his neck as you throw your head back and giggle. and everyone can suppose that you two are a clear cut case of young love:

feelings that developed incredibly fast but felt overwhelmingly strong, a desire to see each other each and everyday and never get sick of it, a tragic end where you two are gonna be pulled apart and put to the test to see just how real the past two months have been.

“of course i did, i haven’t lived under a rock,” seonghwa says, your face pulled into one of extreme shock as he tells you this whole time, he had known about finding nemo. that it’d been one of his favorite movies growing up and he only pretended not to know.

“but why!” you squeal, “you....you even kept confusing nemo and dory on our date!”

he rolls his eyes and brings his finger under you chin, pulling you close so he can peck you with a cute, chaste kiss. “because you were so cute telling me about it,” he mumbles lowly, feeling his smile against your lips as he recalls you going on and on about it. “how could i have stopped you?”

"i don't wanna leave, i don't wanna stay with them anymore. i don't wanna leave you and everyone else and go back to my stupid new house with them being there," you cry out like a child, feeling the relentless tears prick at your eyes again. "i'm gonna miss you, seonghwa. i feel so safe with you.”

"i'm right here, baby, i'm not going anywhere."

“baby, can i ask you something?”

you look up at him from where you lay on his naked chest, the both of you laying in your bed watching a movie. you’d taken a shower after you got out of the pool, one thing leading to another before his hand covered your mouth as he fucked up into you against the cold tile.

it had all started innocently, him washing your hair and brushing the conditioner through. you squirting the loofa with soap and wiping him down with soap, writing words and smiley faces into his back.

but then the inevitable seemed to happen when your mouths gravitated toward one another, lips parting and his tongue slipping in before you daringly dropped down to your knees.

it’d been a fantasy you were dreaming about, just dropping to your knees unexpectedly and taking him in your mouth. and it seemed as if it might’ve been one of his too because his hands grabbed at your wet hair and he threw his head back as quiet curses left his mouth.

and when you looked up at him, your tongue circling the tip before sucking him down, that was it. that’s what made him growl and pull you up, force you to jump and sit on his cock so he could fuck you right under the steamy flow of water.

the angle hadn’t been one you felt before and everything about it was remarkable, him hitting something inside you as he sucked hickies into your chest that made you scream and whine into his hand.

“what?” you squeak as you look up at him, the small smile and sweet, questioning glint in your eyes making him reach down and touch your face.

“is there a reason you don’t wanna go home? are you not safe there?”

because something about your words that day are still haunting him for some reason, seeing the way you transformed right back into that scared, nervous girl he first met in the presence of your parents. the way you would flinch away from him in the beginning and not be able to hold eye contact.

and he thinks it’s more than going to a new house and a new school.

it’s how you actively tell him your parents hate you and question why they had you, how you told him you don’t wanna leave this town and feel safe with him; because if that’s the case, then you need someone to be safe from and that doesn’t sit well with him at all.

the question makes your stomach sink and you immediately feel the need to defend or deflect. to ask him why he’d think such a thing and insist that of course you’re safe. that just because your parents are mean and snap at you doesn’t mean it’s a completely terrible environment.

and while you can’t tell him the truth, you can’t lie to him either.

“it’s...fine,” you say quietly. “they just say a lot of things that hurt my feelings and yell. but who’s parents don’t? it’s just....normal family problems,” you tell him quietly, blinking back the tears trying to form in your eyes because you don’t think being smacked and kicked and fearing for your life some nights is considered normal family problems.

he swallows the lump in his throat and narrows his eyes at you, his thumb caressing your face as he bends down and kisses your forehead softly.

you close your eyes at the feeling and remind yourself to bask in this for the rest of the night. the way it feels to be held and kissed and loved because you don’t know when it’s gonna happen again. if it’s gonna happen again.

“whatever they say, know it’s not true,” you hear him mumble against your head. “they don’t know how lucky they are to be able to see you everyday.”

those words leaving his mouth catch you off guard, any time he says something sweet like that making your heart flutter and tears prick your eyes. and he knows it too because he looks down at you and smiles, shaking his head before placing another peck on your nose and lips.

“please, baby, no more crying tonight.”

and you try for him again but it proves to be a failure, burying your head in his neck and allowing your wet, salty tears to fall on his skin. you try to control your breathing and sobs threatening to leave, neither of you commenting on the death grip you have on him.

“i’m gonna miss you,” you whimper against him. he lets out a humorless chuckle as he pulls your face back, moving you on your back so your wet, teary face is right in his sight.

he leans down and kisses the salty tears off your face, your nose scrunching because your face is wet and sticky from them; but he doesn’t care, he just wants them gone and you smiling for the last few hours you have left.

“i’m gonna miss you too, baby,” he says, “but i’m here now. and i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you bite down on your lip and nod your head, another tear breaking free when you pull him down so your lips meet in a kiss. he lets you take over this one, lets you put your hands on his face and pull him into you, part your lips on his and slip your tongue in as you completely take the lead.

he lets it happen the whole time until you’re undressed and under the sheets, memorizing every inch of each other’s bodies one last time until he’s thrusting into you. it’s a slower, steadier pace that makes you cry out, his hips rocking into you slowly so he can bring you to your high gradually.

he whispers that he loves you in your ear, that no matter what happens he’s always gonna love you because how could he forget the girl who completely changed his summer and turned him into a man he never thought he could be?

(part 13)

#eeeek #aha anyway...#y/ns aunt and her friends are the golden girls #and thats that #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #ateez imagines #seonghwa series #seonghwa imagines

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ballerinaroy · 3 years

Text

a is for (not an) anniversary

On Ao3 here.

Ron knew he shouldn’t be the least bit excited about this day. And he wasn’t. He’d rather it be any other day, could feel the sadness and grief spilling out from the day meant to memorialize it. May 2nd. Only one year since. Yet, as he woke before dawn and showered and dressed, all the while watching Harry from the corner of his eye for any sudden outburst, Ron found a part of him (no matter how hard he tried to suppress it) looking forward to this day.

“Ready?” Harry asked of him, speaking his first word of the day.

It was early. Too early, for their arrival but somehow Ron didn’t think anyone would say anything to them. He nodded, taking a good look at his best mate, and fought against asking him the stupid question of if he was alright.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, and together they rose from the dining room table, leaving behind their half-drunk cups of tea, and followed him out towards the fireplace.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley” McGonagall greeted them.

It was even darker this far north, at least the morning rays of sun had started to illuminate their flat’s kitchen, but McGonagall looked just as sleepless as they, sitting at the Headmaster’s desk, a quill in hand.

“Sorry to bother you so early,” Ron excused them both.

She forgave them with a quick shake of her head. “It’s no trouble, I expect you two won’t be the first to arrive ahead of schedule. The Great Hall is open if you care for something to eat.”

They hesitated, and Ron didn’t want to be the one to ask.

“And Remembrance might be the word you’re looking for should you happen to wander elsewhere.”

She gave them a sly smile, a look Ron was still quite unused to on his Professors face.

“Thank you, Professor,” they said in tandem and as she looked back down at her papers, they turned away, avoiding the prying eyes of the prior Headmaster and Headmistresses.

They’d been back to the castle of course, spent half the summer repairing bricks and desks, but it had been a year since they’d last taken this particular journey. He could remember the exhaustion acutely, his body finally shutting down as they, at last, journeyed towards the promise of a hot shower and a long nap. Well, a several days sleep in fact.

Just as a year ago, they did not share a word, silent in their companionship with only their echoing footsteps and distant chirping of birds to fill their ears. Within no time they found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, looking regal and alert.

“I’d hoped you’d visit,” she said to them.

“Anyone left yet?” Harry asked of her.

She shook her head, “No, all’s been quiet.”

The portrait swung open and Ron followed Harry through the hole, dropping down on the other side to an empty room. Ron frowned, looking around. He, as well as Harry, had hoped, really….

A lamp flickered on to the right of them and they both spun around to find Hermione sitting there, her legs crossed and a sly look on her face. Ron immediately grinned, the shadow of her surprising them in this very way in their first year, entering his mind.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said, standing up and then, giving up all pretense, threw herself at them both, the three of them caught in a hug.

It had been a long time since they’d clung to one another so desperately. Ron had hoped they wouldn’t have to again, never the less it felt right to be here, with them. Several minutes might have passed when at last they gave signals of detangling, though Ron didn’t let his position of an arm around Hermione go, sneaking in a quick peck as Harry pulled away.

“Is Ginny-“

“Should be down any moment,” Hermione told him, studying him.

Ron could feel the question on her lips and didn’t think if very wise for her—or anyone really—to ask and set about distracting her.

“And here you say you don’t throw yourself at people,” he teased her.

“How should I hug you then?” Hermione demanded, taking his bait.

“Oh, no I’m not complaining, just pointing out that you have this habit of throwing yourself at me,” Ron said.

She blushed, a healthy color he’d been worried about not seeing today, and shook her head. He bent down, giving up all pretense, and gave her a proper greeting. Beside them, Harry turned away tactfully, though Ron caught his annoyance as he did so and they only pulled apart when the thundering footsteps of another interrupted the quiet him of the common room. They turned as the door to the girl’s dormitory opened and there stood Ginny.

She sighed, giving an amused smile at the sight of them, “Well, you were right Hermione, guess they do manage to get up when it matters.”

She turned to Harry, her smile turning brilliant. “I swear I was going to be your greeting committee.”

“Well, I still need greeted,” he replied, the closest expression Ron had ever seen on his face to cocky and Ginny rolled her eyes at him even as she closed the distance and Ron had to look away from their reunion for his own sanity.

“All been well?” Hermione asked of him quietly, reaching up to pick some imaginary lint from his shoulder.

“Better now that I’m with you,” he tried but Hermione merely laughed, allowing him only to kiss her cheek. “It’s been fine, just, don’t ask, alright?”

Hermione didn’t look too happy with his analysis but accepted it with a reluctant nod.

“I’m fine,” he told her, trying to put as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. He didn’t know who his request for her not to ask would benefit more, he or Harry who’d been on an alarmingly short fuse all week. “How about you?”

Her smile faltered a little and worry infected him.

“It’s the same,” Hermione answered, not meeting his eyes. “As the summer, it’ll always be the same nightmares I think.”

Ron pulled her in closer and kissed her forehead, wishing that she wasn’t so far away. Perhaps this would be easier to talk about if the moments they were with one another weren’t so fleeting.

“I’m starved,” Ginny announced and they looked up. “Practice ran through dinner last night.”

“You say that like you’re not the captain,” Ron argued and Ginny grinned at him. “Why on earth would you make them miss a meal?”

“You don’t become school champions by giving up just because you’re cold,” Ginny shook her head. “Our match is next week, do they think it’ll be hot by then?”

It was funny how easily they slipped back into it. And for the walk down to the great hall, it was easy to forget why they were there, who they were. For that moment they were merely school children, teasing and laughing, emotions that for the rest of the day would be considered inappropriate. Ron cherished every second of it that he could. God, he wished it were a different day.

“Feels like we’re back in school,” Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair to catch Harry’s ear.

He gave him a smilier, bored, and slightly exasperated expression. “Who knew we’d be getting a lecture on the recovery of international potion trading?”

“They’re lobbying you know,” Hermione whispered all without taking her eyes off the podium turned lectern.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

“Lobbying to who?” Ron exclaimed as quietly as he could.

“To everyone,” Hermione answered. “This might be the most important gathering this year.”

“They shouldn’t be,” Harry said, suddenly angry. “It shouldn’t be about that, not today.”

Hermione glanced over at them at last, worried but Ginny beat them all to it, squeezing Harry’s hand. “No, they shouldn’t, of course not.”

Harry let out a sigh and Ron felt them all tense.

“Do you wanna go?” Ron asked after another minute.

He could feel Harry considering it but at last shook his head, checking his watch. “No, it’d make too much of a scene. Though I wouldn’t say no to taking our lunch outside.”

“Did you bring the cloak?” Ginny asked him. “Or I could sneak in-"

“We should just ask one of the house-elves,” Ron offered and Harry nodded. He felt him relax and it felt safe enough to look over at Hermione who was wearing a funny smile. “What?”

She didn’t say anything, just giving him that smile that made something inside him swell and he put his arm around her chair as she leaned into him.

It felt wrong, to be smitten in such a place. Though Ron reasoned, he’d spent years waiting for the right time. If he just kept waiting around he might never get to feel so lucky.

They weren’t alone for long. It had been nice, sitting on the banks of the black lake, hearing the sounds of the forest and watching the clouds drift overhead.

But as the lunch hour trickled on it seemed others had the same idea as they. Groups of two or three, walked out the doors, the same annoyed look on their face, same quietly seething rage that Ron had felt in flashes. And then they would draw closer and spot them and someone would give them a wave over and that anger, that exhaustion would ease. First Neville and Luna, Dean and Seamus.

Before Ron knew it the whole of Dumbledore’s Army had found their way to their previously private spot.

“Did you know Collin almost got expelled?” Dennis pipped up from the far end of the circle. Heads turned as Seamus finished telling his tale of Umbridge’s interrogation of him.

“No,” Ginny said, shaking her head, “you’re lying.”

Dennis shook his head, grinning like he had this great secret. “Cross my heart.”

He was a good storyteller, Ron realized, holding the tension until the most penitent moment.

“He’d been doing magic all his life you know. But of course, we didn’t know. Little things, funny tricks. Could never keep still, if I didn’t know better he’d learned to apparate before even coming to Hogwarts, you’d blink and he’d go from one side of the room to the other.”

They all chuckled, shaking their heads.

“So, he’s been doing these little spells all his life, and then he gets a name for it, comes to school, learns even more of it and then they just send him home with a slip saying he had to stop it all, bit cruel really, he just wanted to show us.”

Beside Ron, he heard Harry snort commiseratingly.

“The first one was on purpose, when you’re twelve and they tell you they’re watching you you have to test the rules a little, figure out if they’re lying and they weren’t.” Dennis said, “He’s sitting there, making papers fly around the room when an owl swoops in and drops a letter in his lap, gave me and dad quite a fright, though I’m still not used to owls dropping things in my lap, really, we’ve had centuries to figure out how to get letters without the chance of dung falling in your porridge.”

He looked over at Padma who blushed scarlet and laughter rang out. A joke that Ron did not know, but did not feel outside of.

“And Collin, so excited to be getting a letter, I don’t think he even saw the ministry seal, just ripped it open, expecting it to be a letter from a friend and I swear, I’ve never seen his face change so quickly. Straight from bursting with excitement to no color at all to threatening to put all over the table.”

“So he put it away, locked up his wand, and cried because you couldn’t take that away from him, magic. He’d never loved something more.” Dennis’s face wavered and grief passed over them all. He sniffled and gave a watery smile. “Summer goes on,” he continued, eyes wet, “Goes full muggle with me. Telling me everything that had happened and God was I happy to have my brother back. And for a few weeks, everything is fine, sure he’s acting out stories every chance he gets but it’s not real magic….exactly.”

“The second letter comes in the middle of the afternoon. We’d gone out to the creek and he’s telling me about quidditch, jumping over rocks and branches, acting it out, when, there it is again, from nowhere an owl swoops in. Now, we’d gotten used to them. But it was always the same owls he was writing through. This time, however, Collin hesitated.

“I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, he said, and he wasn’t. Just making jumps higher than any child could. So he opens it and there it is again Second infraction. We couldn’t figure out what he’d even done and now he’s paranoid. He couldn’t get kicked out of school, not with only one year, not with a whole life….” Dennis paused again, and the grief rippled out, “Not with a with a whole lifetime of magic ahead of him.”

There was no stopping it this time, he covered his eyes with his hands, falling forward and beside him, Seamus reached out, laying a gentle hand on his back. Hermione reached for Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“But remember what I said,” Dennis burst out, tears rolling down his face and Ron could see he was trying to smile through them. “Collin had been doing magic his whole life, he didn’t need a wand. It was something deep within him, little spells, little bursts of-“

Ron felt his own eyes mist as Dennis dissolved completely. This was how it was supposed to feel, Ron thought. Sadness, yes, but filled with laughter and stories of the fallen. A day in their memory.

It went on and on. The speeches and the handshaking and the tearful thank yous. All of it, Ron knew was supposed to mean something but after their picnic by the lake, it felt so…so disingenuous. He found he wanted to be anywhere else, talking about anything else, dreading the next person to approach them or the next person to get up or even whisper his name.

He knew he was being unfair. It had been all of their war. But he wasn’t crying, and he’d been through the worst of it. Somehow he managed to keep it under control, to listen to the tearful stories, to allow his mother to fuss over him.

It was near sunset when they made their next escape. Dinner finished people, beginning to trickle out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade where the memorial was promised to continue. They’d gotten separated from Harry and Ginny. His sister he spotted across the room, sitting with Angelina and George and another handful of older Gryffindors he only recognized on-site, but the former.

Ron scanned the crowd for his best mate, worry beginning to infect him. He didn’t like not knowing where Harry was, particularly not today when a year ago-

“Come with me,” said a voice in his ear, and relief coursed through him. At once they stood, leading the way out of the great hall and up the stone steps. Last year, when they’d made this journey, glass had crunched beneath their feet but in its proper place, the decorative glass made pretty patterns on the floor.

Once out of sight Harry whipped off the cloak, his hair ruffled and exhaustion tinting his eyes.

“Where to?” Hermione asked, sounding as relieved as Ron felt.

They all sort of looked at one another for a moment before Ron suggested, “Astronomy tower?” and they set off without a word of protest.

It felt good, moving. Not used to the many Hogwarts staircases, Ron found his legs burning a little by the time they reached their destination.

It was beautiful, up here. They could see nearly the entire grounds, the black lake golden and the treetops of the forbidden forest painted red by the dying sun. In the distance, he spotted Hagrid lumbering back to his hut as if it had been any other day and he was retiring. It was strangely comforting, seeing something so mundane as the gamekeeper returning to the home that a year ago had not existed.

Suddenly, a lump conjured itself in his throat and it was very hard to swallow. Ron glanced over at Harry and wether by Hagrid of another stimuli he found him just as affected, his jaw working as he rested his elbows on the railing.

A year. Only a year since they’d been here. Sometimes Ron felt the war was still on their doorstep threatening to burst through.

Hermione sniffled, moving closer and he couldn’t bear to look at her without crying out himself. She tucked herself against his chest, his arms wrapping around her without thought, holding her close as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

The sun bathed them in red and then gold and still they did not utter a word. Did not need to. It was enough just being there, the three of them, knowing there were two others who felt exactly the same tight feeling, the same grief, the selfish joy of being here today when there were so many others that couldn’t be.

If they had asked, at that moment, Ron would have been able to say he was fine, contentment in his bones, spreading with every squeeze of Hermione’s arms around him. With every little breath of Harry’s proving, he was still there, still breathing. They were alive. It was a gift enough.

“I think I’m going to take a walk,” said Harry when the last few rays of light shone over the tips of the trees, making the forbidden forest look as magical as Ron had ever known it.

Ron nodded, for the first time that week not afraid to watch his best mate leave the room. “Alright, see you in a bit.”

They watched his retreating form down the stairs and back into the lamp-lit castle.

“Is he going to be alright?” Hermione asked once certain he was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Ron told her, tugging on her hand so she turned to face him. “As much of any of us will be.”

She turned her eyes away and onto him. It was their first moment alone, Ron realized, as she put her arms around his neck and stared up at him. He braced himself for her to ask how he was, not wanting to lie, not sure he could even conjure the truth but she merely stated, “Today’s been harder than I thought.”

The tension inside him released and he let out a long breath, nodding.

“I’ve felt it all week,” Hermione went on as he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “Been short with everyone, I keep dreaming about-“

“Yeah,” he said as tears dotted her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione thought for a moment and then shook her head defiantly. “No, I don’t….do you?”

“No,” he agreed, “I just want to enjoy being here, with you.”

That smile that made his heart swell was back and the worry eased from her face.

“I miss you,” Hermione agreed. “A stupid amount really.”

He ducked his head, kissing her cheek, a slow kiss, and felt her cheek twitch with delight, and then it was her turn, inching closer to his, soft and tender.

“Do you miss me?” she murmured, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back long enough to look her in the eye, to show his sincerity when he told her. “Terribly.”

It was sometime before either of them spoke another word.

“It’s been a year,” Hermione pointed out in a hesitant tone as they descended back down towards the great hall in search of Harry.

“Oh, has it?” Ron teased.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “I mean since we-“

“Since you threw yourself at me?” Ron went on and before she could say _did not! _In that squeaky huff, “And I quite literally swept you off your feet.”

Hermione blushed, closing her mouth, and then said, “Yes, that you did.”

They stopped and he let go of her hand so he could put his arm around her before continuing.

“It’s too morbid,” Hermione went on, pondering. “To call it our anniversary.”

“Perhaps,” Ron told her. He’d thought about it quite a bit. Wavering back and forth. Whenever they told the story everyone agreed it’d been terribly romantic, but to say it outright felt a bit crass. “But I’m glad we did, that we didn’t wait any longer.”

They slowed and Hermione didn’t meet his eye. “I thought I was going to die that night, I was prepared to and I…”

“Hey,” he said, waiting for her to look up. “You didn’t, I didn’t. We’re still here, Hermione.”

She nodded, “And we’re happy.”

He agreed with a grin. “And we’re happy.”

“And we’ve been happy,” Hermione continued. “For a whole year.”

“Well…” he teased and she nudged him. “Yeah, we’ve been happy for a whole year.”

“I love you,” she said tenderly.

He couldn’t help but say it back. “I love you too.”

#roywrites #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #weeks late but still

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.16}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?"

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore."

"Why does your hair smell so insufferably much like pineapple? You don't even like pineapples."

For a broken second, Robin was so surprised by the indeed quite unexpected question that she didn't react at all, then however she had to snort and finally just started laughing. Gods, what a question… whether he had meant to take the edge off the situation or not, his inquiry certainly had done just that. In a sudden mutual agreement that it might be better to let go of each other –better for whom, one might ask– they both removed their tight hold from the other and Robin took a tiny step backwards. Not enough to call it an appropriate distance, really, but enough to look at each other's faces again.

"I, uh…" She started, once she had more or less stopped laughing, and finally folded the letter and the permit back into the envelope. "I haven't really had the money to buy new shampoo after I'd run out, so I first borrowed from Jorien for half a month, and now ever since the beginning of October I've been borrowing from Cas, who unfortunately loves pineapples. That's why I smell like one currently."

"I see… Curious how I haven't noticed it before."

"Well, we don't really… get that close to each other so often." Robin shrugged, trying to suppress the sad subtones that wanted to sneak into the statement, and instead acted over it by removing her wand from the tousled damp mess on her head, now that she remembered that her hair still would have to dry at some point indeed. "And I literally just took a shower before coming here, so that should make the smell even more prominent as well. Sorry…"

"Not for that. But say, do I even want to know why you decided to take a shower in the middle of the night? On your birthday?"

"Cas smeared some sticky goo onto my face and it was really itchy and got stuck in my hair…" She rolled her eyes at the memory, and upon his questioning and slightly horrified expression, she snorted but went to explain. "It was just some kind of face mask, nothing gross! Well, actually, it was pretty vile, all pink and smelling horribly sweet, even worse than the pineapple!"

"Sounds like your evening with your roommates went exactly as expected."

"Well, part of it at least. At first we had tea and cake, which I very much enjoyed actually. They told me about the incident in class as well, even though they thought it was hilarious rather than annoying. But then I became subject to their idea of a girls' night, and that meant sticky goo and painted nails." Robin held up her hands with a humoured sigh to demonstrate Jorien's work. It actually looked quite good, or at least it had, before Robin had already chipped one nail in the shower. She couldn't bring herself to care enough to fix it though. "Then they tried to get me to talk about boys, which was the point where I shut down."

"I can imagine."

"They got me a lovely gift though; a framed photograph of the entire group. The girls and I, and Simon, Gideon and Michael. All sitting together in the great hall." Robin smiled, still very much happy about the picture. "There's so few photos of me and the people I care about. Honestly, I only have the conference photos from last year and the year prior, and either has about fifty strangers in it, but only one has you."

"Good. I doubt that I'm particularly photogenic."

"Neither am I, but I like looking at the picture nonetheless."

"You always were the most photogenic person in the entire newspaper. All three years of conferences."

"Thanks." Robin laughed, once again quite glad that it was too dark for him to really see her blushing. "Remind me to show you the horrible pictures of me as a toddler some time… You'll change your mind about me being photogenic then."

"Don't bet on it."

"Alright, I won't." Her smile turned warmer, less amused and more heartfelt. "But I'm still happy to have one more picture of the people I care about now."

"You should be. It is a nice gift indeed. An actual gift."

"Oh will you stop it now!" Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then couldn't help smiling up at him nonetheless. "I think your gift IS an actual gift! A perfect one! But if you just keep refusing to believe it, might I make a suggestion?"

"Don't you always?" He raised an eyebrow as he quoted her own words back to her with a not-smirk. "Go ahead."

"Go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday. I know you're not overly fond of being there while the students are roaming around, but you could consider it a gift to me, if the incredible one you've already given me just won't count for you. Which I still don't understand, by the way." She suggested, then went on with a small smirk. "I'm sure I can sell some stuff to the guy in that ingredients shop you sent me to forever ago."

"I will have to see it to believe it. Saturday it is." He replied and the corners of his lips quirked up more and more. "The man you're speaking of is a sleazy individual, ripping people off wherever he can, and getting him to pay a decent price will be practically impossible. But I will enjoy seeing you try."

"I can get him to pay any price you name." Robin teased with a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know what prices to set anyway, nor what the different objects are worth in theory. Just give me a number I can tell him, and you'll see me getting him to pay it."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Wanna bet?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking openly with just a tad of mischief in her tone. There was no way she would lose this, she was certain of that. "If you deem me so unconvincing, you should have nothing to lose."

"If you insist. What stakes shall we set?"

"Loser buys the winner a drink afterwards, how about that? We should both be able to afford that much at that point."

"Agreed. It should make for an interesting Saturday either way." Snape seemed to be entirely amused by the idea at this point, and Robin wondered if he was actually serious about doubting her in the first place. He did know better than to question her abilities, especially those she actually believed in herself, and somehow she had the feeling that agreeing to this bet was his way of encouraging her to do her best on Saturday. But he might also just be wanting to buy her a drink. The thought made Robin grin even more, and she decided that she was fine with either version.

"I hope I'll make it to Saturday in the first place…" She said then, remembering that it was only Friday now, roughly around two in the morning. "The girls have made some plans for my birthday, but after this evening, I'm not sure if I will survive any more of their ideas."

"To your luck, they will be busy with classes for most of the day, much like myself unfortunately. Are you going to be assisting Pomona with the second years again?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing I have to do. It's fun, actually, when the students aren't being idiots. Gonna be an easy day."

"Perhaps you should go to bed now nonetheless. As much as I would like to sit down now and keep you here until morning, you certainly would be better off with some sleep before your roommates drag you into whatever schemes they have set up for the morning."

"Yeah… I should go." Robin sighed, and this time she didn't even bother trying to hide her sadness about the fact. "Don't forget about the salt thing though, yes? And please tell McGonagall; even if just for the sake of helping me keep my promise."

"I will." He replied as he followed Robin to the door, keeping his eyes on her as she stepped out into the hallway. "If your roommates haven't already claimed every single minute of your day by then, perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon."

"I would like that very much." Robin smiled up at him too happily, in too much excitement, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He already knew that she loved spending time with him; he just didn't know all of the reasons. "But for now, goodnight."

"Get out of my sight already."

"As you wish." She grinned at his feigned annoyance and not-smirk, then made her way down the hallway and back towards her room, clutching her wand in one hand and the letter in the other. Surprisingly enough, this had been a great start to her birthday after all.

When she lay in bed a little while later, she could still feel the shadow of his touch along her spine, the brush of his fingertips on her sides, and it took her a while to fall asleep like that, when part of her mind wouldn't shut up and instead kept on wondering what it would've felt like without all the fabric in between his skin and her own.

… … …

Morning, as always, came way too soon, and Robin was woken up by two overly excited girls who then proceeded to dictate her every move. Luckily she could talk them out of painting her face this year, but they still put up her hair into an intricate braid before they finally made their way to breakfast while playing some kind of game Robin never quite understood the rules to in the first place. When they arrived in the great hall, they still were terribly early for once, as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table with the boys, who each proceeded to congratulate Robin as well, and she in return thanked them all, especially Simon for the idea with the picture.

Once the hall had filled up with students and staff alike –Robin took careful notice of the fact that McGonagall was once again sitting next to Snape, chatting away amicably while the latter looked indifferent as always– the beginning of the meal was announced, and the foods and drinks were sent up from the kitchens. The moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived, and when Robin looked around, she saw more excited faces than she dared to count. Obviously the news about the prank had made their rounds among the student body, and spread even beyond the Ravenclaw table. In the careful attempt not to be entirely obvious about it, Robin then observed Snape and McGonagall. Both of them went with coffee this morning, and if she wasn't mistaken, they both focused on their mugs a little too long before moving to drink at last. Neither of them pulled a face, nor did McGonagall falter in her one sided chat with the bored man next to her, which relieved Robin quite a bit. Once she looked over at Jorien, the girl mouthed a quiet 'thank you', to which Robin answered with a single subtle nod. Then both their attention was drawn back to the head table, when a happy coincidence decided that it should be Morgan who first made a show of spitting out his salted coffee in an indignant spout. A wave of giggles ran through the student body, and while more professors followed Morgan's example mere seconds later, the giggles turned into straight out laughter. McGonagall made an attempt to hide the fact that she had known in advance, going neatly along with the other professors' surprise and outrage, while Snape however merely let his eyes travel over the students in a menacing glare. When his eyes caught Robin's, however, his face brightened up ever so slightly with a not-smirk for a moment, then he continued his cold inspection of the tables and Robin turned back to her breakfast. Perhaps seeing Morgan spitting out his coffee had made her morning a little better after all, and knowing that Snape had succeeded to get McGonagall, out of all people, to play along with this scheme definitely made her both happy and proud.

The day then continued on quite as good as it had started. During the herbology class she helped with, Sprout not only congratulated her right away, but also gifted her a beautiful scalpel-like knife that was small in size, but sharper than Robin thought possible. The gesture honestly surprised her, but the herbology professor insisted that she couldn't continue watching Robin use that old rusty thing she had been using for both her in- and out-of-class work for the last two years. A little overwhelmed but very much grateful, Robin finally accepted the highly useful gift, and stored it in her pocket for now, just before first students filed into the greenhouse.

The next surprise came during lunch, when Robin found yet another wrapped gift waiting for her in her spot at the Ravenclaw table, where her small group of appreciated people was already awaiting her arrival. Upon Robin's inquiry about the package, they all shrugged and said it had just suddenly been there some time after they'd sat down. Her name was written on a piece of paper that was tugged into the wrapping, but she didn't quite recognise the handwriting. Odd… why were so many people giving her gifts for her birthday, all of a sudden? She appreciated it, of course, but it made her wonder nonetheless. Then, encouraged by her overly curious friends, Robin finally unwrapped the gift, only to reveal a small and desperately old looking book. 'The Unforgivable Curses: A detailed study'... The title alone made the hairs in Robin's neck stand up, while the small group of people around here was simply confused. Of course they understood the title, but they were just as clueless about who would give such a book to Robin as she herself was. There was no note, no letter, nothing but the slip of paper with her name on it, which she tugged in between the pages after briefly flipping through them in search for any more pleasant or unpleasant surprises. But it was just a book, a quite rare one if Robin wasn't entirely mistaken, and certainly not of the kind you would find in a school library. If anyone saw her with this, especially one of the professors, they might just think she was up to no good; thus Robin stored it away in her backpack, making sure to inspect it more thoroughly later today. Preferably together with Snape, he knew way more about these things than anyone else, and he appreciated a good mystery quite as much as she did.

After lunch, when Robin was just about to head to her room to pass the time and perhaps change into something warmer before Snape would be done with his classes for the day, she found herself stopped in her path, surprised yet again by something she hadn't quite expected. This time it was McGonagall who, after a quick glance down the hallway, first congratulated Robin, and then also thanked her for the indirect warning this morning. What surprised Robin however was when the professor took her hand, placed a small and surprisingly cold object in it, and then closed her fingers around it even before Robin could see what it was.

"You did not receive this from me, do you understand?" She asked with an intent look at Robin, who in return merely had the time to nod before the professor turned on her heels and was off down the hallway a second later.

Confused, Robin opened her hand again and her eyes fell onto a key that was now resting in her palm, heavy and cold and no less ancient than the book she had already received an hour earlier. What on earth was going on here that she was missing? What was this key for, in a school that –as far as Robin knew– locked all doors with magic anyway? And why was McGonagall so keen on keeping it a secret? Robin couldn't answer either question, but she hid the key in her locket anyway, to keep it safe until she knew what she was to do with it. Then she finally made for her room, with the intention to get some long overdue rest at last.

… … …

Shortly before four in the afternoon, Robin quietly let herself into Snape's office during the last minutes of the class he was teaching next door. She had indeed changed into something warm enough to be comfortable outside (for once!), and then thought it a nice idea to pick him up here to go for her promised walk. That at least would give them a good two hours before dinner, and thus enough time to actually get away from the castle for a little while. Content with her plan, Robin took her perch on the edge of the desk, not bothering to sit down properly for the little time she planned to stay here. It wasn't long indeed before the door between office and classroom flew open, and a very much annoyed Snape stormed into the room, throwing the door shut behind himself again without looking back. Still it took a few seconds for his eyes to find Robin's, but then he stopped in his track while the tension remained written all over his features.

"Don't." Was all he said in a deep and warning tone, and Robin knew very well what he meant, but she just couldn't help it. She had to smile, brightly and without any attempt to hide it, and he rolled his eyes in return, the tension fleeting, while he tried not to smile in return. "You are insufferable. Just let me be angry in peace."

"I'd rather not. Because I can't be happy when you're upset, so logically I will have to see to it that you're happy. For my own sake." She shrugged easily, and her eyes followed him as he moved to drop a stack of notebooks next to her on the desk. "And I'm here to claim what's been promised to me. Before you can find a way to get out of it."

"Whyever would I want to? Wasn't it I who asked for a moment of your precious time in the first place?" He raised his eyebrows at her for a second, then grabbed his warmer robes from the back of his chair. "I would hardly want to miss the narrow time frame I was given to spend with you."

"Oh come on, I'm not that busy! You're the one who had to teach all day… I've just been in my room ever since lunch."

"Napping, as it seems." He quipped, finally unable to keep the not-smirk off his face, and Robin felt called out immediately.

"How the hell do you know that again?"

"Your hair tells me all about it. Admittedly, the difference from lunch to now is very subtle, especially with the braid, but I know what you look like when you wake up. I've seen it before."

The blush that rose to Robin's face immediately was accompanied by a wave of tingles that were equally a result of his words and her own imagination. Yes, they had woken up in the same room before. But not together, in the way she would've liked. Not the time to think about that now.

"Well, you caught me." Robin finally replied, forcing away the previous string of thoughts. "I was napping because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm fine with little sleep, generally, but less than two hours isn't enough even for me. With the two herbology classes of the first and second years this morning, on top of two meals with the girls, I honestly just needed some rest."

"What kept you from getting a good night's sleep in the first place?" He asked in return, as they left the office and started making their way outside, unseen as always, through the many rooms and passages Robin found herself actually able to remember at this point. She had no idea how Snape even knew about all these shortcuts and secret paths in the castle, but she was glad to have learned about them too. Wandering around unseen was a lot easier like this.

"Oh, you know… just too many thoughts spinning in my mind." She shrugged, careful not to let slip that it had been thoughts about him that had kept her awake. Thoughts about them, together.

"I understand. Your visit also left me thinking for quite a while." He said, as they arrived at the foot of the hill, under the open grey sky at last. "I have come to the conclusion, for example, that you were right. My gift to you may be considered a gift indeed."

"Where did that change of mind come from?"

"I couldn't find an argument against yours. Giving someone a gift is an act of caring, and as you rightly so pointed out, caring extends way beyond the material. Thus a gift should be judged by the amount of care put into it, not its material worth."

"That's pretty much what I was trying to say last night, yes." Robin smiled up at him, doing her best not to trip over anything while they made their way towards their by now common favorite place outside the castle. The shoreline of the lake. "I received three more gifts today, even though I'm not so sure if the latter two go by our definition of 'gift' in that sense. The care as well as the message behind them are kinda, well, untranslatable to me. Anyway, I've been dying to tell you about it all day."

"I'm listening. And intrigued, seeing as once again you just have to build up suspense."

"Well, first there was Sprout." Robin started, in ignorance of his second comment, and pulled the delicately ornamented knife out of her robes, showing it to Snape with a smile. "I was quite surprised that she got me a gift at all, to be honest. We've gotten a bit closer through my assistance in her classes, but I didn't think she liked me enough to even remember my birthday, leave alone to get me anything."

"She gushes about you all the time actually, in the staff room, or during meals… It seems to be one of her favourite pastimes to tell everyone, especially me, about your brilliant work." Snape replied, then handed the knife back to Robin who slipped it back into her pocket. "I'm not surprised that she would give you a present such as this; she holds you in a higher regard than she does with most of her colleagues."

"I certainly appreciate it. The gift, and that she's obviously quite fond of me too. Especially since the other two items that were given to me today are way more confusing in their nature and their circumstances."

"I know you received a book during lunch. What was that about?"

"I haven't got even the slightest idea. Nobody knows who it's from or why it was given to me, and I was hoping you could help me solve this mystery." She said, and summoned the object in discussion from her bag, once again handing it to Snape. "There's a piece of paper inside with my name on it, perhaps the handwriting will tell you more."

He stopped walking once his eyes fell onto the title of the book, and he inspected it for a moment longer until he looked up at Robin once again, in sincere surprise. "I have heard of this book, but admittedly I believed it to be nothing more than a myth. It still might be a mere joke; we will have to find out about that."

"What's special about it? It probably contains a bit more information than we are taught here at school, but that can't be it, right?"

"Supposedly, it contains methods to resist all three of the unforgivable curses. I highly doubt that rumour however, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious to you, perhaps. Enlighten me."

"If there was a way you could cheat a curse that was banned by the ministry, wouldn't they have an interest in making that knowledge known and thereby eradicate the usefulness of such curses in the first place?"

"That definitely makes sense. But perhaps they also believe the book and thus the methods to be nothing more than a myth? Either way, I have this book now, and I have no idea who gave it to me."

"I could give you an answer to that even without looking at the handwriting." Snape scoffed, but opened the book and inspected the snippet of paper nonetheless. "Quite obviously, Professor Dumbledore has an interest in it that you become better acquainted with these curses. I don't have to tell you that this isn't a good sign."

"No…" Robin breathed in return, and if she was honest with herself, she could also have guessed by herself that it was the headmaster who had given the book to her. "If Dumbledore wants me to read this, I bloody better should. No matter what his intention behind it is."

"Indeed. I would ask him about it, but he hasn't been letting me in on anything of importance for a while now, and I doubt that he would give me an honest answer even if I tried. We are better off drawing our own conclusions from now on. May I read the book, once you have?"

"Obviously! It's really not much of a gift and more of a homework assignment the headmaster expects us both to do."

"An oddly fitting way to describe it. Tell me, if that was the second 'gift', what is the third?"

"Something I understand even less." She sighed, then fiddled the key out of her locket to hand it over too. "This was given to me without a comment, without context, and with the instruction to not reveal who gave it to me."

"That certainly-..."

"It was McGonagall." Robin shrugged with one shoulder, giving him a small smile which only widened as his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, and she certainly knows that. But I have every intention to keep her involvement a secret from absolutely everyone else."

"If she was concerned about keeping it a secret in the first place, it likely means that Dumbledore doesn't know. This in return means that whatever his reason might be for not wanting you to have the key, it isn't to your advantage. But the key likely is."

"Why do you think so?"

"Dumbledore has long lost his conscience between the bigger picture and his own ambitions, but Minerva will do what she can to protect the innocent from any misfortune. And if said misfortune was caused or tolerated by the headmaster, I believe she will go against his wishes to act on her own conscience instead. Put differently, Dumbledore's concern lies with the school, and its place in the grand scheme of things. Minerva's concern lies with the learning and wellbeing of both students and staff."

"But… that would mean that Dumbledore is willingly letting something bad happen to me. And McGonagall is trying to protect me from it, even though Dumbledore doesn't want her to."

"So far my theory at least, but I have no proof of it other than both our past experiences. It certainly would make sense in the context of both her own words after the incident with Morgan on the first night of term, and also the fact that Dumbledore gave you the book now."

"Oh great…" Robin groaned under her breath and let herself fall back against the tree behind her. "What have I done that makes me everyone's favourite victim? First Morgan, now Dumbledore, and well… There's literally an entire school full of people to pick on! Why do they keep choosing me?"

"I have another question for you. Why does Minerva believe that an old key will help you against either of them?"

"Yes. Great! Thank you for making matters even more complicated." She rolled her eyes with a huff, but felt bad for it immediately. Time to be better than her emotions. "Sorry… that was really unfair. None of this is your fault."

"It's quite alright." He replied calmly and took the remaining two steps to stand in front of Robin, handing her the book and the key. "I can't say I'm not equally concerned about these developments."

"I just can't get rid of the feeling that it all comes down to Morgan somehow. If McGonagall is the proof of a connecting point, back on the day of the welcoming feast and today, it means that Dumbledore sees Morgan as he is, as a threat, but doesn't want to do anything about it. Not because he doesn't care about Morgan's actions, but because he has some grand scheme in mind where Morgan is a chess piece of yet unknown importance and I'm just a casualty he's willing to sacrifice for whatever greater cause. And McGonagall doesn't want that to happen, but she also can't tell me about it because he doesn't want her to. Does that even make any sense? This is a school and not some bloody thriller!" She scoffed as she returned the book to her bag and the key to her locket, then however didn't lean back against the tree. There was too much tension in her body, too much anxiety in her mind, and thus she simply looked up at Snape with an almost sad expression. "Honestly, what am I missing here? I just… I don't understand what's going on anymore."

"Right now, all that matters is that you are out here, with me. You are supposed to have an enjoyable birthday and not a mental breakdown over people who definitely do not deserve it." He said while lightly tracing the outside of her hand with one finger, and when the gesture made Robin smile instinctively, he took her hand entirely and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We will find answers to all the questions, given the right time and opportunity. You and me together, like always. Yes?"

"Yes." Robin sighed, and her smile broadened into a real one that captured the rest of her face as well. "Let's walk on then, shall we? You could tell me what the fifth years did that was so terribly annoying during your last class."

"The better question would be what they didn't do to annoy me. I cannot believe I have to get those dunderheads through their OWLs at the end of the year." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and slowly let go of Robin's hand as they sauntered on, along the shoreline. Oh well… Robin was happy about the gesture nonetheless; as small and fleeting as it had been, it had been initiated entirely by him for once.

"You better start telling me then." She suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smile. "If it's such a long list. What did they do wrong this time?"

"Would you like me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

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