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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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drunk in love - john shelby x reader

a/n: hello my loves :) here is the john fic that i'm personally really excited about bc i fucking love him & i hope you guys like it!! i'm taking requests if you guys want me to write anything in specific and as always, feel free to message me :)

love, abi xxx

gif by: @deeptheon

prompt: you're john's secretary & he takes you on a trip.

warnings: nsfw!! smut with a teeny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, choking, power play, john being generally irresistible

There were many words to describe John Shelby. Cowardly was not one of them. In the short time you had known him, you had seen him fight god knows how many people, in countless bars across Birmingham. You had seen and heard stories of John blowing up buildings and setting bars on fire. And of course, there was the matter of his arrogance. John dripped confidence from his shoes to his slicked back hair. So cocky, in fact, that you almost wanted to tell him to shut up as much as you wanted to ride his face. Almost.

So, there you sat wistfully at your desk, sneaking glances of him in his office whenever you could. Not that you would even have a chance if you tried; you were his goddamn secretary. Despite the fact that he oozed arrogance, John was a good boss, who always approved your requests for days off. Sure, you were at his beck and call pretty much 24/7, but this also meant you had a front row seat to all the girls he fucked. The women were always stunning, making your hopes deflate even further. However, for the last month, there had been no women. You chalked it up to him finding some sort of girlfriend, so you kept your interactions with him as businesslike as possible. Deep down, through every meeting, phone call, and even just through the windows of his office, you drank in every second of John you could get. He was intoxicating; the smell of his cologne nearly brought you to your knees.

You snapped out of your thoughts, training your eyes back on the work in front of you and taking a drag from your cigarette. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Lizzie, a cigarette between her slightly pursed lips. “John wants you in his office. He doesn’t seem mad, but then again, who knows,” she stated. You stood, smoothing out your red pleated skirt and black blouse and quickly opening your compact to make sure your lipstick hadn’t smudged. “Thanks, Lizzie,” you replied, shooting her a smile as she made her way back to her desk. You made your way across the open office space to John’s office, knocking softly on the frosted window pane that read Shelby Company, Ltd in gold lettering.

“Come in,” John called out, his voice muffled behind the wooden door. You turned the doorknob and entered his office, shutting the door behind you. John sat at a tufted leather chair, puffing from a cigar, flipping through a folder. His suit jacket was abandoned on the velvet settee that sat in front of the fireplace, the gold chains of his sleeve garters glistening in the light. The glow from the fireplace glinted off of John’s profile, catching the frame of his jaw just right. You admired the way the light reflected off of the rings on his hands, making you want to feel the cool metal against your body. His hair was neatly slicked back as usual, along with his dark grey vest, white dress shirt, and tie, making him command the attention of the room.

“Lizzie said you wanted to see me?” You questioned, standing at the back of the room.

“Have a seat, Y/N,” John responded, gesturing towards the empty chairs that sat in front of his oak desk. You sat, crossing your legs and tucking them under the chair. John took another puff from his cigar, smoke billowing through the room. “I need to go to London, and

I need you with me.” You were a little surprised at this, since John had never asked you to go somewhere this far with him before.

“For how long?” You asked, taking a cigarette out and lighting it, your lipstick staining it a dark pink as you took a drag. John’s blue eyes bored into yours as he absent-mindedly flicked his cigar, ashing it into the crystal ashtray on his desk. It was almost as if he could read your mind and see all the filthy things you were imagining him doing to you. God, he was fucking irresistable.

“A week,” John replied, shooting his glass of whiskey as he stood, making his way to a locked cabinet and pulling out a wad of pound notes. He peeled a number of them off, making his way towards you and holding them out for you to take, leaning back against his desk facing you. “Buy yourself some nice dresses, eh? There’s going to be a lot of dinners, and I need you there to take notes.”

You accepted the cash, taking a long drag from your cigarette as your eyes met John’s. You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the urge to flirt back. “What’s your favorite color?” John seemed a little surprised at the question, but his normal confidence quickly returned as he smirked. “Black. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, eh?”

You nodded as he poured himself another whiskey, daydreaming about the way his rough hands would feel around your throat. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, black kitten heels tapping against the carpet.

John nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.” You stood, turning to walk out of John’s office as you felt his eyes on your figure. As you closed the door behind you, you shivered in expectation. A week alone with John Shelby. How were you going to manage to keep your hands to yourself?

***

The rest of the work day passed quickly, and you headed to the nearest department store, choosing three different black dresses. As much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to look good for John. You wanted him to want you; to feel that longing that you felt between your legs every time his eyes met yours. You chose a longer formal black dress made of silk, a black sequined dress for a party, and the last, a short black dress with fringe that made you look almost like a burlesque dancer. You knew it was risky, exposing that much skin, but then again, John Shelby wasn’t a normal man. He knew what he wanted and he took it, never paying mind to what others thought.

As the rest of the night flew by, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. No matter how many times you touched yourself, you couldn’t get the image of John’s smirk out of your head. You wanted him to bend you over right in his office, and you didn’t care who heard. You wanted him to take everything you had to offer. Eventually, you fell asleep, waking up to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside your apartment window. You almost jumped out of bed, blood pumping with excitement. You got ready, slipping on a dark purple silk dress with black tights and purple pumps, stuffing your cigarette case and pocketbook in your black handbag. You poured yourself a cup of tea, hurrying to get all your bags ready as you didn’t want to keep John waiting.

Right as eight o’clock arrived, you heard a knock on your door. It was John, smelling sweetly of cologne and wearing a freshly pressed black pinstripe three piece suit with a grey tie. His cap sat tilted on his head, and dangling from his lips was a cigar. He was a fucking vision to behold, and your head spun at the thought of the two hour car ride in close quarters that you were about to endure. The driver came in to take your bags, leaving John to walk you to the car. He held out his hand to help you step into the Bentley, your skin buzzing with electricity where his fingers touched yours. John closed the door, making his way to the other side and sliding into the leather interior while the driver finished putting the bags in the trunk and made his way to the driver’s seat, starting the engine and taking off.

John’s blue-grey eyes met yours as he puffed at his cigar, cracking the window slightly to let the smoke waft out. “You pack everything we need?” You subconsciously pressed your legs together, filthy images swirling through your brain as you managed to ignore them. “Yes, Mr. Shelby, I got the list you sent me for what to bring. Did you need anything other than that?”

John shook his head no, putting out his cigar in the ashtray. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as the car rumbled along over the brick roads.

“What’s your favorite color?” You looked over at John in surprise. He must have understood your confusion as he added, “You asked what mine was. I want to know yours.”

“Red,” you replied, fumbling for a cigarette, and when finding one, striking a match to light it.

John’s eyes fixed on your dark red stained lips. “Red, aye?”

Your instincts got the better of you. “Is there a problem with that, Mr. Shelby?”

“Call me John,” he said, words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth that he was lighting. After he finished, he took a drag, fixing his eyes back on you. “And, no. The opposite, actually.”

You weren’t brave enough to ask what that meant, so you let silence take over once again. Maybe later, when you had had a few drinks in you. What the fuck were you doing?

Finally, the dirt roads underneath once again turned into cobblestone, and you knew you were in London by the smell and smoke that hovered over the city. The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of a massive factory building, stretching blocks long. You could hear the yells of the workers from inside the car. John reached for his gun, loading it and affixing it back into his holster.

“We’ve got a meeting first, then dinner. Driver’s going to drop off our bags at the hotel. C’mon sweetheart, and stay by me. Who knows what these fuckers are going to pull around here,” John said, opening the door and reaching his hand out for you to take. You blushed at the pet name, taking John’s hand as he quickly whisked you off the street and into the building, up a flight of stairs where two men directed the two of you into a meeting room with a large table and dark leather chairs. John sank into the chair at the head of the table, and you slid into the seat next to him, taking out a notebook. Before you had any time to even write the date, John’s hand was on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your skin prickled with goosebumps at the proximity.

“If anybody pulls a fucking gun, you get behind me. You understand?” You nodded, crossing your legs at the ankle as you tried to focus your thoughts on something other than how fucking amazing John smelled. John’s hand left your waist as the door opened, the men whom he was meeting with entering the room. The meeting was uneventful, John successfully closing the deal with these men, who you found out were the Chinese. The driver picked you both up out front, taking the two of you back to your hotel to get changed for what you found out was a French restaurant in London’s downtown. The hotel room was a suite with two rooms, one for you and the larger one for John. You decided to wear the short black dress with fringe along with black fluffy kitten heels, and when John walked out of his room, the first word out of his mouth was “Fuck.” Your cheeks blushed a bright pink as John’s eyes traveled down your body.

“You look amazing.” John held out his arm for you to grab, leading you into the car as you took off. It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, passing through busy streets packed with people of opulence. As John held the door for you to walk in, you almost gasped in amazement at the massive gold chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The waiter led you and John to your table, and as John pulled out your chair for you and walked around the table to sit at his, you almost couldn’t believe you were here, let alone with John Shelby, one of the biggest and by your standards most certainly the most handsome gangsters in Birmingham. Yet, there he sat across from you, looking fucking delectable in a dark grey three-piece suit and black tie.

The dinner was amazing, time passing quickly as the two of you fell into conversation. John Shelby was funny, you realized, and at the heart of it all, sweet. Soon, a glass of wine turned into five, and the driver eventually dropped the two of you back off at the hotel, as the other customers had complained about the raucous laughing coming from your table. You burst into the room giggling, John following close behind, as the two of you flopped onto the velvet settee, knees and shoulders brushing.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” John said, eyes locking with yours. Your jaw almost dropped as your cheeks turned pink. “What?”

“You heard me,” John said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re fucking pretty.”

You stared at him, alcohol fueling your confidence. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” The words spilled out of your mouth. John wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours roughly, picking you up and setting you on the bed. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed himself against you, feeling his cock hard against your lower stomach, earning a grunt from John as he ripped off your dress, sending buttons flying across the room. You opened your mouth in protest, but John beat you to it. “I’ll buy you three new ones, yeah?” He questioned before running his hands down your hips, a finger slipping underneath the waistband of your black panties. Goosebumps ran down your skin and John chuckled, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“God, you look so pretty all spread out for me. Better than I fucking imagined,” he said, pulling your panties down your legs and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Your body jolted in response. “John,” you panted. “Oh fuck John, please don’t tease me..”

John grinned up at you, pushing one finger in you slowly. “What do you want? Tell me, darling.”

“Your mouth, John, please,” you gasped, squirming for some sort of relief. John responded by licking slowly up your cunt, flicking his tongue in circles around your clit before returning his attention to your pussy, his right hand rubbing your clit. You cried out, back arching as you pushed against John’s mouth. You felt him growl in response, vibrations pulsing throughout your body and sending you over the edge and you came all over John’s face. You attempted to catch your breath as John stood with a boyish smirk, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve before discarding his clothes, his large cock standing at attention against his taught stomach muscles.

“God you taste good,” John rumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I’ll have you tomorrow for breakfast too,” he grinned. You laughed in response, John cutting that laugh short by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

“Sir, please,” you whined, eyes widening when you realized what had just left your mouth. Before you could apologize, you felt John’s hand wrap around your throat.

“You going to be a good girl for me, hmm?” John’s blue eyes bored into yours.

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, crying out as John entered you at a ridiculous pace, covering your mouth with his. He kissed like a starved man, hungry for everything you had to give, and you gave it gladly. John’s cock bumped up against your g spot with every thrust as he fucked you, your moans echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Your pussy is amazing,” John groaned as he fucked into you relentlessly. “Fucking mine now, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to form the proper words as John chuckled darkly. “Pretty little thing, can’t even talk when I’m fucking you this good, hm?” Your only reply was a moan as John gripped your throat tightly, causing you to see stars.

“That’s right, sweetheart, come all over my cock,” John crooned as you reached your release, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You cried out as John fucked you even harder, eyes locked with yours. “Mine,” John grunted, hips snapping flush with yours as he continued to thrust inside of you, your pussy squeezing around his cock as you neared your second orgasm.

“I want you to come in me, sir, please,” you begged, hands clawing at John’s back. John groaned in response, fucking you at the fastest pace he possibly could as your cries echoed off the walls before eventually releasing inside of you, falling onto the bed next you as the two of you caught your breath. John slung an arm around you, pulling you close to him as he locked his eyes with yours.

“I meant what I said, you know.” “What did you say?” You asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

“That you were pretty,” John said, sitting up to grab a cigarette and light it, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the fireplace. “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “And I’m not just drunk,” John continued, eyes meeting yours again. “I think I’m in love.”

“Me too.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming from your mouth. John followed them with a deep kiss, pulling you on top of him.

“I’m gonna fuck you until the sun comes up,” John grinned as you laughed, covering your mouth with his.

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anime-kia · 3 years

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My Boyfriend’s Best Friend

This chapter contains cheating, very mature smut and swearing. (P.S. This story was inspired by a post I saw on Instagram and the comments under it gave me the idea to write this loool.)

Relationship: BBF Erik x Cheating Reader

Tyler was your boyfriend of six months. You both met during second year of university in a literature class with the world's most boring teacher, Mr. Winters. The day you first started talking was during a two hour lecture about Shakespeare, yuck.

Your head was resting in your palms as the monotone voice of the teacher flowed through the room.

Shakespeare sucks... You thought you said in your head, but not until the person beside you responded.

"Deadass, I'm tired of hearing about this bullshit." A male voice whispered to you.

Your head raises out of your palms and turns to be met with a light skinned male. He had hazel eyes, curly brown hair with a fade, full pink lips and perfect teeth. His attire consisted of a gold chain, black jeans, a white t-shirt and black Jordans.

Your cheeks heated up, "Oh damn, I thought I said that in my head."

"It was loud and clear. I think the teacher heard you too."

You gasped, "Shit, was I really that loud?"

"Nah, I'm just playing." He grinned.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I'm Tyler by the way." He stuck his hand out for you to shake it.

"(Y/n)." You placed your hand into his.

From that day forth, your friendship with Tyler blossomed. You both would grab drinks from the campus cafe, learning more about what each other was interested in, your personal lives and what you were going to do after graduating. Then, it turned into studying sessions or casual hangouts. Eventually, he built up the courage and asked you out on a few dates. Sometimes to a party or to a game to cheer on your school team. It didn't take long for both of you to realize that your feelings were mutual. Just before the end of second year, Tyler asked you to be his girlfriend, which you gladly accepted.

You loved everything about Tyler, everything but his choice of friends. Especially his best friend, Erik Stevens. You hated that nigga so much, he always knew how to rile you up and get on your last nerve. But what could you do about it? Tyler and Erik have been best friends since the third grade, there was no separating them. Never.

Erik was very different from Tyler. Tyler had manners, he was respectful, and cared about other people and not just himself. Erik on the other hand was a selfish, rude, blunt, narcissist. To hell with everyone else!

How did he treat women? Like toys. You've been to his house more times than you would like to admit because of Tyler, and you've watched the multiples of women enter and exit his house all in one day. It was atrocious to you.

Erik loved to get you mad, to see how far he could push you, and boy could he ever.

Tyler invited you out to eat at a sushi restaurant. But when you got to the restaurant you didn't expect to see Erik, who was macking on your cousin, and you weren't too fond of her.

Serena Cumberland... A very curvy brown skinned girl. She always wore her lace fronts in a half up, half down style, nails always done in a coffin shape (Which were way too long for your taste), and she was never seen without her clear lip gloss, diva lashes and eyeliner. Her outfits ranged from Adidas tracksuits and name brand sneakers to skin tight body con dresses and the high heels.

It's not her style you didn't like, it was her personality. She was an attention seeking bitch and she was rude as hell to you. But of course, you didn't let her stank personality affect you.

Erik knew damn well you and her didn't like each other, that's exactly why he brought her over.

"Babe, what the fuck are they doing here?" You deadpanned, eyes locked onto Erik and that broad.

"Erik just finished his finals so I invited him as a congratulations." He rubbed your shoulder.

"Ugh, then he brought her." You rolled your eyes as Erik winked at you in the distance.

"She's your cousin."

"Fuck no, she's the devil's incarnation."

He chuckled as you both walked towards Erik and Serena. "Yo." He and Erik bumped knuckles. "Wassup, Serena?"

"Hey." She responded with a mischievous tone, still eyeing you.

"Can I help you, whore?" You bluntly asked.

"That's how you talk to your cousin?" She moved her hands onto her hips.

"Aye bruh, don't start that shit right now." Erik interrupted.

"Nigga, you're the one who started it." Clearly they threw off your entire day.

"How?"

"Inviting this trick when you know good and well we don't like each other."

"Ah shit, Ree, you never told me." He lied.

"Fuck y'all." You rolled your eyes as the host came to take you to your table.

"You better calm the fuck down before I drag you and your stale weave." Serena took a step closer to you, but both men stepped in between before anything could happen.

"Aight, calm down." Tyler pulled you closer to him and Erik wrapped his arm around Serena's shoulder. "Sorry, table for four." He said to the host, who looked uncomfortable.

At the table, Erik and Serena were whispering to each other and making each other laugh. You eyed them suspiciously and they did the same.

"Can y'all stop looking at me, you're ruining my appetite."

"You're the one eyeing us down." Serena retaliated.

"Cuz y'all are fucking looking at me and laughing." You raised your voice a little, "Care to share what is so damn funny?"

They briefly look at each other and chuckle. Erik spoke up.

"We were just saying you probably feel at home in this place."

"Why? Oh do enlighten me." You sarcastically inquire.

"Cuz it's fishy, just like your pu-" He continued.

"Bro, shut up." Tyler threw a crumpled napkin at Erik.

"Aight bro, defend your girl. But you know she stank."

Before you could speak, Tyler interjected again, "Actually, she smells and tastes like roses."

If your eyes weren't on Erik, you would've missed when his eyebrows slightly rose, revealing a slightly shocked expression on his face.

You blushed at his comment.

"Whatever, man."

The table was silent for a while, but it didn't last. Erik couldn't get enough of your reactions when he disturbed the peace. Your group almost got kicked out of the restaurant for causing such a ruckus. If Erik and your cousin weren't there, it would've been a lovely date. At one point, Erik said something insulting about your teeth causing you to throw your last California roll at his expensive white shirt, leaving a stain. If it weren't for your boyfriend or all the people around, he probably would've choked you out right there. But he deserved it.

Serena was about to splash water on you, but her phone was in your hand, hovering over a fish tank.

"Do it. I dare you, bitch."

She set the glass down and you set her phone down, aggressively.

Tyler was tired of you all by the end of the night. He was ready to end the date, so he called up the waiter to bring the bill.

"I'm paying, no objections." He said in a tired voice.

Hey, no one was complaining, you all were happy that you didn't have to spend a cent that night.

You sometimes wondered why he stayed with you. You didn't get along with his best friend at all. You both were arguing twenty-four seven.

On the way back, Tyler dropped you off at your place. Erik took Serena to his home, obviously. Your mind never wandered onto what he would be doing with your cousin that night, you were too fed up with the both of them to even let their names appear in your head.

A few months later, Tyler and you were chilling at Erik's place.

Why were you there exactly? Because you had nothing better to do. Plus, Erik was being less annoying... Sort of.

He didn't exactly stop making rude remarks to you, they just didn't come as often as they usually would.

The three of you were watching a throwback movie, Friday. To be exact, the guys were really watching it, you were on your phone scrolling through Instagram.

Suddenly, Tyler's phone vibrated and lit up. He paused the movie and answered the phone.

"Hello? Yeah, what's up? ...What? ...No. Slow down, I can barely understand what you're saying." Erik and you stared at Tyler with worry on your faces. "...Okay chill man, you got me scared for a moment. What? ...Mama wants me there right away? ...Bro I'm out with my girl." He kissed his teeth, "Aight, tell her I'll be there in twenty minutes. Cool." He sighed, putting his phone in his pocket.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"My sister just gave birth."

"Oh that's exciting!"

"Hell naw, that's her fourth. And she produces some badass kids."

Erik chuckled, "I will always remember when that lil nigga, CJ slapped you. That shit was funny as hell, bruh."

"And it hurt like a fuckin' bitch." Tyler frowned. "Anyway, I gotta run before my mama whoops my ass." He said putting on his grey Roshes.

You started to get up, but Tyler kissed your cheek and headed towards the door. "I'm not coming?" You questioned him.

"Nah, immediate family event. They said they don't want anyone else there. You'll be aight with Erik, right?"

You exaggerated a sigh and said, "I guess."

"Cool, I'll be back soon."

"Later." Erik waved.

"Bye." You grumbled, watching the door close.

"Yo-" Erik started, but you cut him off right away.

"Please. Don't talk to me. I'm leaving soon."

"Shit, I wasn't kicking you out."

"I know."

"You're boring anyway."

"No I'm not."

"Yeah."

"N- Didn't I just say don't talk to me. If you don't wanna argue, leave me alone."

"Who the fuck said you can make all these rules in my house?"

"No one, I'm trying to avoid conflict, dumb ass."

He kissed his teeth, "You better watch who you're talking to, girl."

"Whatever." Your eyes went back onto your phone.

Erik picked up his phone and dialled a number.

"Wassup, girl." He said seductively. "You trynna come through? ...Yeah, I'm bored... It's just me and my friend's girl... Nah, he abandoned her to fuck another bitch." He was staring at you with a wicked smirk plastered across his face.

That set you off, you put your phone down and reached over him, trying to grab his phone. He got off the sofa, keeping you away with one hand. Damn was he strong.

"You fucking asshole!" You screamed.

"Yeah that's her crazy ass... Nah, she hitting me... I would, but Tyler would get mad."

"What the fuck is that whore saying?!" You were still trying to grab his phone.

He laughed, "She called you a whore... Imma kick her out before you get here, don't worry."

You gave up after a while and he finally ended the call. You adjusted your yellow ribbed sundress as it rose up and sat back down.

"Damn girl, you can't take a joke."

"That wasn't funny."

"What, you don't trust Tyler?"

"Of course I fucking trust Tyler, bitch."

"Your mouth is dirtier than the public bathrooms."

"And your dick is probably dirtier than the subway floors."

"I'm clean, fuck you talking about?"

"All these bitches you be having sex with? I'm sure you got a hundred STD's manifesting in your body right now."

"I only had sex with one girl, who was a virgin, and that was back in high school. Plus, I only receive head, that's it."

At first you were quite surprised that he admitted that, but his ego was too big for that to be true. "Liar."

"I ain't lying."

"You lie all the fucking time."

"Now you lying, I joke around, but I'm very honest."

You scoffed.

He un-paused the movie and you went back to scrolling through Instagram.

Every time your body shifted, your dress would slightly ride up, and it didn't go unnoticed. Erik was staring at your legs the whole time. The way your arms were positioned caused your breasts to press together giving Erik and even nicer view of your cleavage, but with the lights off you couldn't tell that he was eyeing you down.

Truthfully, Erik was jealous of Tyler. He was the one to spot you first, since first year of university. Erik had family issues that no one investigated, and due to this he was always an aggressive, and secretive person. Thanks to Tyler, Erik slowly came out of his shell. Not to say that it made him any nicer than he was before... Erik was still Erik.

First year, you never acknowledged him, even though he sat two rows behind you. He remembered the moment when he first told Tyler about you. He described you as, "The baddest girl he's ever seen. Pretty eyes, lush lips, and gorgeous hair."

When he found out that the girl he had eyes for was dating his best friend, Erik burned with anger. But being too prideful, Erik never let anyone know of his jealousy. Especially not his best friend.

You sighed heavily, turning your head to see Erik staring. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then stop staring at me."

"You can't appreciate attention?"

"I wasn't asking for any."

"That dress says otherwise." He joked.

You looked down and noticed that your dress was a few centimetres away from exposing your ass. "Pervert. Ugh, I swear all guys do is think with their dicks."

"We can do more than just think with them."

"Like what?" You sharply asked, while rolling your eyes.

"Well I can't speak for other guys, but I know this dick can rearrange your guts."

You were surprised that he said that, but quickly retaliated. "Please, ya dick probably the same size as my pinky."

"You wanna find out?"

"Wha- No, I don't need to, I can tell. Niggas like you always have small dicks. Big talk, small junk."

He gave you a hearty laugh, showing off his grills. "Baby, you know I mean what I say... Shit, you couldn't handle it anyway."

"Of course I could," You almost forgot that you had a boyfriend, "...I'm just choosing not to."

Somewhere in between your words, Erik got up and sat next to you. His large hand carassed your thigh carefully.

"What are you doing?" You pushed his hand off of you.

"Come on, I know why you're so miserable."

"But I'm not."

"Oh sure," His head moved closer to your neck, "Ty ain't satisfying you."

His words sent chills down your spine, causing you to push his head away from your neck. "Y-yes he is."

"You're not a girl he can handle. You're wild, a free spirit. You like a challenge... Someone who can dominate you." He was reading you like a book.

You had nothing to say because quite frankly, he was right.

Tyler hasn't been pleasing you lately. He let's you win your arguments all of the time, you get to chose all of the places to eat, and if he gets to go out with the boys or not... You were kind of controlling, honestly. But it wasn't intentional. You just had a strong personality, and Tyler wasn't challenging enough. Erik on the other hand had dominance that radiated off of his brown skin. He was no push over. You weren't either. Your personalities clashed, but they worked on the contrary.

"You been feeling empty. Literally..." He was staring deep into your eyes, "The only reason you come around me is to get that fill that Tyler can't give you. He's too soft for you." A smirk was growing on his face. "I've figured you out, (y/n)..."

You remained silent, reflecting on his words... Damn, was he right. It's not that you hated him, he just gave you a thrill, a challenge. He didn't let you win, ever.

While you were lost in your thoughts, and his deep brown eyes, his hand trailed up your thigh once again. "Let me fill that emptiness." He whispered in your ear, "Let me give you what you want." He kissed you on the neck.

"S-stop, Tyler is your best friend."

"And friends help friends." His mouth gingerly moved across your neck, his beard tickling you.

This is wrong... Right?

"Stop thinking, just enjoy."

He got you right where he wanted you; confused and vulnerable.

Soon your body was pulled onto his lap, straddling him. His hands moved from your waist, down to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head.

He stared at your chest, and the way your bra held up your breasts perfectly. He was ready to unwrap his gift, but this gift wasn't his.

His hand moved to the clasps of your black Bombshell push-up bra, separating each hook from the loop. And just like that, your bra slid down, revealing your chest to him.

This is wrong... It has to be...

You were in a state of disarray, not knowing whether to get up and leave, cover up, or to continue.

Erik's hands moved to your breasts, cupping each one while massaging the nipples with his thumb. You let out a gentle sigh. His hands felt magical...

"Wow, this is what Tyler's been keeping all to himself. Greedy nigga." Erik chuckled. "I bet he can't do you like this."

He put you on your back and kissed your chest, moving towards a nipple. His tongue carefully moved over your buds, eliciting a moan from you.

"You like that, huh?" You responded with a slight nod as he went back to your chest, switching to pleasure the other.

Erik moved his head back up and kissed you, his tongue dominated yours. It was slow and passionate, with a hint of force. His thick lips felt so nice against yours. Sometimes he would bite your bottom lip, causing you to moan or you would bite his, causing him to grunt. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you wanting more. You were breathing hard. Tyler never kissed you like that before.

Erik's lips traveled down your body, from your neck, to the middle of your chest and all the way down to your pelvis. His moved a finger towards your panties, rubbing your lower half.

"Damn girl, all I did was kiss you a little bit." He referenced to the wetness growing in between your legs. The more he rubbed you there, the more wet you got. "I might not even have to eat you out." He smirked, and started pulling off his sweats, a large erection visible.

"W-wait." You finally spoke for the first time. He raised an eyebrow, "You can't leave me hanging."

"So tell me what you want then."

"You know what I want."

"I don't know if you don't tell me."

You sighed heavily, "I want you to eat me out, please."

"...Because you said please." He pulled off your soaked lace thong, and kissed your thigh before going to work.

The second you felt his tongue touch your clit, your body jolted and your thighs closed, squeezing his head.

"Keep ya legs wide open." He demanded in a serious tone, his hands pressing them wide, just in case you crushed his head again.

This time, he started away from your clit, carefully tonguing you.

"Mmmh." You bit your bottom lip.

His swirled his tongue over your clit, flicking at the bud. One of your hands gripped onto a pillow, the other in his dreads. Your breathing increased, and your cries and moans became louder.

"O-oohhh, mmmhhh."

Tyler was the last person on your mind now...

The sound of Erik's tongue against your flower turned you on even more, he was enjoying the taste of you as well.

Ty was not lying, roses are an understatement... He thought to himself.

Erik got harder every second thinking about how he was gonna fuck you. Your moans from him just eating you out was getting him even more excited. He decided to spice things up and added one finger into your core. The feeling of his thick finger made your hips rock forward, closer to his face. Erik decided you were more than wet enough for another finger to be added into you and so he did.

"Ahhh!" You cried out.

His tongue was assaulting your clit, and his fingers aggressively moved in and out of you. You were seeing stars due to the immense amount of pleasure Erik was giving you. It was almost too much, you tried your hardest to close your thighs, but Erik would not allow it. Instead he pulled you closer, and ate you out even more.

"E-Erik, I-I'm gonna cum." Your eyes watered. But as soon as you said that, he pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied and bothered. "W-what the fuck?" You whined.

"Don't worry baby, I'm not done yet." He slipped off his shirt, followed by his boxers. You stared in awe as his penis sprung free. It made you wonder how he was able to wear tight jeans and hide that monster so well.

He held it in his hand, rubbing the tip.

How big is it? You wondered.

"'Bout nine inches." He said, catching you off guard.

Dammit, you said that out loud...

He did his signature grin, "You still think you can handle this little dick?" He asked.

"Y-yeah." You lied. You knew good and well that he was gonna tear up your walls.

"Aight, we'll see about that."

"Bet." Your pride was huge, and it was about to get you in trouble.

"Get on your knees and suck it." He said moving closer to you.

You obeyed his command, taking his length into your palm and stroked it. It was thick, long and had a lot more girth than you were expecting.

"No more playtime, put it in your mouth." And slowly, his dominant side was starting to come out.

You took his shaft and wrapped your lips around it. You bobbed your head back and forth, unable to fit it all in your mouth. It was just too big! The part that you couldn't fit in your mouth was substituted by your hand.

He enjoyed the view of your head moving back and forth against him, but he felt as if you weren't trying to fit it all in. As you continued to bob, you felt his hand push your head closer, causing you to gag as it hit the back of your throat. You pulled away quickly, while coughing.

"D-don't do that! I coulda died, man."

"You leaving half my shit untouched, I know you can fit more than 4.5 inches in that big ass mouth of yours."

"Shut up, Stevens." You rolled your eyes.

"Aight, no more talking. Get back to sucking."

This time, you tried to move your head as close as possible without choking. The more you got, the more grunts you earned from him.

"Oh, shit." He whispered, huskily.

His foot was tapping against the hardwood floor vigorously. You assumed he was close so you sucked even harder, swirling your tongue around the shaft in different patterns.

Just before he released, he pulled you up and carried you into his bedroom, dropping you onto his bed.

"Now let's see if you're ready for this dick." He got between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder. He rubbed the tip of his penis against your clit. "Ready or not..." He whispered and steadily moved into your core.

"Uhh- ahh." You tried shifting under him, but he was holding you down. As he advanced inside you, your body involuntarily squirmed. You screamed as he continued to probe you. It was huge!

Your walls stretched like they never have before, the pain and pressure made tears form in the corners of your eyes. "Fuck!" You screamed out. "Ohhhhh. Damn."

He moved back and pushed down again.

"NNnnghhh!"

He bit his lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to escape his mouth. "S-shit. You tight as fuck."

"Ohhhh, fuck!"

He gently rocked his hips, "This is what you want? Someone to dominate you like this."

You tried locking your legs, but with him between them it was never gonna happen.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you." His voice was demanding and sharp, scary almost.

"Y-yes. Nnngh."

Despite you not adjusting completely, he picked up the pace, thrusting slightly faster. He gripped one of your breasts, leaving the other one to bounce freely.

You closed your eyes as he pushed in and out of you.

"Nah, you gon' look at me when I'm fucking you." He lifted the other leg over his shoulder and moved deeper into your core, staring directly into your eyes.

He loved to see you so vulnerable. The way his dick make you go crazy drove him wild.

"Now tell me, who's pussy is this?"

You bit your lip, "Y-yours." You felt terrible for saying that, but Tyler never made you feel so good to the point where tears were falling from your eyes. There's no way in hell he only fucked one girl a few years ago. He was too good.

"What? I can't hear you."

"Yours, baby!"

"Louder!"

"YOURS, MMHH!"

"That's right, good girl." His strokes became even harder, and deeper, hitting you in all the right places.

"MMmmhh, fuck! Ohhhh." You wailed. You felt close to your release. "I'm gonna cum."

"Nah, not yet." He turned you on your side, lifting your left leg up, fucking you sideways.

The way you were exposed didn't help the fact that you wanted to release right at that instant. Your bodies moved in perfect sync. The wet sounds of your sexes, and the aroma filled the room. The fact that you were getting fucked by your boyfriend's best friend, a guy who you hated, made you even hornier for whatever sinful reason.

Erik's grunts were becoming a lot more noticeable, and his release was near.

He pulled out and flipped you on all fours. You were exhausted at this point, your core felt knotted and was aching. He pushed back in thrusting at an ridiculous pace. Your bum slammed against him, causing a loud clapping sound each time. He slapped your ass a few times, hard enough to leave a mark. It hurt, but felt damn good.

Your fingers gripped his bedsheets, "I wa-nna cu-um." You practically begged at this point, feeling unable to hold it any longer.

"Ngh, n-not yet." He struggled to say.

You slumped onto your forearms, thinking that Erik was almost done ruining your hole, but he wasn't. You were desperate to release, so you placed your fingers at your clit, but Erik moved your hand away.

"Don't try that. You only taking this dick, nothing else."

Suddenly, Erik's phone started to ring.

"Ah shit, it's Tyler." He sighed.

"W-what do we do?" You asked nervously.

"Imma answer it." Erik replied, still pumping into you.

"B-but-"

"Just keep your voice down." He answered the phone.

How the hell was he expecting you to do that?

"Yo." He said it as if he was just chilling on the sofa. "...Nah she still on her phone... The movie's almost done." He slowed his pace.

You were bitting your lip, trying not to make a sound.

"...Oh, uh. Hold on." Erik put the phone by your ear. "Talk to him."

Regret and conflict disturbed your mind, coursing through your veins and to your heart.

"H-hello?" Your word almost came out as moan.

"Hey baby, how are things?"

It wasn't until you heard his voice to realize that you actually were cheating on him.

"G-good, mh."

"Y'all ain't fighting?"

"NoOOoo, not at the moment."

"You good? You sound constipated."

Erik thrusted really hard into you, "AH!"

"Baby?" Concern was evident in Tyler's voice.

You looked back at Erik and mouth to him, "Stop." But of course he didn't, he just slowed down a bit.

"Y-yeah I'm fine, the movie just had a jump scare."

"A jump scare in Friday?" He questioned you.

"Yeah. Anyway, how is your sister and the baby?" You knew that prolonging the conversation was a bad idea, but you didn't want him knowing why you were making all those sounds.

"They good, both sleeping right now."

Tyler continued talking, but you weren't listening. Erik was penetrating you, temporarily disabling you from speaking.

"(Y/n)? Yo, you there?" He called from the other line.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's aig-"

"Aight gimmie my phone, running up my damn bill." Erik loudly interrupted. "Talk to her later bruh, she catching an attitude cuz I took my phone back... Aight, later." And Erik hung up, flinging his phone to the side. "No more distractions."

He fucked you harder and deeper to make up for lost time.

"S-shit, slow down." You whined.

But he didn't listen, all you could do was moan his name, and beg for a release.

"P-please, Erik."

"Nah, you can wait." He slapped your ass and gripped it, bouncing you harder.

You tried crawling away as it was becoming too much to handle, but he pulled you back with ease.

"Don't run mama, you can handle it."

"N-no, pl-please. Mmmh, please let me cum." You begged.

"Almost." He continued to thrust into you.

Your legs were shaking, and your knuckles changing colour from the death grip you had on the bed.

"Remind me, who owns this pussy?"

"Y-you, daddy! Ohhhhh!"

"That's right..." He grunted, "Now cum all over this dick."

And as soon as he allowed you to, you did exactly what you were instructed to do. Somewhere in the mix of your euphoric release, you could feel him pull out and a band of his semen spilled onto your back.

You, out of breath, collapsed onto his mattress, trying your best to steady your breathing. That was the best sex you've ever had. Just before Erik got up, he kissed your shoulder, slapping your ass. You, however, were too worn out to be bothered.

Moments later, Erik came out of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and he found you asleep. Tears stained your face, but he thought nothing of it. He used a damp towel to clean your body, then changed into basketball shorts and a wife beater.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Shit." He whispered, rubbing his temple. He went to the front door and answered it. There stood the girl he was talking to earlier, in nothing but a silk robe and lacy lingerie.

"I'm ready." Her voice, seductive as ever.

For once in his life, Erik didn't know what to say. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear when you walked up behind him in nothing but an oversized shirt. His oversized shirt to be exact.

The lady's eyes trailed onto you, with distaste and disgust. Then they went back onto Erik.

"What the fuck?!" She screamed, "You already-?"

"Yup." He bluntly replied.

You were still muddled, trying to figure out what actually happened.

"You asshole! How da-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Erik slammed the door in her face.

"You seriously invited another girl over?" Your voice was a groggy mess.

"That was the chick on the phone."

"You're ridiculous." You say returning to the sofa with an awkward walk. He really ruined you.

Erik received a text from Tyler, and it wasn't until then he started to feel a little uneasy.

"Aye, Tyler said he'll pick you up in the morning."

"Okay." You curled up into a ball.

"You can sleep on my bed."

"I'd rather not."

"If you think I'm gonna try something, I'm not. You can barely walk."

You didn't respond.

"At least take a shower."

You sighed as he assisted you to the shower.

"I'll be outside, call me if you need anything."

You stepped in and let the hot water hit your skin. Your mind was clouded, you felt terrible for doing what you did, but it felt so good. Too good to be true.

You ended up sleeping on Erik's bed and he slept in the living room.

The next morning, Tyler came and picked you up.

"Did you guys get along?" He asked.

"Yeah, very well." Erik slyly commented.

You nodded your head without a word.

"I'm glad to hear that."

Erik winked at you and mouthed the words, "Till next time," as you and Tyler left his apartment.

Woo!!! Okay this story took too long (almost three days). I'll edit this tomorrow probably, it's 1 am and I'm hella sleepy (plus school tomorrow ofc) Also, this is officially my longest chapter ever! (5558 words) By the way, I do not condone cheating, I was just inspired to write this story. Cheating is never the answer!

Thanks for reading! :)

(Start/Finish: April 30-May 3, 2018)

#killmonger x reader #black reader #killmonger fic

71 notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

on my mom's grave

wordcount: 3.7k

warnings: n/a

______

“How drunk do you think we’re going to get tonight?” Sophie asked, tipping back the last of a lemon White Claw as the two of them got ready for the night in her room.

“Dunno. I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

She paused, glancing back at him. “Do you not want to go?”

He shook his head and took the can from her, disappointed to realize there was nothing left. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m cool. Probably just won’t drink.”

“Is this about the phone call with your dad earlier?”

Rafe sighed, gritting his teeth. “It’s not - I’m fine, Soph.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him over, trying to get a read on his body language. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” After Rafe tugged his shirt over his head, ready much faster than Sophie, he paced around the room for a few seconds before speaking up. "Hey, so...Sarah's getting presented at the annual deb ball in spring."

Sophie seemed unbothered, turning her back to him as she wrestled her way into a crop top to get ready for the night. "Those are still a thing? Cool, so you're going home for it?" She paused, glancing over at him in his polo. "Undo another button."

He did so, then rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, trying to figure out what to say next.

She slowly turned back to him, realizing he was still tense across his shoulders. "What?"

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, a tell-tale sign he was nervous and Sophie wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Yeah...my dad wanted you to come home for it too."

"What? Ward? Why?"

"He, kinda, uh, wants you to be presented too?"

She just laughed, turning back to the mirror with her brow furrowed in slight concentration as she applied another coat of mascara. "Okay. Sure." But when he didn't elaborate, she turned back to him again, lips pursed. "Cameron. Tell me you told him no."

"...I didn't not not tell him no."

"Rafe."

He cracked under her stare. "I'm sorry, okay! Look, it's easy, all you have to do is throw on a pretty white dress and gloves -"

"A dress that costs thousands of dollars -"

"Hundreds, but - I'll cover you, obviously -"

"No." She turned back to the mirror, shaking her head. "Fuck no. I'm not going."

"Sophie." He nearly begged, stepping closer and running his hand through his hair. "Baby. C'mon."

"Don't call me that. No. I don’t fit into that part of your world.”

"Not even for me?" He pleaded, giving her a half-hearted grin. He ignored her last sentence, knowing any argument he had for her point would be dismissed in two seconds. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important, you know that."

She turned back to him with crossed arms, fixing him with a glare. "Do I know that?"

"Soph."

"Don't, Rafe." She warned, holding one hand out, but he stepped closer anyways.

"Angel. Please. For me." He forced a smile, tried cracking a joke. "I really don't want to have to call him up and get read the riot act."

She furrowed her brow and Rafe reached out and smoothed out the lines in between her eyebrows before he could stop himself, making her soften just a little. "If I were to say yes. What would I have to do?"

"Just wear the dress, attend a dinner, party the night before and party that night." He paused, thinking. "And stay at my house for the weekend. Be civil to my dad.” At her eyeroll, he fixed her with a more serious gaze. “Meet my grandparents. Hang with my sisters. C'mon, Wheezie adores you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. She thinks you're cool. Sarah too, but she’s less likely to admit it." He kissed her forehead, hands going to her waist. "Please?"

"It's that important?"

"I swear. On my mom's grave."

Sophie frowned immediately, reaching up to fix his hair. "That's not necessary."

"You'll do it?"

"...Yes." When he made a small fist pump, she fixed him with a glare. "Only because I love you."

“I'll go down on you every night for the next two weeks -”

She rolled her eyes at his promise, shoving lightly at his chest. "You basically already do that anyways, Rafe -”

"Okay, fine, I'll tie you up, something, anything, god, thank you, Soph. You don't know how big of a favor this is. I mean it." He sighed in relief, the tension draining from his body.

She ignored him, turning back to the mirror to apply lip gloss, carefully smearing the wand across her lips. “Why does he want me to do this? I don’t understand.”

“Is that the sticky stuff? I hate that stuff, it gets all over me when we’re kissing -” He started, then quickly shut his mouth as she flipped him off without looking. “Uh, ‘to integrate you into our society.’ Direct quote.”

“Oh god.” She groaned, setting the lip gloss aside after applying it, then started searching through her jewelry case. “So I’m gonna have to be on my best kook behavior?”

He snorted. “Sophie Flint, a kook. Not likely.”

“Watch it.” She pointed a warning finger in his face. “You don’t see anything weird with this? Your dad hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Rose does.”

“That’s not true either.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

He shrugged, relenting with a sigh. “You’re not her favorite person, no, but neither am I.”

“You think this was more her idea? For Sarah to do it too?”

“Nah, actually, pretty sure it was my grandparents’ idea. Probably Granddad. My mom went through all this, so…”

She turned her back to him and gathered her hair, offering the clasp of her gold chain to him. “Your mom was a debutante?” She questioned with interest.

_______

Rafe rarely ever talked about his mom - Sophie had only found out how she died from a newspaper article in the online archives, and hadn’t wanted to bring it up since. All she knew was that Mrs. Cameron had passed away in a car accident when Rafe was fourteen.

Both Sophie and Rafe’s schools shared a building, despite them going to private academies, and overlapped for certain advanced placement classes. In freshman year, they were together for AP chemistry, with Sophie sitting proudly at the front of the class while Rafe sat in the back with a group of his friends, often cracking jokes at inappropriate times or throwing wads of paper at each other. Freshman year Sophie was the epitome of stuck-up - she resorted to insults instead of making friends and kept to herself, terrified someone might find out that she was on scholarship and wasn’t truly meant to be there.

The day after the car accident, Rafe was unusually quiet. Sophie hadn’t heard the news yet, it was barely second period and she wasn’t looped into the trail of gossip like the rest of the girls at Greenville. They were partnered for an experiment that day - Rafe had groaned when he heard Sophie’s name after his from the teacher, and Sophie barely suppressed a roll of her eyes. She took charge right away, getting all the supplies and set up their work station without even addressing him. After a few minutes, she slid the small glass of solution to Rafe, raising her eyebrows. “You can do the work too, you know.”

He was completely spaced out, only glancing up when she said something. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, lifting a beaker and extending it to him. “Yeah. I know. Just drop in 10 milliliters of the solution, it’s not hard.”

Rafe sighed as he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, rubbing his temples. “Look, can you just do it?”

She finally took note of the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders were slumped, but misinterpreted it all. She smirked, taking on a taunting tone. “What, you’re still drunk from last night or something?”

He gritted his jaw, his entire body growing tense, and tugged at the collar of his polo. “Fuck off, Flint. Not in the mood today.”

She recoiled immediately, setting the beaker down with a little too much force. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t be a fucking bitch.” He spit back, standing abruptly. She winced as the stool squeaked across the floor, drawing everyone’s attention - as if they hadn’t had it already. Kelce stepped over and went to grab Rafe’s arm, possibly pull him away, but Rafe just wrenched his arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.” He growled, storming out of the classroom without looking back.

After a few moments of stunned silence, with Sophie on the verge of shocked tears, their teacher cleared her throat and redirected everyone’s attention, pointing one of the girls over to join Sophie instead. Molly made her way over, occupying Rafe’s seat in the space across from her. “Poor Rafe,” she murmured.

Sophie frowned, pulling her jacket tighter across her chest like a shield of armor. “Poor Rafe? What?”

Molly nodded, lowering her voice a little. “Yeah, you didn’t hear? I’m surprised he’s at school, honestly.”

“I didn’t...what happened?”

“Oh.” Molly frowned. “Um. You know that winding road, the one that goes downhill toward the ballet studio?”

Sophie didn’t, she didn’t even have a clue - the ballet studio was on the entire opposite side of the island from where she lived, the height of Figure 8, and she hadn’t ever had a reason to even venture that way. “Yeah? What does that have to do with Rafe?”

“Um, well, it was pouring last night, and his mom was driving down that road. I heard she lost control of the car and wrecked it. There was, like, a drunk driver that swerved into her lane, but she tried to avoid him and hit a tree.” Molly told her, careful on the details.

“I’m pretty sure the Camerons can replace a car.” Sophie replied, not wanting Molly to confirm where she thought she was going with the story. She dug her nails into the skin of her thigh anyways, feeling anxiety bubble up in her chest.

Molly shook her head, slowly. “Mrs. Cameron died, Sophie.”

Her heart dropped and she bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the sirens last night, I saw like eight police cars last night headed toward his house. I heard Sarah was in the car too, I think -”

“Is Sarah okay?” She couldn’t concentrate on anything but her ears ringing, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Oh, yeah, I think so. But god, how awful, right? The funeral is next weekend, Ward Cameron told my dad this morning. Is your family going?”

“Um...I don’t know.” Sophie glanced toward the door, hoping to god he would come back through the door and Molly would confess that it was all a joke, that she hadn’t just started something with Rafe on that day of all days.

________

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course she was. I think she really enjoyed it, actually, she’d always tell Sarah when she was little about how pretty she would look in the dress, how important it was to learn the right etiquette and -” He cut himself off, realizing he was sharing too much, and deftly fastened the clasp before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, letting her step away. “All that.”

“Huh.”

He smiled to himself, thinking about how his mom would let little Sarah play dress up in her old ballgown with gloves that went up to her armpits, wobbling around in high heels twice the size of her feet. His mom would tell Rafe he’d have to watch out for Sarah with her escort, keep him in line, and that when he was in college he’d be presenting a girl as well. But he was nine and didn’t think of girls in that way quite yet, so he always scowled and left the room.

“It’s kind of cool, I think. The tradition of it all.”

“The ball? Have you been?” She caught his eye in the mirror as she adjusted her top, not wanting to push for too much information before he’d shut down altogether.

“No...I was gonna present Brooklyn at the one here in Columbus, sophomore year’s normally when the girl gets presented, but. Yeah. No, I meant, it’s kind of cool that you’ll be doing something my mom did.” He rubbed the back of his neck, meeting her gaze for a moment then looked away.

“Yeah?”

“She would have liked you. I know it.”

Sophie perked up a little, cocking her head. “You really mean it?”

“Yeah. She would have liked that you have an attitude with me.” He grinned when she turned back around and took his hand, tugging him over to sit on the bed next to her. “She was always saying I needed to find someone to match my energy, keep me in check. I wish she could have met you.”

“I did meet her. Once.”

He perked up, cocking his head. “You did?”

“Yeah, I served her when I was working at the restaurant at the country club once, I was only fourteen. I remember she made some comment about me being too young to work and I told her I liked it. Then she asked my name, and I remember she seemed like she knew already when I told her.” Sophie nodded. “She was really nice, left way too big of a tip and wrote my name on the bill. I always thought that was funny.”

Of course she knew, Rafe thought as he smiled to himself. She knew, because Rafe had come home and complained about a girl getting on his nerves every single week since seventh grade. She knew, when the complaints turned to “why won’t just be nice to me” and his mom had quipped that Sophie probably liked him - he had scoffed and walked away. She knew, because his mom had come home from the country club and told him Sophie Flint was a much nicer girl than Rafe painted her to be, and Rafe had immediately turned bright red and been embarrassed that his mom sought her out.

“I like that.” She leaned into him, taking his hand to play with his rings. “Will your grandparents be there? At the ball?”

“Oh, yeah. They sit on the board, I’m pretty sure, it’s this gigantic charity event. I’ll introduce you, but don’t worry, they’re chill. Nothing like my dad.” He adjusted himself so she was comfortable, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, treading carefully. “I thought your dad grew up on the Cut.”

“He did. But my mom, no way. Kook through and through. That’s, uh, where a lot of my trust is from. After she died, um. She wanted to be sure me and Sarah were set.” He shrugged, ears turning red as he felt his throat getting tight.

Sophie frowned, feeling him closing off, and leaned closer to hug him, arms wrapped tight around his waist. “You know you can talk to me about this stuff whenever, Rafe? I’d like to hear more about your mom. She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was.” He nodded, settling his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, Soph. This is a really big deal to me, that you’ll go. I know it’s not your scene.”

“Love you.” She murmured. “You’d better buy me a pretty dress.”

He laughed, leaning back just enough to tip up her chin with one finger and kiss her. “You’ll be the best looking one there. I swear.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“Okay, okay, big head -”

She swatted his arm, laughing as she ducked out from under him. “Watch it, or I won’t go -”

“I was kidding!” He exclaimed, wrestling with her for a moment before grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head.

Sophie sucked in a breath, caught off guard. “We are going to be late.”

“We’re already late.” He pointed out, taking a moment to realize the lack of innocence in the position, then slowly smirked. “We could be later. They’re not gonna miss us.”

“Rafe.”

“Sophie.”

“No.”

“You’re positive?”

She just gave him a look, staring him dead in the eyes and willing herself not to react when he leaned down with a grin and kissed the bridge of her nose.

“Please?”

“Fine. The ball or sex right now. You choose.” She raised her eyebrows, arching her back a little on purpose, pressing her hips up against his.

“That’s not fair.” He frowned, immediately shifting his hips away and moving so both his knees were on either side of her instead. “This is blackmail.”

“Your choice.” She reminded him, biting her lip for good measure.

He faltered, sitting back on her thighs and letting go of her wrists. “Soph, it’s - it’s for my mom. I swear. Not for my dad, Rose, anyone else.”

Sophie dropped the teasing act right away, propping herself up on her elbows. “Right, right, sorry. I won’t push it.”

“It’s alright.” He climbed off her, standing, and offered his hands. “Five bucks James makes some joke about us being late because we were having sex.”

“I’m not taking you up on that.” She rolled her eyes, accepting his hand and pulled him into a hug. “Love you long time, Cameron.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, favorite girl.”

“What do the dresses look like?”

“Uh...white?” Rafe shrugged, tugging on her hand to get her to follow him downstairs. “I dunno. When we go home for Thanksgiving I��ll book you an appointment to get fitted, I think it’s at some bridal shop on the mainland.”

“Sounds expensive.” She muttered, shaking her head.

“It’s…yeah. It’s not cheap.” He admitted, then shrugged as she followed him out the door, starting their walk toward the bars. “I’ll take care of it though. All of it. By the way, have you booked your flight home for Thanksgiving yet?”

“Um...no. I was going to look this week, it’s probably too late now though.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? Why, are you going home?”

Rafe nodded, not looking her in the eye. “Taking the plane.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“The plane...that no one else will be on...and it’s kinda ridiculous for you to waste money and carbon emissions on a separate flight…” He tried convincing her, a small smile playing on his lips as she rolled her eyes.

“You need to learn how carbon emissions work if you’re going to use that as an argument with me.”

“So that’s a no to sex on the plane?”

Sophie stopped in her tracks, confused. “That wasn’t - Rafe, what?”

“You, me, alone on the plane. Sorry, was I not clear enough?”

“I didn’t even say yes -”

“Oh, so you’re going to leave me all by myself on our one-year anniversary -”

She raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “When’s our anniversary, Rafe?”

He raised his back, stopping on the sidewalk to face her. “On my terms or yours? Because if we’re going with mine, it’s Halloween -”

“No, I had to ask you to be my boyfriend, it’s November 18th -”

“That is such an arbitrary thing, Sophie -”

“Hey! Stop stealing my vocabulary.” She interjected, pushing at his chest. “It’s the 18th, because I had to ask you out.”

“Okay. Whatever story makes you happy.” He shrugged, laughing when she shoved at him again. “Come on the plane with me.”

“...Fine. Only because I don’t want to miss our class reunion party on Wednesday night, I’m pretty sure some people still don’t believe we’re together.”

Rafe laughed loud at that, looping his arm around her shoulders and started walking again. “Pretty sure Topper still thinks it’s all an elaborate lie.”

“Does he know that we nearly hooked up in his room last winter break?”

“No.” He grinned. “Are you forgetting that you had to sprint into his bathroom right when I was about to kiss you because of some tequila thing you had?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re remembering wrong. That was sophomore year, before we were dating, I barely drank last year...you almost kissed me?”

“What? No, I think...remember, we were arguing over something, then you whispered in my ear to go up to his room and left. I went up a couple minutes later.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to make a move, Brooklyn and I were together then.”

Sophie scowled at the mention of Brooklyn. “I must have been hammered, I don’t remember any of this.”

“You wanted me.” He smirked, trailing his fingers along her collarbone. “One might say desperate.”

“No, no. All I remember is waking up in Topper’s bed feeling like shit, I had some crewneck on from your academy.” She ignored the blush creeping up her neck.

“How do you think you got there and got the sweatshirt?” He frowned. “I took care of you, Sophie. You really don’t remember?”

“I think I blacked out.” She confessed, shaking her head. “You took care of me?”

“Of course I did. Plus, I thought I was about to get some, I would have done anything for you.” He grinned, laughing when she shoved his shoulder. “Really thought that was the night I’d finally win you over.”

“Yeah, well, you can blame Sarah for her heavy pour that night.” She shook her head, smiling fondly. “I really wish I remembered that.”

“I wish you remembered too. Maybe you would have given me a chance before then instead of setting me up with Julia.”

“I - no! She asked to be set up with you, no, I did not instigate that at all.” She defended herself straightaway, cheeks flushing pink. “She said if I wasn’t going to make a move, then she was going to.”

“Sure. Whatever you believe.” He teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as they arrived at the bar. “Hey, Soph.”

She rolled her eyes, going to get in the winding line outside until he tugged her wrist back, pulling her to his chest. “What?”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Sophie softened, smiling as she rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Of course, baby. I’ve got your back.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe

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fowl-fox · 3 years

Text

The Ivy, and After

(Yes, it’s another Artemis Fowl fanfic I’m writing that focuses on the lesser-liked Artemis Fowl, but also Angeline. All the same, I hope you’ll give it a read and let me know what you think.)

Artemis Senior gripped the ladder’s rung with such force that the wood creaked. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to change his mind.

Now Artemis himself grew worried. “Father, you must tell me.”

“Of course,” said his father with a start, as if just remembering where he was. “I must tell you...” A tear fell from his eye, dropping onto his shirt, deepening the blue. “I remember when I first saw your mother,” he said. “I was in London, at a private party in The Ivy. A room full of scoundrels, and I was the biggest one in the bunch. She changed me, Arty. Broke my heart then put it together again. Angeline saved my life. Now . . .” (Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox)

Part One:

Artemis Fowl did not so much enjoy parties these days. He tolerated them.

Perhaps a few years ago, he’d be having a decent time. These big money functions may not be known for being particularly lively, but the food and drink was almost always divine, and there were always connections and deals to be made, far away from the eyes and ears of the common rabble. His father had taught him how to make many a beneficial deal over the years, but it was his mother who had really shown him just how to enamor himself with his peers for selfish gains. The cunning french woman had possessed a way with words and behavior that endeared everyone to her, and when he was younger he would watch carefully as she even managed to endear his openly bitter, despicable father to others.

But she would not be at these parties with him anymore. Instead, across the table sat his father with his second wife. The attractive and decently clever middle-aged woman wasn’t the real reason for his parent’s messy divorce in his late teenage years, but she was the reason his mother would no longer attend these functions on her own.

The Fowl family and their bodyguards had momentarily retreated from the crowd so Mr. Fowl could rest- his health had been declining steadily in the past few years. Artemis watched with a degree of exasperation as his stepmother feigned sympathy for his father’s fatigue with a delicate hand on his shoulder and a bat of her eyelashes. He did not hate the woman, but he felt no warmth for her. Overall, her presence was inconsequential. His father was too entrenched in tradition to give away his only remaining son’s inheritance to the woman who was comfortably riding out the last few years of his life. Once his father finally passed, she’d move on to the next opportunity, and Artemis doubted he’d see or hear much of her again. His father brushed her hand away, lighting a cigarette while complaining about the humidity in the room.

Deciding it best to turn his attention to anywhere else, Artemis lit a cigarette as well and casually looked about the room at the other party-goers who had separated themselves from the larger congregation in the center. An old oil baron sleepily reclined at the table next to them, a heavily chewed but unlit cigar dangerously close to falling from his lips. A little further down, two very old women occupied themselves by snidely commenting on the state of the party over wine. One of them clocked his gaze and sniffed haughtily, and Artemis respectfully held back a sneer before purposefully turning his attention to the other side of the room.

That was when he saw her.

She was a slim woman. Elegant, dressed in a dark blue evening gown that was the definition of tasteful yet alluring. Her facial features stood out to him among the many other women he’d seen at the party that night. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced; her nose could not be described as petite, but he realized that it was attractive in its own right. Artemis wished he could make out the color of her eyes. Were they green? Brown? Hazel? The light made it impossible to tell from where he currently sat.

A delicate gold chain fell around her neck and into the dip of her pronounced collarbone. Her bare arms were thin, but toned, and Artemis’ gaze followed from her shoulders down to her strong wrists and long fingers that made him wonder if she played piano. The rest of her body was obscured by the table she sat at, so he allowed himself to look back up at her face, and her hair.

Heaven, he thought. Her hair.

Her hair color danced along the fine line between blonde and brunette, and in an unexpected moment of primal lust, Artemis imagined those silky tresses curtaining his face as he nipped at the soft skin of her neck. He imagined those toned arms wrapped around his torso, her long, thin fingers trailing up and down his back before running through his hair as he worked his own hands down, down, down...

The young heir ashed his cigarette over the crystal ashtray and looked away, discretely flexing his thighs under the table and praying that nobody near him would notice the flush he felt blooming on his pale face.

“Are you feeling well, Artemis?”

Artemis silently cursed his stepmother as his father turned his dull grey eyes over to him.

“Perfectly fine, Margaret. A bit warm, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” hummed Aodh Fowl, “Is that all?”

Artemis clenched his jaw. It was a habitual response to stress and anxiety that was (and forever would be) the ruin of many a night-guard. He knew when his father was purposefully pushing his buttons. He sometimes wondered if the old man considered it friendly.

“Yes, sir. Please excuse me.”

Artemis had decided retreat was his best option to avoid further stress. It would do no good to be poked and prodded into losing his temper at such a crowded event. He continued to excuse himself through the crowd of aristocrats and socialites idly chatting over champagne and cigarettes. He knew without seeing that his bodyguard was following him. Reaching the bar, he requested glass of water and tried to calm his nerves.

Looking throughout the crowd, he saw her again, this time no longer seated. An angel, he thought, as she gracefully wove her way towards the bar. A rare feeling of panic pooled in his stomach. He immediately wished his water was scotch, or even a glass of wine. Anything to somewhat quell the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

Too late, he thought, as he realized that not only was she headed towards the bar, she was headed towards him. And soon enough, she was before him. Like a man suddenly face to face with a growling tiger, he dared not move.

“May I ask your name?”

Her voice was soft, silky. He immediately wanted to hear it again.

“Of course.” he responded, praying to gods that he did not really believe in that his voice would remain steady. Now that she stood directly before him, her beauty threatened to swallow him whole and spit out his bones. He resisted the overwhelming urge to take in the entirety of her figure. His mother would have pinched him if he had behaved so poorly, and even in her absence he feared that pinch of disapproval, almost as much as he had feared his father’s hands before age and illness took their toll.

“My name is Artemis.”

“That’s an interesting name.” She smiled, and Artemis felt his heart catch fire in his chest.

“What is your name?” he asked, realizing he had never cared more in his life for an answer.

“Angeline.”

Angeline. Angeline. It was perfect. It was deserved! An angel on earth, a beautiful creature from the heavens whose presence and beauty struck fear into his mortal soul.

“It suits you well,” he swallowed, deciding to take a bold risk. Her smile widened, and triumph fed the flame in his heart. It threatened to consume him, to burn him thoroughly inside and out. And it was wonderful! God, it was wonderful. In the twenty-four years of his affection-starved life he had never wanted for anything more than this woman to look at him warmly.

“Your last name is ‘Fowl’, isn’t it?” she asked. She looked him over, before settling back on his strikingly bright eyes. She snorted, and somehow managed to do so delicately.

“That suits you very well.”

Her smile vanished, and instantly the flame in his heart was extinguished. What was left was only a brittle, burnt lump that was crumbled into ash in her elegant hands.

“I’ve heard all about your family,” she continued, ignoring his desperate glacier blue eyes as he silently begged forgiveness from the angel he’d just met. “And I saw you staring earlier. So I want to be very clear. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

And then she was gone, weaving gracefully back through the crowd towards her table.

Despite the crowded room, Artemis felt completely alone.

---

Artemis did not speak to anyone else for the rest of the night. Even his father, who normally didn’t care about his son’s emotional state, seemed to know better than to ask about his silence. When the family returned to Ireland, he immediately immersed himself in the ever-increasing workload his ailing father left up to him, resolving to forget the angel that destroyed the hope he had foolishly allowed himself that night. And he almost did, until nearly a year later, when he saw her once again.

---

This is the end of Part One! I give no promise as to when Part Two will be finished and posted. I have an important surgery coming up very soon and I have no clue how much I feel up to writing anything. Thank you for reading.

#artemis fowl #artemis fowl fanfiction #fowl senior #angeline fowl #fowldom

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

(Un)Fortunate Misunderstanding

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (spanking, blow job)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your intentions are misunderstood as you struggle to comprehend those of another.

This is for @candy-and-writing‘s 1000 Follower Challenge, I got “Get the fuck out.” + Andy Barber

Note: Okey dokey, more Andy. I’m sorry, I can’t stop but I promise I’ll be mixing it up soon. I have 4 days of camping starting Monday to do nothing but think!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Laurie answered the door. You weren’t even sure she heard you knock as she seemed in a rush to get out the door. She smiled and stopped before she could crash into you.

“So sorry about that.” She said sweetly. “I was just running out to get Jacob.”

“He’s not home yet?” You asked.

“Shoot, I thought I messaged you. He’s staying late tonight for tryouts. I told him I’d pick him up.”

“Oh, well how long will that be?” You fiddled with the strap of your bag.

You’d taken the bus all the way there and it wasn’t worth it to go all the way back to campus. While your tutoring gig gave you a little extra cash, it didn’t exactly leave you flush. You smiled awkwardly at Laurie.

“I’m sorry, I’ll just--”

“No, no, it’s my fault. I should have called.” She touched your arm gently. “Come in. You can hang out here. We won’t be more than an hour. He got out early from his last period so he could try out.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, Laurie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” She held the door open and beckoned you in. “You know where everything is. Water in the fridge and some snacks if you like.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do some studying while I wait.” You said.

“Alright,” She stood in the door as she watched you slip out of your shoes. “I’ll try not to be too long. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright, Mrs. Barber. Really.” You assured her.

She nodded and carried on out the door. You listened for her car and went to sit at the dining table where you usually did your lessons with Jacob. You sat and pulled out your textbook and turned to the little post-it you’d placed to mark your page.

It didn’t take long to finish the assigned chapter you already started on the bus. You took out your phone and checked your school email and then the few pointless social media notifications that clustered along the upper margin. You set your phone face down and stood. All morning in classes sitting at a desk, then the bus ride over; you were stiff and restless.

You wandered into the living room and paced around. You stopped at the wall of pictures along the far wall; family vacations, birthday parties, Christmases. The Barbers were the idyllic suburban clan. You looked down at the long console table, fresh white tulips stood over the rippled brim of the vase. Beside it, a small mother of pearl tray with an assortment of rings and a single necklace with a large opal stone.

You lifted the chain and admired the clouded streaks of colour. It was pretty. You turned and went to the slatted mirrors hung along the next wall. You held up the chain as if you were wearing it and admired it against the collar of your wool sweater.

“You know, I got that for Laurie for her birthday and she hasn’t worn it once.” Andy’s voice made you wince.

You looked over at him and lowered the necklace. You went back to the table and dropped it back with the rings. You turned back to him and wilted under his steady gaze. It was the first time you’d seen him look so stern. He was usually smiling and telling dad jokes.

“It’s very pretty.” You said as you made to head back to the kitchen. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Came through the back. Laurie left the gate open again.” He moved into you path. “It is a nice necklace. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting it.”

“Well, I was just looking,” You said as you stopped. “I shouldn’t have touched though.”

“No? You sure you didn’t wanna put it on? Maybe tuck in under your shirt?” He ventured. “No one would know the difference. Well, not until it was too late.”

“Mr. Barber, I wouldn’t--”

“I was a college student once. It’s tight. Hard to scrape by.” His lips curved slightly. A dark grin. “Never stole though.”

“Really, I would never do that.” You tried to side step him and he moved with you.

“She wouldn’t notice, I’d just expect you to ask before taking.”

“You know, Mr. Barber, I don’t appreciate the accusation. I was just looking.” You insisted.

“Sure.” His jaw twitched as his grin fell. “You know, I don’t like to be the bad guy but I don’t stand for liars.”

“I am not lying.” You huffed and brushed past him. “You can tell Laurie I left. Or maybe share your theory and tell her you fired me. I won’t be accused of being a thief.”

You went to the table and shoved your textbook into your bag and snatched your phone up. Andy was right there when you turned back. He grabbed your phone and pulled on your bag until it slipped down to your elbow.

“Fire you? Three strikes. I’ll allow you this one but… there has to be punishment.”

You pulled on your bag but he was stronger than you. Very strong.

“Give me my phone, I’m going.” You hissed.

“Come on, we both know you need this job.” He taunted. “You walk out and there’s no coming back, you know that.”

“I wasn’t stealing.” You reached for your phone and he raised it over his head. “Mr. Barber, give me my phone.”

He flung it away and tore your bag from your grasp. His hand went to your arm and he spun you around. You hit the table as he shoved you forward.

“All you have to do is admit it.” He snarled.

“Let me go,” You tried to shake him off as he clung to you. “I didn’t do anything. Mr. Barber, stop! What are you doing?”

“Put your hands on the table.” He ordered.

“I don’t understand. Mr. Barber, this isn’t you-- I didn’t--”

“I see the way you come in here, looking around, like you’re casing the place.” He tutted. “Now you put those hands on the table or I’ll call the police.”

“I didn’t do anything--”

“I won’t say it again. If you won’t confess then you’ll just have to learn the hard way.” He pushed on your shoulder and you slapped your hands onto the table to keep from bending entirely. “So, hands flat.”

He withdrew his hand and you heard a buckle. You turned to look at him as he undid his belt.

“Keep your hands on the table.” He barked.

You pressed your hands flat and turned to stare at the far wall. You listened to the glide of leather from his belt loops and you bit down. You shivered as he moved behind you. He grabbed the back of your jeans and tore them down roughly just below your ass. You reached to pull them back up and he slapped your hand with his belt.

“Move those hands again and I’ll break a finger.” He growled. “Now,” He folded the belt and rested it against your ass, “Count.”

He raised the belt and brought it down. You cried out and your nails dug into the table cloth.

“That’s one,” He said. “Say it.”

“One,” You said through clenched teeth. He lashed you again and you nearly shouted “two.”

“You gotta keep it down,” He warned. “We don’t want everyone knowing you’re a thief.”

“Mr. Barb--”

He whipped you a third time and you gulped before you forced out ‘three’. Then four, five, six. All the way to ten until your legs were ready to collapse. Your ass was so raw you were certain it was bleeding.

He stopped. At last. He hooked his fingers in the loops of your jeans and pulled them back up. You turned to him with a pained hiss as he slid his belt back into place. He buckled it as he tilted his head at your confused distress.

“So, you still innocent?” He asked.

“I didn’t--” You rasped.

“I’m a lawyer. I know a liar when I see one.” He said.

A car door sounded and then another. Voices rose, familiar and footsteps neared the front door. Andy bent to grab your bag and dropped it on one of the chairs around the table. You found your phone face down and your heart sank at the cracked screen. You couldn’t afford a new one.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” He offered as the front door opened. “We can talk then.”

He went through to the living room and you edged forward to watch him through the doorway. He kissed Laurie and patted Jacob on the shoulder. He was back to the Andy Barber you knew. The smiling, laughing father and husband. The family man with a heart of gold.

You whimpered as you sat at the table and lit up your phone. It worked but the screen was a mess. It would have to do for now. You weren’t sure how long you’d have this job.

💎

Your lesson that night seemed to go on forever. Jacob was disinterested in Arthur Miller’s commentary on McCarthyism and Andy made sure to pop in a few times to ‘check on you’. Laurie had excused herself to her office, as she usually did, but her husband seemed almost paranoid about your presence.

You packed up after and said goodbye to Jacob. He was just happy to be done and quickly pulled out his phone as he left you. You followed him out to the living room and were relieved to find it empty. You slid into your shoes and dipped through the door. You’d catch the bus and send an email to Laurie in the morning. You would find a new job.

“Hey,” The door opened again as Andy called after you, keys jingling as he descended the porch steps. “I said I’d drive you home.”

“I have a bus pass.” You kept on.

“It’s dark.” He caught up to you and latched onto your bag, pulling you back. “And we’re not done talking.”

“I told you I didn’t do it,” You ripped your bag away from him. “And then you assaulted me.”

“I punished you. I will again if you keep lying.” He sneered.

“How many times do I have to say it? You walked in on my playing with a necklace. That’s hardly stealing.” You argued.

“A few more minutes, I’m sure…” He grabbed your elbow and turned you round the back of the car. “Get in.” You dug your heels in and he jerked you forward. “Keep fighting. It’s fun.”

He opened the car door and you were barely able to duck your head as he shoved you inside. He slammed the door and nearly caught your fingers. He got in on the other side and shoved the keys in the ignition. The engine whirred to life and he pulled out abruptly.

“So…” He said.

“So…” You echoed. “I already--”

“Deny, deny, deny. You’re digging the hole deeper and deeper.” He growled. “Confess, apologise, and we’re done. You keep your job and maybe I’ll have some peace of mind that you have a degree of honesty.”

You were quiet. You weren’t quite sure why he was so adamant. Why he was so convinced that you were going to steal that necklace. You’d given him no reason to distrust you. He’d always been friendly, kind, and hospitable. It just didn’t make sense.

“I’m waiting.” He said.

“You can let me out here.” You leaned into the door.

“All you have to do is tell the truth.” He coaxed. “Look, I get it. You’re young, you want nice things.”

You shook your head and sniffed. You stared out the window angrily. “Yeah, so? I wouldn’t just take them.”

“I see the way you look at Laurie. You admire her; envy her. You want what she has.” He continued. “The clothes, the jewelry, the house…” He paused and planted his elbow on the console. “Me.”

“Wh-what?” You sputtered. “Are you serious? Mr. Barber, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? I’m older but I’m not haggard,” He said. “Neither of us can deny, I’m a pretty decent catch.”

“Please stop so I can get out.” You pleaded.

“It’s cute. A little crush.” His hand slid off the console and crept along your leg. “I got a bit of one myself.”

“Mr. Barber.” His hand stretched over your thigh and he squeezed. “Andy!”

He stopped and you jolted forward against the seatbelt. You peeked out the window. It was your building. You grabbed your bag and undid your belt as you pushed his hand away. You opened the door then froze.

“How do you know where I live?” You looked back at him. “I didn’t tell you.”

“It saved in the GPS when Laurie drove you,” He said smoothly.

“She drove her car.” You climbed out entirely. “I quit.”

You slammed the door and raced away from the car. Your ass was still sore and you winced as your panties rubbed against the tender skin. You swept inside the lobby of the building and let yourself in the heavy metal door. You climbed the stairs to your floor as tears pricked at your eyes.

You closed yourself into your room and dropped your bag. You held your head in your hands and tried not to scream. How could a perfectly normal day go so wrong?

You took out your phone and felt the screen. Ugh, you should have put a protector on it. Always pressing your luck. You set it on your small desk and sat on your narrow single bed. You’d wake up tomorrow and start again. The only thing that would be different was the Barbers. They’d be easy enough to forget about. You had classes and you were sure there was some other job you could find in between.

Well, the welts on your ass might remind you of the day’s shit show.

Three loud knocks shook your door. You flinched and stood. You crossed the room and opened the door, just a crack. It was Andy and he looked as agitated as before.

“How did you get up here?” You leaned on the door as his hand rested on the other side.

“Let me in.” He demanded. “We aren’t done.”

“No,” You pushed the door closed but it didn’t click. He flung it open and you stumbled back. “Get the fuck out.”

“When I’m done here.” He said calmly as he shut the door. He turned the lock decisively. “Promise.”

“I’ll scream.” You threatened. “I’ll call campus security.”

“You won’t.” He stormed forward and grabbed you. “What you’re going to do is get down on your knees and make up for your sticky fingers with that pretty little mouth.”

“Mr. Barber,” Your voice rose. “Get--”

He clapped his hand over your mouth before you could shout. He walked you backwards until you were against the wall. He pinned you there and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You see what happens, little girl. I’ll tell Laurie about what you did then I’ll tell her you tricked me into coming up here and then turned on me when I refused you. The cops will eat it up, too. I got a few friends on the force. Friends of the family, even.”

You blinked at him and your eyes swam with tears. The sheer anger in his face was terrifying. The unyielding strength in hands was more so.

“So, are you going to be good?” He snarled. “Show me I can trust you?”

You stared at him then nodded. He slowly dropped his hand and smirked as he backed away. Again, his hands went to his belt. You closed your eyes and braced yourself. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

He unzipped his pants. You heard it. You couldn’t look at him as you dropped to your knees. The thin carpet did little to pad your descent.

He stood over you and stepped closer. Your vision cleared and you were staring at his cock. His hand wrapped around it as he stroked himself. He reached out to pet your cheek.

“No time to waste,” He hummed. “I gotta be home before Laurie gets worried.”

“Please, don’t say her name.” You begged.

“I won’t say much once you get started.”

You lowered your lashes. You reticently licked your licks and got closer. You grasped him as his hand fell away. You exhaled with a shudder and closed your eyes completely.

You licked his tip and he groaned. The sound made you shiver. His other hand slipped behind your head as he urged you on. You opened wider as he met your throat and you gagged. He eased off but pushed back in until he slid down your throat. You felt even more like retching.

“Oh, ho,” He uttered. “Wow, I never thought-- you’re such a sweet little thing, I didn’t expect--”

He puffed as he rocked into your mouth. The sloppy noises filled your ears and floated through the room. You gripped the top of his pants, the leather of his belt against your palm as he sped up.

You let out breathless groans around him and he clutched your head tighter with a hand on either side. You struggled to get air as he guided you up and down his length.

“Oh god, here it comes.” He growled. “Here it--”

He pulled out of your mouth and held your head with one hand as he stroked himself. Your eyes fluttered as he came across your face, streaks of semen from forehead to chin.

He pressed his thumb along your lips and pushed a string of his salty cum into your mouth. He sighed as he gazed down at you.

“You see what happens when you touch what isn’t yours?” He purred. “I’ll see you on Wednesday. Jacob’s unit test is the next day.” He pulled his hand away as his cum cooled on your skin. “Don’t be late.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #dark andy barber x reader #fic #au #one shot #Defending Jacob #dark!fic #dark fic

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cookiesandjam12 · 2 years

Text

Serendipity U | Jeon Jungkook PART 1 : A taste

Pairing:Jungkook x reader

Genre: Smut, jungkook and Jimin are frat boys

Warnings: Heavy smut, penetrative sex

A/N: This is an old draft I wrote a long time ago . I hope you enjoy this

''Excuse me'

The couple next to me were licking each other's faces while I held my drink, typical frat party, deciding to go get a new one cause this one tasted kinda funny, also i wasn’t really a fan of watching

I made my way towards the kitchen.

While the halls were occupied by frat boys and sorority girls, the main kitchen was occupied by the team captain, to which the house belonged to, said captain was surrounded by his players and cheerleaders, i headed towards the keg

I noticed a black fitted muscular back, leaning down to grab what i presumed a beer, there was fresh beer in there, and god i wanted one instead of the plastic cup I was handed when I first got in here, his back muscles rippled with each movement which made me gawk, i was a goner for muscular backs and his was a sight to see

Before I made my step toward him some blondie stepped in my way , i took in my fill, he wore an expensively looking shirt, that opened to reveal his abs , golden skin and hard chest, his strong neck adorned by a gold thin chain that dangled in between his strong pecs, which made me recognize who it was and his hair disheveled, as if some girl was pulling on it, i raised my head to see his face, and i was locked in sharp almost feline shap eyes, a marked jawline, and plump lips that promised nothing but pleasure,this dude was made by an angel, but it's not his looks, that made shivers run down my spine, it was his aura, the way he carried himself, the way he jumped in my way so fast and so sure it diarmed me a little, that combined with the cruel way he is staring me down, like i'm nothing but entertainment, i loathed guys like him, i don't even know the guy and he already looks at me like i'm his next meal, and not in the way i like

Up close, i can see his pupils are so wide, i'm sure he's high on something, the agressivity pouring off him should be a turn-off, but for some reason i can't seem to look away from him, Jimin was the football team captain, and was quite known for his skills both in the football field and studies, he was also desired by most of Serendipity's females AND males, but no one had the capacity to tame him down

'Hi, can i help you with something' he leaned across from me and delivered that in the most condescending sweetest tone, making sure to make a show out of me, to embarrass me mostly, naturally his teammates turned to the spectacle

I realized , i just got in the lion's den

'no thanks, i'm about to go get what i need if you get out of my way

'oooh ,' his teammates howled and catcalled loudly, this was entertainment for them, the girl who didn't give anyone the time of the day is at their party has been cornered by their leader, i knew they knew i was in trouble, the blondie semi god made a sneer that looked like a smile , i think he enjoys this, and he knows exactly where i'm heading, so he takes advantage of that

'You want something, you have to give something, little girl' the words seemed reasonable, but he wasn't, the guy was looming all over me with his intimidating stare, the way he stared me down reminded me of a snake with their prey, before they jump on it, his warm breath, and the way his shoulders heaved as if he was preparing for a fight, the dude looked like he had some serious problem, and now he found a subject to lash his anger on to, did i mention he was cruel, scratch that, he was a sadistic motherfucker who got off on manipulating people and watching them sweat on it, i heard he had Mr Ricketts, the principal under his thumb holding something over him, as well as the whole football team who had his back, not only did he belong to one of the wealthiest families in the country, but he had royalty in his blood too, considering how he could say the word, and everyone would follow

He was hot , filthy rich and he knew it, too bad he wasn't my type, it's not bossy assholes who do it for me, more like warm brown eyes that gleamed playfully ,dark wavy locks that beg to be pulled, said brown eyes belonged to the guy who's staring at me with curiosity, clutching a beer with his long tattooed fingers, turns out the guy I was gawking at was him all along, apparently his friend's attention on me caught his attention, and now i got both of the jocks attention, forgetting about the blondie , and fully staring at Jk, the team's quarterback, and only the best player at Serendipity, i may not care about status, and being their little groupie , but i never missed a game cause i knew he played, it was so worth it , he was a mystery to me, the combination of playful, and tough intrigued me along with every other girl on campus, when in the field, he was unrecognizable, a force to be reckoned with, he used his height and muscle mass, he was also super fast, which was impressive considering how bulky he was, i used to think he was a jock, and nothing more, but i saw how he played, and the way he would scold his team, with fury if they didn't give it all they got, not only did he play good, but he was super passionate, and that passion would show in the game, that was before i saw him without a helmet on, the first time i did, i wished i was one of the groupies sticking to his side, congratulating him, just to see that radiant fucking smile close by, it was mesmerizing from afar, with his dark hair framing his face, some of it falling on his forehead , the playful smile tugging his lips on one side

'show some fucking respect , before i make you, little girl' Jk made a move to brush his fingers through his hair, as if this was all normal, like his friend did this all the time, oh yeah, they were really close, and super loyal to each other, a lot of what i heard, was that they were raised together, that their families knew each other, so i pushed aside any possibility of him stepping in to stop his friend, and I didn't expect anyone to fight my battles and i had to hold my own, as usual

'How about you get out of my way before I knock some sense into you ' ' Jk almost choked

'She could, u know, i saw her with a punching bag, she's a mad chick ' JK said giving me an appreciative look, surprising the hell out of me, i thought i heard him wrong, but there was no way he would know that unless he saw me workout in the gym, which would imply he was stalking me?

Okey that's rich coming from the girl who didn't miss one of his games just to watch him play, he wouldn't know unless he actually paid attention to what i did in the gym, the place where i wore a tank top midriff, and booty shorts, showing my tattoos, the only place where i found my solace, except i never saw him workout there before, he only came there to see the owner

I couldn't stop thinking about the fact he actually saw me, not only that, he also remembered an important detail about me, which made me feel all kinds of tingles

'i'll leave you to it, that's more your kink, make sure to savor it' Jimin said before stepping out of my way, he grasped a vodka bottle and turned his back on us

I still couldn't understand why he gave up easily, my guard was still up around him as he leaned against the counter still close but his attention was drawn somewhere else

Jungkook didn't seem to mind his friend's asshole-ish ways, still with that disarming smile, i took my time checking him out, he wore a black fitted tee that showed the bulge of his muscles, i can almost see the twelve pack he rocked underneath, holding a beer with his right hand, he tipped the bottle to his mouth, put his lips around it, and took a huge gulp, making his throat muscles work, and i knew half the girls here swooned at him, he as well held a reputation like his friend, he was a manwhore through and through, i remember the time i saw him pinning a chick to the wall with his tongue down her throat, eating her face , not caring if she was suffocating, his back muscles rippling with each movement, as he deepened the kiss and leaned his head for more, so greedy, and intimate, i thought, the intimacy that kiss held, like he wanted her to stay there for his to consume, i couldn't stop thinking about him that day, and the other day, and the other one..

I did not realize i was staring at his lips, when Jimin made a coughing sound ,' it's rude to stare' the subject of my attention was fully smiling now, his killer smile almost bringing me to my knees, why did he have this effect on me, i hoped he was a douche, it would make it easier to ignore him, i mean he was Jimin's friend for a reason if not that they were the same, he held his beer toward me

'Is this what you want ' still with that twinkle in his eyes

Well that definitely caught me off guard, I never expected him to make a move on me, that was brave, I had to give him that, they were the only guys who actually weren't discouraged by the hard exterior I tried to maintain, with my heavy lined eyes, and studded boots I wore religiously, few guys ever had the nerve to make a move on me, it was usually taunts about my appearance, which i knew were desperate attempts to get my attention

And I just knew he saw how intrigued I was after that, which is why he felt even more brave to say what he said next

'come and get it' he meant for me to take the drink, but with the way both of those fuckers were standing over me, and the energy they emitted made it seem as if they were inviting me to a threesome

Well maybe not a threesome, but I can't help my mind wandering that way especially with the way he smiled at me so playfully, Jungkook had one of those smiles, and when it was directed at me, all warm eyes that twinkled and shit, I couldn't resist

He probably thought i was gonna back out, or lash out, what i did next surprised him, i stepped closer to him, until i smelled his cologne, which made my task a lot easier, until my breast squashed his hard chest, his eyes didn't waver, but his playful demeanor changed in an instant, i was still staring him in the eyes

never back down, never show you're intimidated, otherwise you're prey, and i wasn't prey

I slipped my fingers on his forearm, his fingers, making a slow show, and grabbed it slowly, waiting for him to hand it to me, he did as if hypnotized and waiting for my next move , i brought it to my mouth and took a huge gulp from where his mouth was just now, his expression heated,'actually it's not what i came for ' i was more than a little bit tipsy, and i was leaning over him making my intentions clear, all the while he stared at my lips, i knew i was pulling the wrong kind of attention, but i didn't mind making the reckless kind of decision tonight, i really needed to let loose, and i had some wishes all along, one of them included him, and if he wasn't attainable before, he was very attainable at the moment, and if that's all i could get of him, then fuck it, with the amount of stress i had on my back lately, i deserved it i had an itch to scratch, and he was perfect for it, waiting patiently, so perfect, staring at me like i was some snack and he wanted a bite so bad, just as i was about to pull out, he put his lips on mine, it didn't matter if he didn't follow his friend's advice, cause i was savoring this moment...

A/N: i first intended for this to be a fanfic but then I was like let me see the feedback first so tell me would you like this to be a fanfic or a one shot with two parts, there will be another one with Jimin in the same universe

#jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fics #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts one shot #bts fic rec

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gallivantingheart · 3 years

Text

the proposal pt.2

who?: jeonghan x (f)reader

word count: 1077

genre/s: fluff and a bit of fun

warnings: one - maybe two - swear words

synopsis: jeonghan has never been confused on how you feel about marriage - now it’s just a matter of how to do it.

a/n: just a fun diddy bc i love this sleepy man - no, not based off that movie with sandra bullock. also! part two!

You look out to the living room from the little backyard, where the music has suddenly been turned down. It’s not even nightfall yet - had someone already made a noise complaint? What a buzzkill. Turning back to face Jeonghan, you find him smiling right at you and your question dries up on your lips. It’s bright and rare, something that most don’t see often. You return the expression with creased brows. Everyone has gone a little quiet, adding to the confusion.

“‘Hannie...what’s going on? What am I missing?” you murmur, leaning close.

He laughs, grabbing your hand to swing it gently between you. In the corner of your eye you can see Jun brimming with energy and his partner whispering to calm down. He’s so excited and you can feel the tension rise. Mingyu has his camera out and it panics you a little. Jeonghan twists a little to fish something out of his jacket pocket.

“You know how I hassled you for a party for your new client?” You nodded. “Well, I kind of lied. That’s not what this party is for.”

Your eyes find his free hand and you shakily gasp at the sight. A little navy blue box only seen in jewellers. Jeonghan giggles a little as he shifts to kneel on one knee. You suddenly feel too underdressed for the moment, your long floral summer dress something better for a beach day than a damn proposal. You’re glad it’s a small audience though - well, as small as it can be for Seventeen and your lot of friends. His glittering eyes haven’t left you and despite the moment of quiet, you’re filled with good nerves.

“I know you’re not one for a big fuss, so I’ll try to keep this short, huh?” Jeonghan chuckles nervously for you. “I love you. So much. I wish I could write songs better because then I might be able to make how I feel make more sense. How your best days are mine. And you can ease my mind so simply. No matter how much you might confuse me and I might annoy you, we’ve been there for each other for a lot. And I want to be there for each other for the rest of our lives. Get a cat - or two or three, maybe even a dog - have kids with my smile that you like so much but your eyes and your laugh because that’s what told me I was in love with you. I want my future to be love with you - with us. So darling, will you marry me?”

By now you’re sobbing, the hand not laced with his wiping away sniffling streams of tears. But you’re smiling and so is he. Your glassy gaze pulls away from the simple ring as you hiccup a laugh.

“I-I-I, fuck.” Everyone laughs as you curse to get yourself together. “Yes. Y-Yes I’ll marry you, Jeonghan. Of c-course. But why’d you have to make me cry?”

He giggles again as he finally lets your hand go for the first time to slip the ring on your finger, pushing just to make sure it’s snug. There’s cheering but you ignore it in favour of stooping down to press a soft, maybe a little wet, kiss to his lips. He pulls back to stand, dotting a kiss to the knuckles by your ring before dabbing your cheeks dry.

“I’m sorry I made you cry, I didn’t mean to.” He only half-lies, mock pouting at your teary expression. “But, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You move your arms around his shoulders to lace your fingers through his hair, which he insisted needed a cut to kiss him again, longer than the others. Your sigh is still a little wobbly against his mouth but he doesn’t make a note of it, too engrossed in you. He glows happily, the setting sun amplifying it and the two of you don’t realise till much later that it became one of the moments that Minghao chose to photograph from that evening. (He puts it together for you two later in a little Instagram post that makes you cry, again.)

Chaewon as well as your gaggle of friends swarm you, gushing over the engagement ring as if they’d never seen one before and the members congratulate Jeonghan on a job well done for the party.

He doesn’t let go of you for the rest of the party though, which you don’t mind at all. That night, curled up in your bed, the two of you admire it as it glimmers in the sliver of moonlight peeping through your bedroom curtains. Somehow the weight feels right - like you had been waiting for it. His eyes are drowsier than usual but warm as he turns his head to press a kiss wherever it can land.

“I love you.” he says again.

You hum. “Love you too. I’m so afraid I’m gonna lose it though. I’m going to have to get it on a chain or something.”

Jeonghan makes a gravelly noise of surprise, sitting up as suddenly as he can to dash out of the room. You sit up too, twisting to turn a lamp on, confused again - it wasn’t like you to be so unclear on things. When he pads back in, his striped pants dragging the floor, he holds the ring box again. Your fiancé flops back under the covers and opens the box, pulling the ring cushion out. Underneath is a snaking string of metal with clasps.

He smirks proudly. “I knew you were going to say that, so I thought ahead and brought one of those too so we wouldn’t have to later. Here, pass the ring.”

You chuckle, wriggling the white gold band off. The blonde strings it on, holding it up for you to inspect. It’s not too short that it’s uncomfortable, instead long enough to slip underneath a collar of a loose blouse or shirt.

“I’m impressed, Hannie. Thinking ahead. But, I should have expected nothing less, huh?”

“Yeah. Turn?”

You do so and feel the cool metal rest against your skin and the end of the chain drop to the base of your neck. Lying down again and turning your light off, you exhale to yawn.

“Ah, okay darling. Big day.” You hear him say in your hair. “Good night, soon-to-be Mrs Yoon.”

“Huh, ‘night soon-to-be Mr. L/N.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow. You’ll see.”

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan #seventeen #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #jeonghan fic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenario #written #flickficfest

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

Text

King

For @thatesqcrush Holiday B!ngo: Naughty or Nice.

Pairing: Nevada Ramirez x reader

Square: Sliver and Gold

WC: 2578

Warnings: Pure filth and smut. Rough sex and a bossy Nevada. Excuse any mistakes.

Enjoy x

“I knew Aaron was a tight ass but come on Renee- the Heights? He does know he can claim it back on Tax under team bonding right”

“Somehow I think the tax man would work out that team bonding in December is code for Christmas party and Y/N come on don’t act like, it was on the top 10 list for up and coming night clubs- And don’t speak about Aaron that way” Renee scoffed at you

“Don’t speak about him that way?” you burst out laughing “Just cause you want to get in his pants- you might be in for a chance tonight with all the cheap alcohol in a dirty night club” you stuck your tongue out at her before you both burst out laughing.

Your taxi pulled up behind a black SUV in front of the destination night club in the Heights for your work Christmas party. You never came to this part of town often, not that you were a snob- but nothing attracted you to this area before. When you had been told about the Christmas party being in a dark and dingy night club you rolled your eyes and thought about the open bar. As you stepped out of the cab onto the curb, Renee following close behind, you pulled out your curly hair that had gotten caught in your gold large hooped earring, making your way to the bouncer to show him your id.

You and Renee made your way into the night club to find the rest of your work friends. You passed a small cloak room, you and Renee both checked in your over coats. As you waited for Renee, you adjusted the very thin straps on your sliver slip dress, running your hands over the squinted dress to flatten it on your thighs. You both walked into the main dance floor area, the beat of the music so loud you pulled a face crinkling your nose.

You hadn’t seen him, but he saw you. His eyes narrowing at you as you walked across the dance floor. The disco lights reflecting off your sliver dress almost making you look like a Christmas tree. From his balcony you could just see the tops of your breast’s and cleavage and how the dress just sat over your ass. His eyes scanned the thin straps resting on your shoulders, wondering what it would feel like running his fingers under them to pull them off you. As he watched you, he seen you turn catching a glimpse of you gold hoop earrings and he growled to himself feeling his cock twitch in his black jeans.

You walked into the private room walking around and greeting your other work mates. You worked in a pathology lab in midtown and although most of your work mates where science’s lovers or obsessed with anything pop culture they all knew how to drink- a lot. It was always a fun time when you all got together. You got a drink from the bar with Renee and started to move around the room talking with everyone, well trying. The music and base was so loud, that even being right next to someone’s ear they could hardly hear you.

You finally had enough when the base started to give you a head ache. You walked over to the bar and yelled at the bar man if he could turn down the speaker slightly,

“Sorry Ma’ma, that’s out of my control. You will have to speak to the owner”

“Where do I find them?”

“I can call to see if he can come down- give me a sec.”

You stood at the bar tapping your pointer finger on it watching the bar man on the phone. He looked over at you his eyes scanning down to your dress and then you lip read him saying yes. He hung up and walked back over to you,

“Mr Ramirez will be down in a moment, just wait here”

“Thanks”

You smelt the cigar and cheap leather before you saw the man behind the club. As Nevada walked down the small hall to the private room rounding the bar, your legs caught his eye’s first. He scanned from your black blocked heels, up to your knee caps, up your thighs to your breasts then he met your face looking down at your phone.

You had seen someone walking towards you, you looked up from your phone screen to dangerously delicious looking Latin man. Big gold chain around his neck, black shirt tucked into his black jeans. His shirt buttons undone just enough to see his under shirt and big gold chunky cross, a leather jacket over the top to complete his outfit. His face had just the right amount of facial hair and the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen.

You took in a deep breath as he stopped in front of you with his hands on his hips. His gold ring shinning on his extremely long fingers. As your eyes ran up from his fingers, up his chest to his scruffy face and then his eyes, he smirked at you, with a sparkle in them.

“You have a problem?”

“What?” you put your hand to your ear

“You have a problem?” Nevada repeated himself

“I can’t hear you” you shook your head frowning

Nevada wrapped his long fingers around your wrist pulling you into him, his lips close to your ear, your body flush with his. His breath warm on your neck,

“I said do you have a problem” His voice was husky in your ear.

You turned your face so your cheek was resting on his, your lips now at his ear,

“It’s too loud in here. Can you turn it down- It’s giving me a head ache”

“What’s the magic word?” he growled into your ear.

“Excuse me?” You pulled away from his ear frowning.

Nevada raised an eye brown curling his finger in a come here motion. You lent back in,

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please”

“Please Nevada” His breath was hot in your ear again.

“Please Nevada” you repeated back

“Good girl” Nevada pulled away for a moment nodding at the barman who picked up the phone.

Nevada looked back at you almost like the big bad wolf about to eat little red riding hood. The music started to soften and you didn’t feel like your head was going to blow off.

“Thank you” you smiled at him

“Still have the head ache?” His hands back on his hips

“Ah yeah but-“

“Come with me” he barked at you.

You caught Renee’s eye sight pointing to Nevada’s back and she gave you a slight nod as you followed him out to the main dance floor. He made his way around the edge of the dance floor to a glass stair case leading up to his balcony that had two men standing at the end of it. They both nodded at you as you followed him up the stairs.

The stairs led to a medium size landing with a few two seater black leather couches and a glass coffee table the middle of them all, a Christmas tree in the corner. Nevada walked through a white frosted glass door with a green and red wreath hanging on it. You stopped in the door frame looking in at his black and sliver metal office table with a big black leather desk chair. Another smaller table with screens showing the club and filing cabinet’s along one wall and a window along the other.

“Did I tell you to stop there? Come here” Nevada looked over his shoulder walking to open his top drawer pulling out a white box.

“You’re very bossy” you shot back.

“Do you know who you’re talking too?” he narrowed his eyes at you throwing the white box on his desk.

“Nevada Ramirez, owner of this club” you shrugged your shoulders stepping towards his desk to get two pain killers from the box he threw on the desk.

“I’ am not just the owner of this club, I’ am king of the heights” he snapped, his voice rough “Do you always follow men you don’t know into their offices?”

“Only when they are royalty” you chuckled

Like a flash, Nevada was behind you his body pressed into yours. You let your body lean into his, your panties damping as soon as you felt his warm body on yours. His long fingers on his left hand slipping under where the straps of your dress started at your shoulder blade, brushing up your skin along the top of your shoulder to the side of your neck, running a finger along the base of your throat,

“You’re a cock tease aren’t you” Nevada’s mouth near your ear again “You go to clubs dressed like this-acting like a pequeña puta” you felt Nevada’s right hand start to slide up your thigh, the cold of his ring on your hot skin made you moan, his surprisingly soft hands making you shiver.

“I’ am no tease Mr Ramirez-I always finished what I start” You reached around behind you and cupped Nevada’s hardening cock through his jeans.

He growled into your ear and moved his fingers to grip your neck slightly, but not enough to cut your breath,

“Did I say you could touch that?” he grunted into your ear, the hand on your thigh now toying with the hem of your dress.

“You’re not telling me I can’t” Nevada’s grip tightened again slightly around your neck as he rolled his hips onto your hand “Are you sure someone of your stature can be seduced by some commoner like me”

Nevada’s chuckle was dark,

“We need to put that mouth to better use. Get on your knees Mami.” his hands were on your hips. Nevada spun you around quick, his eyes locked with yours, they were so hard and intense, his pupil's making his eyes look almost black,

"Didn't I say get on your knees" he reached down to undo his belt buckle followed by his jeans button.

"What's the magic word?" You ran your finger along his scruffy jaw. Like the flash he grabbed your wrist, you looked over at his long fingers wrapped around it and whimpered.

"Don't play with me" a smirk pulled to his face "I said, mi puta- get on your knees, me entiendes" Nevada pushed you down by your wrist till you were kneeling in front of him. You watched as he unzipped his fly pushing down his jeans, then reaching into his briefs to pull out his extremely hard member. He smirked again when he saw you licking your lips looking at it. Nevada wrapped his hand around it stroking himself, his pre-cum shinning in the dim light of the office.

"Wow" you huffed looking up at him through your eye lashes.

"Open that pretty mouth of yours and show me what else you can do it with"

You lent forward opening your mouth, resting your hands on Nevada's thighs taking him fully into your mouth. His hand came to the back of your head pushing you into him as he hit the back of your throat making you gag slightly, his other resting on your shoulder. You flattened you tongue running it up the underside of his cock, feeling the veins running along your tongue, giving the tip a roughish suck when you got to it.

"Ay Mami, just like that. You know how to suck good don't you" Nevada grunted out, his head falling forward.

As you worked on him with your tongue, you could feel how wet you were, needing to be touched. You moved one hand from his thigh to your boob, giving yourself a quick squeeze over your sliver dress before running your hand down to the hem to slip your hand into your panties.

Nevada tugged you off him by your hair a string of saliva connecting you,

"What do you think your doing?" His voice was low but rough. You removed your hand from your panties and looked up with red cheeks. Nevada tisked you and ran a finger down the side of your face,

"Does it turn you on having my cock in your mouth?"

"Yes" you cleared your throat

"Where else do you want it?" You looked up at him with your head tilted to the side "Tell me where else ahora"

"In me. I want you to fuck me" you whimpered at your own words giving away how turned on you were.

"Get up. Bend over the desk"

You all but jumped up walking to the table bending over it. You heard plastic sounds and you turned your head to see Nevada rolling on a condom. There was no gentleness with him, it was straight to the point, you haven't even kissed.

You felt his fingers brush up both thighs lifting your dress over your hips. He hooked his fingers into the waist of your panties and pushed them down, they fell to your ankles. Nevada put his hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down so you were lying flat on his desk, your cheek resting on the cool of the table.

"Ready to finish what you started?" You felt him run his length over your opening making you moan load.

"Yes Mr Ramirez"

Nevada's head fell forward biting his lip as he slide into you snapping his hips bottoming out. He grunted and you moaned. Nevada gave you a moment to adjust to his size. One of his hands moved to your hip the other balling a fist in your hair as he started to pound into you hard and fast. Skin slapping skin filled the room, his table and everything on his rattling. Nevada tugged on your hair lifting your head up slightly,

"You feel so good mi puta, so tight. Maybe you aren't a cock tease being this tight- your going to be screaming my name soon Mami" Nevada grunted out getting breathless.

His dirty talk made you moan loud pushing your hips back into him with his thrusts. He pushed your head back down on the table, the hand from your hip finding your sensitive pearl. Rolling it between his pointer finger and thumb. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the fire in your gut about to burst through you.

"I ‘am going to come" you screamed. You pushed your hips back as he rolled your clit "Nevada" you screamed your whole body on fire as your release completely took over raging through you.

The way you gripped Nevada as you came was like he had never been before. His balls tensed when he thrusted into you so hard the desk moved slightly and he came in the condom, still moving his hips slowly till he was completely done.

He pulled out of you ridding himself of the condom and fixing himself away, while you tried to catch your breath, pulling up your panties, fixing your sliver dress, adjusting your gold earrings and flattening your hair where Nevada's hand had been.

You stood up and locked eyes with him. He walked over putting his hand on your cheek kissing you deeply his other hand squeezing your ass over your sliver dress.

"I better get back to the party" you said still breathless. You turned away from him and started to walk out the door "Merry Christmas King Ramirez"

Tags: @thatesqcrush @beccabarba @the-baby-bookworm @permanentlydizzy @detective-giggles

#thatesqcrush holiday bingo #nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada ramirez smut

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westallenfun · 3 years

Text

Two's Company (2/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (Happy holidays! I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend Barry, but she grapples with revealing her feelings, for fear of ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may force Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rating T (Warnings: Mild Language)

The mirror in the bathroom is foggy from the steam of the shower, and as Iris traces circles on its surface to clear the mistiness, she feels more relaxed than she has in days. The hot shower was exactly what she needed, and perhaps this impromptu vacation is a blessing in disguise, for she knows she had been overworked and overtired the past few weeks as she agonized over the research for the McCulloch Tech exposé. Even now, the article is not far from her mind, and the last few days have been hectic: Carver had immediately filed a defamation lawsuit on Tuesday, and Iris had had Cynthia file a response on Wednesday. Meanwhile, the public response to the exposé had been overwhelmingly positive, with Iris and Kamilla already being praised for their meticulousness in investigative reporting, and the news world is currently buzzing with anticipation about the long-term ramifications of the piece. Iris hopes that truth will ensure that justice will be done.

As Iris contemplates truth and justice, she steps out of the bathroom and sees the two cocktail dresses that she had laid out for tonight: a red, shimmery number and a lacy, black fitted dress that comes half-way down her thighs. The fact that she is attending a party tonight comes as a bit of a surprise.

When Iris, Barry, Cisco, and Cynthia had arrived at The Time Metropolis, they had been checked in rapidly and told that Eddie Thawne had invited them to a cabaret performance that night.

“Mr. Thawne is sorry to have missed you, as he is in meetings this afternoon, but he has asked us to invite you to our Friday night cabaret at the Trajectory Club on our terrace. He has told us that he will meet you there and hopes that you will join, even though the invitation is last minute,” a lady at the concierge informed them

“Sweet!” Cisco had exclaimed, but Barry and Cynthia had seemed far less enthused at the prospect of having to attend a cabaret and socialize that very night. While Iris had been somewhat surprised at the invitation, especially because her father and Cecile are only arriving tomorrow for the gala, the concierge had confirmed that this was a night for the young people invited to tomorrow’s gala. Iris found this odd, given the fact that this weekend was meant to celebrate her dad and Cecile. Still, not wanting to be rude, given the effort Eddie seemed to be putting into this weekend, Iris had accepted. She had privately told Barry, Cynthia, and Cisco that if they did not want to attend, they didn’t have to.

“It’s fine,” Cynthia had responded. “While I would have been perfectly fine binge-watching Netflix, I’m not going to leave you without a wing-woman.”

“I need no convincing,” Cisco had said. Barry, who had gone very quiet up until that point, agreed to come, albeit very reluctantly,

“I have no idea why this guy would plan an event tonight when Joe and Cecile won’t even be here to attend. But since we’re invited, I guess we should go.”

Thus, Iris finds herself having to prepare for an unexpected night at the hotel’s terrace club. The red, shimmery dress is a favorite, but it’s for very specific occasions, and unsure what the atmosphere will be tonight, Iris figures that the lacy, black dress is the safer option, and she picks out the eye shadow and earrings that would best suit the dress. As she adorns herself with her garnet, dangling earrings, she hears a knock at her hotel room door.

“Just a minute!” she calls, as she adds the soft backs to her earrings. Upon opening her door, she is greeted by the sight of Barry in a dark shirt and jeans, holding a small, red bag. “Bear,” she smiles, just as he says,

“Iris.” And he’s looking at her, wide-eyed and apparently speechless, and Iris feels both stunning and powerful under his gaze. They’re staring at each other, neither saying a word, and Iris wonders who might speak first, but she does not have to wait long, because Barry shakes his head quickly, relieving some of the intensity, and smiles, “You look absolutely beautiful.” (And when he says that to her, so unassumingly, Iris is absolutely sure that she would love to run through a field of daisies and into Barry’s arms right about now, but she manages to compose herself.)

“Thanks, Barry. You look good, yourself.” She lets him into her room and shuts the door. “You’re early. I thought we were meeting by the elevator at ten to eight.”

“Yeah, we are… we were, but I have something for you,” he says, holding up the red bag. “I wasn’t able to give this to you on Tuesday, and then there was all the craziness of this last minute trip, and I know you’ve noticed that I’ve been preoccupied lately, which I am sorry about, by the way, and I know you definitely deserve an explanation.”

“Bear, you don’t need to apologize. Or explain.”

“No, I really do. And I want you to know that I’m glad we’re here. I really am. I kept telling you you needed a vacation, and I stand by that, and I want this weekend to be absolutely great for you.”

“Well,” Iris says. “You’re with me, aren’t you? So it’s bound to be a pretty great weekend, no matter what else happens.” Barry chuckles, but there’s a forlornness to his laugh.

“So, I got this for you. For your incredible journalistic achievements and for all your successes that I know you’re going to have in the future as the greatest journalist this world has ever known.”

“Barry, you shouldn’t have,” Iris whispers, overcome with emotion, as she takes the bag from Barry and finds a small black, velvet box, which she removes from the bag, carefully. Setting the bag on the bed, she opens the box, revealing a white gold wedding band set on a delicate chain. Iris takes a deep breath as she realizes what she is looking at: the wedding band is the same as her mother, Francine’s, wedding band. Or rather it’s a perfect replica, for her mother’s wedding band was misplaced when her father sold their old home after Francine had passed away, and Iris had been distraught then. But here, in her hands, is a stunning replica of the wedding band, and she cannot imagine the trouble Barry must have taken to have the band replicated perfectly, especially because he did not have the original. “Mama’s wedding band,” Iris starts, but is unable to continue, tears spilling from her eyes. She feels Barry’s thumbs underneath her eyes, brushing away her tears, and Iris looks up and sees him watching her with such ineffable tenderness that she is unable to hold his gaze for too long, bashfully looking down at her toes.

“I remember when this wedding band was misplaced in the move between houses, and I remember how devastated you were, because that was one of the few tangible things you had of your mom. I asked Joe if he had a photo that clearly shows your mom’s wedding band, and luckily he had one, and so I took it to the jewelers, and they were able to replicate it perfectly. I know it can’t compare to the original but…”

“It’s perfect, Barry. I don’t even know what to say. That you remembered, that you took so much time to give this to me… I… I can’t even tell you what this means to me. I’ve waited so many years to have some closure, and I just…” Iris’s voice breaks, and Barry pulls her to him, cradling her head against his chest. “…Thank you, Bear,” she says, softly. Silence descends upon them, and Iris feels Barry’s hands slip to her waist, and she shivers, lifting her head slightly to look up at him, and his gaze is… so loving, so reverent. One hand remaining on her waist, he reaches his other hand down to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, and his touch lingers on her cheek, caressing the skin just below her earlobe. And she’s not sure which one of them moves first, but she feels this invisible pull, pushing her up to her tip-toes as Barry bends his head towards hers, his hand gently tilting her chin upward, and their lips are just inches apart, and Iris cannot possibly rationalize what is about to happen, but her heart is racing, and all she feels is longing and desire and love.

But there’s a loud knock on her door, and Cynthia is yelling,

“Iris, where are you? We need to get going.”

The moment evaporates, and Iris is flooded with disappointment, as Barry’s hands fall to his side. She can’t quite gauge his expression, as he’s not looking at her, but towards the door, rather pensively. It frustrates her that she is unable to determine what he’s thinking now, when usually he’s an open book to her.

“We should go, yeah?” Iris asks, as she puts the necklace on, and Barry nods, still not meeting her eye.

“Yeah,” he whispers, hoarsely, following her to the door. Cynthia is impatient when Iris opens the door, but when she sees Barry, her eyes widen, and she gives Iris a desperate look, which Iris figures is meant to be apologetic. As they head to the elevators, where Cisco is waiting, Iris in any other situation may have been left to wonder if yet another person to whom she is close is aware of how she feels about Barry, but instead she cannot quite believe that she and Barry had been about to kiss and what this could possibly mean. Did Barry feel the same way she did? He had to, right? People don’t nearly kiss people they don’t have feelings for. Iris’s mind is reeling with the possibilities of Barry reciprocating her feelings, but a betraying voice in her head reminds her: What if this is all too good to be true? And just like that, she feels sick to her stomach.

The Trajectory Club on the rooftop terrace of the Time Metropolis is a sight to behold, with its sleek architectural finish of black marble and its incredible views of Metropolis. High tables of black marble and ivory cushioned stools circle the perimeter of the club, and a dance floor is at the center of the terrace, although nobody is currently occupying it. There are several microphones, however, no doubt for the upcoming cabaret performance, and servers are providing beverages and finger foods to customers.

“This is noice,” Cisco remarks. “It’s a good thing you invited me to this shindig, Barry.”

“Anytime, man, although you should be thanking Iris,” Barry chuckles.

“Thanks, Iris.” Iris nods at Cisco with a smile, but she’s so preoccupied that she can barely concentrate on the conversation; indeed, it’s certainly atmospherically a very nice club, but Iris finds herself hardly enjoying that fact, and unlike Cisco, she’s dreading the night out. Cynthia nudges her side and asks in a low voice,

“What’s wrong?” Iris opens her mouth to answer, but sees Eddie Thawne headed in their direction with a suspiciously familiar woman and mouths,

“Later,” to Cynthia, who, in response, fixates Iris with a look that conveys that this is a conversation that they absolutely will be having at some point in the near future.

“Iris West,” Eddie exclaims when he is close enough, wrapping Iris in a hug, which startles Iris, as she and Eddie are acquaintances at best. She returns his hug, politely, but from the corner of her eye, she sees Barry tense and that agitated energy that he’d been carrying with him for days is now particularly palpable. “Good to see you again. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Eddie, hi. Thanks for inviting us. I’m sorry that Wally and Linda couldn’t make it,” Iris responds, quickly extricating herself from Eddie’s embrace and crossing her arms over her chest. “These are my friends: Barry, whom you’ve met before, and Cynthia, and Cisco.”

“Nice to meet all of you. Good to see you again, Barry.”

“Likewise,” Barry responds tightly, and when they shake hands, it feels distinctly unfriendly, which confuses Iris, because she’s sure Barry and Eddie have met only once before, and they had been cordial with one another at the time.

“Thanks for inviting us all out here,” Cisco then interjects, and the tension seemingly dissipates, as Eddie and Cisco shake hands, and then Cynthia and Eddie exchange pleasantries.

The woman accompanying Eddie steps out from behind him, and Iris is shocked, for she has met her before, which would, she figures, explain why the woman had looked so familiar from a distance.

“Patty?” Iris queries, and Patty smiles brightly,

“Hi, Iris! Wow, I didn’t realize you and Barry were Eddie’s friends. Small world.”

“You two know each other?” Eddie asks, although his tone suggests that he’s not actually interested in the story behind that, more that he’s inquiring perfunctorily.

“Not exactly, but I ran into Iris and Barry on a line at a coffee shop in Central City. Iris was nice enough to entertain my rambling.”

“Not at all. I enjoyed our brief, random conversation. Strangers on a queue waiting for morning coffee? There are always good stories to be had there,” Iris responds, and Patty smiles gratefully at her.

“So how do you two know each other?” Barry asks.

“Oh, Patty and I are old friends. We went to MetU together. Figured she could use a break from studying for her masters, so I invited her here for the weekend,” Eddie explains quickly. “Anyways, shall we? I have a table for six back there.” The group moves away from the entrance, and Iris sees that the table in question is a bit larger than the rest. Like all the tables in the club, it is made completely of black marble with a sun-burst design adorning the center.

As they take their seats, Iris finds herself sitting in between Barry and Patty, with Eddie on Patty’s right, Cisco on Barry’s left, and Cynthia between Cisco and Eddie. Cisco and Cynthia start chatting the moment they get settled, still arguing (rather flirtatiously… and Iris is impressed at how flirtatious they have managed to make patents) about whether or not Cisco should strengthen his future patent, and while Iris is unsure how long they can keep discussing that, they also seem very engrossed in this conversation. Barry nudges Iris’s elbow with his own gently, and she turns to him, and upon seeing his rather conspiratorial grin, she smiles back immediately. Simultaneously, though, Iris can’t help but wonder if Barry hopes to return to the status quo with her.

Would he pretend they hadn’t just nearly kissed? The trouble is, if he planned on not acknowledging the elephant in the room, Iris is unsure if she too can just pretend it didn’t happen. Still, she is aware that they are in public, and this is hardly the place to discuss almost kisses.

“We knew they’d hit it off,” Barry says. “But I don’t think we realized just how well they’d hit it off, especially considering their topic of choice is patents.”

“They’ve made patents flirty, which I think is a feat that we can’t take credit for. Or maybe we can, tangentially,” Iris teases. “But we definitely can take credit for the secret ingenuity of getting them to meet.”

“You know, I think Linda might have been onto something about that match-making side hustle, after all.” Iris raises her eyebrows, jestingly,

“Change of heart, already? Because I have this distinct memory of you saying that you thought match-making was a bad business to get into.”

“Well, that was when Linda was suggesting it as a solo side hustle for you. But I think if you and I went into business together, this could be quite fun.”

“Perhaps. But what would we call our match-making company?”

“Hmmm, how about West-Allen Matchmakers, Incorporated? Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“If this were truly a thing, I would reluctantly acquiesce, only because you and I are kind of a dream team.”

“You and I are the dream team,” Barry corrects emphatically, and he’s smiling widely at her and refusing to break their gaze, and she thinks…. she thinks he too must be feeling this intensity that has persistently lingered between them since their almost kiss, and she wonders for just a moment that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way. Her hand comes to rest on the wedding band, just above the bodice of her cocktail dress, and his eyes track the movement, first tracking her neck, then her collar bones, and then the dip of her cleavage which disappears beneath her dress. She thinks she sees his tongue dart out momentarily over his lips, and she feels hot, suddenly, and she’s sure it has nothing to do with the warm, summer night.

In the end, it’s Patty who interrupts, when she says,

“You know, when I first saw the two of you, despite you saying, Iris, that that gift basket which I presume was for Barry was just for a friend, I could have sworn you two were together.” Barry and Iris are both startled by the reminder that they are not alone, and Iris recovers more quickly and replies with a smile,

“We’ve been best friends for ages.”

“I guess that explains it, then,” Patty observes, although she doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Explains what?”

“How the two of you are in your own world together. You didn’t notice, because you were so focused on each other just now, but it’s like it was just the two of you in this world and no one else exists.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Sometimes we get so carried away in our conversations.”

“Yeah,” Barry adds quickly. “You’ll have to forgive us. It’s easy to just get caught up…”

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” Patty laughs, waving off their apologies. “It’s nice, is what I’m trying to say, but as usual, I’m having trouble putting it to words. You both clearly have such a deep connection, and it’s rare to see that. Rare, but nice.” Iris is unsure of how to respond to that, and it seems Barry is equally at a loss for words, but it doesn’t seem to faze Patty, as she continues on, “You know, it’s funny, because Eddie’s family and my family really want us to get married, and we’ve been friends for so, so long, and you know, I joke…,” and here Patty seems slightly less chipper, so Iris wonders if she actually is joking… “That maybe we should just bite the bullet and get hitched, but Eddie thinks it’s a terrible idea.”

“I don’t know if it’s a terrible idea, but I do know that we don’t have feelings for each other,” Eddie responds gruffly, clearly taking offense to what Iris thinks is a rather innocuous conversation. “Our families do want us to get married, and it’s complicated, because we want to oblige our parents, so we often show up to things, like tomorrow’s gala, together for show.” Iris ponders Eddie’s bitter tone, observing that it never ends well when families try to pressure their children into romantic entanglements that are good for business and image. And while she cannot blame Eddie for his anger, she also notices Patty’s expression, and it’s wistfully sad, and Iris realizes then that while Eddie may not have any romantic inclinations towards Patty, Patty does towards him.

So, evidently, she is not the only one dealing with romantic conundrums.

“Barry, Iris, you both know Katie Rogers, right?” Eddie asks, abruptly changing course, and Iris is now completely perplexed, because how in the world did Eddie Thawne know Katie Rogers, who was an old school friend of both Barry and Iris’s, and why was he even asking about her in the first place? Iris had mostly lost touch with Katie after she’d left Central City to join the Gotham City Ballet as a principal ballerina, but Barry had mentioned a couple of weeks ago that he and Katie had recently reconnected.

“We do. We used to go to school together,” Barry replies. “I actually tutor her cousin in organic chemistry, and we know her grandmother, Annette Rogers, quite well.”

“Yes, Katie mentioned to me that she had met you again recently, Barry, at her grandmother’s. She was in town not long ago visiting her family.” Barry nods, but Iris notices Eddie appraising Barry carefully, which is yet another mystery she is itching to solve, because these two seem to really dislike each other, and their sheer distaste for one another makes no sense at all, really, given that they hardly know each other.

“And how do you know Katie?” Iris inquires, immediately in reporter mode, for if she can’t deal with her feelings right now, she can surely get to the bottom of this rather puzzling interpersonal revelation.

“Katie and I met when she danced for the Gotham City Ballet, before she left for the Metropolis Ballet Theater. I was attending the Swan Lake, and she was dancing as Odette and Odile, and I was enchanted, so I waited by her exit point… perks of knowing the theater owner, and I introduced myself. Now, we’re good friends. She actually now performs at the cabaret here.”

“Excuse me?” Barry says, his brow furrowing, just as Iris seeks clarification by asking,

“Katie dances at the club at your hotel?”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly in response, as if what he’d just proclaimed made perfect sense, before replying,

“Once in a while, when I beg her. She’s such an exquisite dancer, and we’re old friends, plus she lives in Metropolis now, so every now and then I ask her if she’ll perform at Trajectory.” Iris takes note of Eddie’s emotional tone when he claims that he has to beg Katie to dance at the club, which is so different from his usual mild-mannered disposition; indeed, there is just something about this whole situation that simply does not add up. Maybe it’s the sheer coincidence of it all (and this is the second massive coincidence, the first one being Patty showing up here after Iris’s chance meeting with her on the line at Jitters), but there is something rather unusual about Eddie and Katie’s acquaintanceship. “In fact,” Eddie continues, as Iris scrutinizes him carefully. “She’s dancing here tonight. That’s why I asked about her. In fact, she should be on any minute now.”

“What?” Iris asks sharply, and she notices Barry’s whole demeanor shift from semi-relaxed to overtly alert beside her, but before she can press Eddie about this particular revelation, the lights on the terrace dim, and sultry musical instrumentals fill the speakers of the club. The dance floor lights up, and five dancers appear, performing a rather unexciting number, Iris notes, but despite the choreography, the dancers are still very talented. The principal performer is taller than the rest, and her hair is in a Dutch braid, unlike the high buns on the other dancers, and Iris recognizes her, for she is Katie Rogers. Given how dull the choreography is, Iris is surprised Katie had agreed to perform at Trajectory, because she is clearly quite an impressive dancer, and this cabaret performance seems to be an inadequate display of her skills. The dancers are soon joined by singers, whose styles range from operatic to pop, and the spectacle is most certainly haphazard, but enjoyable enough.

At the end of the cabaret, Iris joins her fellow audience members in polite applause, although some people are emphatically cheering and whistling, and she wonders if they too are putting on a performance. Beside her, Barry seems guarded, his applause perfunctory, and he’s keeping an eye on Eddie instead of the performers, while Eddie is smiling widely at Katie, as the lights return to the rooftop terrace. As Iris’s eyes adjust to the new lighting, she notices that Katie is resolutely avoiding Eddie’s gaze (or perhaps she has not noticed him grinning like he just won the lottery, although that seems unlikely), and instead she’s focusing her attention elsewhere, just a few feet away from Eddie, and in Barry and Iris’s vicinity.

“Barry!” Katie suddenly shrieks, and before Iris can turn questioningly to her best friend, Katie brushes past her, and flings herself into Barry’s arms, before he is even fully off of his feet. Already unbalanced, therefore, with the force of Katie against him, Barry topples backwards slightly, grabbing the edge of the table in an attempt to steady himself, while holding her with one arm. Not quite able to catch his balance, though, he nearly falls backwards onto Cisco, who steadies him with both hands.

“Careful, man,” Cisco warns with a bemused grin, before glancing at Iris questioningly, but Iris simply shrugs, as she, herself, is equally confused. The night, it would seem, keeps getting progressively more bizarre.

Though, Cynthia, for her part, is staring daggers at Katie.

“Sorry,” Barry says, hastily, over his shoulder towards Cisco, before he turns his attention to Katie. “Katie, hi.”

“Barry, it’s so good to see you,” Katie laughs, backing away slightly, her hands lingering on his chest. “I was told you were going to be here, and I had been meaning to call you, because we had had such a good time at dinner two weeks ago… thanks for that amazing dinner at Marano’s, by the way, I definitely needed that, but when I heard you’d be here, I thought what a funny coincidence.”

“Yeah… great to see you too… your performance out there was great,” Barry replies, haltingly, still evidently reeling from Katie’s exuberant greeting, before nodding towards Iris, “Iris is here as well.” Katie swivels around and smiles tightly at Iris,

“Hi, Iris. Gosh, it’s been how long? How are you?”

“It has been a very long time. I’m doing well, Katie, how are you?” Iris responds, warmly, although her mind is working in overdrive, after having witnessed both Katie’s reaction to seeing Barry and the confession that they had had dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant two weeks ago.

It couldn’t possibly be, could it?

“I’m great. Thank you for coming. Eddie mentioned that your father got married to his godmother, recently. And that Wally has a baby on the way. Time flies.” At the mention of his name, Eddie’s gaze darkens, and he’s regarding Katie almost angrily, at this point, but she still refuses to even look at him.

What the hell is going on here?

On the one hand, Iris is sure that she does not want to know anything more than she absolutely has to about Katie Rogers or about Eddie Thawne, for that matter, but on the other hand, her investigative reporter instincts were getting the better of her. Or, as Barry frequently says when she gets excited about a potential story, her ‘Spidey’ senses were tingling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I know the rest of the you. I’m Katie Rogers,” Katie carries on, oblivious to Eddie’s haughty gaze, and Cisco introduces himself, cordially, while Cynthia is curt and makes it a point not to shake Katie’s hand. Patty and Katie, who have met before, do not seem particularly friendly with one another, but they exchange perfunctory greetings nonetheless. Notably, Katie fails to acknowledge Eddie at all, which seems to confuse everyone, but nobody is willing to pry. “Anyways, Barry,” Katie continues, turning back to Barry. “It’s wonderful to see you. I really had a great time at dinner and was hoping we would see each other soon. There’s so much we have to catch up on, and hopefully I can wrangle one or maybe more dinners out of you.”

“Right,” Barry replies, and he is distinctly uncomfortable, but then Katie reaches up and cups his face, and the atmosphere amongst the group shifts immediately. Barry immediately extricates himself from her grasp, removing her hands from his face, and taking a step back, and somehow manages to make the whole act look polite, but Eddie is seething at this point, Patty looks utterly confused, and Cynthia appears to be about one step away from bringing litigious action against Katie Rogers. But Iris can barely concentrate on anyone else, for her heart is pounding in her chest.

“Sometimes something incredible is right in front of you, and you just have to tell yourself it’s time to throw caution to the wind. A matchmaker can’t tell you that, only you can know that.”

Because Iris remembers, clear as day, what Barry had said at her dad and Cecile’s wedding reception almost a week ago. And ever since, she has been forced to contend with the fact that Barry might potentially be in love with someone, just as she was simultaneously realizing the extent of how deeply in love she is with him. To receive confirmation that Barry’s heart is with another, though, is what she had been absolutely dreading, but nothing could prepare her for the feeling of gut-wrenching heartbreak. It is as if her heart is made of glass that shatters all at once at the realization that Barry and Katie must have gone on a date (because Marano’s is surely not a place that friends who just met up again after many years go to for dinner), and Katie must have been the person Barry was thinking of on Saturday. The timeline makes sense.

Barry’s reaction to seeing Katie is, however, confusing, for he seems very unenthused at the moment, but Iris is also aware that Barry is extremely polite and dislikes undue attention, so he merely could be uncomfortable by how exuberant Katie is around him, and furthermore, he likely wanted to tell Iris, himself. Barry would not have wanted her to find out he’s dating someone randomly by chance at a club, of that Iris is sure.

The only piece of the puzzle that does not fit with the rest is the fact that Barry had been about to kiss her just a few hours ago. That seems so far removed from anything that Barry would ever do, when he is in love with someone else, especially because Iris knows how caring and respectful Barry is, but maybe she had misread the situation. After all, they had not actually kissed, as Cynthia had interrupted them, and perhaps, Barry was going to hug her instead. But at the same time, she could have sworn he was staring at her lips in the moments leading up to their near kiss.

Iris closes her eyes, momentarily, attempting to find some equilibrium in order to carry on for the rest of the evening, but a wave of exhaustion washes over her, and she knows she has to leave. She cannot continue to dignify this ridiculous night with a plastered smile and false cordiality, but she also refuses to ruin Barry’s night or anyone else’s.

“Iris? Iris?” a soft voice calls out, accompanied by two gentle hands on her bare arms, and Iris knows that voice as well as she knows her own, and of course Barry is already worrying about her, but she also cannot stand to see his concern. Nonetheless, this is a hurdle she must overcome, so she blinks open her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. “Are you alright?” From her periphery, she can see everyone else watching her as well, so she musters up her remaining strength and smiles,

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Look, guys, I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a bit tired, so I’m going to head back to my room, if that’s okay?” Eddie and Patty mention that they hope that she feels better, asking if she needs anything, a query that she politely waves off, while Cisco and Cynthia appear very worried, moving closer towards her, but it’s Barry who is going to be the most difficult to shake off, for he pointedly refuses to leave her side.

“I’ll come with you,” he says, reaching for her hand, but she moves away from him slightly, and when she sees his confusion, she feels terrible, because the last thing she wants to do is give him the impression that she is mad at him, but truthfully she is as angry as she is heartbroken (because she knows they were having a moment earlier in her hotel room, no matter how much she tries to rationalize otherwise… he gifted her a wedding band, for god’s sake), and regardless, she needs space from him, because every time she looks at him, she is reminded of her shattered heart.

“No, Bear, you should stay. Don’t leave on my account, besides don’t you want to catch up with Katie?” That last part comes out with more acidity than she intended, and Barry’s eyes widen,

“Iris, no, you’ve—”

“I’m sorry, Barry. Honestly, all the traveling today is probably just catching up with me. Anyways, I want to give Kamilla a call to make sure there are no new developments from Carver’s end, and I don’t want to be calling her too late, you know? I’ll be fine.”

“Iris, please let me come with you. We need to talk,” Barry sounds desperate at this point, and Iris just cannot take it anymore, for she absolutely cannot stand the thought of listening to him tell her about why he didn’t mention the extent that he had reconnected with Katie before, and so she shakes her head firmly,

“No, really, Barry…”

“I’m coming with you,” Cynthia interjects, for she clearly has no remaining patience listening to this back and forth, and before Iris can protest, Cynthia steers her away from everyone else. When Iris glances over her shoulder, a few moments later, Barry and Cisco have already drifted away from the group, heads bowed closely, and appear to be engaging in a very serious discussion, judging by their solemn expressions.

“Hey, Iris, wait up!” Eddie calls out, and Iris reluctantly turns around, forcing a polite smile on her face, when all she wants to do is scream that she would like to be left alone. “Sorry, I won’t keep you long, but I just wanted to say thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for planning such a lovely night,” Iris lies, for she had had a, quite frankly, terrible night, but that was hardly Eddie’s fault, and he had gone to all this trouble to invite them for what he’d planned to be a nice outing. Before she can turn back, though, he wraps her in a quick, unexpected hug, which she awkwardly returns, patting his back uncertainly.

“Really, Iris. I truly appreciate you attending,” he says, with a smile, and she nods, trying her best to maintain a façade of politeness,

“Thank you for inviting me. All of us, for that matter.” They exchange goodbyes, and as Eddie heads back to the group, Iris sees Barry watching her, looking utterly forlorn and dejected and like his whole world has come crashing down around him, and she thinks… god why is he looking at me like that… for surely he can see the heartbreak in her eyes, but then Cisco nudges him, forcefully, and shakes his head firmly when Barry turns to him.

Cynthia then takes Iris’s hand in her own, before motioning towards the doorway back into the hotel, and Iris nods, and the two make their way out of the club together. In that moment, Iris thinks that the best decision she made was inviting Cynthia to Metropolis, because she cannot imagine surviving this nightmarish weekend without her.

For a few blissful moments when Iris awakes the next morning, the debacle that was last night, culminating in the sort of agonizing heartbreak that she had only previously believed existed in romantic literature, is simply a hazy, improbable dream, but as soon as she becomes aware of where she is, namely in her hotel room at the Time Metropolis, the events of last night come crashing back, like wave after wave upon a shore. Iris groans, tugging a pillow over her face, her head pounding from the onslaught of emotions, and even though she had had one Martini last night, she now figures that having just one was a mistake, and she ought to have taken full advantage of the fact that she was at a club, given how the night turned out.

She reaches for her phone and sees that the time is just after 6:30 AM, which means that she has a couple of hours before she has to decide whether she can make the trudge down to the dreaded breakfast hall. The thought of having to plaster a smile on her face, in order to curate a false sense of normalcy, and converse with people is utterly nauseating. Plus, she knows full well that Barry might be waiting anxiously to speak with her, and she just cannot face him, not when seeing him would surely reinforce both her heartbreak and anger tenfold. And yet, she also cannot shake how profoundly she loves him. Even just thinking about potentially seeing Barry at the breakfast hall, Iris is reminded of how deeply he is and always has been intertwined with her very soul; there are very few moments in her life that she can recall that do not involve Barry in some capacity. For in her most pivotal memories, Barry has always played a role, at least tangentially, and she realizes then that their relationship has been complicated for years, the two of them constantly hovering on the precipice of romantic love and walking, hand in hand, on a precarious tightrope between the safety of friendship and the unknown expanse of unexplored feelings.

She recalls nights spent at bowling alleys, where they were playfully competitive, but still never failing to cheer loudly when the other got a strike or a spare. She remembers wiping remnants of ketchup from Barry’s lips, after he’d eaten more than three-quarters of the fries that they would order at Big Belly Burger, the local Central City burger joint, with her fingers. Then, there were those times when he was stressing over his application for the Wells Scholarship for Excellence in Science to fund his DSc, and she would bring over an inordinate amount of baked goods and cheesy films. He’d mumble, sleepily, after they’d worked through all of the sweets and watched at least three movies, about how absolutely amazing she is.

One of her most telling memories is from her twenty-fifth birthday party, which had been an elaborate surprise that Barry had shockingly manage to pull off, even despite Linda’s usual tendency to tell Iris literally everything, surprise birthday parties notwithstanding. Barry had hosted the party in his old one-bedroom apartment, and there were some thirty people who attended, but lack of square footage aside, he had managed somehow to get Bette Sans Souci, a former high school classmate of theirs, now celebrity chef extraordinaire, to cater for the party. Bette had allegedly told him, “Only because it’s for Iris,” when she’d agreed to cater the event, although Iris still suspects Barry is exaggerating a bit whenever he retells this story, but she appreciates the sentiment all the same. When Iris had arrived at Barry’s, fully expecting to enjoy a quiet night comprising of takeout and a movie, she had been genuinely shocked when she was instead greeted by thirty of her friends screaming, “Happy Birthday!” Barry had snapped a photo of her face, claiming that her look of sheer joy was beautifully priceless. Towards the end of the party, Iris had managed to steal a moment alone with Barry, when she’d found him standing by himself, gazing out of his kitchen window.

“What are you thinking about?” Iris asks, approaching him slowly. Barry smiles when he sees her, holding out his hand to her, which she takes. He interlaces their fingers.

“You,” he says, simply, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “More specifically, I’m hoping that you had a good night, because nobody is more deserving of the world’s best party than you, Iris. Not that this is the world’s best party, because honestly, I mean, this small apartment? I think it’s too crammed for the number of people I invited, right? And I’m pretty sure the paint’s coming off the walls in a couple of these rooms, no… I know it is, but I’m glad Bette was able to cater, because that might be the saving grace here, and honestly I’m starting to think I should have hosted it somewhere else…”

“Barry,” Iris interrupts, placing a hand on his cheek. At the feel of her hand against his cheek, he immediately ceases talking and swallows very slowly. “This is the world’s best party. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have a best friend who plans this for her. I couldn’t have asked for a better night, and the party is amazing, but it’s not the party that I’m lucky to have, Bear. It’s you.” He looks down for a moment, before surging forward, leaning his forehead gently against hers, and she gasps at the sudden movement, but quickly relaxes, savoring the intimacy of their embrace.

“Iris,” Barry whispers. “Do you even know how much I…,” he pauses, for a moment, measuring, perhaps, the magnitude of his words carefully, “…how much I care about you?”

“I think so,” she laughs softly, hoping to diffuse some of the tension that has built up between them. “I hope so.”

“No…,” he sighs. “No, I don’t know if you do, and I don’t… god, it’s my fault, because if I had just… I don’t even know where to begin now.”

“Hey,” Iris says soothingly, framing his face with her hands. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, Bear.” He nods against her forehead, closing his eyes, and they stay like that for a few moments, before Wally races over, seemingly oblivious to Barry and Iris being wrapped up in their own world and apparently in need of Iris’s advice about asking Linda out on a second date.

This memory is particularly painful for Iris, as she wonders what Barry was struggling to tell her that night by the window. She dares not hope that he was attempting to convey that his feelings for her were something more than just friendship, because hope is a most dangerous thing when it came to matters of the heart. If she was not so utterly sure that if she spoke to him now, Barry would simply inform her about whatever it was that was going on between him and Katie (albeit tactfully), Iris might have agreed to speak with him, for (against her better judgment) there was still an ember of hope that burned within her. But for the sake of protecting herself from further heartbreak and humiliation, she could not entertain any remaining hope that she may have, and thus she arrived at the only possible course of action: Avoid Barry Allen. That was really the only option here. Avoiding him during the day would not be particularly challenging, for she would just stay in her room and stealthily sneak out to meet her father and Cecile when they arrive later this morning, but it was the gala that could be cause for some serious trouble, because Barry would be there, and Iris could not possibly dodge him at every turn without it becoming extremely obvious. There is also the likelihood that she might very well lose her resolve completely the moment he looks at her again the way he had last night, like a lost, sad puppy.

Her phone buzzes, and she glances over at the screen, where she is alerted to the fact that she has one unread message from Cynthia (and none from Barry, which disappoints Iris more than she expects, and the ember of hope dims considerably). The message from Cynthia reads:

“You promised we’d chat this morning, so consider this your reminder. I know you’re going to hide out in your room, which is totally fair, but I’m coming over right now.”

Iris is unsurprised by Cynthia’s adamancy, especially because she had indeed promised that they would have a long talk this morning. When Iris had returned to her room last night, she had managed to avoid having to admit to Cynthia that she was in love with Barry and that she was absolutely devastated by what she’d just learned, by citing exhaustion. Cynthia had reluctantly acquiesced, but only after Iris had promised her that they would talk tomorrow morning, and it would be typical of Cynthia to show up before 7AM.

Sure enough, there is a knock at the door, and Iris opens it and sees her friend standing before the threshold.

“Hey,” Iris says, tiredly.

“Hey, you okay?” Cynthia asks, concerned, and Iris is not sure what comes over her in that moment, but perhaps it’s the realization that she is absolutely not okay that overwhelms her right then. And now, having to face the reality of finally vocalizing how she’s been feeling, while trying to protect the shattered remnants of her heart, the notion that she truly is not okay is the catalyst. She had not cried last night, but now tears spill over her cheeks, a sob escapes her, and soon she is weeping, her hands covering her face, and Cynthia murmurs, while closing the door behind her,

“Oh, Iris.” And then Iris feels Cynthia’s arms come around her, holding her, soothing her, and finally, she allows herself to be comforted.

“You know,” Cynthia remarks, while clasping a crystal encrusted barrette onto her hair, slightly left of her parting. “I can always sue Katie Rogers, Eddie Thawne, and Barry for NIED. Say the word, and I’ll do it.” They are currently readying themselves for the gala, which officially begins in one hour, and Cynthia is positively stunning in a floor length, backless forest green gown, adorned with a myriad of sequins.

“And who would the plaintiff be, exactly?” Iris asks, still not dressed for the night yet, as she is trying to figure out what jewelry she is going to wear to accompany her red, floor length gown, a feat that was proving difficult, because she keeps eyeing the velvet box which contained the replica of her mother’s wedding band, which makes it nearly impossible to pick out a different necklace.

“Honestly? Me. Because I found what happened last night to be extremely, negligently harmful no matter how forcefully Barry will likely argue that he was unwittingly involved. Thawne is getting sued, specifically for inviting us to that crap show, which, just by being present at, mind you, had a dire effect on my psychological state.”

“We don’t even know what happened last night or what’s really going on, and even if we did know, your argument is a non-starter, especially because you typically find the vast majority of people that you meet to be annoying and claim that they are somehow guilty of NIED.”

“True, but I can spin a legal argument from nothing,” Cynthia smirks, and Iris rolls her eyes, but chuckles nonetheless. She is unsure of how Cynthia manages to come up with the most ridiculous and unsubstantiated legal arguments when not in a courtroom, but then again, she supposes that as a top litigator, Cynthia’s occasional legal theatrics are most definitely forgivable.

But then, Cynthia says, “I got you to smile and that was the ultimate goal.” Iris looks up at Cynthia, who has a soft smile on her face, and she smiles back, once again reflecting on how very glad she is that her friend is here with her. She knows Cynthia wants to properly converse about what happened last night, but she isn’t rushing Iris into the conversation, despite the fact that they did spend the entire day together and still had not really talked about last night.

To be sure, they had not spoken much about anything, though, because they frankly had not had the chance to. Cynthia had stayed with Iris that morning, first comforting her, as she had cried for a good half hour, and subsequently they had ordered room service and flipped through the channels available via the hotel’s cable service for a couple of hours, until Iris’s father called her to inform her that he and Cecile were roughly fifteen minutes away from the Time Metropolis. As Iris had gotten ready to meet her family outside the hotel, Cynthia had offered to join Iris, a request for which Iris had been eternally grateful, because she knew her dad would notice immediately that she was not herself, and so she could use the additional moral support. Upon meeting her father and Cecile, Joe had indeed commented that Iris appeared very tired, and she had shrugged it off, citing the cabaret the previous night as the obvious reason for her exhaustion, but Joe hadn’t been convinced.

“No, you look like somebody crushed your world,” he had commented, concern evident in his voice. She had laughed at that, because it sounded so dramatically absurd, and yet it was also truer than her father even realized.

“Dad, come on. I’m fine,” she had replied, quickly ushering her father and Cecile into the hotel lobby, as a couple of staff members took their luggage. Hoping to sway her father away from his suspicions, she had asked, “How was your flight?” Joe did not answer, instead watching her closely, but Cecile started chatting about their journey, which was a most welcome distraction for Iris. At the time, she knew her father was not going to let up so easily, for the mere fact that she was trying her hardest to appear nonchalant was enough to cause him concern, but he was unlikely to press the issue right at that moment.

Now, Iris knows that the longer that she stalls, the more likely it becomes that she will have to confront her heartbreak in her father’s presence, so she gathers her gown and makeup and heads to the bathroom to get ready, for there is only one mirror in the room, which Cynthia is currently utilizing. After laying her gown out on the edge of the marble counter, Iris stares at herself in the mirror and takes a few deep breaths. I can get through this. I need to get through this. Barry had not called her the entire day, nor had he messaged her, and in a way, this made Mission Avoid Barry Allen considerably easier, but she cannot help but feel a pang of sadness, because if Barry was not making the effort to speak with her now, then her original understanding of what had been revealed last night must be accurate. The shattering pain of heartbreak only worsens at this realization, but she refuses to allow this to dictate her night.

Instead, she busies herself by getting ready, first applying her makeup and then turning to her outfit for the night. Her red gown is a sight to behold, and she is aware of this, as she puts it on; the bodice hugs her figure like a glove, while the skirt tumbles elegantly over her legs and down to her feet. When she glances back up at the mirror to put on her dangling earrings, she makes a decision: as difficult as this night would most certainly be, she is going to make the most of it and ensure that her father and Cecile have a memorable soirée.

As she contemplates this, she hears a knock at the hotel room door outside, and subsequently, the door opening.

“Hi, Joe.” She hears Cynthia greet her father, and Iris is aware that her father has decided to come by, no doubt, to speak with her. So much for making it through the night.

“Hi Cynthia, I just wanted to stop by and see if Iris is around to speak for a few minutes,” Joe replies.

“Of course. Iris, your dad’s here!” And then Iris can here some shuffling around, before Cynthia announces, “Got my shoes. I’ll give you some time to speak with Iris privately. Anyways, I told Cisco that I would meet up with him before the party starts.”

“Thank you. I will see you at the gala.” Iris hears the door close, and she presumes that Cynthia has left. Upon hearing that Cisco and Cynthia are meeting up early, Iris smiles. At least they seem to be enjoying each other’s company very much, so perhaps there is a silver lining to this weekend, after all.

But, Iris is also acutely aware that her father is waiting for her and that she cannot put off this conversation any longer, so she looks into the mirror one last time, releasing a final deep breath, before exiting the bathroom. Upon her reentrance into the main area of the hotel room, her father looks up and smiles. “There you are,” he says. “You look beautiful, baby girl.”

“Thanks dad,” Iris replies, returning his smile, just as Joe walks over and envelopes her in a hug.

“What’s going on, Iris? And don’t say nothing,” he interrupts, just as she opens her mouth to protest. “I know there’s something wrong. I knew it from the moment I saw you this morning, but I wasn’t going to press you then. But clearly something happened this weekend.”

“Dad, please. It’s not a big deal. I’m just stressed from work and Carver suing the Citizen, and I don’t know… I guess the exhaustion from the last few weeks has caught up with me finally.” To be fair, that is not wholly untruthful. She is feeling the aftereffects of stress from the amount of work that had gone into the exposé.

“Iris, if I thought that was all this is about, I wouldn’t ask. I know you can handle pretty much anything, but this is different. And I know you’re grown and can deal with whatever it is going on, but I don’t want you to pretend you’re fine, because that solves nothing.”

“Yeah,” Iris murmurs, closing her eyes momentarily, and when she opens them, her father is regarding her earnestly. Taking a deep breath, she continues, “You’re right, it’s just… it’s Barry.” Joe’s lips quirk up slightly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “I don’t know, dad. Barry and I have been fine, you know. I mean, we’re always fine. Until I… I’m not even sure how it happened, because one minute we’re friends. As we always have been. Seeing each other almost every day and catching up. And I don’t know when I realized it, but I… I love him, dad.” Her voice breaks slightly on love, for it is such an overwhelming feeling, being able to vocalize that she’s in love with Barry. She immediately feels her dad’s arm come around her shoulders as he hugs her to him.

“This might come as a surprise to you, but I’ve known you’ve been in love with that boy for many years,” Joe says, and Iris looks up at her dad, startled. Had her feelings been that obvious that her father knew she loved Barry before even she had realized it?

“How…”

“I know you, Iris. You’re so kind and so good, and you’re always trying to help everyone. But when you and Barry first met as children in the playground, and you ran over and reached out a hand to help him up when he tumbled off the swing and into the dirt, there was this different energy between the both of you, and it only became stronger over the years. You don’t know the way you look at him, but I see it. You probably don’t realize the way he looks at you either. But I know Barry too; he grew up just two doors down, and he looks at you like you are the sun and he has since the moment he first saw you.” At that, Iris is further surprised and confused, shaking her head,

“Dad, no, that’s impossible. Barry isn’t in love with me; he’s in love with someone else.”

“And you know that how?” Joe asks, raising his eyebrows, completely and utterly unconvinced at the implication that Barry Allen is in love with someone other than Iris West.

“Because it all came out last night. It’s not… it doesn’t matter.”

“Did Barry tell you he was in love with someone else?”

“Well, he didn’t say it in so many words,” Iris begins, just as Joe asks,

“Did he say it any words at all?” This gives Iris pause, for Barry had not said specifically that he was dating Katie, for that matter, but surely that was what he had been attempting to explain to her, before she had left. Katie revealed that they had gone out to dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant, and it is not as if Barry disputed the fact, although he had been distinctly put off by her exuberance. But that might have simply indicated that he was uncomfortable by the level of scrutiny directed his way, thanks to Katie’s apparent inability to keep anything private. And yet, Iris can’t get that look he had given her, like his world had just been completely shattered, as she was leaving the club, out of her head.

Because if she is being wholly honest with herself, Iris knows that part of the impetus behind Mission Avoid Barry Allen is the fear that in whatever conversation she has with Barry, she would have no choice but to tell him the truth, and their equilibrium will be completely altered forever.

“No,” she finally replies. “I left before he could say anything. And honestly, dad, part of the reason why I ran away before speaking with him is just that… I guess, our friendship has been a safe harbor. We’ve always sought solace in one another, but the moment I tell him, everything changes, and I risk losing that safe harbor.”

“It seems,” Joe says with a knowing smile. “The two of you have a lot to talk about.” Iris nods, silently, as her father continues, “Iris, the most important thing you can do is be honest with yourself and with him. Sometimes, change is inevitable, and it is often a good thing, because you may not necessarily be risking anything. Talk to him and see what happens.”

“Yeah, I suppose that I can’t keep avoiding the inevitable,” Iris replies, before smiling gratefully at her father. “Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, baby girl. Remember, I am so, so proud of you. Of the woman you have grown to be and of all that you have accomplished. And I always will be.” A wave of emotion washes over Iris, and she looks up at her father, who appears equally emotional.

“I love you, dad,” she says.

“I love you too, Iris.” Joe then mentions that they can head down to the gala whenever Iris is comfortable, but as grateful as she is for her dad’s concern and support, she knows they ought to not keep Cecile waiting, so she tells him she’ll meet them by the elevator.

“Are you sure?” Joe queries, but Iris is certain in her convictions now, which is a most welcome change from the lack of clarity she had been grappling with all weekend.

“Absolutely, dad. I’m okay. I’ll be right out.” Her father nods, kissing the side of her head, before exiting her hotel room. Now, there is just one thing left to do; she walks over to the small bedside table and picks up the velvet box containing the replica of her mother’s wedding band. Upon opening the box, she carefully removes the necklace, unclasps the hook, and puts it on.

Now, come what may, she is ready to face the world.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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noladyme · 4 years

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Chess. Chapter 12

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, injuries. Rated M

(This chapter is a little less Rick centric, but none the less essential to the story. This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

A spotlight blazed at us. I stumbled backwards. “Harley!”, I hissed again. “Get back here!”.

She smiled in my general direction, unable to see me. “It’s fine, Chess”, she beamed. “Show yourself”.

I shook my head, but deciding to trust her, reappeared.

“Jonny, would you turn that down? It’s doing nothing for my complexion”, Harley called; and the spotlight was turned off; replaced by softer lights, coming from colored lightbulbs spread throughout the large hallway we were standing in.

A serious looking man in a suit stepped out in front of us, surrounded by masked enforcers; all carrying machine guns.

“Harley”, the man said. “You’re back. Again”. He did not sound pleased.

Harley introduced us. “Chess; Jonny Frost. Jonny; this is Chess. She’s my friend; and if you let anyone touch her, I’ll punch you in the dick. Again”, she jeered.

She took my hand excitedly. “Come on! I have someone I want you to meet”, she grinned; before stopping to plump up her hair. “Do I look ok?”, she asked. “You look like a high end escort, who got dressed in a candy shop”, I answered with a smile. “Perfect!”, she beamed.

Running up another flight of stairs and down a hallway – all the way dragging me with her – she stopped in front of a double door, painted over with a large grinning mouth, I knew all too well what represented. I didn’t like where this was headed.

The man named Frost had run after us with his men, and stepped in front her, blocking our path.

“This isn’t a good time, Harley”, he said gruffly. “Move, Jonny”, she said, and bared her teeth at him menacingly. “Or I’ll tell him about the time you tried on his favorite Rolex”.

Frost tightened his lips. “He’s got company”, he said. She shoved him out of the way. “Great!”, she smiled. “Bring us a tray of macaroons and some espresso. It’s been a long day”.

I grabbed her wrist, and held her back. “Harley; this isn’t a good idea!”, I whispered.

“This”, she said, “is our ticket to freedom!”.

She threw the door open and stepped inside.

“Hi, puddin’”.

---

We were in white walled conference room. Walls were adorned with old paintings of what seemed like very important men; whose faces had all been retouched with spraypaint – making them smile menacingly at me. There was a crystal chandelier hanging over a long table; set with plates and silverware for guests that didn’t seem to have had the guts to show up. There were lobsters, cheeseburgers, exotic fruits and jellybeans; laid out on silver trays. Jewelry and money were thrown about the table between the trays.

At the end of the table sat a man with a pale gaunt face, green slicked back hair, and terrifying blue eyes. He was wearing a white tuxedo, shirt open to show the many tattoos and gold chains on his chest. His painted lips spread in a snarl; and he stood up; putting his hands on the table to lean over it.

The Joker. My breath hitched, and I could hear my heart beat in fear.

Next to him, sitting in front of a bowl of what looked like clam chowder; was a man that seemed familiar. In another chair, in the corner, sat a man in a lab coat, working on a tablet.

“Princess”, the clown sneered. “Last time I saw you, we had an… exchange”.

Harley pouted innocently. “I know”, she said. “I shouldn’t have taken the lambo out on my own”. She fluttered her lashes at him.

Frost, who had followed us inside; was smirking at her from where he was stood, leaning against the wall.

Joker exhaled in a way that sounded like a mix between a growl and a laugh. “It wasn’t so much the joyride, as the scratch across the hood; from your impromptu dance party on top of it – in stilettos, I might add”, he said, slammed his fist into the table, and stared at her intensely.

Harleys eyes started to well up, and her pink lower lip vibrated.

“Harley…”, Joker said softly; and suddenly leapt onto the table; his snakeskin boot stepping in the bowl of chowder, spraying the content in the face of the man in front of it.

Kicking a lit candelabra out of the way, and stepping on a tray of pearls and grapes; Joker stomped down the makeshift runway of the tabletop. Harley squealed, and sprang up to meet him, running into his arms.

“I missed you, bunny”, he growled, and grabbed Harleys butt cheeks; making her jump into his arms, straddling his hips. She squealed, and latched on to his lips; and they began making out in a way I hadn’t seen anyone do since high school. “I can’t stay mad at you”, he smiled between kisses.

Frost met my eyes, and rolled them at me. Here we go again, he seemed to be saying; and I couldn’t help but smile.

Joker laid Harley down on the table, and crawled on top of her; shedding his tuxedo jacket in the process – revealing a gun holster carrying a large silver revolver. Harley grabbed on to the back of his head, as he moved downwards, attacking her neck and collarbone with brutal kisses.

Frost cleared his throat, and the green-haired crimelord looked up, meeting my eyes in a terrifying glare.

“What’s this?”, he snarled.

Remembering herself, Harley grinned at him. “Oh yeah!”, she said. “I brought you a present, baby!”.

Joker sprang of the table in a swift move, and walked up to me; head tilted – never breaking eye contact.

I couldn’t blink. Ok. I’m dead, I thought for the second time in just a few days; and swallowed hard.

Harley came running up behind him, hooking her arm into his, and smiled brightly – lipstick smeared across her chin from their make out-session.

“This is Chess”, Harley said. “Chess, this is my Joker”. She put her head on his shoulder.

Giving Harley a quick pat on the head – still not breaking eye contact with me – he shrugged her off, and stepped towards me again.

“Chess…”, Joker breathed, baring his gleaming gold rimmed teeth. “You’re the disappearing girl”. My breath hitched, as he came closer; and I began to move backwards. He grinned at me, and put his hand up, as if coaxing a small animal.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty…”, he said, and moved up slowly until his face was merely a foot away from mine.

“She’s got a killer smile, puddin’”, Harley said from behind him.

In a swift move, he grabbed a hold of both sides of my face, and moved in so close that I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

“Show me”, he demanded with a sneer.

Not moving, I glanced towards Harley, who was nodding at me encouragingly.

Taking a deep shaking breath; I focused, and smiled.

The clowns breath hitched, and his eyes widened from seeing my face disappear between his hands. He jumped back, looking from his hands to where I had been standing.

This would be a good time to run, I thought to myself, but for some reason, I decided against it. I reappeared.

Joker cried out at seeing my shape return; then began laughing. “Oh, honey!”, he declared. “This is the best present you have ever given me!”.

“Even better than the Rolex?”, Harley answered, sending a leering look in Frosts direction. The man looked down at his feet. “Can we keep her?”, Harley asked.

Joker growled, and grabbed her waist, pulling her into a violent kiss.

“Mr. Joker?”, a voice called from the other end of the table. The chowder man was wiping his face with a napkin. Joker angrily unlatched himself from Harley again.

“Jerry, I was having a moment here!”, he growled.

I looked at the stout man, whose suit was still stained.

Judge Jeremiah Kelper.

I breathed heavily – every fiber in my body in attack mode. I clenched my fists; and my claws sprang out. Storming towards the slimy politician; Frost sprang out of nowhere, and held me in a tight grip, as I snapped my teeth at his hands, trying to break free.

“Do you two know each other, Jerry?”, Joker asked with a smile.

Harley looked from me to the judge; eyes serious.

Kelper looked at me; a scar running from his cheekbone down to his chin. I made my mark, alright, I grinned to myself. “I’ve never met the young lady in my life”, Kelper said. Well I was invisible for most of our last… encounter.

“How’re the balls, your honor”, I hissed.

Joker turned his face to look at me. With a sudden realization, he laughed loudly.

“Ghosts, Jerry?”, he guffawed. He walked up to Kelper, and patted his cheek. “You should probably leave, before I let my newest pet loose on you. We’ll finish this meeting tomorrow”.

“But mr. Joker” Kelper began. “I really need to talk to you about these attacks in Downtown”.

Faster than a lightning strike; the clowns revolver was aimed at Kelpers head. He gulped. “T-tomorrow”, he stammered; and went to leave the room – taking a wide path around me and Frost.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

“Now, where were we”, Joker said; and looked at Harley pointedly. She shrieked excitedly, and ran into his arms.

“Let’s go. Give them some privacy”, Frost said, and pulled at me. I tried to struggle. “Trust me”, he said. “You don’t want to see this”.

From behind us I heard groans and moans. “Mr. J…”, Harleys voice gasped.

We left the room as swiftly as we could.

---

I was put in a smaller room furnished with an intricately patterned couch. A six-pack of off brand cokes were set on the table, next to a plate of sushi I didn’t have the appetite to eat.

I wasn’t exactly a prisoner; but a man had been posted outside the room for if I needed anything, as Frost had said, before leaving me alone.

About an hour had gone by, when I heard a gentle knock at the door. Harley stepped inside; wearing a bright purple minidress, and a brand new diamond necklace.

“Wow”, I said, staring at it. “It’s just a little something”, she beamed, and gestured for me to sit next to her on the couch.

“That judge”, she asked, “was he the one you neutered a year ago?”, she asked earnestly.

“How did you know?”, I asked. “I might have eavesdropped on you and the pole when you was talking”, she answered.

Rick! “Harley, we need to get out of here!”, I said, panicked. “Why”, she asked indignantly. “Because if we don’t return to Flag and the others, they’ll come in after us, and that’s not a fight I think they can win”. “Flag or J?”, she asked, brows furrowed. “Maybe both”, I answered.

Harley popped a maki roll into her mouth, and chewed audibly. “We can’t go right now. I haven’t seen my puddin’ in forever”. I shook my head at her. “This isn’t the time for a Bonnie and Clyde, going out guns blazing situation!”.

She sighed, and toyed with the heavy necklace. “I talked to J”. I raised my eyebrow at her. “What?”, she said. “We talk. Sometimes… in between…”. Her eyes glazed over for a second, before returning to focus, and she shook her head. “Anyway. My J has been hanging out with that judge for a while. He’s been throwing him some parties; helping him out with some cash. Apparently judgie is a fan of cheap strippers and expensive scotch; but that’s not so good when you got a political career to tend to… You know. That old story”. Another roll disappeared into her mouth.

“Is this relevant to our about to die situation?”, I hissed.

She looked at me, annoyed. “I’m gettin’ to it. Gosh…”. She licked her fingers. “So. J’s been throwing some money in Kelpers direction. And in return, Kelpers made sure the cops look the other way when puddin’s been doing business around the city”. So Kelper was working with the Joker. That much I had gathered. “And?”, I coaxed at her to continue.

“Kelper’s been getting’ a bit upset lately, since J’s moved in on Downtown. Some bank or other was robbed; and suddenly, the limp bastard doesn’t want to continue their partnership”. She raised a brow and smirked at me. “Apparently, letting criminals run free in your city, doesn’t look good when you’re running for congress”.

I was still confused. I was also drained, so I opened a soda can; and began drinking from it.

Harley continued. “Now today”, she suddenly leered at me, “Kelper told my J that he needed to back down. Or else”. “I’m sure Joker took that well”, I said, and took a sip. “That bowl of chowder in front of him wasn’t clam”, she grinned. “It was pigs balls”.

I choked on the soda running down my throat, and coughed. Harley slapped my back and giggled at me. Once I’d calmed myself, she continued.

“Kelper told J that he had friends in high places”, she said.

“That’s why Waller wants the Joker dead”, I realized. Having a crony in congress would definitely help her further her own agenda. Especially surrounding the question of tracking down bad guys, and sending them on what pretty much amounted to suicide missions. “Duh!”, Harley smiled. “Here’s the thing. You want to get back at that judge. And I don’t want my boyfriend dead”. She looked at me pointedly.

“So we work together”.

We heard running down the hall. Joker swung open the door and looked at us. He was flanked by the man in the lab coat, and Frost.

“Snickerdoodle, we have company!”, he said, and looked me in the eyes. “This is it, Chessy Chesschess. In or out”.

I heard gunshots from downstairs. He snarled at me. “You want that collar off?”. I looked down at my harness. The light was still green. I nodded at him. “Good kitty. Doc, make it happen!”, he growled. The doctor furiously typed something on his tablet, and the little light on my chest went black. I quickly rid myself of the harness, and threw it on the floor. Joker grabbed Harleys hand. “Lets go!”.

More gunshots. I could hear Ricks angry voice roar. Harley looked from my worried face to the clowns. “Don’t hurt our friends too much. And leave the soldier alone”. “You steppin’ out on me, pumpkin?”, he asked her in a menacing voice. “’Course not baby. But this one has a thing for men in uniform”, she answered, and nodded in my direction.

Joker gave a final snarl, and nodded at Frost – making the man run in the direction of the gunfire.

Harley took a hold of me.

“Grab her arm!”, Harley told Joker, and he put his cold hand around my uncovered wrist. I made us disappear.

---

We ran up down the hallway, leading us to a separate staircase. I heard running behind us, and a yelp from a henchman; as Croc bit into his shoulder, and threw him over his head.

“Where are they?”, Ricks voice boomed. I was aching to show myself; but the Jokers icy hand reminded me of what I needed to do.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, my companions let go of me. We were met by Frost holding open a back door for us. Outside stood the ghastliest sports car I’d ever seen. Chrome, neon purple varnish, and gold rims. “Get in!”, Joker yelled, and got behind the wheel; Harley joining him in the front seat. “Chess!”, she called.

The door behind us swung open, and Rick ran through it, clocking Frost over the head with the back end of his gun.

“Y/N!”, he hollered at me, eyes furious.

Joker aimed his revolver at him, and I stepped in to the line of shot. “Don’t, puddin’!”, Harley yelled, and grabbed for his arm. Joker growled, but put the gun down.

“What are you doing, kitten?”, Rick asked, voice shaking.

I walked up to him, and put my hands on either side of his face.

“Don’t do this, baby”, he pleaded; his eyes intense. I kissed him softly.

“You asked me to trust you. Now I’m asking you to trust me”, I said. “Let me go. Please!”. He furrowed his brows, then pulled me in for another kiss. He put his forehead to mine.

“Go”, he said hoarsely.

I ran to the car; and threw myself into the back seat. The Joker revved the engine, and then sped off; the force of it throwing me into my seat.

I turned my head to look out the back window. Behind us Rick and my friends were disappearing into the fog of the city.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

#rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag fic #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #harley quinn

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