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ifancyharry · 6 months

Text

Ever since New York

what it is: in which YN is Harry Styles's personal assistant, but maybe she should quit her job?

September.

Harry was running late. He knew he was running late because he didn’t even have the time to check on his phone how much late he was running. He hated being late. It wasn’t really in his character. In his manners. It’s not because he didn’t like people waiting on him, he loves being the center of attention; he loves having all eyes on him when he enters a room.

He just didn’t like being late because of the wasted time. Wasted time he took off work. And as of right now, work was pretty much his life. His purpose.

So being late, was kind of a big deal to him.

Y/N, on the other hand, was used to being late. And she, too, hated it. She hated the attention it came with it. But it was just in her nature, not because she wanted it, but because it happened to her. Like this morning. Her go-to local Starbucks was swamped with people, and she really wanted a pumpkin spice latte, since it was almost the beginning of fall and she still hadn’t had one.

So, it’s not like she could skip the coffee run. But said coffee run took longer than expected and made her late to her job interview. On top of that, once she exited the cafe, winning cup of coffee slightly burning her hand, it started raining, and of course she hadn’t bought her umbrella, because who brings an umbrella to a job interview?, and plus she really couldn’t be bothered to carry the weight of said object with her all around New York.

So, when she enters the Madison Square Garden Arena, she’s soaked. She almost can hear the squishy sound her Converse make as she walks, her socks feeling rather scratchy against her skin.

She jogs a little towards the backstage area, trying to recall what was said on the email that was sent to her with all the interview details. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, not really used to all the running she had to endure, and she feels hot. She’s positive the heater is on and the sudden contrast with the chilly September air makes her coat feel too warm and her jeans too tight.

She takes a moment to stop herself, trying to calm her heart and breathing down as she takes small sips of her drink. She’s already late, soaked, and sweaty, she might as well enjoy her well awaited drink in peace. She’s sure she’s not going to get the job, anyway. Leave it to her to think she’d fail before even trying.

Harry Styles personal assistant? Yes, she’s known to be a dreamer, but not to that extent. When her friend Anna had told her that her boyfriend had a friend that went to college with Jeff Azoff (she didn’t even know that said Jeff went to college), that he was looking for trustworthy people who could be fit for the job and that he had recommended YN, she thought Anna was pulling a sad excuse of a prank on her. Little did she know, about ten days later, she’d gotten an email from Jeff himself where he asked her if she was down for a little get-to-know-me interview.

Anna knew how much YN needed the job.Young, jobless, and living in New York didn’t really go together too well, and she knew that YN wanted to save as much money as possible to fulfill her life’s dream of studying art in Florence, so she pressured her friend to at least go to the interview. So that’s how she got herself in this situation, sipping her coffee while she regained her breath.

She’s so lost in her own train of thoughts that she doesn’t even realize she stopped in the middle of a hallway. She’s reading a flyer on the wall absentmindedly when she’s hit by a big, sturdy object that makes her loose her balance. She tries to grip her hands onto something to gain some kind of balance, but that only results in her coffee exploding from its own paper cup that she squeezed too hard, the cap flying off and falling on the ground.

“Fuck!” She exclaims as her bum hits the floor with a loud thump. She can feel the coffee on her coat and all over her hands as she raises her eyes from her pumpkin scented, soaked coat and lays her sight on what she thought was an object, but was, actually, a person. Her employer, more like. If she wasn’t convinced enough that she wasn’t going to get the job, she’s sure as hell now.

“What the fuck!” Harry, who had been running really fast to try and get on time to this stupid interview he had to endure, really hadn’t taken in consideration that someone could be standing in the middle of the hallway he was running down on.

So, he really thought it was safe to run and check his phone at the same time; big mistake.

It’s not like he was checking his phone for his own personal business, he was just texting Jeff that he was on his way.

“Who stands in the middle of a fucking hallway!” He shouts, but he isn’t even looking at her as he speaks. He’s looking at his shirt, that now has a big, beige colored, stain on it.

He grips the hem of the shirt with his hands and brings the stained part to his nose, which he scrunches immediately in disgust: “is this regular milk? God, it’s making me sick”.

YN really couldn’t get anything out of her mouth as she slowly gets up from her position on the floor and raises to her feet. She knows she’s supposed to say something, maybe apologize, but it suddenly feels like she doesn’t know how to talk anymore. She’s afraid, if she speaks, she’d blabber something incoherent and make a fool out of herself. Not that she didn’t already.

Plus, if she’s really being honest, he kind of sounds like an asshole, so she’s not particularly keen on begging for his forgiveness.

“If you were walking like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened!” She murmurs, but he’s already too far out of reach to hear, otherwise she’s sure he would’ve said something else. She heavily sighs as she walks behind him, careful to leave a big amount of space between them so it doesn’t look like she’s following him.

When she enters the room, after knocking gently on the door, he’s already sat on the chair next to Jeff, a bunch of papers scattered on the desk in front of them.

She clears her throat a little and Jeff raises his eyes to her, giving her a small smile and gesturing to the chair in front of them.

Harry, arm bent at the elbow, one hand under the table and the other holding his phone, doesn’t bother to look at who came in until he’s finished reading his emails. He wouldn’t have to read his emails if he hadn’t wasted his time by being late, and mostly by being tackled by a wet puppy looking girl and her stupid pumpkin spice latte. The said pumpkin spice latte that is all over his designer shirt.

When he finally raises his glance, he’s met with a pair of big, wide eyes that remind him of those of a scared deer caught in headlights, and there’s no hint of a joke in his tone as he says: “fuck no.”

...

YN wonders whether she should quit.

It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.

She’s trying really hard to make up for the coffee incident, and she begged Harry to tell her where he got his shirt so she could at least repurchase it for him, but once he’d told her it was Gucci, she realized it cost more than her rent so she let it go… trying the best she could to watch where she was going as to not repeat the accident again.

Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.

She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.

He doesn’t talk much to her — only when the work demands it, and at first it was fine, YN understood why he’d act like that, but now it’s just getting kind of frustrating, especially because he’s making her job ten times harder than it already is.

She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!

“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.

He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.

YN notices he’s dressed in his workout clothes (a pair of Nike shorts and a black tee), and she wonders whether he’s going to the gym? Maybe back at the hotel? It would be rather bothersome to go all the way back but she doesn’t say anything since it’s not her place.

When he hears her he raises his head to look at her, his brows hiking up high on his forehead. YN wonders why he’s even surprised to see her… she’s been on his ass for a month straight now, never really leaving his side unless when necessary.

“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.

“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.

Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.

“Everything, really?” He asks surprised, “hav’you folded all the merch like I asked?” When YN nods he goes on, “ironed my outfit?” She nods once again, “and ‘s my schedule ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.

He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.

He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.

“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.

YN knows she should definitely quit.

...

“What the hell is this! I thought ye said it was all done?”

YN really feels like she could cry. She’s 22 years old and she’s on the verge of crying on her job. A job she begged God to get, a job that’s fundamental to get her in the art school she’s always dreamed of.

Things haven’t been easy.

Harry has been a dick to her every day and there’s only so much one can take.

He’s mean, rude, and always cold. He never smiles even when she brings him coffee (black with no dairy milk because it nauseates him), he never praises her (not even when she color codes his google calendar), and every time she enters a room he hushes as if he’s telling this great secret she’s not supposed to hear.

Today has been a long day.

She’d woken up at 5 am to grab him breakfast (not that he demanded it, but she felt as if she needed to in order for them to start the day on a good note — it hasn’t worked, it seems) and after that, she’d watched him workout at the gym in the hotel, the stuffy room nauseating her to the point where she had to beg him to turn the AC on to let the air change.

After his workout, she’d made her way to the venue.

He’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and even if it’s not his first time, the tension could be felt in the air and in the way he huffed and puffed at everything she did.

It’s her job to take care of the merch stand inside the arena, no matter what city they are in, she has to fold the merch and make the stand presentable and organized, so when the staff comes in before the show everything is neat and clean.

She’s been doing this for a month now so she knows what Harry likes and how he demands it to be cleaned, and until now nothing about her work had disappointed him. So why is he acting like she’s this major screw up that can’t fold clothes?

It’s not the fact that he’s doubting her that hurts her, it’s the fact that he’s doubting her honesty.

It was all finished. She had folded all the merch like he asked and the stand was in perfectly good tidiness when she left it; sadly, that’s not how Harry had found it, much later and much closer to the show.

Maybe his pre show jitters made him a little more on edge, because the way he’s stomping his feet and pointing at the merch is making her feel really guilty for not doing her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should’ve checked before telling him she was all done!

“Harry,” she trails off, and she feels pathetic as she hears her voice come out all watery, “I swear, i did like you asked. Why would I lie!”

She’s almost begging and pleading him, her eyes stinging with the devious tears she’s trying really hard not to let fall.

“I don’t know why. But why is the stand in this mess? You know this can’t happen before a show, YN!” He reprimands her sternly.

YN feels like she’s a bad student getting yelled at by her teacher, and she gulps before saying “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it now! Tidy here and then sod off!”

She nods her head quickly and hurries to get back behind the stand, folding the clothes as fast as she can to fix the mess quickly. She hears him walk away with a grunt, and once he’s out of her line of sight she feels the warm tears start falling from her eyes.

Finally.

She chokes down a sob as she keeps tidying up, wondering what the hell happened to the very organized stand she’d left.

Once she’s done, she double checks everything to make sure (just in case) and then she climbs over the counter to get out. She quickly makes her way to the dressing room as she hears the buzzing of the fans standing outside the venue, waiting trepidating for the gates to open, and she’s thankful she’d been fast, otherwise Harry would’ve fired her on the spot.

She gathers her work bag and tosses all her belongings inside, sneaking out of the door when she realizes Harry is inside the bathroom showering.

She doesn’t bother to call a Uber. She chooses to walk, hoping that the fresh air could soothe the headache that crying had left her with.

It’s a little bit chilly, but she welcomes the cold October weather with contentment, finally free of the heat weave that had populated her summer days. She wishes she could enjoy it more, and if it wasn’t for her mood, maybe she would’ve grabbed a little drink and a sweet treat on her way back. But there wasn’t anything sweet about the way Harry had treated her, so she walks sulkily back to the hotel, ready to pack her bags and leave. She’s decided. She doesn’t want to be his assistant for not even another day.

It had been a long day.

…

it’s past 11pm when Harry crosses the threshold of his hotel room, immediately tossing his sweaty clothes on the chair next to the small desk. His room is nice, big but not uncomfortably large to the point of making him feel lonely, and his bed is soft just the way he likes it, and he can’t wait to shower and get under the covers, but… there’s something he needs to do first.

So, he quickly showers and changes into way more comfortable clothes, a pair of black sweats and a grey treat people with kindness hoodie, slipping his vans on and walking immediately out of the door.

He’d like to say the uneasiness he feels in his belly is hunger (he had only soup for dinner), but it’s definitely not. He’s nervous. And he feels like a dick. And he doesn’t really know what to say to YN to make it up to her.

Should he say he was just tense because of the show? In his mind he knows that wouldn’t be too believable, because he’s been doing shows for most of his life, and if he acted the way he did before any of them, he probably wouldn’t have many friends.

As he’s searching for things to say, he hasn’t even realized he ended up in front of her door, the light beige wood dooming on him and almost making fun of him.

He closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the door, the pit of his stomach prickling.

YN opens the door almost immediately, and he wonders whether she was waiting for him.

He knows she wasn’t as soon as he sees her face fall once her eyes land on him.

She actually looks pretty cute, all snuggly and sleepy dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts, but when she looks up at him he notices her eyes are a faint red color, and his heart tugs in his chest when he realizes she had been crying.

It was never his intention to make her cry, and he really does feel bad.

“What?” She asks dismissively, her body still shielding the room from his view.

“Know ‘s late but… Can I come in?” He asks wryly, his breath coming out in puffs out of his nose as if he had been running.

“I don’t know” she ponders.

“Please, YN”

She takes a moment to reflect and then opens her door wider (he’s technically still her boss), turning to the side to let him in.

She closes the door behind him and waits for him to talk with her arms crossed against her chest. He doesn’t really know where to start, whether he should address the fact that she’s been crying or how he treated her, so he settles on “how are you?” And he feels stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. She sniffles before shrugging.

“Sorry, that was stupid” he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head.

YN doesn’t know what happens next.

She’s probably just tired, and maybe really hurt by how Harry treated her so she… she starts crying.

She feels her eyes fill with tears, stinging her water line. And it’s really embarrassing but she really doesn’t care. She figures he’s going to fire her anyway so she might as well let it all out.

She chokes down a sob, turning her head to the side to be as subtle as possible, but he notices straight away, walking quickly towards her.

“YN please don’t cry” he pleas, stretching a hand out to her to squeeze her shoulder.

“I’m sorry” she sobs, hiding her face and her tears behind her hands, pressing the tip of her fingers to her eyelids.

Harry really doesn’t know what to do. He thinks of himself as a good person and a good friend but this is different. He’s supposed to be her boss. But, he realizes, he’s also the reason she’s crying, and Harry is everything but cruel, so he tugs her by the shoulder into his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her back soothingly.

She sobs into his chest, and “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened with that stand. I did everything like you asked”.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts.

To really tell the truth, Harry had forgotten all about the clothes. Yes, he had been pissed about the conditions he found the merch stand in, but she had tided up quickly, so in his mind everything was forgiven. He hadn’t really realized how stern he had come off to her.

“YN I’m not mad about the merch stand. I’m so sorry I was so rude”

“No,” she’s quick to object, “I get it, you want everything to be perfect. Trust me I know! But I’m trying my best to make everything perfect like you want” she sniffles, pulling her face away from his chest.

She dries her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, sighing heavily.

“You’re doing a great—“ he starts, but she interrupts him immediately, “I don’t know how to work with you if you’re like this. You’re probably going to fire me for saying this but I can’t stand this anymore” she shakes her head to reinforce her words.

“Please don’t say that! I don’t want to fire you! I think you’re doin’ a really good job”

“Really?” She asks surprised, he’s never really told her that.

“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I’ve been a dick to you, for this past month. I… I’ve got some trust issues, ya know? and It takes me a while to get accustomed to new people but… I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It’s not your fault”

“I thought you kind of hated me” she admits.

“I could never,” he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way”

“Yeah” she sniffles, “you really were a dick” she chuckles once she sees the surprised look on his face. “Plus I’m the only one who knows how to make your little soup” she adds.

“Oh, you’re right” he agrees, “I could never fire you, then. You’re trapped”

“Ah! You’re trapped” she giggles, the tears starting to dry on her face and a bit of color returning to her cheeks.

“But… really, I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again” he says again, looking directly in her eyes to make sure she understands he’s serious.

“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.

“Now” he trails off, “I’m really hungry. Should we go get something to eat?”

October

“Halloween is not fun.” Harry says, crossing his arms on his chest like a petulant child.

YN rolls her eyes for what seems like the millionth time, a groan escaping from her parted lips: “but it is!!” She says again.

The discussion had been opened by Harry himself, claiming he didn’t understand all the excitement YN had claimed to be feeling about Halloween.

It’s not like he doesn’t like Halloween, he just doesn’t like… scary stuff.

He hates horror movies and he hates everything paranormal — sure, he loves Twilight (he’s watched it twice already since fall started) but that movie according to him is on a whole other level, and it can’t be described as scary as much as it is angst-y.

So, when he heard YN all giddy and giggly about this god awful day, he couldn’t just not say what he really thinks of it. Of course she’d love Halloween, Harry thinks.

“I think you just never truly had the whole Halloween experience” she shrugs from her position on the couch.

“Trust me,” he says seriously, “I did. Jeff forced me to watch all the Saw movies… it was awful. Couldn’t sleep properly until Christmas”

YN has to refrain herself from laughing.

“That’s not what I mean! Watching scary movies is like… the last thing on the list of fun things to do for Halloween”

“Yeah?” He challenges, turning around in his turning chair to face her, his skin dewy with the moisturizer he’d been massaging on his face.

“Yes! My favorite is pumpkin painting” she beams excitedly.

“Pumpkin painting? You have to have made that up” he furrows his brows.

“What! No! It’s been a thing for… Ugh I don’t know but it’s really fun and I always do it. Come see!” She pats the couch next to her and grabs her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, opening her camera roll and scrolling with her finger until she reaches last year.

He rolls his eyes at her, getting up from the chair nonetheless.

He doesn’t sit next to her, instead he towers over her and lowers his head to look at the screen of her phone, his shin touching her knees “ye have a lot of pictures on that damn phone”.

“Shh!! Here!” She opens the pic and shows it to him: a big pumpkin rests on what seems like a kitchen counter, its previous orange skin painted the brightest shade of pink, with some white splotches of paint that Harry thinks could be little ghosts by their pair of eyes made with two black dots.

“Wow… that clearly is something…”

“okay! — she sighs, locking her phone — I didn’t say I was good at it. ‘S just fun an’ I always do it with me mum!” She lifts her head and their eyes lock, his are a bright emerald green today, and she can see herself reflected in them, clearly, and she wonders for a moment how he sees her, what he thinks of her. It lasts only a moment, though, because he averts his gaze quickly, and just as quickly he straightens his posture, towering over her once again.

“‘S a cute idea” he agrees, taking a step back to put some distance between them.

YN nods in agreement, picking up her laptop to get back to work immediately.

Everything is green.

…

Harry is hiding something.

He’s been giddy all day and YN noticed first thing in the morning, when she happened to toe his shoe off when he was walking in front of her and he didn’t say anything (it’s the only thing that drives him mad. Like… really mad. He once snapped at her in front of everyone because she kept doing it — accidentally of course). Now, this is not to say Harry can’t have a good day. Since that night in her hotel room, things have been really good between them, and even if their relationship is strictly professional, YN wonders whether a friendship could blossom between them.

But, she’s also gotten to know him rather well in the two months she’s been working for him, and she knows when he’s hiding something.

It all started yesterday, when he pretended he had to run some errands alone, and demanded YN stayed at the hotel “to check no one broke into his room” which is a really fucking stupid excuse. When he got back to his room it was late in the night and YN was snacking on some chips, all snuggled up and cozy in his bed, on the verge of falling asleep.

Nothing seemed different about him since the last time she saw him, and she wondered for a brief minute whether he went out to meet with someone. Having a personal assistant be with you 24/7 can be really invalidating to any romantic relationship someone could want to establish.

If the only way harry could get a significant other (or even only a sneaky link, YN isn’t one to judge) was to hide from her and demanded her to stay back, it was really pathetic on her part. She pretends like the thought of Harry with someone else doesn’t irritates her. (She’s been stuck all evening in his hotel room while he went out and about!!)

“Whatcha doin’ in my bed, pet?” He teases once he enters the room, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.

“Your bed is way comfier than mine” she grins, squeezing the comforter closer to her body.

“I bet” he chuckles.

“Yeah. But I’m the one working all day so I should get the comfier bed” she shrugs.

“You’re working?” He says, feigning shock as he brings a hand to his chest, “I thought you were my friend willingly!”

“Oh fuck” she sighs, “Jeff told me not to tell you… I must have forgotten”

“You really are a menace” he chuckles and she giggles, making room for him as he plops down next to her.

“What are ye watchin’?”

“Just an old episode of How to get away with murder” she says, pressing the “ok” button on the remote to show him the title.

“Never heard of tha’” he furrows his brows, repositioning himself so his legs are stretched out in front of him.

“You’ve never… what?! That’s crazy! This is probably the best tv show since Grey’s Anatomy went down hill!”

“Is it scary?” He asks, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

“No, not in that sense at least”

“Okay, then.” He gestures to the remote, “let’s watch it.”

She grins at him and nods, selecting the first episode from the menu. She presses play and when the show starts running, she grabs the chips she was previously nibbling on, putting them between their bodies and telling him that if he wants some to just take them.

The light from the tv illuminates the otherwise dark room, and YN has to refrain herself from turning her head to look at his profile.

She smiles Every time he gasps when something unexpected happens, and when the first episode ends, he begs her to put the second straight away. She does, and she listens to his calm breaths that almost lull her to sleep. The bed is comfortable and his warmth from beside her makes her feel safe and soft, and YN thinks it’s really nice he’s doing this with her. She doesn’t stop to wonder what it means.

…

It’s only the next day that YN gets to finally find out what Harry has been hiding.

Turns out, he actually wasn’t sneaking out to meet someone behind her back!

That morning Harry had knocked loudly on her door, tantalizingly sing-songing her name. When she had opened the door, still wearing her pjs and her hair all messy, she had furrowed her brows deeply on her forehead: “Harry!” She had reprimanded him, “it’s 7 in the morning!”

“Shh, lemme come in” he begged, jumping on his place excitedly.

He’s wearing his workout clothes and YN knows from his schedule that he has an appointment with his personal trainer at 7.30.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tonight, after the show, don’t make any plans. I need you for something very serious and very important.”

And YN would really like to tell him that it’s not like she’d ever make any plans that didn’t revolve around him, but she nods nonetheless, still a bit startled from his irruption in her room that early in the morning.

That’s how they ended up here, on the floor of his hotel room, probably more than thirty tubes of paint splattered messily in front of them, and two giant pumpkins resting between their legs.

“It’s officially a week before Halloween!” Harry had said, taking the pumpkin out of the bag and showing it to her triumphantly.

YN had gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth shockingly. Never in a million years would she have thought that was what he planned to do.

She feels warm inside, like a light has been switched up and is warming all her limbs, her chest, her belly. She doesn’t know if he realizes how much this means to her.

She carefully takes the pumpkin he’s handing to her and sits cross legged on the floor. He sits down next to her, and their knees are brushing with every movement one of them makes.

“Pass me the remote, please?” He asks.

She nods and grabs it from the bed behind her, handing it to him.

“I really need to find out who killed her” he says seriously, turning the tv on. “Is it Sam?”

YN chuckles sitting next to him, shaking her head as she bends her back down to grab a paint brush.

“I’m not tellin’ you! That takes away all the fun”

“I don’t care, YN. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me!”

“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.

She hands him a brush too and he thanks her with a mischievous grin, “if I end up dying from exhaustion it’s on you!”

“Shhh, ‘s startin’” she gestures to the tv and they both turn their head to it.

YN grabs a tube of red paint and opens it, squirting a small pump on the plate Harry had gotten her.

“What are ya making?” He asks her after a while.

“I don’t know” she shrugs, “I was thinking something simple like… red hearts”

“Tha’s cute” he agrees, “should I make it How to get away with murder themed?”

YN starts giggling, pushing his shoulder with hers, “that would be cute I guess”

“I’m just kidding. Although I think I could totally rock that”

“Yeah, you would” she agrees.

Harry ends up making it Mickey Mouse themed, drawing two big red ears a pair of big black eyes. He even helps YN with hers (she settled on something more minimalistic) which is ironic because even though she’s the one that loves art, she’s not really good at it.

Harry even snapped a few pictures to send to his mum, one with YN too, “wait, stay right there. Show the pumpkins!!”

“Harry the paint is still fresh I can’t — ugh fine!” She says lifting her pumpkin by the stem.

He leans in next to her, their temples almost touching, and Harry snaps the picture, a warm smile on his face, dimples showing and all. “Mum’s gonna love this.”

They watch a couple more episodes of this tv show Harry has gotten obsessed with, and once the clock strikes midnight YN is so exhausted Harry has to finish her pumpkin for her.

Her eyes are aching and she brings her fingers to press on them, hoping to relieve some of the burning.

“Everything all right?” He asks turning his head to look at her.

“Yes” she nods, “just forgot my glasses and the tv is hurting my eyes”

“Wait” he tells her, standing up on his feet quickly. He heads over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging through all the stuff he keeps inside it.

He sits back down after a minute, closer than he was before, and he shows her a pair of glasses, “here”.

She looks at him surprised, and “thank you” she says, grabbing them from his hand and sliding them on.

The glasses are comfortable, with a kind of thick frame, and she understands immediately they are a much better quality than hers.

She’s surprised she can see clearly with them, and she enjoys the much needed rest the glasses provide. She leans her head on the back of the bed behind her and sighs contentedly.

“Better?” He asks.

“Much better.”

“I didn’t know you wore glasses” he says after a while, his gaze still on the tv, “never seen you wear ‘em”

“Yeah” she agrees, embarrassed, “‘s just… don’t really like the way I look in them. Plus it’s not like I’m completely blind!” She hurries to add “they just get really tired and… yeah”

He turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed on his forehead and his eyes scrutinizing her face.

She feels embarrassed under his gaze and she squirms imperceptibly in her spot.

“You look proper cute, actually” he says with a swift nod as to reinforce his words.

She blushes and prays that he doesn’t notice, mumbling a ‘thank you’ and quickly averting her gaze back to the tv.

She feels once again that warm feeling inside her, but this time it’s all over her body and it’s kind of overwhelming.

She debates whether she should leave or stay, but Harry’s presence is so comforting beside her, and it’s not like his comment has to mean anything.

It’s just a compliment.

Like a friend would to another. Right?

…

It’s not easy to avoid your boss.

Harry is everywhere, and it’s not like YN wants to avoid him, it’s just inevitable since she realized she actually has a crush on him.

On the span of these three days YN tried to tell herself it wasn’t that big of a deal; Harry is handsome, he almost resembles an angel, and he’s funny, and since he’s warmed up to her she realized he’s also nice, and caring, and soft. His smile is bright as the sun. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green she has never seen before and she noticed some nights they turn almost blue and she really would like to ask him why but she figures that’s way overstepping her boundary so she just keeps quiet every time she notices it.

And he’s many things all together.

And maybe if she avoids him this feeling will go away and everything will go back to normal sooner than later.

On the fourth day, he catches her on her way back to his dressing room and she almost has an heart attack. She had been so careful up to that point!!!

She was sure he was still in the shower, and she needed to grab her sweatshirt from the dressing room since it was starting to get chilly, but once she opened the door, there he was, sitting on the couch in only a towel and a sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt. She feels like she could combust any second.

“YN! Hey!” He cheerfully greets her once he notices her, locking his phone and leaving it next to him on the couch.

“Hi, H” she replies “just needed to grab my… sweatshirt” she clears her throat embarrassed, pointing towards his torso.

He looks down to himself and then his eyes widen in surprise, “this one’s yours? I’m so sorry pet, thought ‘t was mine!”

“Tha’s fine” she shrugs, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he called her a pet name.

“You wan’ it back?” He asks, grinning.

“No, no that’s fine, I’ll find something else” but before she can even answer he’s already getting up, slipping out of the sweatshirt. He walks towards her and hands it to her, “hav’to get ready soon anyway”.

She nods and as he walks to his clothing rack where his outfit is already displayed, and YN lets her eyes linger for a brief moment on his back, his skin is already moisturized and YN wonders if it feels as soft as it looks, his little moles and freckles look like little constellations on the skin of his back, like the Gods blew stars onto it when they created him, and the color of his skin is almost lunar-like, despite how much sun he gets.

“Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages” he interrupts the silence after a while, and YN watches as he picks up his tank top from one of the hangers and slips it onto his head.

She nods when he turns to her, the tank top is white and she can see the faint ink of his tattoos, “had so much work to do” she sighs.

“Are you sayin’ I’m overworking you?” He chuckles, and she’s quick to say: “no! No! Just… you know with Harryween coming up there’s so much stuff to do”

“Yeah” he agrees, “maybe tonight we can watch a couple of episodes…?” He questions tentatively.

YN would really like to say yes. She really would.

“I’m really tired, Harry…” she trails off, “maybe another night?”

“Yeah of course” he shrugs.

He leans down to slip on his leather trousers, tossing the towel on the couch next to him.

“But you can obviously go on though!! I already know what happened and…”

“What? No! I don’t want to watch it without you, that’s our thing.” He says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, “‘s okay, I can wait a couple days. Even though I hav’to tell ya… i think I may be in withdrawal… i have been tempted to look up spoilers online”

She giggles at his playfulness, “Harry! I told you not to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t! But eventually I have to know, I have a couple of ideas on who did it though”

“I’m not saying anything”

“Fine” he groans jokingly, “but you have to admit I deserve an award for putting up with all your torture”

“You’re so dramatic!” She laughs through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. Actually!” He starts, and he smiles a malicious smile YN is afraid to know what it means, “everything would be forgiven if you came shopping with me tomorrow”

“Harry! I have so much stuff to do! I can’t just ditch everything to go shopping with you”

“Please!!” He pleas almost like a petulant child, “I don’t want to go alone! ’s boring!”

“Jeff gave me so much stuff… you know how he gets when I don’t get things done” she sighs. She’s still holding the sweatshirt he gave (back) to her, and she squeezes it against her chest.

“Screw Jeff” Harry shrugs, passing a hand through his hair to comb it.

“He’s literally my boss”

“No” he’s quick to say, walking towards her and stopping when he’s in front of her, crossing his arms on his chest “Jeff is your employer. I’m your boss” he chuckles darkly, poking her in the stomach playfully.

“Uggh fine! I’ll come” she sighs, finally giving in to his demand. “But you’re buyin’ me coffee tomorrow”

“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove on the shoulder, “see ya after the show! Good luck”

“Thank you pet” he says smiling at her softly.

She gives a small smile back and turns to walk out the door.

Once she’s out, the cold air of the AC hits her, and she’s quick to slip over her head the sweatshirt she actually came to get in the first place.

It’s still warm and his sweet musky scent lingers on it. She buries her nose into it and walks to find Jeff, telling him the new plans for the next day.

…

“I need you to do my makeup”

It’s the 31st of October, just a couple of hours before Harryween, and Harry still isn’t dressed in his Dorothy costume.

His makeup artist had texted him that she wouldn’t be available to work on Halloween (she has young children and couldn’t miss a chance to spend the holiday with them!), but Harry was so busy he hadn’t paid too much mind to it. He knew if it got to the point where no one else was available, he could do it himself. It’s just makeup, it’s not supposed to be hard.

Well, turns out, it is hard.

So, YN was really his last hope.

That’s why he knocked loudly on her hotel door, impatiently waiting for her to open it.

He heard her groan and then the sound of feet walking quickly towards him.

“What!” She says before even checking who it was.

“I need you to do my makeup”.

That’s how they ended up in her room, both sitting cross legged on her floor with a bunch of makeup bags opened next to them.

She would really like to be fussy and pouty about it, because not only he has her working on Halloween (she didn’t specifically ask for the day off, but she figured it wasn’t necessary for her to be at the entire show and he could’ve maybe let her off a little earlier, but, no — he had demanded she stayed through the entirety of the show) plus now she’s going to be late and she probably won’t have time to do her own makeup like she wanted specially for her costume!!

but… how can she possibly complain when he’s sitting in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking at her with curious green eyes every time she takes a product out of her bag?

This little crush she has on him is starting to get out of control! Instead of being annoyed at him she’s referring to him as a cute puppy! what is wrong with her!

“Wha’s that for?” He asks, pointing to the little tube of moisturizer she takes out.

“Moisturizer. This one’s lighter than the one you use because I have oily skin, but I reckon it could work as well” she pops the cap open and squirts a small amount on the tip of her fingers.

She warms it between her hands before looking at him questioning, silently asking for his permission to touch his face.

He nods immediately once he understands, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Hold your hair for me please”

He brings a hand to his forehead and tucks away the curls that fell onto it.

YN feels her heart beat hard against her chest as she gets closer to smear the cream onto his face, massaging his cheekbones and his sinuses to ease the product into his skin.

Harry sighs once she starts massaging his temples, and he makes sure to thank God in his head for his makeup artist and her children, because YN is really gentle.

She has really soft fingers and her touch is delicate, and he thinks she touches him like something fragile that is worth preserving. And he likes the feeling a little too much.

“All done!” She beams, removing her hands from his face (she even dragged the cream onto his neck!).

“Now I think we should do eyebrows” she takes out a small black spoolie and she starts brushing through his brows, “I don’t think yours need much filling.” She ponders, “maybe just in a couple spots we can make ‘em more thick if you’d like”.

He nods, “I’d like that”.

“Okay!” She grabs her pencil and draws a couple of stray hair.

“Now… I think mascara. And then we’ll do the blush. Close your eyes” she instructs, unscrewing the tube of mascara and removing the excess on the tip. She brings a hand to his eye and presses her thumb to his eyelid, that way she can see his eyelashes better.

She starts coating them with the mascara, first one eye and then the other repeating the same process as well, “your lashes are so long” she whispers, almost to herself, but she hears him chuckle through his nose nonetheless.

“All done!”

He opens his eyes and they flutter a couple of times, the new added weight of the mascara kind of uncomfortable at first.

Once he gets accustomed to it, he looks at her with his piercing bright green eyes.

YN looks between them as she closes the tube mascara; they’re the deepest shade of green today, and the black coating his lashes is only making them stand out more.

“Now?” He asks, and she tries to hide her blush as she tilts her head down to rummage through her bag.

“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!”

She takes out a bright cherry blush and “that’s way too red” he protests, furrowing his brows.

She shushes him immediately, “just trust me on this ‘s gonna look so cute!!!”

This time he doesn’t close his eyes, but he chooses to look at her.

The concentrated expression on her face is really cute, her brows are furrowed as she applies the blush with her fingers (she explained she prefers fingers because brushes can irritate the skin and cause break outs and she doesn’t want that).

He feels her apply some on his nose too, and he involuntarily scrunches it. She giggles at it and then keeps blending the blush on his skin.

From this angles YN can see he has freckles on his nose, and she doesn’t know why but it makes her feel warm. He seems more real like this, his nose sensitive and with a constellation of freckles on it. She wonders if they get darker in the sun, and she figures she’ll probably know once the summer arrives.

“Looks proper cute!!!” She sighs dreamily, looking at his face to admire the finished look. “I just know your fans will go crazy” she smiles softly.

He grins at her and gets up on his feet, heading for the bathroom to look at himself.

“Fuck I look good!” She hears him say from the bathroom, “the blush is my favorite part”.

She smiles to herself as she starts tidying her makeup back into the bags, even if it’s pointless really because she has to do her own now.

She gets up from the floor and checks for the time on her phone that’s charging on the bedside table, just as Harry gets out of the bathroom. She still has a hour and a half to get ready, and she thinks she could make it work.

“Thank you again, pet” he smiles down at her and she suddenly feels too hot and breathless.

“It’s okay, no problem at all!”

…

It’s past midnight once YN finally returns to the hotel.

A guy from the crew named Peter (he’s a light technician) invited YN to go out with him and his friends, but she’s so tired she declined politely, promising to make up for it another time.

She doesn’t really know what Harry is doing, and she wonders if Peter invited him as well and if perhaps he declined, but she doesn’t have to wonder much because not even half an hour later she hears a knock on her door.

She’s already wearing her Halloween themed Snoopy pajamas, and if it was any other situation she’d probably feel embarrassed, but she’s so tired she just can’t wait to get to bed.

When she opens the door she sees it’s Harry, and she notices — happily — that he’s wearing his pajamas as well (His consist of a pair of plaid pants and a grey hoodie, but still a pajamas nonetheless), and his face is free of the makeup she’d put on him that same afternoon.

He holds in his hands two full grocery bags, and she looks pointedly at him.

“Can I come in? My arms are starting to get sore”

She nods and moves to the side to let him in, closing the door behind them after.

“So.” He starts, placing the bags on her bed, “I was about to go to bed when I realized it’s still Halloween”

She furrows her brows at him, “I thought that was like the whole point of Harryween?”

He chuckles at her, “of course, I know. That’s what I’m saying exactly.”

“I don’t follow?”

“I had you work on Halloween! You told me before how much you love Halloween and I didn’t think to give you the day off”

“Oh, Harry. It’s okay, really! Don’t worry about that, it’s stupid!” She says, but not without blushing a little.

She knows it’s just decent courtesy to remember conversations one shared with another, but she says a lot of stuff and she didn’t really think he would remember! Plus, he doesn’t really like Halloween, so she thought he’d actually regard her interest in celebrating it as annoying.

“It’s not stupid” he shakes his head, “I thought to remedy as best I could. But I have to confess, Jeff did the grocery shopping so I can’t take credit for it.”

She giggles and walks closer to the bed, peeking her head to look inside the bags, “it’s okay. You were busy”.

He laughs and nods, spilling the bags onto the bed. An undefined amount of sweets fall on the bed, and YN gasps at how many choices of candies and chocolates Jeff picked out.

“Fuck! i think he got every possible candy available” he snorts.

She agrees with a laugh, “what are we supposed to do with all this food?”

“I know it’s not the best but I thought we could watch a movie and eat it? But if you want to go to sleep that’s fine I mean I-“

He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.

What was he thinking? Walking into her room like a maniac with two bags full of candy and expecting her to be down to watch a movie with him. She works for him. This is entirely not appropriate and he’s aware of that, but… when he saw her on the side of the stage, singing mindlessly along to Golden, dressed as Princess Belle he realized how cruel he had been to take Halloween away from her.

Not only had he deemed it as “not fun” right in front of her enthusiasm, he also specifically requested for her to work, and even if she had not expressed formal complaints, she probably should have.

Because he had been a dick.

So, in his quick pee break, instead of freeing his bladder, he texted Jeff if he could do him a big favor and grab every single candy he could get his hands of, recommending specifically to get as many choices to pick from as he could (he didn’t know what YN liked and he couldn’t risk it).

YN quickly interrupts his train of thoughts, “okay!!! But I get to choose the movie though”

“Okay, -- he nods amused -- Deal. But — he says, picking up the remote from the coffee table to hand it to her — Nothing too spooky”

YN gets comfortable on the bed next to Harry, the candies resting at their feet. He has a package of Sour Patch Kids resting on his tummy, and every time YN wants one she has to move her arm, and it brushes against his chest.

She feels… weird. It’s weird to her that he would do something like that, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. If it was any other case, if a guy did something like this for her, she’d immediately thought of it as a date, or a way to show interest in her but with Harry… it’s different.

She doesn’t think he likes her like that.

Maybe he sees her as a friend? She doesn’t think she’s particularly fun, but he always chooses to hang out with her, even after a tiring day…

She gets shaken out of her thoughts once she hears him gasp from next to her.

“Oh God, what happened?” She looks at him pointedly.

“I told you no scary movies!” He whines childishly, closing his lips in a pout.

“Harry! ‘S Caroline! It’s not scary!” She can’t help but giggle at him.

“It’s scary to me” he huffs, taking a candy from the package and popping it into his mouth. He takes another one and shows it to her, which she gladly takes from his fingers.

“I promise if you get past the scary part it’s really good”

“Fine” he nods, “I’ll watch it. But please tell me once it gets scary again”

She smiles fondly at him and nods back, “yes, don’t worry about it.”

...

“You know, you were right… once you see past the scary scenes it’s actually a pretty good-“

It’s after the movie has finished that Harry realizes YN has fallen asleep next to him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to bite back a smile, grabbing the remote to shut off the tv.

She must be so tired.

He has her working non stop while she should be out and having fun at her age. She isn’t that much younger than him, but he knows how much can change from your early to your late twenties.

He also knows he should get up from the bed and go sleep in his own one, but… he’s really comfortable right now and she’s really warm next to him, and she smells like candies and vanilla, the perfect scent to lull him to sleep.

He’s also very tired, and before he knows it, his eyes are closing shut and his mind is already wondering to faraway countries, with cotton candy skies and chocolatey grass.

The air smells like vanilla, and he doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if it’s her next to him, he just knows he was definitely wrong; Halloween isn’t as bad as he thought.

it's hereeee and it's halloween themed ;))) (!!!!!) let me know what you think and if you want part 2!!!! taglist: @gem1712 @jerseygirlinca @lexiecamposv @ameerakane20 @lovrave @mema10 @sunshinemoonsposts

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charliemwrites · 2 months

Text

Oooooh I finally did it!! Mafia au part 6! A little bit of that sweet angst/comfort.

Let it be said: Johnny’s no snitch.

Outgoing (“loud” Simon would grumble) as he is, he doesn’t run his mouth about anything important. Doesn’t talk business over a pint or boast his connections in bar disagreements. Doesn’t drop names, flash heat, throw around the weight of his employer. Has never spilled a single fucking secret, not for knives, acid, a fucking gun to his head.

Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.

Let it also be said: Johnny is loyal.

He would happily lay down his life for any of his comrades, lives and dies for SpecGru – for Price. And even though you’re new, you’re one of them now. You’ve quickly found and secured your place in Price’s inner circle, different as you may be. Johnny would go to war for you, and your silly pink sticky notes.

Still, keeping something – anything from the boss. Even a private matter like this…

It happened on SpecGru property, that makes it SpecGru business. And it happened to you, which makes it Price’s business.

That you don’t already know that is… well, that’s between you and the boss. Johnny’s already too involved as it is. (Not that he regrets helping you. Not a bit. If he had his way, that little prick would have left with his teeth in his pocket and a new appreciation for his remaining thumb).

So now Johnny is stuck. He likes you; he really does. That you trust him with something so personal isn’t lost on him, especially in this line of work. He also has a healthy fear of your wrath. (You may not carry any weapons he’s seen, but you’ve got Price grimacing when you narrow your eyes just so. Johnny knows where his cupcakes are made, and he likes them without arsenic, thank you). So, personally, he wants to be able to honor your request to keep the matter private.

But then there’s Price, and whatever he’ll do to Johnny if – when – he finds out about all this.

Johnny’s solution?

“Christ, Gaz, ya shoulda seen it. Never seen the little miss tell someone off like that. Graves woulda been shakin’ in his boots. Will have to ask security for a recording of it.”

Gaz, unimpressed with Johnny’s volume, rolls his eyes and walks away, muttering about tea for his sudden headache. And Price, sitting at his desk, twitches and reaches for his phone.

Mission: accomplished.

Not the most elegant, but he’s a mafia lieutenant, not a fuckin’ spy. Now, to get those pastries you like before Price sees the footage.

“Luv?”

You glance up from the expense reports you’ve been working through for the better part of an hour. Mr. Price is leaning in the doorway to his office, shoulder to the jamb. There’s… an odd look on his face. You’ve never seen it before, don’t have it categorized in your mental files.

“Yes, boss?” you ask, straightening up.

“A word?”

You blink. That’s… different. You don’t like it.

Price is a steady sort of man. Not predictable, but consistent. That this is new, unusual, unfamiliar, makes you uneasy. Reminds you of your last boss, who could call you into his office with an affable grin, only to spend thirty minutes berating you for anything and everything he could think of.

Price has never done that, nothing even close… but you can’t suppress the slight shake in your hands as you smooth your skirt down. Hide it with a little flick of your wrists before grabbing for your ever-trusty tablet. Hell, you probably don’t even need it, but at this point it’s practically a comfort item. Maybe you should name it, put some googly eyes on it.

“Sweetheart?”

You startle a bit. Realize your feet have already carried you into his office and followed him right to his desk. Except instead of standing at his elbow as usual, you’re facing him across his desk. Like you did during your interview with him, when you were still strangers. Like you used to do for your previous boss.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you chirp, forcing your usual brightness, “those expense reports, ya know? What did you need me for?”

Without a word, he spins his computer monitor around. Your brow furrows as you process the video playing on the screen. You. Soap. Brandon. Your stomach sinks.

There’s no sound, but there doesn’t really need to be. Even in profile, the expressions are crisp – high end cameras. You feel numb as the scene plays out all over again. You and Brandon snipping at each other back and forth. Your rigid spine, stiff shoulders. Brandon’s sleezy confidence. Soap, getting visibly aggravated as the seconds pass.

And there it is, the moment you spun on your heel, done with the conversation, and Brandon reached for you.

When you see Soap’s hand snap out – just a blur on the screen – you have to sit. Muscle memory collects your tablet in your lap, sweaty hands stacking neatly on top of it. Your heart is beating either too fast or too slow.

Your eyes stay locked on the screen until you and Soap disappear into the elevator, and the video stops.

“Should I play the elevator footage as well?” Price asks, voice low and quiet. “That comes with sound.”

It takes all your years of learned discipline and cultivated poise to resist shrinking in on yourself. It does not, however, stop your eyes from burning.

“Sir,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even, “I am so sorry.”

There’s a beat of tense silence as you gather yourself, throat getting tighter and tighter. Your head is spinning with fear and anxiety. What he’ll say, what he’ll do. How you could possibly damage control this.

“I-I don’t even know how he found out where I work,” you say, “and Soap w-was just trying to help. If I’d known that would happen, I would have taken it outside.”

You can barely look at Price as your voice break midway through, the panic leaking into your tone even as you stay frozen in place.

“Did we – is he suing? Is – is that why—?”

The tears escape despite your efforts, dripping fast and down your cheeks as you shudder in a breath. You can’t pay for a lawsuit, especially not if you’re fired over this. And you don’t want to lose this job. You love this job, you love—

“Oh, darling, what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

You sniffle as Price rounds his desk and kneels in front of you, plucking his handkerchief from his breast pocket. He tuts at you when you open your mouth to protest, already blotting at your cheeks with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“There now, no need to cry,” he soothes, thumbing away another tear before it can fall. “I know it takes you ages to get your eyeliner right. This is nothing to ruin it over.”

“But…”

“I’m not angry, luv,” he continues, voice still low and quiet. This time, it doesn’t make your shoulders tense. “Wasn’t before and definitely not now. Chin up, there’s a dear.”

“Y-you’re not?” you warble.

“Not a bit,” he answers. “Not at you, at least.”

“Then why…?” You gesture weakly at the computer screen.

He sighs, something almost fond passing over his face. “Darling, you could have been hurt. Imagine if Soap hadn’t been there. All of us on the top floor, waiting for you to get back, not knowing something was wrong.”

He shakes his head, cradling your cheek with the same hand that brushed away your tears.

“You’re one of mine, you understand? Anything that happens to you is my responsibility,” he explains. “And I didn’t… enjoy that you want to keep something like this from me.”

You drop your eyes in shame. Of course. An employee assaulted on company ground, his personal assistant no less. Price would never stand for that sort of thing. He looks out for his own, looks out for you.

“Hey, look at me, luv. None of that now,” he coaxes. “I just want to get to the bottom of why you didn’t want to tell me.”

It occurs to you that that tone you heard earlier might have just been genuine worry and maybe… a bit of hurt. You twist your hands in your lap as you gather your words.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t because of you,” you murmur. “I just… was so embarrassed. And I didn’t want to make it your problem. I’m supposed to make your life easier, not harder.”

He huffs, but you’re relieved to see wry amusement on his face now.

“No more of that,” he orders, as softly as he when he wiped your face. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a love.” He gently pinches your cheek, then stands. “Stay here, I’ll get you a cup of water. Take a moment, yeah?”

You nod, sniffling again. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes, and you finally let yourself breathe. Not getting fired, not getting sued. And Price isn’t mad at you. Christ, he needs to work on his approach.

“Kyle.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Look into that knob from lobby. And the little miss’s last boss.”

“You’ve got it.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia boss price #assistant!reader #assistant reader #john soap mactavish

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donatellawritings · 25 days

Text

smoothing your clammy palms over the curve-hugging fabric of your fitted grey slacks, your quickly redirect your wild strand of hair to the curve behind the shell of your ear, forcing a satisfied smile in the mirror as you frustratedly roll your eyes at the sliver of skin that continued to peek through, courtesy of your one-size too small button up blouse. forcefully tugging down on the hem of your wrinkle-free top, you let out a small huff as you carefully scrape your slightly smudged lipstick off of the outer border of your swollen and meticulously lined lips with the sharp tip of your nail.

taking one last glance over yourself in the crystal clear bathroom mirror, your took a short breath as you reached into your thrifted coach bag, your manila folder grasped firmly in your press-on nail-clad hand as you exited the marble interior of the bathroom.

your slightly worn black kitten heels clicked rhythmically against the tiled flooring of the office lobby as you sauntered over to the receptionist, a nerve and anxiety laced smile now playing on your full lips as she brings her eyes to meet yours, “good afternoon, is there anything that i could assist you with?” she questions politely, donning a robotic, yet somewhat warm grin.

“hi, um, i’m here for an interview with mr. cameron,” you stammer, adjusting your bayonetta glasses to sit comfortably on the bridge of your nose as you nervously tap your nails against the marble countertop, “it was scheduled for two o’clock,” you add, your tapping coming to a slow silence as you quickly grew hyper-aware of yourself at the sight of the receptionist taking a quick, yet elongated glance at your pushed-up breasts that threatened to burst through minuscule buttons of your blouse.

you needed to make a good impression. securing an assistant position at the likeness of cameron developments would do wonders for your resume, as well as significantly increase your finances — especially considering your status as a wet-behind-the-ears and pathetically green young woman who was scarily fresh of out college.

“okay, you will be meeting with mr. cameron on the top floor of the building, you can use the elevator and it’ll be the first door that you see,” the receptionist instructs, maintaining her courteous smile and light cadence as she motions towards the steel elevator doors that stand closed, a few feet away from her freshly polished desk.

with a nod of understanding, you step away from the desk, “thank you!” you spoke softly, pushing your nail into the button, causing it to glow a muted red as the elevator doors soon opened, inviting you to step inside of the warmly lit and mirror-encased interior.

jamming your fingernail into the highest floor, you couldn’t help but watch yourself from every angle, drumming your fingernails against your folder, pulling on the belt loops of your tight slacks, adjusting the waist band to sit a bit higher on your short frame. with each ding indicating the increasing height of the elevator, you grew more and more anxious, letting out a withheld breath once you reached the top floor of the building, “relajate,” you cooed to yourself as you stepped out of the elevator.

approaching the tall door, you took a quick peek through the windows that allowed full vision into the pristine office, watching as a man, who appeared to be no older than mid to late 20s spoke on the phone, his free hand gesturing wildly as he paced around the office. hiding behind the frosty glass of the door, you softly brought your knuckles to knock against the door, taking a step away from the door as you took a breath, silently praying that your cheap lipstick stayed within the lines of your lipliner.

swallowing down the lump of nerves that formed in the back of your throat, you subconsciously dug your nails into the hard folder as the door soundlessly swung open, revealing the staggering height of the man who towered, at least one foot above you, his bright blue eyes stoic as he squared his shoulders, his tailored blazer hugging his frame just right.

“s’a pleasure to finally meet with you, please come in,” he huffs out, standing to the side with his ring and watch clad hands crossed over his front as you offer him a kind smile.

“thank you,” you mutter, your dolly eyes widening at the obsessively neat and pristinely kept environment of the office.

each bookcase was lined meticulously with books and encyclopedias varying in different editions, priceless pieces of art hanging from the sparkling tiled wall panels, and three ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked kildare island, showcasing a picturesque view of the river that glinted against the shining sun.

the sound of the door softly clicking to a close broke you from your entranced gaze as you turned your head to see the slightly older man motioning towards his mahogany wood desk with a knowing smirk on his structured face, “it’s a breathtaking view, isn’t it?” he comments, earning a breathy chuckle from you as you take a seat in the leather chair, directly across from his much larger seat.

“it’s beautiful,” you comment lowly, stealing a quick glance at how his muscles flexed against his button-up shirt as he removed his blazer, slightly rolling up the cuffs of his shirt to rest on his defined forearms, “um, here is my resume, cover letter, as well as letters of recommendations from my professors,” you lightly clear your throat, extending your delicate hand to present the man with your neatly organized folder.

accepting the folder from your grasp, the older man skims his ring-clad finger over the contents of your resume, before letting out a sharp exhale as he visibly relaxes into his seat. you couldn’t help but let your overwhelming nerves get the best of you as you licked over your suddenly dry lips, scratching the tip of your nail against the stitching of your slacks.

rubbing the pad of his index finger over his lips, the eldest cameron lazily flips through the rest of your documents, before returning his eyes to you, catching the way you were biting the skin on the inside of your cheek as your knee lightly bounced.

“before we go any further, i just want to make that y’understand how demanding the position is,” he begins, his voice sultry and thick, as he watched your throat bob with an anxious swallow, “from monday to friday, and sometimes including weekends — i need you to be entirely devoted to every intricacy that goes on in my day to day, whether it be accompanying me to a meeting or answering the phone, i require your full and undivided commitment,” he continues, his legs spread deliciously as he straightens his posture, keeping his hands enclosed over his crotch.

parting your lips to speak, you’re quickly cut off by the man seated before you, “is this a commitment that you’re ready to make? you’re young and i understand if this is … too much to handle,” he feigns concern, internally pleased with himself as your skittish demeanor is quickly replaced with a slightly offended raise of your thinly threaded eyebrows.

“i can assure you, mr. cameron — i’m more than capable of handling this position … efficiently,” you sealed with a smile.

mr. cameron? rafe could get used to hearing you follow his each and every command while maintaining a respectable cadence — it got him off, and you didn’t even realize it.

drumming the tips of his fingers against the hardwood desk, feigning contemplation, rafe tongues the inside of his cheek, “my receptionist will set you up with a new cellphone — that’ll be for you to use, solely for contacting me, and i will have a driver picking you up and returning you home, every day,” rafe stands from his leather swivel chair, keeping his eyes trained on your nervous gaze as he watches you shift in your seat.

a younger girl like you needed to be trained, conditioned to suit a man like rafe cameron — and he’d be happy to do that for you.

“i will personally see that you have any and all necessities needed to keep you up to my standards — and they will be delivered to your home, however …” rafe stops at your side, crouching down to meet your eyeline, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips as he examines the way your fingernails have torn into the threads of your cheap slacks, “we are going to work on those little … quirks of yours, gotta make sure that you are walking with y’chin up high, hm?” he tuts, lightly nudging your busy fingers with his firm knuckle, before lifting your chin.

wordlessly, you nod, splaying your fingers flat against your thigh as your new boss expands his smirk into a stretched-out grin, “perfect — y’start tomorrow,” he breathes out, raising himself to stand tall as he shakes out his long a toned arms, before craning his neck with a crack.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #obx #assistant!reader

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megamindsecretlair · 1 month

Text

Mr. Black, Part 8 - Final Part

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (female and male receiving) dirty talk, praise kink, minor D/s elements, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual. Some mentions of violence.

Summary: The day has finally come to confront the thief! You have planned, you have plotted, and Tre helped you make your case airtight. But nothing could ever got that smoothly right?

Word Count: 5,814k

A/N: If ya'll only knew how hard it was to write this! Lawdt, I love these two and was NOT prepared to say goodbye. But I wanted to start Zyair fics guilt free. Thank you, THANK YOU for reading this and all your lovely comments. I would not be here without yall! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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You wanted to tell Tre that you loved him but it never seemed like the right time. Once you came to grips with it, you found that you weren’t as scared as you would have been months ago. Things never worked in the proper order when it came to Tre, so why should your feelings?

You knew that you loved him, loved spending time with him, loved talking to him, and loved how sweet and possessive he was. You loved that you didn’t have to guess with him. What you saw was what you got and after years of unsatisfactory men, he was like hitting the jackpot and winning a cruise bundled into one.

However, with what you uncovered at the job, you weren’t sure if now was the time to distract him. After laying out what you discovered earlier in the week, he asked you to show him the evidence.

You laid out your entire thought process. How you thought you screwed up the numbers on an account but it never balanced. You looked into the most recent invoices but still found discrepancies. So you went back further and further until it was obvious that the thief was skilled.

The week after, Tre took the files so that he could pour over it himself. Not that he didn’t trust you; he just wanted to cross all the T’s before accusing a manager of stealing. You weren’t offended. You were just a lowly assistant.

During the day, you pretended like everything was fine at work. You didn’t give anyone any indication that a scandal was about to rock the place. You felt vindicated though. They fired all those people around Christmas time. What a heartless place.

At night, when you were over Tre’s house, he’d cook and peruse the documents while you watched your shows. In fact, it was probably the longest you had gone without having sex with him. And you were horny as hell. He’d turned you into a sex fiend and now your body had to go without. It sucked.

Exactly one week after confronting him with the news, you two spent the majority of the weekend discussing your plan. You didn’t want to cause a scene. That was embarrassing. You argued for getting the police involved. But Tre had more loyalty than you and wanted to give them a chance to fess up.

That Tuesday morning, you sat at your desk with your leg bouncing a mile a minute. Tre arrived on time and you were there to greet him with his morning coffee. You followed him into his office, taking in his outfit.

He wore a black, plaid suit jacket, with a black shirt open at the collar. You saw a hint of his gold chains around his neck. You’d never get sick of seeing him and admiring his style. It was always all black, but he dressed extremely well. You loved it when a man took pride in what he wore. You just loved him.

“What’s wrong?” Tre asked.

“Huh?” You asked.

“You look like you swallowed a lemon,” he said and smirked. In the safety of his office, he looked behind you to make sure no one was there before kissing your cheek. You smiled and waved him off.

“Just overthinking, like usual,” you said. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him. But no distractions. That was final.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay,” he said. He put his briefcase down on the floor and slapped a folder onto his desk. You wondered if that was the evidence you had gathered. It didn’t look big enough, but what did you know? He was the type to photocopy stuff so that it was all neat and proper. You tended to have a messier style.

“I know but–”

“No buts. We’re going to be okay. You trust me?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” you said. You loved him. You mentally shook yourself. Now it was down to business. Now was the time to get your head in the game. You smiled and went back out to your desk.

You tried to work, but as it drew closer to midday, you couldn’t help looking at the clock on your computer. You decided to do it after lunch, most people were relaxed after a good meal. Less likely to yell, scream, and throw things. You hoped.

When two o’clock rolled around, Tre left his office, carrying his briefcase and the folder. He smiled at you and nodded his head. You bit your lip. He said that he wanted you there because you were the one who uncovered the whole thing. You were prepared to give him all the credit. He refused.

Typical man. You stood up and locked your computer, smoothing down your deep navy dress that might as well have looked black. You didn’t want to be matchy-matchy with Tre but you wanted to wear something more business-like for the occasion.

The ride up the elevator made you want to vomit. Getting out on the floor made you shake in your heels. Your hands began to sweat and you didn’t have anywhere to wipe it so you just rubbed your hands together. This shouldn’t be this hard right? You had solid evidence and Tre triple checked it for you.

But why did you get the sense that you were about to get slapped in the face?

Tre arrived at Lee’s door and knocked, ignoring her assistant altogether that she was in a meeting. Without waiting for permission. Tre opened the door and stepped inside. You were behind him, stuck behind his broad shoulders, so you saw him stiffen before he moved to the side.

In Lee’s office, Little Miss Headband Brianna sat in front of Lee’s desk. She smiled gleefully when she saw you. Very much like the cat who ate the canary. Her fingernails were long and painted black. You could guess why.

She turned her attention to Tre and you saw her eyes soften. You knew the feeling. Tre made you weak in the knees as well. However, that time was long past and you knew how Tre felt about you. You weren’t intimidated. Except that she still seemed to have it all together while you were still figuring your shit out.

“Well, I must be pretty popular today,” Lee said. She tossed back her blonde hair and looked between you and Tre. A knowing type of look. Like Brianna just got done snitching type of knowing look.

“Brianna,” Tre acknowledged. “It’s best that you go now. We have sensitive information to discuss.”

“Oh? Guess I should stay. Newly minted legal counsel and all,” Brianna said, dropping a bomb that stole your breath. This bitch was gonna work here now?

Tre chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said.

You didn’t want to seem like the clueless, dumb one, so you kept your face neutral and facing forward. Pretended that you knew what was going on. But you didn’t. You really didn’t.

Brianna shrugged her shoulders. “I needed a change of pace and Chicago was getting too cold for me.” She winked at you but all you did was smile. Hers faltered a little bit. It wasn’t so much fun gloating when the intended target wasn’t taking the bait.

“I hope California goes a lot better for you,” he said.

Why was he acting like they were discussing the fucking weather? You wanted to look at him, but you knew his expressions pretty well by now. He wouldn’t give away his thoughts so easily. The plan was to come and confront Lee. This curveball made you feel unprepared.

“That’ll be all,” Lee said, waving away her assistant. The woman sighed, threw up her hands, and closed the door behind her. Trapping you inside with Tre, his stalker ex-girlfriend, and the manager who robbed this company blind.

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised, Tre. I figured there was something going on between you. You haven’t been exactly subtle,” Lee said. She sat back in her seat and crossed her long legs.

Her office seemed to reflect her true self. It was cold and devoid of any real decoration. There was the standard knick knack or two, a diploma on the wall, but nothing that indicated she even worked here. It was always her intention to collect two checks from the company.

“That’s on me. I got sloppy the further in our relationship we went,” he said. Calm. He was too damn calm while you were ready to jump out of your skin.

Lee and Brianna laughed. “Relationship? Please. She’s an assistant and you’re her boss,” Lee said.

“She’s actually a floater, according to her intake paperwork,” Tre said. This, you did whip your head around to look at him. “She could be reassigned at any point to another desk once she was done clearing my backlog. So she wasn’t exactly my employee, rather an employee of the company at large.”

Your lips parted, taking in this new information. What the hell was he on about?

“Get the fuck out of here,” Brianna said with a haughty laugh. Tre smiled.

“I know lawyers like specifics. So here’s a copy of her intake paperwork as well as the companies’ policy on interoffice romance. There’s nothing in the rules preventing us from dating. It was even colorfully stamped by HR,” he said. He handed Brianna the folder he had carried earlier.

You wracked your brain. There was one night last week that he had you sign a piece of paper. He told you that it was to protect you in case there was any blowback. Sneaky bastard. You had to start asking more questions.

Brianna snatched the folder, stood up, and skimmed through the paperwork, her face twisting the further in she got. You looked at Tre who winked at you. A grin split your face. This man thought of fucking everything. Things you hadn’t even considered.

All you knew was that it would be the end of your career if anyone ever found out about you two. You were sure that you’d become the office joke. A cliche. A boss banging his assistant. What else was new?

There was still that possibility. People shunning you, thinking you were getting over by being on your knees. It shouldn’t matter what people think, but it did. You wanted to be an adult and be taken seriously.

You accepted the risk when you accepted Tre’s tongue down your throat. You only hoped you were strong enough to survive the fallout.

“You can’t be serious with this shit,” Brianna said, continuing to flip.

“Quite serious,” Tre said.

“Well, I guess we all learned a lesson about minding our own business, huh?” Lee asked and chuckled.

“Not exactly,” Tre said and smirked. “I’m actually glad we got that out of the way first. In the folder, you’ll also find the company’s policy on retaliation and whistleblowers.”

“What are you talking about?” Lee asked.

Tre stepped forward and put his briefcase on Lee’s desk. She looked at him quizzically while he opened it and dropped the evidence you collected onto her desk. He tapped the green file and put his hands in his pockets, looking at Lee with furrowed eyebrows and a grimace.

“You’ve been stealing from the company,” he said.

Lee looked from the file to Tre and burst into laughter, throwing her head back. Her laugh grated on your ears. Like a cawing bird. “What, what is this? A joke? Something your little girlfriend came up with while she was sucking your dick?”

You tilted your head and stepped forward. Heat burned in your chest. Like all the words you wanted to say got rolled into a ball and stuck in your lungs. Tre beat you to the punch.

“You can try to deflect by saying something foul, but it doesn’t change the facts. You’ve been skimming off of nearly every big account that we have. Billing them for things we don’t provide and padding your own pockets with it. You didn’t think anyone was going to notice?”

Lee continued to laugh, but when it was clear that she was the only one, she looked back down at the file. She sighed and opened the first page, skimming through. The smile slowly disappeared from her face as she did so.

“All you have is a bunch of invoices with your name on it,” Lee said. She sniffed and brushed invisible lint from her cream-colored suit jacket.

“I have my copy with my name on it. But these were your accounts that you passed on to me. The system still has you flagged as the primary point of contact. And no use trying to erase it, I already contacted IT to lock you out of the system,” Tre said.

Lee turned icy blue eyes towards Tre. “You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you? That you’re just going to ride off into the sunset cackling over what you and your whore came up with?”

You stepped forward again. “Watch how you fucking speak about me,” you said. All respect flew out of the window. She was caught off guard but that didn’t give her any excuse to speak about you like that. In her eyes, you were nothing more than a whore, spreading your legs, and getting over on the company dime. You knew that wasn’t true. What you and Tre shared was special, even as cliche as it was.

Tre held up his hand. You looked at him, fire in your eyes, ready to keep going. She wasn’t going to walk out of here with all of her teeth if she continued to call you out of your name.

“You are the stupidest man I’ve ever met. There’s not anything she can offer you that can be worth all this,” Brianna said.

“I don’t have to explain myself or my relationship to you. That’s the fun part about being exes,” Tre said.

You grinned at Brianna and turned around to Tre in time to see Lee standing, grabbing her office phone. “Tre, look out!” You yelled, legs propelling you forward as if you meant to put yourself in between him and the desk phone.

He turned a second too late, enough to bring his arm up and block Lee but the phone still touched some part of him. He grunted, fighting with Lee over the desk phone. You wanted to jump in, but he was a big dude. He could handle his own until security arrived.

You turned, heading towards the door. Brianna blocked your path. “What did you do to him? Why did you break him? He was perfect!” She yelled.

You stepped closer to her. “He still is perfect. He just doesn’t want your desperate ass. If he gets hurt while I’m busy dealing with you, there’s not a cop in America that’ll find your body,” you said, looking her in the eye to make sure she understood.

Brianna’s eyes widened, stepping away. Lee and Tre were still struggling. You threw open the door and yelled for the assistant to call security and upper management. The assistant looked at you and you screamed once more to get her in gear.

Brianna stood frozen in place, looking at Tre like someone stole her puppy. Again, you understood. If you lost him, you’d be sick in the head too. But she only had one more time to look at him like that before you snatched her eyes out.

Tre had managed to flip Lee onto her desk and held her there while you waited for security. An executive showed up and demanded to know what the hell was going on.

All the adrenaline from the confrontation and fight left you shaky and weak. You sat in the nearest chair while you dealt with the aftermath. Brianna handled the legal side, guess she was good for something. Tre answered most of the questions about the theft. You had to give your testimony when the cops were called in, but they let you go for the time being while they went over your evidence.

The entire office, or what was left of them, came out of their cubicles to witness a screaming Lee being led away in handcuffs. You trailed behind, holding hands with Tre. It hadn’t dawned on you that you were until you passed by Henry. He looked down at your combined hands and you bit your lip. Whoops.

He only smiled and nodded, like he understood. Poor Henry. He deserved someone to love him back, he was sweet and kind. You were just far more interested in mean assholes who enjoyed having the upperhand in the relationship.

Outside, an ambulance was called to check Tre out. He wouldn’t let you leave, holding onto your hand and keeping you rooted to the spot. “You need to let them check you out,” you told him. Red and blue lights flashed over his mischievous face.

“They can check me out with you standing right here,” he said and gave you a wink. He had a nasty cut above his eye, blood leaking from the wound. It made your stomach watery looking at it. You hated to see him hurt.

The EMT doctored the wound and gave a brief exam for a concussion. They cleared him, but told him the protocol to have you watch for signs of internal bleeding. They told him to pop some Tylenol and go to a doctor if he didn’t feel well later.

“I got someone to take good care of me,” Tre said and winked at you. The EMT laughed and wished you good luck while he placed a bandage over Tre’s eye.

You yawned, though you weren’t really sleepy. Exhausted, sure, but you didn’t want to go to sleep. You didn’t want to end the day without getting a few things off of your chest.

“You weren’t going to tell me about the HR thing?” You asked.

“Didn’t want to freak you out in case we ended up breaking some type of rule. I didn’t plan on Brianna being here, though,” he said.

You looked across the parking lot while she spoke to the cops. Lee was raging in the backseat of a cop car. You shivered in the cold air, night fast approaching and dropping the temperature.

“No one did. Must’ve got her dickmatized,” you said and chuckled.

“Ha-ha, I’m glad stalking is funny to you,” he said.

“OH! You don’t think being possessive and stalker-ish is funny?” You said, being dramatic and clapping.

“I want you to remember this conversation,” he said. He smirked as he stood up, cleared by the EMT.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” You said, but you started laughing at his expression and couldn’t find a way to stop. He turned stern eyes towards you, eyebrows furrowed and no trace of humor.

“I’m sorry! I take it back,” you said, laughs erupting from you.

“Remember all this,” he said, his soft voice working wonders on your imagination. You shuddered to think of what he could possibly have planned for you. Then again, he didn’t know what you had planned for him either.

You grabbed your things from the office, awkwardly walking past dozens of employees who wanted more information. You promised to say what you could, hoping that the rumor mill didn’t spin too much out of control.

Tre didn’t want to let you out of his sight, convinced that you would run from his particular brand of punishment. Considering you knew that his punishments usually involved you bent over something, ass smarting from his spankings, you weren’t exactly complaining.

On the way to his place, you checked in with him to make sure that he was okay. That he wasn’t hurt in some other kind of way. You tried to tell him that he didn’t have to do anything tonight, he was in a major fight and was hit upside the head with a desk phone.

He thought you were just trying to get out of your punishment. Well, yes, but that was beside the point. You were worried about him.

At his place, he let you inside. “I’ll give you five minutes to prepare,” he said, a smirk crossing his sinful face.

You gasped, smiling despite yourself. “Seriously? I said I was sorry!” You said.

“I know,” he said and smiled. You waited, but he didn’t offer anything else other than that damn smirk.

You sighed, rolled your eyes, and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Your legs wobbled. Your hands shook for entirely different reasons this time. This was real. This was the right time. And while he was contemplating tearing your ass up, you were contemplating the right moment to tell him.

Before? During? After? Would he assume you only said it because he got hurt? Or that you said it to avoid getting punished?

You went to his huge bathroom, stripping out of your dress. Underneath, you wore a sexy new teddy that you picked up with his card. Somehow, your love for him cured your squeamishness about using his money. Go figure. He insisted. And you weren’t the type to overspend on someone else’s dime. So you shopped guilt free for an all black lingerie outfit.

A sheer, satin little number that showed off your body in the best possible way. The important bits were covered tastefully, but the sheer fabric exposed your belly, back, and top of your breasts.

It was surprisingly comfortable to wear all day, like sexy pajamas and the best part was that he had no clue. It was for you just as much as it was for him. It made you feel confident, sexy, and strong as you walked into Lee’s office. Brianna was a curveball and you didn’t know how working with her was going to go, but fuck her. Miss Headband wasn’t your problem.

“Five minutes are up,” Tre called out.

You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had this. You left the bathroom and stopped in your tracks. No matter how many times you thought you had the upper hand, Tre was always there to remind you who was in charge.

He stood next to the bed with his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, tie loose about his shoulders and slacks on. He took off his shoes and socks, feet planted firmly on the soft carpet. You had seen him in a similar state before, when he was either getting ready for work or getting ready for bed, but never before sex.

Your jaw slackened. Maybe you ought to wait. Getting spanked by your boss while he looked like this was hot as hell. You rubbed your thighs together, your pussy throbbing. His chest was shiny, gleaming in the light of the room. The chains around his neck shimmered. The black on black on him was killing you from the inside out.

He smirked, seeing your outfit. “It appears we had similar ideas,” he said.

“Yup,” you squeaked. You slapped your hand to your face. That was not sexy. So you opened your eyes, squared your shoulders, and walked closer to him. “Before we get started, there is something you should know.”

He lifted an eyebrow, watching you approach. Watching your hips sway. The confident dip to your shoulders. You grabbed onto the necktie around his shoulders, wrapping the ends around your hands, and pulled him close.

“What’s that? Begging isn’t going to change my mind,” he said.

You smiled. “I love you.”

Tre’s face dropped comically and you smirked, careful not to laugh. This was a serious matter. One that you hoped he took the correct way.

“You heard me. I love you. I have loved you for a while but it took too long for me to notice. You’ve knocked down every single brick wall I tried to throw in your face. Without even trying. And I’m glad you did.”

You brought him closer, kissing him. He was stiff at first, but he returned your kiss, hands hanging loosely by his sides. You broke the kiss and pushed him down on the bed. His legs spread apart and you walked in between, cupping his face in your hands.

“You are everything I ever prayed about,” you whispered.

He blinked at you, face unreadable. Did you mess up? Did he not believe you?

Nerves started to get the best of you. You smiled, nervously, pulling away from him. His hands grabbed hold of your hips, fingers digging in for purchase. You gasped from the force he used. Like he never, ever wanted to let you walk away.

“A day hasn’t gone by that I didn’t think about hearing those words from you,” he said, his raspy voice going deeper, needier. He stared at you and you smiled, relief flooding through you swiftly and making your knees weak.

“I know I gave you enough cause to worry–”

“It wasn’t that. I know I can come off a little strong,” he said. You gave him a look. He smiled and shook his head. “Alright, a lot strong. But I knew you were it for me. I wanted to be it for you,” he said.

“And you are. In so, so many ways,” you said. Too many for you to name. Because if you started, you’d be here all night reciting the ways that you loved him. Like some lovesick rabbit.

“I love you. I’m so thankful you’re in my life,” he said. He grinned at you. You leaned down and kissed him, throwing your arms around his neck. You took your time getting lost in his kisses. Wrapped up in them. Comforted by them.

Then, you began to kiss down his neck and his chest. His breath shuddered as you went lower and lower. You knelt on the floor, reaching for his zipper.

“Sir, I’m so sorry to disturb you. But there’s this invoice I’m having trouble with,” you said, making your voice low and sultry. Tre lifted an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“Is that right?” He asked.

You bit your lip and nodded, pulling his zipper down. You reached for his dick, pulling it free from his briefs. He was already big, swelling with need the longer you held him in your hand. He sighed, air blowing through his nose.

“Do you think you can help me? I think I need hands on instructions,” you said. You stroked him softly, your hands grazing over his velvety smooth dick. He was trying, and failing, to keep looking at you. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back with a delicious moan.

“Go ahead and put your mouth on it,” he said. He dropped his head down, focusing on you. You smirked. You opened your mouth and descended, wrapping your lips around the head of his dick.

He groaned, hips coming off of the bed briefly before settling back down. He cupped your cheek, thumb fanning across it. “Keep doing well like that, I might have to promote you,” he said.

You grinned, suckling him down further. You teased his tip, swirling your tongue and collecting little drops of precum. You sucked the salty mixture down, moaning at his taste. You looked at him while you increased your strokes, drooling on his dick, and sucking him down as far as he could go.

He moaned, pulling you down onto his dick faster. You obliged, hollowing your cheeks so that he didn’t accidentally make you gag on his dick. You braced your hands on his thighs, giving up total control to him. He used your mouth, little curses flying from his own as he did so.

You watched him, his image turning shaky as you bobbed up and down. But you loved seeing the transition on his face. The subtle way he stopped being careful and let his primal instincts take over. The way he sloppily pulled you down onto him, gurgling and sucking on him. More precum seeped into your mouth and you swallowed him down.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered before he tensed and let his climax overtake him. He groaned while he unloaded in your mouth and you sucked every last drop. When he was done, his eyes got wider.

“Shit. Did I hurt you?” He asked.

You rolled your aching jaw and shook your head. “Not at all,” you told him.

He still looked a little horrified. He had been so careful to always be sweet. Giving you pleasure before his own. You only kissed his thigh and rubbed your cheek against his leg, hairs tickling your face.

He sighed and tilted his head at you. “Why are you so perfect?” He asked.

You giggled and kissed his leg. “Far from perfect. But I’m glad you think so,” you told him. He helped you stand and then you straddled him, wiggling on his lap.

He grabbed your ass, squeezing your cheeks for dear life. You groaned, gyrating into his crotch. He sighed, kissing along your neck. He kissed along your jaw, capturing your lips with his and you sighed into the kiss, melting into his embrace.

One of his hands slipped between you, moving your lingerie to the side and sliding a knuckle along your slit. You hissed, gyrating once more. He moaned and pulled away from the kiss. “You weren’t gonna tell me how wet you are?” He asked.

“I thought you liked surprises,” you said with a fake pout, kissing him again. He grinned against your lips. You pulled back to look at him. A dark glint entered his eye while he started to finger you, dragging moans and sighs from you like a musician to an instrument.

Before long, you were clutching onto his shoulders, hanging on, while you screamed out an orgasm. He continued to pump his fingers inside while you came and when you were done, he pulled his fingers out and licked them. He smirked.

You tilted your head. The hand that was still on your ass, came around your waist as he flipped you off of him and onto the bed. He joined you, pulling your set to the side and dipping a long tongue into your wet heat.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. You tried to wiggle away from him, but he held you by the thighs. He pushed them further apart while he sucked, licked, and teased your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you whined. Your voice sounded alien to you. Needy. Desperate. Out of your mind with insane pleasure. The love you felt for him only increased tenfold as he teased another orgasm from you. You gripped onto his head, pushing his face into your pussy while he slurped greedily at your entrance.

You collapsed onto the bed with a deep sigh. Your thighs were still shaking as he leaned up into a pushup on top of you. You weakly slapped at his chest, feeling so damn good and noodle-like that you didn’t want this night to end.

Tre kissed along the teddy that you wore, warm breath fanning across your oversensitive body. He calmed you in waves, body returning to normal before he scooted up. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You moaned while he got comfortable.

You pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, wanting to feel and see more of him. His chains dangled from his thick neck and you watched, mesmerized by the gold. He lined himself up, sliding his dick between your folds to get him nice and wet with your juices.

“I need it,” you moaned, staring up at him like you were drunk.

“What you need?” He asked.

“I need you,” you whispered. He kissed you again, lips lingering while he slowly pushed inside. You gasped, cries escaping you.

“I need you, too,” he said. He bottomed out and you cried, clutching him to you. You bit his shirt while he began to stroke, hips rotating and fucking you.

Your whines were tinny and small, gasping for breath while he fucked it out of you. Your nails scratched him, deep through his shirt, while he stroked. As he did so, he kissed you slowly. His lips warm. His dick big, digging you out.

“I love you, I love you,” you huffed. The orgasm was approaching fast. Like you were being pulled towards an oncoming storm.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted, each stroke a new declaration. A new stake. Planting himself as deep as possible. Ingraining into your very bones.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, desperate eyes locked with yours.

You pulled his shirt, back bowing, as the storm overtook you. You screamed, eyes rolling back into the void, as you came. You may have been speaking in tongues. You may have been speaking perfect Mandarin. The only thing you did know was that the orgasm was powerful and took your hearing in one ear.

It rung as you held on. Tre’s strokes turned sloppy, uncoordinated, as he grunted and came with a long, suspended curse. “Fuck,” he said.

You collapsed onto the bed and he collapsed on top of you. You looked at him and laughed. No reason why. You just felt free. Happy. He did that for you.

“You make me so happy,” you told him.

His chuckles joined yours while he turned his head towards you. “You make me so fucking happy. Even happier if you accepted my marriage proposal,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. You supposed you saw that coming. “I ain’t hear no proposal,” you said.

He chuckled, getting back to his hands. He pulled out, wet squelching making you hiss and bite your lip. He pulled on the nightstand dresser, pulling out a small black box. You leaned up on your elbows. “Tre, what the hell is that?” You asked.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous obsidian ring, inlay with gold pieces. He slipped it into your finger, a perfect fit. He took advantage of your distracted state, kissing you. He pushed back inside, pulling a deep gasp from your lungs. “Marry me,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth, prepared to give him another bratty response. He repeated his stroke, knocking the breath out of you with the force of it. “Fu-yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

He smiled wide and it made your toes curl. “You better had a said yes.”

“Or what?” You asked.

Though you regretted it as soon as he showed you exactly what would’ve happened had you said no. And what happened because you said yes. You made love into the early morning light until you were both too sore and exhausted to do anything but fall asleep after clumsily cleaning each other up in the bathroom.

The end.

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tre Files #Candy Cane Lane fanfic #Candy Cane Lane fan fic #Candy Cane Lane fanfiction #Candy Cane Lane fan fiction #Tre x Black!reader #Tre x Black reader #x Black reader #Tre x Fem!reader #Tre x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Tre x plus size reader #Assistant!reader #Trevante Rhodes fanfic #Trevante Rhodes fan fiction #Trevante Rhodes fan fic #Trevante Rhodes fanfiction

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missmielyhoran · 9 months

Text

STOP🫠🫠🫠

[Warning- Angst to Smut to Angst, Grumprry, Jealousrry, Insecure and jealous reader, foul language, unprotected sex (wear condom kids! real babies are not fun), Harry kind of confessing his feelings and him being an asshole as usual, shitty smut, maybe some grammatical mistakes]

Masterlist \\ Series Masterlist

*****

Harry wasn't a very cheerful person to begin with, and it wasn't like he had some childhood trauma that made me him this way no, he was born this way.

He was also the young CEO of his dad's reputable car company. He had to put on a serious face to make a bunch of old shits to take a 27 year old seriously.

Right now, though that wasn't the case for his grumpiness. It was you.

You were away on a stupid work trip to Manchester with Edwin, fucking Edwin! Why was his girl assistant on a work trip with someone else, you may ask? Cause of his stupid ass.

Harry, just a day before the trip, fired the person who was supposed to go with Edwin, and the next person who knew about the project was you and him. Now Harry couldn't go for obvious reason, so you had to go, and he has been chewing on concrete since then.

Adding to that, you haven't been replying to his messages, and when you did, it was a picture of you, in the shortest dress he had seen, and you were not wearing it for him but to go out with that chipmunk!

No messages followed after that, not even a reply to his message. He had to make a fake Instagram account (he hates Instagram) so he could see what you were up to.

He missed you, but he was too much of a grump and egotistical to admit that.

Harry knew he was fucked. Having sex with your assistant was bad enough. If he got into a relationship with you, his reputation would be tethered, and it would cost your job also. He couldn't ruin it for you. He knew how much you loved this job.

But hell he wanted to give in.

You will resume the office tomorrow, and he dreaded going into a meeting without you.

He sighed as people started to fill up the room. The new dealers and his employees who are working on this are also there. Alicia was the one who had to present today, and his temporary assistant was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Casey?" He asked Alicia, who shrugged her shoulders. Harry was on the verge of losing his cool. He doesn't realize how he employed so many incompetent shits but he was about to fire some.

Alicia started her presentation but Harry couldn't focus on it. It was times like this he realizes he's nothing without you. His coffee is shit unless you make it. He hates everyone elses format unless you do it. He hates everyone else unless it's you.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and you were there breathless, in front of door heaving like you just ran marathon. The light coming from behind made you look like an angel. For him, you were.

You walked inside, apologizing to everyone, your heels clicking on the floor. You were in your formal outfit, a long black dress, stiletto, with your hair in a bun. You picked up his water bottle and drank the whole of it and then took a deep breath.

When you looked up properly, everyone's eyes were on you. You gave a sheepish smile and stood beside Harry, "Sorry, please continue."

Harry smiled to himself behind his hands. He looked up at you beside him, your focus on what Alicia was saying and taking notes. You were too sincere for this job. Sometimes Harry himself didn't care that much like you do.

And he doesn't want to fuck that up.

*****

Soon enough the meeting ended and Harry was back at his office waiting for you to come meet him. He couldn't talk or hold you anywhere else other than the comforts of his office cause of the obvious reasons so his office became your secret haven.

When you didn't come in for the next fifteen minutes, he got up and decided to look for you. As soon as he stepped out of his office, he heard your laugh. He walked towards the sound and then saw you leaning on the wall, your hand holding Edwin's biceps, and a big smile strected on your face.

He clenched his fist beside him having all minds to break that bastard's face and then fuck you in front of him but he refrained himself.

He slid his hands in his suit pants pocket and stood up straight, channeling his inner grumpy CEO. "I didn't realize I paid you for laughing?"

Both immediately stopped and turned towards him. You looked at him through lashes a small mischievous smile on your lips.

"Oh, we were just making plans for arriving at dinner party tonight together sir nothing else," you said with a smile. Harry knew what game you were playing, and he would make sure you paid for it later, but right now, he had to make you not go with that douchebag.

"You're my assistant, I need you with me," He said and turned towards Edwin, "I hope the project file you went to Manchester for is complete?" He asked, knowing damn well he hasn't. Along with being an absolute moron and flirt, Edwin was also lazy. If he wasn't one of his friends' cousin's son, he would have kicked him out way before.

"N-no sir, I'm going to do it." He stumbled over his words, feeling scared under Harry's piercing mad glare. Harry hummed, "You better before the dinner, I will need it"

"No yo-" You go to speak, but one look shot by Harry, and you shut up.

"And Ms. Y/N I hope you also get on with your backlogs, I need to discuss something with you so we will travel together" He said holding eye contact with you, his eyes looking darker shade of green than his usual light. You clench, you thighs together, feeling yourself getting turned on by his authoritative voice.

"Yes, sir." You give him a nod, and with that, he starts to leave but then stops. "And make sure you also fill all the recent bank details also," He says, making your eyes widen.

"Sir, there are only three hours left in dinner. My backlog alone will take a lot of time-" You speak, but he cuts you off again.

"Then you better get started, Ms. Y/N" He shoots her a look over his shoulder and goes back into his office.

*****

Harry was being a prick, he knew, but if he had to make you work extra so you wouldn't get to talk to that guy or any guy in general except him, he would.

You like the exceptional woman you are did all that just in time. You were half an hour late, but you did five hours work in just three and half so, he let it slide.

Now he was in front of your house to pick you up. He he wondered sometimes what you would be like on a date. What you would wear, what you would order or how it would end. Of course, he knew your food order on the tip of his tongue, but a date was different.

He was taken out of his daydream by you opening the car door beside him. You sat down smoothing out your slik dress. It was the same color as his shirt, a bluish green shade, and theme of the new project. Your hair tied slicked back with side parting and a soft makeup.

"Your files, sir," you said, throwing all the files in his lap and then turning back around to look out of the window. He bit down on his lips, finding your grumpy attitude amusing.

"Sweetheart, that's no way to talk to your sir," He said darkly, his fingers inching towards the back of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt his cold fingers on your open back but made no effort to look at him and swatted away his hand.

Harry smirked and pushed the button to roll up the partition, separate driver, and them.

"It's that how it's going to be hm? You know very well what happens to brats baby." Harry said, running his finger up and down your back. He sat more comfortably, spreading his legs.

You sideyed him, your lips in a subtle pout. "We still have to pay Mr. Wilson and make an order to manufacturing comapny"

Harry just hummed and kept moving his hands up and down on your exposed back, making you shiver every time. His cold fingers, in contrast to your hot skin, were excruciating.

"You're one brat, my love and if I wasn't so addicted to you, I would have thrown you out" He said right in your ears. One half of you was turned on, but the other half had one thing going round and round.

"I'm not just a pussy for you to fuck" You said through your teeth and slid a bit away from Harry.

Harry shocked stared at the side of your face. Where the fuck that came from? He was confused, irritated and turned on by your attitude.

He went back to say something, but then Harry's office phone rang, making both you and him groan. Harry picked it up, "What?" he asked.

"Great why don't you also fucking quit while you're at it" He said clenching your jaw, "Yeah then ask your uncle to give your incompetent ass job in his own company" With that he ended the phone call.

"Driver take us to office first then to the party" He said to the driver and then turned to look at you but you had your arms crossed over your chest and kept huffing and puffing like a mad toddler.

"If you don't quit it sweetheart...lord help me" he said, feeling angry at your attitude. He got to see you and have you after so long, and here you were acting like a damn brat. He would have no problem, but you won't even let him touch you!

Harry wasn't a man of words. He didn't know how to express himself. The only thing he knew was sex.

But you just gave him a side eye and went back to looking out of the window.

*****

Both you and Harry arrived at the office. You were still mad at him but also very turned on and frustrated. He was looking damn good in that suit, but you had to be mad and show him you knew your worth or it would all be down to shambles.

Right now, though you were searching for the file you needed for the project that Edwin lost after completion. How? God fucking knows.

"How I manage to have this big company and still hire this many incompetent idiots will be beyond me" Harry grumbled and slammed close drawer, making you flinch in surprise. "Not one task can be done properly"

"Why did Casey not suck your dick good enough? That you're so mad" you said before you could stop yourself.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. He walked towards you, caging you between the wall and himself.

The cat was out of the box might as well...you thought.

You rolled your eyes and looked in eyes, "I said did Casey not suck your dick good enough that you're so mad" You said through gritted teeth.

"Casey? I haven't even seen that woman since I hired her" He said in confusion, not even bothering to think about the rest of the words.

"Don't lie to me. I heard her talking." You said and tried to push him off, but he took your wrists into his hands and brought them to his chest.

"Are you jealous sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk. "Fuck you Harry" you tried to hit him bit failed and stood back against wall huffing.

Harry just chuckled and kissed your cheeks. "How do I know you didn't take the opportunity and fuck that moron. Considering you didn't even bother with my texts" He asked, leaving small kisses all over your face. This is what confused you if he wanted other people. Why did he show you this affection?

"I was mad" you said, pouting.

"Oh sweetheart" He said with an airy laugh. His hands let go of your wrists and gripped your chin to bring his lips to his while the other one went down your body and gripped your thighs.

You hated how your body reacted to his touch. How you got wet instantly like a bitch in heat and Harry took full advantage of that.

He brought his fingers higher up and felt your dampen panties. He smirked against your lips, and you pinched him in annoyance when you felt it, but that only made him moan.

"Don't tease me" You said breathless, your eyes dark like his filled with lust and desires.

"What do you want?" He asked, kissing all over your body and controlling the urge to give you the darkest hickey ever.

"You. In me. Right now." You said with all the authority you had in you. Harry laughed again like he found all this amusing.

How people found this man who cracks dad jokes with you and laughs at everything grumpy and menacing?

He quickly pulled you up on the large table, laying you down. Not only did you have to be quick to be able to reach the party on time, but you also had weeks of pent up frustration.

You pulled up your dress while Harry freed his pants enough to pull his dick out. He slid aside your panties and slid in without any prep.

It was embarrassing.

"Fuck sweetheart you're so wet" he said groaning when he felt you clench around him.

"Missed this-fuck" he said as he started to move. "What fucking me? I don't fucking believe it. I can bet anything you fucked Casey as soon as I boarded that flight" You said whimpering.

He was an asshole but god did his cock feel wonderful. He felt wonderful. He was wonderful but you for him was just a quick fuck.

When you heard Casey talking about how she gave Harry a blowjob yesterday, your heart broke. You had no right to feel that way, he was your boss and you were his assistant and you were fucking him but somehow you tricked yourself into thinking you were something more for him.

"You think I fucked someone else?" he asked fucking you harder making you lose your ability to speak.

"I don't even cum fucking my own hand, you think I will fuck someone else?" He said bringing you up from table by the grip on your neck.

"I-I know it" You said, feeling your orgasm nearing, your eyes rolling back of your head.

"I don't care what you heard Masey talking about but the only pussy my dick has been in is yours" He said bringing you in a messy kiss.

"I was miserable cause you didn't reply to my texts you think I will fuck someone else?" he asked looking into your eyes with so much intensity you lost yourself into them.

"Fucking hell I even hate everyone else but y-" He stopped himself before he could complete his words. The reality slapping on his face hard. But you were too far gone in your ecstasy to care.

Harry also reached his high quickly after you. Your head was laying on his chest as you took long breaths to calm down your breaths. Your heart was beating so fast because of what he said and how hard he fucked you. Butterflies were dancing in your stomach.

It lasted while it could.

Suddenly, he did all 180 and pulled out of and tucked himself in. His demour cold and closed off like like he's with everyone else.

"Get cleaned up" He said and quickly walked out. While you moved towards the washroom to clean yourself up with tears brimming your eyes.

*****

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515 @yeehawbrothers @sleutherclaw @ikea2-0 @thechaoticjoy @astridcommings @grapejuicebluesrry @gxbiqs

He's a dick :(

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rickmandowneyjr · 10 months

Text

Under the Table

Smut (18+)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: nsfw

Word count: 1483

A/N: Hello friends :) How's everyone doing? It's been a hot minute, hasn't it? Anyway, I've finally written something that justifies the second half of my url. I'm a little out of practice but I hope you enjoy <3

“I have an interview in about half an hour, so please make sure that you clear my schedule,” Tony announced as he waltzed into his office.

“Already done,” you replied, finishing up tidying his desk. It was typical of him to inform you of these things at the last minute, but it wasn’t like you didn’t have your ways to find out before he did.

“This is why I like you,” Tony said, walking up behind you.

“That’s the reason?” You asked, turning around to face him. Folding your arms across your chest, you teased, “I’m a little offended.”

“If that’s the case…” he said with a smirk tugging at his lips. He propped you onto the table, his hands holding onto the edge on either side of you. Looking into your eyes, he said, “Remind me of the others.”

Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck and you pulled him close. “Gladly,” you said before bringing your lips to meet his. He chuckled as you kissed him hungrily.

His hands slid up your bare thighs, slowly hiking your skirt up as they did. His fingers hooked into your panties, sliding them off and stuffing them into his back pocket.

Just as his kisses moved down your neck, there was a knock on the door. You pushed him away and hopped off the desk immediately. He tutted in annoyance as you smoothed your skirt.

“You know, being the CEO has its perks… like, not meeting every idiot that comes by my office.”

You gave him no response. “Come in,” you called.

Happy walked in and mentioned that there were certain details he wanted to discuss with the boss. With a polite smile, you left the room, leaving behind a frustrated Tony.

Around twenty minutes later, Happy emerged from Tony’s office.

“All okay?” You asked as he walked past your desk.

“I guess,” he said. “Did something upset him right before I came?”

“No, why do you ask?” You feigned innocence.

“He just… seemed a little frustrated, I guess.”

“Huh. That’s odd…” you said, fighting the smile that threatened to show your amusement at the situation. “I’ll talk to him and make sure he’s feeling alright before his interview,” you assured. “Thank you, Happy.”

“Not a problem, [Y/N],” he replied; giving you a firm nod before taking his leave.

You knocked on the glass door of the office. Upon hearing a very annoyed, “Come in,” you entered the room and saw Tony staring straight at you.

“How was the discussion,” you asked with a smirk plastered on your face.

“I couldn’t stand up for half of it,” he said as he pouted, making you giggle. “Glad you’re amused, sweetheart.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied sarcastically. Coming back to work, you reminded him, “Well, I hope you’re all set for the interview. You’re live in 5.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak but paused for a second before he said, “No, actually. Care to set it up for me?”

“…sure,” you played along as you walked up to his desk. After all, all you had to do was log on to the meeting for him. “Care to move?” You asked. He rolled his chair away from the desk, leaving enough room for you to stand between him and the table.

You rolled your eyes as you occupied the space and took hold of the mouse. “Would you like me to bend over as well?” You scoffed, though you knew that it would be taken as a serious suggestion.

“That would be ideal, yes.”

You shook your head as you chuckled softly and bent over slightly. Before you could even begin working, his voice sounded from behind you.

“On your elbows, Ms. [L/N].”

His voice was low making butterflies flutter around in your stomach. Letting out a deep breath, you complied. “Good girl,” he praised.

You couldn’t see him but could feel his gaze on you and your heart was pounding against your chest. Using his foot to nudge yours, he spread your legs and rolled his chair forward so that he was seated somewhat in between them.

You could feel yourself getting wetter and you rushed to finish what you were doing. He placed his hands on your calves, then slowly began dragging them up the length of your legs. As he reached the hem of your skirt, you sprung up and said, “All done!”

Tony laughed at your response and moved his hands away. “Thank you,” he said as you moved away. He eyed you as you tried to regain your composure, a smirk tugging at his lips. Normally, you would’ve done a better job at controlling your reactions but the fact that you had been interrupted earlier made it easier to rile you up.

“You okay?” He asked as though he wasn’t the reason behind your condition.

“Fine,” you said, slightly annoyed. You knew he was getting back at you for what you’d done to him earlier; doing this to you right before he got into his interview. You weren’t going to let him off the hook though.

“You can wait here while I do the interview and then we can leave together. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Alright,” you said, and then walked over to the couch at the entrance of his office and took a seat. You poured yourself a glass of water in order to help yourself calm down, and watched him as he fixed himself up for the interview. He logged on and you could hear the reporter on the other side ask about the Avengers and all things superheroes. Tuning them out, you began reading comics on your phone.

You looked up from time to time and caught Tony looking past his screen and watching you instead. It had been about half an hour and you were beginning to get bored. You looked over at Tony who was watching you yet again. He looked so done.

You knew that this was your chance. You had behaved yourself for the past half-hour. It was only fair that you got to have a little fun now.

With your gaze matching his, you uncrossed your legs. Tony’s eyes immediately darted lower before he returned his attention to the screen in front of him. He sighed softly as his hands gripped the panties in his pocket. He could see you shifting around from the corner of his eye and returned his attention to you.

You now had one leg resting against the edge of the table in front of you, letting your skirt ride up and give him a better view. You proceeded to move a hand over your already slick folds, throwing your head back at the sensation of your cool fingertips. Your hips bucked forward as you spread your lips and inserted a finger.

Your other hand made its way to your clit, gently rubbing it as your finger pumped in and out of you. You bit your lip, holding back a moan. You looked over at Tony who was looking right at you. He looked you in the eye, his face completely stoic as he returned his gaze to the screen.

His body, however, was responding differently. You walked over to the side of his desk and you could see the erection straining against his pants. He looked away from the screen nonchalantly as he watched you kneel down and slowly crawl towards him. He raised a questioning brow at you and you replied with a mischievous smile.

You quietly made your way under his desk, resting your hands on his knees. Your hands ran up along his thighs, till your hand reached the bulge that was straining against his pants.

He tried grabbing your hands to stop you but didn’t protest much when you broke free of his grip. You palmed him through the pants and he let out a shaky sigh. He subtly shifted in his seat allowing you to pull down his pants.

Your cold hands wrapped around his cock, making it twitch slightly. You began stroking him slowly, building up your pace as you pumped his length.

Just as you thought he was adjusting to the sensation, your lips wrapped around the head. He drew a sharp breath, his hand instinctively making its way into your hair. He took charge as he moved your head up and down his length, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You fondled his balls and your head bobbed up and down his length. You slowly increased the pace, sucking and pumping his thick cock. Finally, he muted the call and said, “Sweetheart, I’m gonna come in that pretty little mouth at this rate.”

You continued your ministrations, letting him know that it was okay. He let out a moan as he bottomed out and came in your mouth. You pulled away, your hands catching cum that was still dripping from his dick.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Stark,” the interviewer said as he disconnected the call. Tony watched you as you licked your fingers, cleaning his seed off of them.

You gave him a cheeky grin and he said, “What am I gonna do with you?”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader smut #rdj #robert downey junior #robert downey jr x reader #rdj x reader #rdj x reader smut #rdj smut #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #boss x employee #boss x assistant #x reader #reader insert #assistant!reader

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 7 months

Note

Hi! I hope you’re well!

Only if you are in the mood- can we get anything you can cook up for assistant verse? Anything you want! I love your writing! 💗

"Mr. Wayne, your 3 o'clock is here," you announce.

"Thank you Miss Y/N, please send them in."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne."

You show them in and Lex looked around, "You make your girlfriend address you as-"

"Work is work," Bruce said shrugging, smiling. "She's good at her job. It would be stupid to replace her just because I'm dating her."

"Will that be all, Mr. Wayne?" you ask.

"Coffee Lex?" Bruce asked. "Something else?"

"Coffee would be fine, thank you," he said.

"Coffee, please, Miss Y/N. And quickly."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce watched your face and the tiny twitch in your eyebrow. Telling you quickly was probably a bit much. You understood and respected a good powerplay.

But. That didn't mean he wouldn't be paying for it later. And it was probably going to be expensive. It was worth every penny though to watch Lex's eyebrows shoot up. What Lex thought he would find was known only to Lex. Probably Bruce off his game and acting cutesy.

Clark's identity was on the line though. And he had ground work to lay. Whatever Pricey mani-pedi or make up you bought on your company card was well worth it.

Especially when you brought back coffee, clacking along the marble floor efficiently. Lex's eyes tracked you everywhere you went. Bruce was willing to bet you'd have a job offer in your inbox by 9am tomorrow.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #ask answered #jason todd #minors dni #thirst trap thursday #assistant!reader

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theblue6ook · 2 months

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Shit Interview PT 3

Summary: Y/N’s first introduction of Bruce Wayne isn’t exactly the best: “I thought he was supposed to be charming.” [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Well hello there. If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series. There will be more to come ;)

It had been a week since Y/N’s conversation with Alfred. When the driver had picked her up for her interview the next day and drove her to Wayne Manor… well, she thought she might faint. She had known the Wayne’s butler had taken over as Bruce’s parent figure, but-god-she did not know it was Alfred. How did John even meet him?

They held the interview on Bruce Wayne’s back patio, just outside the kitchen. Alfred had tea prepared and asked her various questions as she looked out towards the sprawling gardens. She could see everything from their view; his pool house, the tennis court, hell, even Gotham, but one thing was missing. Her boss. It had been a week since Y/N’s conversation with Alfred. A week since she was hired, and she still had not met Bruce Wayne.

Bruce sat hunched in the cave. The only thing illuminating the area was the artificial light seeping off multiple computer screens. He tried to straighten in his chair, feeling uncomfortable. This wasn’t a week of the usual patrol with the typical idiots robbing and running. That was child's play. This week, Bane had been breaking into research centers for the necessary chemicals to create a more permanent strength enhancer. Not only that, but each break-in, they took hostages and executives, making them give up private company data so they would know what other chemicals were going to be shipped and where.

He was growing frustrated. It should have been at least an easy trail to follow, but Bane had hired decoys, look-a-likes, to go to other research centers and pose as himself, and Bruce was only one person. At this point, he wasn’t even sure any of them were Bane- his thoughts were interrupted by an abrupt ring! Figuring it was Alfred with information involving the case, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Any updates, Alfred?”

“Uh, no. Sorry. This is Y/N, Mr.Wayne,” she stated, confused, but continued, “I don’t know if you got my last message, but Alfred told me you wouldn’t be in the office this week so,-”

“I’m sorry, who is this again?” Bruce sat up straight in his chair. He didn’t think to answer the phone any other way. Why would anyone else but Alfred have the cave phone line? This case is getting to me. I need to be more careful.

Y/N paused, rethinking what to even say. She didn’t even think he would not know who she was; Alfred hired her, for god sake.

“Oh, I’m guessing Alfred didn’t tell you then,” she stopped, trying to find the right words. “Well, I was hired as your new assistant. Yay… Anyways, I was just getting started sorting your schedule and wanted to know if you had any preferences-”

‘Yay,’ what was I thinking?

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he interrupted her yet again, with fake politeness, “I’m not in need of an assistant.”

Irritation crept up her neck. She did not take kindly to being interrupted, but this is her boss, so she’s trying to remain calm and… slightly collected.

“Well, you’ve got one,” she stated plainly. “Alfred seems to think I would be helpful to you anyway.”

“Does he?” This conversation is wasting my time. Bruce grabbed one of the case files and started violently flipping through it to make the most of this conversation.

“Mhm,” Y/N took a breath. “Alfred is a friend of mine, and he asked me very specifically, as a favor, to help you work and you know.”

“I don’t know actually.”

There was no more beating around the bush, so she decided to state it firmly, “To help you get back in the office. Look, I’m sure you’re busy doing… whatever it is that you do, but this will just run so much smoother if you help me and I help you.”

As she spoke more, Bruce found himself less and less able to focus on the task at hand. It had been days, and he just wanted one lead, and that was all. It didn’t seem like much to ask for. He rubbed his brow. I do not have time for this.

“Well you don’t have to worry about it,” he laughed fakely. “I really have no interest in an assistant. I’m sorry to be the one to say it, but this is a waste of your time. There’s really not even a need to continue the conversation.”

I thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be charismatic. Y/N looked around, speechless. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say. She sat shocked at her new desk in her new office and looked around. They had put a minifridge under her desk, and her chair didn’t squeak. It was the first place she had worked that was clean and new. No infestation, no slop, just clean, and she liked it. She liked it a lot. It was the first place she felt excited to go to work. No, no, I am not leaving.

“As wonderful as this conversation is, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut it short,” she starts. “Now. I’m going to be at the office tomorrow, and I do expect you, as my employer and the face of your company, to be there.”

“You’re fired,” Bruce blurted out.

“You didn’t hire me,” she countered, “Alfred did.”

“Well, don’t anticipate seeing me. I have other things to work on.”

“What work?” she said without a second thought. “Word on the street is you’re never in the office.”

Bruce inhaled sharply; his blood pressure had to be rising. Abruptly, he hung up the phone. Turning toward the stairs, he practically leaped out of his chair. Making his way to the kitchen in record time, he turned left into the living room. “Alfred!”

There, in a small seat by the window, sat Alfred. He was unbothered and drinking his tea. Folding the newspaper, he looked up at Bruce, “I’m assuming you met Miss. Y/L/N. I sent her call down to the cave for you.”

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Bane is planning another heist that I am supposed to catch before it starts, and you’re worried about my time in office? What don’t you understand about what I’m doing? I don’t need or want an assistant-”

“I beg to differ.”

“Please be reasonable,” he groaned. “I am not showing up. These cases take precedence over anything that assistant throws at me.”

“Then perhaps work on these cases at the office. At least be there to show your company you’re around, present, alive.”

“Why so my ‘new assistant’ can hover over my shoulder?”

“Well, you could try to ignore her, but I would be weary of it. She’s as stubborn as you.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Bruce stated bluntly, starting to move out of the living room back down to his own fortress of solitude.

“I hope the business you’re planning to tend to is at your place of business,” Alfred called after him. He couldn’t see Bruce anymore, but he heard him scoff from the other room. Alfred chuckled, “It must have been like talking to a mirror.”

#bruce wayne x reader #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #batmom #batboys x reader #slow burn #assistant!reader

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veltana · 1 year

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CEO!Bucky/Assistant!Reader - Like a shadow

The first time Bucky really notices you is on a warm day, heading to a meeting. You've put your hair up to keep it off your neck and there are small drops of perspiration running down your throat. When the doors close and the elevator starts making its way up to the 60th floor he is suddenly surrounded by you. The sweat mixing with your perfume is the sweetest thing he's ever breathed and suddenly he's filled with the urge to press you up against the glass wall and taste every inch of you.

Full list of tags and fic on AO3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #ceo!bucky #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky barnes x assistant!reader #assistant!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky smut #ceo!bucky x reader #veltana writes

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inkpot909 · 11 months

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Rohan Kishibe Falling for an Assistant!Reader

↳ Reader’s gender is not defined/is gender neutral. Reader is in college and not a stand user.

A/n: ‘roHan KisHibE wOuLd nEveR hiRe an asSissTant-‘ Rohan Kishibe loses in fights against teenagers. He’s been famous since the age of sixteen; there’s no way he can even do the dishes properly.

Warning(s): Swearing.

Rohan Kishibe began the process of finding a personal assistant not a year after Yoshikage Kira’s death.

Not too long before, the idea of hiring an assistant was one the mangaka would openly mock. Him? Needing assistance? Not a chance. His work ethic is unreal; able to disregard what other artists would consider as valuable help. The Great Rohan Kishibe works solo at every opportunity and everyone ought to know it.

Although his reputation to many of the people around him can be rocky, one would be hard pressed to find anyone with the opinion that he needed an assistant at all.

However, the kind of aid he sought was, for lack of a better term, a glorified maid.

The Kishibe resident itself is big enough to comfortably home a family of five, and Rohan famously lives by himself. And completing tasks associated with home ownership had always been a big pain in the ass to the artist. Too much of his time was wasted on ‘unnecessary’ trivials (things others would describe as regular adult responsibilities).

Not only does he lose precious work time to maintaining a house, but also to grocery shopping, sending messages to his editors, and even cooking.

In short, he independently searched for someone to take care of his home and busybody tasks on the regular. Releasing an ad, he felt confident that he’d find someone. Even if the job itself turns a handful away, a generous payload would be sure to entice a fair amount of people.

Trudging through resume after resume, interview after interview, Rohan eventually came across you.

A young college student, taking a small yet steady stream of classes. Your resume was average to many your age, but stood out to him for other reasons. Namely, your application was well-written and to the point (something he had increased appreciation for at that stage in the interviewing process). Not only that, but the specific experiences you have had in the workforce was good insensitive as well. The final nail in the coffin was a general feeling of honesty pooling from your written words. Judging by how it was written, he could sense genuine realness. In short, you didn’t bullshit.

Amidst your educational endeavors, you searched tirelessly for a stable income. Spotting Kishibe’s ad, you resolved it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. And as fate would have it, you were contacted in order to set up an interview.

Unsure of what to expect, you dressed yourself up and swallowed your nerves. The interview itself was to take place at a tiny coffee shop in Morioh Cho and you were thankful for the short trip.

Meeting one another at the agreed time, Rohan’s character quickly confused the hell out of you (as much as it was intriguing). He’s certainly the type to leave a lasting first impression, while seeming careless to your own thoughts on him.

It was intimidating, overwhelming, and admirable all at once.

Also, he made it clear his work’s extremely important to him, the sole reason behind why he searched for help in the first place. More time to work; more time to dig for inspiration.

His dedication is what truly sold you, finding it weirdly motivating. Within just fifteen minutes of speaking to him, you’d forgotten that he’s only a year or two older than yourself.

That was, until the interview went on longer and he let it slip that certain worries plague him. Especially between chapter releases. The prospect almost made you sad; both his ego and anxiety possibly due to being a well-renown artist from a relatively young age.

Your personal response to the questions plaguing your brain was to disregard them, and instead focus on an expectant Kishibe. His eyes were sharp, looking down at you and impatiently awaiting a response to a question you completely missed.

You didn’t need to hear the exact words, though. Smiling sheepishly, you reached out your hand and shook his own. In the back of your mind, it was assumed any answers to your questions would eventually arrive one way or another.

They were bound to, considering Rohan Kishibe was- from that moment onward -officially your boss.

And to say it was a rough start for the both of you would’ve been an understatement.

Initially, you were a little shy about making any more assumptions or even observations. Hell, you were shy in general. Adjusting to the new job became a top priority over any curiosity about your peculiar boss. But when working with a man like Rohan Kishibe, it’s difficult not to hang over his every last word despite yourself.

However, time brings with it familiarity. Not only with a usual work routine, but with Rohan himself. His initial sternness made meeting his expectations all the more satisfying. Without a doubt, you were proud of how quick you got into the swing of things.

He prioritized quietness and swiftness, but was also surprisingly fair. Even after accustoming to the work environment, he always comments on a job well done.

Except for when he’s deeply invested in his work. To you, it’s difficult to tell if he even notices your presence upon entering the art room. However, it’s not as if you slipped into the background, but he simply grew used to you being there on occasion.

Months passed. You grew to have less and less questions about a man you no longer called Mr. Kishibe, but instead by his first name.

The two of you don’t necessarily need to speak in order to be communicative. You’re at a point in your relationship now where you found reading into his actions to be surprisingly easy.

That’s an aspect he certainly wasn’t expecting either, not used to such things.

Just the smallest shift of his facial expression- just a lift of a brow -and your eyes light up with understanding. Sure, he can ‘read others like a book,’ but you’ve seemingly mastered the language of Rohan Kishibe’s demeanor without any stand power.

Then he notices that you’ve started doting on him. An extra selection of sugar with his morning tea. Always taking an enthusiastic intrest whenever he shares his art. And a specific kind of contentment or pride you put into your work that he honestly would have never foreseen.

For the longest time, he was adamant that he wouldn’t use his stand to peak at your past and present. His power had grown considerably, and became more selective of who he investigates. However, his curiosity overcomes a sense of restraint on his own abilities.

He couldn’t help but take a peak. Besides, he could find something usual for his writing. Regardless of whether or not he did, he found something else as well. Written in on your second page, his name was the most recent in a list of people you harbor (or have harbored) feelings for.

Rohan can move on after that. No problem. It wasn’t the first time he’s found his own name written down in someone’s book as a crush. It’s nothing to pester you about; nothing to even ponder. Nope. Just go back to work. Not a hint of romance is going to suddenly appear in his manga (it’s psychological horror, why would it be?) out of thin air.

A week passes. Two weeks pass. He’s become a little more silent as of late, but it’s nothing you care to mention at all. Rohan gets absorbed in his work often, and you figure you’ll get the chance to ask him about his work a later time.

Your patience is respectable; it’s downright endearing. But the lack of investigation on your part made his teeth grind together in frustration.

He doesn’t think of you that much. Not really; don’t flatter yourself. His mind just lingers on your memory when you leave. Rohan’s thoughts merely turn to you when introducing a noticeably beautiful character in Pink Dark Boy. And it’s nothing special that he gets agitated when he doesn’t see you for a few days.

While you put him out of your mind (the thought of him is far too flustering), Rohan’s lingers on your more and more. The glances he throws at you dwadle, observant in the way you’ve been for months.

Standing in the front hall of Rohan’s home, your body is leaning against the wall while you pull your shoes on. The sun hangs low in the sky, kissing the horizon line. A pinkish blush spreads across Morioh Cho, dusk signaling the end of your work day. While making your effort, footsteps travel from the top floor and down the stairs.

Lifting your head, a smile spreads across your face when meeting your boss’s gaze. He’s made his way to the bottom of the stairs, stopping a comfortable distance in front of you. “Taking a break?” you ask gently.

“For a short while,” he confirms, before adding in a mumble, “Although I know you’d lecture me about working late.”

“You said it, not me,” you jest, straightening your back upright after slipping on your shoes. You fold your hands behind you, long coat softly swaying as you momentarily rock back and forth on your feet.

“Only so you don’t say it yourself.” Rohan crosses his arms, shifting his weight onto his right foot.

“Because you prefer the sound of your own voice?”

Rohan opens his mouth, only to close it anticlimactically a moment later. His brows furrow, and eyes dart away from your person. Biting the inside of his cheek puffs out his lips subtly.

It’s times like this that you wished you were the artist. He’s so insistent on capturing reality, in all it’s forms. But he’d be your muse of choice. Yet he neglects that he’s a work of art himself, you mentally note with an audible giggle.

Rohan’s demeanor changes, his pondering expression morphing into a curious one. It merely strengthens your smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rohan,” you finally speak.

“Yes, of course,” he replies dismissively, as if it was redundant of you to mention.

Chuckling once more, you move forward. The mangaka’s breathing catches in his throat when you wrap your arms around him, and forehead collides with his chest. The hug is short, but noticeably warm.

You pull away far too quickly, waving him ‘goodbye’ and going on about buying him a St. Gentleman’s sandwich for lunch the following day while walking out the door. Rohan merely nods, watching the front door delicately shut behind you.

He’s stunned. Unmoving in his spot, only his eyes blink dumbfoundedly. Is he really going to head upstairs like nothing happened? Even now? Just continue working a few more hours of the night away? Maybe he should mull you over in his mind for a moment or two. Maybe for a couple of minutes. The way he’s starting to feel around you may not be a problem, but it certainly is something isn’t it?

He bites his lower lip, silently cursing your name. He attempts to ward away the rising heat on his cheeks with a shake of his head. For once, he’s glad he cannot use his stand to read his own mind. Because even without such ability, he has no doubt it would clearly state that The Great Rohan Kishibe has grown much to close to his assistant.

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maitadori · 11 months

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I MISSED YOU sfw. jing yuan x afab!reader.

word count : 2.6k

summary : in which jing yuan goes on a two week expedition and you both miss each other dearly.

content / cw : suggestive, making out, fluff, a small pint of angst, whipped jing yuan, emotionally constipated reader

a/n : more assistant reader and general jing yuan mwah

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI!!!!

"i'm going on an expedition tomorrow. it’s gonna last two weeks,” jing yuan says, trapping you against his desk. you’re silent, ignoring him. jing yuan pouts his lips and huffs.

when you don’t speak, he whispers in your ear, “you'll miss me, right?" a smug smile curls his lips as he tugs on your clothing.

you sift through his documents and answer blankly, "no."

jing yuan chuckles as he tugs you into him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his chin on your head.

"you didn't even consider it. you wound me."

"i'll really wound you if you don't get some work done."

jing yuan merely kisses your neck, watching in satisfaction as you shiver and fumble the papers. "i leave tomorrow for two weeks and work is all you think about..”

“general, cut it out..."

"you're so cute." his voice is muffled as he continues placing soft pecks on the skin of your neck, traveling his lips to caress your jaw. his arms move to wrap around your waist and you put a hand over his to try and push him away while your other tries to cover his mouth.

he sees it coming and kisses your fingers, grabbing them to kiss your knuckles softly as you finally turn to look at him with a flushed expression.

with others, they'd instantly assume you were upset, but he could tell; he knew you like the back of his hand.

"why do you refuse to do your work?" you whisper, as if afraid to shatter the atmosphere.

"you really expect me to sign boring papers when you're in front of me?"

"then i'm distracting you?"

"terribly so."

"then i must leave. i can't be the one to hold the general back from his duties," you say, genuinely and sternly.

jing yuan tightens his hold on you before you can attempt to escape.

"who said it was a bad thing?"

"no one had to!!! it is a bad thing!!! let me go," you groan out, struggling in his hold.

"tell me you'll miss me and i'll consider it."

"i'd rather die!!"

in response, jing yuan kisses your cheek, chuckling and smiling as he does. he ventures dangerously close to your lips. his hands are traveling all over you now, nimble fingers trailing past the hem of your shirt and caressing your skin.

"jing yuan!" your tone is scolding.

"i love it when you say my name," he groans, kissing the corner of your lips. "can i kiss you? please?" he finishes off with a demand that he needs his fill of you before his expedition.

he's pleading, a thing that isn't rare, but it is when it's genuine and not teasing. the whiny lilt to his voice has your stubborn wall crumbling.

"yes..." you sigh out blissfully, chastising yourself for your lack of protest. you’re barely able to finish before he's molding his mouth with yours.

you always relented when it came to him, if you were to tell him how much of a spoilt brat he was, he'd most likely giggle and agree. the mere thought of that has you reciprocating his fervent kiss tenfold.

he pulls apart slightly to whisper against your lips, “just by this i know you’ll miss me, but i really want you to say it.” he panting, watching fondly as your grapple him as an attempt to reel him back to you. it’s so endearing, because mere minutes ago you were doing the opposite.

that alone had him almost diving back in and kiss you breathless and mindless to the point where you’d forget your name. almost. but if jing yuan was anything, it was relentless.

“c’mon, i know you’ll miss me, all you have to do is say it.”

but jing yuan also knew that if you were anything, it was stubborn.

“so i could boost your ego?” you tried to sound upset, but your voice was so breathy that you failed immensely.

“i’ll kiss you until the only thing you can think about is me. just say the magic words,” jing yuan says smugly, smirking.

“who said i wanted that!?”

“you don’t have to. it’s written all over your face.” he nibbles your bottom lip, watching the way your eyes instantly gaze down at his lips. “i’m gonna be gone for two weeks. fourteen days without seeing your face, without you seeing mine. won’t you miss me? i know i’ll miss you. i’ll be thinking about your lips so much i doubt i’ll get much done.”

his words had a blanket of desire cover you full. it had you feeling so warm you swore you were drowning in it. how he was able to openly express his want for you embarrassed you beyond belief. it was such an overwhelming feeling; to hear someone talk about craving you in such a direct way. your lips parted and your pupils shrunk.

“w-what..?”

he kissed the corner of your lip. you squeezed your eyes shut.

“you heard me. please, [name], just say you’ll miss me,” his tone has a teasing lilt to it, it makes you a bit infuriated, because you know he’ll never let it go if you do say it. but like always, you couldn’t help but indulge him.

plus his lips looked very inviting.

“i’ll miss you, a lot. you’re all i’ll think about the entire time you’re gone,” you whine out quietly.

he smiles— not smirks— smiles. and it sends your heart racing. but before you can admire it, he’s on you.

“i’ll miss you so much, beloved.” he whispers against your lips.

beloved.

it’s been two days since jing yuan left. it’s not as bad as he anticipated.

well… for you it wasn’t. for him, you couldn’t really say that.

he missed you, it was apparent. if his millennium of texts were anything to go by. the corniness of it all had you scoffing endearingly. he was so adorable sometimes— something you’d never admit to him.

you did as you usually did when he was out, working on documents he left behind and sending letters. he wasn’t in his office often, so the loneliness and silence was something that was easy getting used to.

but as the first week came about, you couldn’t deny the small seed of dread in your stomach.

even if you were used to being alone in his office while he was gone, it was because you knew he’d be coming back within the day. he insisted it was just to see you. so although it was easy getting used to the day routine, the same couldn’t be said for the night; when you expected his arrival and soft voice echoing through the room as he talked about being excited to see you.

but like everything else, you learned to get used to it.

you picked up your phone, setting down your pen. the light of your device illuminated and you adjusted your eyesight to stare at jing yuan’s contact.

you hadn’t texted back.

jing yuan himself admitted he’d think of you the entire time. while it warmed your heart, it also cracked it a little.

you didn’t want to be a burden on your general’s conscious. he was busy and he didn’t need distractions.

jing yuan either got the message and hasn’t texted you, or he was just that busy. you assumed the latter.

you simply clicked the power button of your phone, turned off your ringer, set it on your desk face down, and picked up your pen.

you survived two decades without jing yuan in your life before you became his assistant, what was one more week?

it was hell, was what jing yuan deduced. the sudden influx of mobs on other ships had increased past a population jing yuan couldn’t ignore. bringing yanqing along helped a lot. for being so young, the boy was very strong.

he’d opposed to it at first, but yanqing convinced his general that it could be apart of his training. plus, if anything were to happen, jing yuan was there. he couldn’t argue with that.

and not to mention that yanqing was a huge remedy to jing yuan’s loneliness. he wasn’t opposed to being by himself, no, but he knew he’d only be capable of thinking about you.

it’s been 9 days, you hadn’t returned his last texts, and knowing you, he figured out why pretty quickly. you probably assumed yourself a burden. which wasn’t true, but you must’ve grown in an environment where you were treated as such, so jing yuan was aware how ridding you of that mindset could take awhile.

before, all he could think of was finally kissing you again. but now, all he wanted to do was hold you.

he remembers not too long ago when he insisted that he becomes yours, officially. but you protested, saying that it wasn’t good for his occupation, and that people would talk. at first, the idea of it didn’t bother him. when you’re the general, people talked about you all the time. so he was used to it, but he also realized that can’t be said for you.

you like being unknown to people, the solitude and the lack of interaction. you always told jing yuan you were fine with the little group you knew. sushang, bailu, yanqing, fu xuan, and him. you didn’t need anyone else.

he promised that it could be secret, anything to be with you. but you suddenly looked sad, and whispered quietly, “i don’t want to be your little secret, jing yuan. but i also don’t want to be scrutinized. so can you wait for me, please?”

he affirmed that he would, but jing yuan could also be a liar. he truly couldn’t get enough of you. he doesn’t think you understand just how special you are to him, how infatuated he is with you.

so he thinks about you for the remaining five days, hoping it’ll be enough to get him by before you’re in his arms.

you’re restless. everyone can tell. it’s gotten so bad to the point where even sushang herself insisted to help you, and that girl was anything but helpful.

you missed him, terribly so. and everyone could tell.

fu xuan pointed it out once and you could only groan, “don’t even say that…”

she giggled at your demise, telling you as she snickered that it was extremely obvious. she also held it over your head and said that if you didn’t take a break, she’d tell the general just how much you yearned for him. you relented faster than you could exhale.

having a day out with fu xuan was lovely. even if she was a bit bossy, she was still really fun. also, who knew she was a gossiper? that was a small tidbit about her you never knew, but welcomed all the same.

when you started to part ways and you changed your direction from your home to the office, fu xuan glared at you scoldingly.

“if i find out you stayed past midnight, i’m gonna tell the general,” it was a silly threat that had you laughing. you waved her off and walked your path.

you got comfortable behind the desk, basking in the familiar scent of your general. you stared at the documents and tilted your head. being his assistant was already somewhat taxing, you couldn’t imagine the load as a general.

you huffed and picked up your pen, dragging the work to you and writing away.

sometime later, you started drifting off to sleep. your head bobbed and you jerked up everytime your head drooped a little too low. you blinked blearily, looking at the small clock on jing yuan’s desk. you clicked your tongue. it was far past midnight. you must be lost track of time.

you prayed fu xuan didn’t find out, or she’d humiliate you beyond belief. you couldn’t help the urge to distract yourself anytime jing yuan entered your mind.

while ruminating in your thoughts, a small jiggle of the door handle had you stiff in your seat.

speak of the devil. you thought, waiting for fu xuan and her burning glare as the door creaked open.

but your eyes widened and your pen dropped once the door opens. your lips press tight together and your brows knit.

jing yuan enters in all his glory, still as handsome as he always was.

“g-general…” were the only words you could muster.

he looked a bit roughed up. you could only guess he might’ve got into some trouble. but he looked the same, warm as ever. he met your eyes and smiled softly. it had your heart pounding in your ribcage.

you noticed how you must’ve looked and instantly tried to gain composure, “w-welcome back.” you coughed into your fist.

you could hear him chuckle and the sound of his shoes as he approached you. your eyes dropped to the desk and you shakily picked your pen back up.

you missed him. you finally came to terms with it. it was a foreign feeling that had you unsure how to act. such a new territory that you could only avoid his eyes, frozen.

even when you felt his presence right beside you, even when he turned your chair to face him, even when he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. you were still.

his eyes traveled across your face, his face so full of adoration directed towards you that it had your brows knitting.

“you look so gorgeous. i missed you.” he whispers, a smile so pretty painting his lips— a smile that showed some of his teeth, and the curvatures of his dimples. you wished you could take a picture.

a quiet gasp left your lips and you finally looked up to meet his gaze. your expression looked nearly sad at his words and it had him caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

“you look the same as always,” you replied dumbly, perplexed at even your own response.

both you and jing yuan met each other’s eyes, wide and full of shock as you stared at each other. but it wasn’t long before jing yuan broke and he was laughing. you instantly became embarrassed, muttering a small ‘shut up’ under your breath.

he wiped away his imaginary tears, that dreamy smile still on his lips as he looked at you. his gaze was like burning hot molten melting into you, and you looked down at your fiddling fingers, unsure of how to act.

“i missed you too.” you voiced quietly.

you weren’t able to bask in his expression as he lit up. but how he leaned down to lock your lips let you know how he felt.

“i knew you would…” he whispers happily.

“can you shut up and kiss me?”

“your wish is my command.” he chuckles fondly, placing his hands on the arms of the chair on each side of you as he leans down.

you tug at his shirt and instantly initiate the kiss. something jing yuan couldn’t help but get excited at.

you’d never be able to fully word how you feel about him, so you hoped the little things were enough.

but maybe the way he moved you to sit in his lap and kiss you brainless as you moved against him could tell him everything.

“[name] missed you, general. she got super talkative, but not in the nice way, like in a bossy way! and she was like really annoying!” sushang yelled with her eyes squeezed shut, as if the mere idea of you stressed her out.

if it weren’t for your burning embarrassment, you probably would’ve smacked sushang upside her head. but instead you avoid jing yuan’s eyes, already imagining the smirk that adorned his lips.

fu xuan giggled and covered her mouth. you could only ruminate in your anger.

jing yuan taglist : @fxvcsd (my pookie) @ceylestia @cometheasteroid @voidsatoru @blazervain @meaningofaeons @reallyrene @kaito-exe-stopped-working @lechuko @h0ngh0ngh0ng

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr #assistant!reader #🃏; saturn.writes

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ifancyharry · 7 months

Text

ASSISTANT!YN X HARRY SNEAK PEEK!!

YN wonders whether she should quit.

It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.

Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.

She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.

She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!

“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.

He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.

“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.

“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.

Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.

“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.

He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.

He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.

“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.

YN knows she should definitely quit.

Hiiiii Harry sounds like an asshole in this but don’t worry he’s not ;)) and it will soon turn into a friends to lovers so if you like that stay tuned!!!

#harry styles blurb #assistant!yn #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one direction #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #assistant!reader #harry styles love on tour #love on tour

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charliemwrites · 3 months

Text

Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish

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c-nstantine · 1 year

Text

new beginings

Description: Assistant!Y/N has come to the decision to leave Bruce. (Part 1) (still roughly inspired by Olivia and Fitz)

Warnings: there might be some curse words

Word Count: 0.9k

Packing should have made Y/N upset but it didn't. She was moving on with her life. Wasting so much time on a man who was unavailable hurt. It hurt more than any version of love should and for a while, she was convinced that he was going to leave his wife. Who was she to think that she could break up Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle? Three knocks on her door brought her out of her thoughts.

"You quit," Bruce spoke as soon as she opened the door. Y/N let out a small gasp and attempted to close the door but Bruce stuck his foot in.

"I did," Y/N said looking into his crystal blue eyes. She could stare at him forever.

"Why?" He said entering her apartment. It's not like she could stop him and she wasn't even sure that she wanted to. Love doesn't go away overnight.

"You are married with children," Y/N seemed to reminding herself of that a lot recently. She felt guilty for being in love with a married man, and she felt guilty for knowing that he actually loved her.

"I am," He admitted. Bruce was stoic, but there were hints of emotion sprinkled throughout his eyes.

"You are, and it's not fair to them, it's not fair to her. It's certainly not fair for me," Y/N's voice cracked as she held back tears.

"So you're leaving," Bruce asked already knowing the answer. Her plane ticket was on her coffee table and he had pretended not to notice. Perhaps, she was visiting a relative but that did not seem to be the case.

"Yeah, I got a job in Metropolis as some reporter's assistant," Y/N couldn't think of the name of the reporter to save her life. Honestly, she simply went on indeed and picked the job most similar to her current one that had benefits.

"Metropolis? Why not just stay in Gotham?" Bruce was close to getting on his knees and begging her to stay. It was not the first time and it most certainly would not have been the last.

"I don't trust myself not to see you. I want you to be a better man, a better husband, and a better father. The easiest way to do that is for me not to be there,"

"All I need is six more months and then we can have everything we'd ever want together,"

"Yeah, but in four months or so, something will happen and then you'll need another four months and then the cycle repeats," Y/N was tired of playing second string. Of course, it was not her fault he was married but she couldn't keep allowing herself to not be a priority.

"I love you and I want you to stay," Bruce's eyes turned red and he seemed to hold back his tears. His chest tightened at the thought of not seeing Y/N everyday.

"I can't," The words 'I love you, too' crept on the edge of her tongue. However, she couldn't bring herself to say them. She knew if she did then she would never get out of this godforsaken city.

"Can't what?" He asked, reaching for her hands, hands that he couldn't quite reach.

"I can't live for you. I can't only have a relationship based on stolen moments and faulty promises. I want more for myself and you can't give me that. At least, not right now," Y/N was sure there were tears falling down her face. The saltwater slowly penetrated her lips, making the moment so much more bitter.

"So you're leaving me," Bruce spoke softly and his eyes seemed to bore into hers. She felt as if all of their time together was replaying all at once. Every glance, every touch, every kiss all balled into one feeling that she could never describe.

"Yes, and I want you to go," He stood quietly as if he was trying to calculate the next charming thing to say. He would say something that would have her falling in love with him all over again.

"Out, Bruce!" She yelled a bit too loudly and covered her mouth. He did not to make her more upset so he did leave but first, he sent her one more small smile.

- 'New city, fresh start,' was the mantra that Y/N had been mumbling her entire time in the elevator of the Daily Planet. The first few days in the city were spent adjusting and trying to remember that were no gunshots or police raids to fall asleep to in Metropolis.

"Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. I think I'm supposed to be starting as your assistant today," She introduced herself as she opened the office door. The office was large and featured a desk in the middle with a slightly smaller one in the corner. Everything seemed neat and had its own place.

"Oh, come on in. I'm Clark, Clark Kent," He spoke with a slight accent that Y/N couldn't quite place. He was more than attractive with dark hair and glasses.

"It's nice to meet you," She said with a smile.

"Before we get started, where exactly in Wayne Tech did you work? I have a few friends over in Gotham," Clark asked as he handed her a small file. Y/N took note of his muscles that seemed to almost burst out of his button-up.

"Oh, I worked as Bruce Wayne's personal assistant," Y/N try to say without sounding as bitter as possible. She left on her merit but at the same time, she loved that man with all her being.

"Interesting,"

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x black!reader #x black reader #black!reader #assistant!reader #bruce wayne x black reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x black!reader #c-nstantine

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

Text

Mr. Black, Part 6

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and fem receiving) , spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, mentions of female anatomy, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre has an unexpected surprise for you that leads to even more conversations about...whatever the hell this is between you. You do end up loving the surprise and you get a bigger peak inside that gorgeous head of his.

Word Count: 10,614k

A/N: I promise not all of my fics will be this long moving forward! This was the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written and it healed something in me LOL. As an update, I had Covid this past week and I'm just getting my strength back. Please be kinder to your faves! I am over the moon that you enjoy my works and look forward to the next chapter, but let's keep it cute. My family are my opps and do not like to see me happy. If ya'll only knew what I had to endure writing this...These updates will take time. And I'm doing this for free! This is a hobby! I'm not a smut machine. Let's stay mindful of that. To prove you actually read this far, put your fave fruit in the comments! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov @mcdesij @kholdkill @blowmymbackout @theunsweetenedtruth @monaeesstuff @cocoeffects @soft-persephone @duckiesfairy @slippinninque @westside-rot @prettypink-princesss @kawaiisadoglu @thadelightfulone @the-crystal-one @miyuhpapayuh @thecookiebratz @twocentuar @esachicaa @enchantedillumination @xo-goldengirl @tranquilfandomer @we-outsiiiide @hihellogoodbyebruh @bratzmaraj @yourofficialgal

The week between Christmas and New Year’s was a lawless haze spent mostly in Tre’s bed. You hadn’t seen your place all week and it should bother you. There was no mention of it. There was no conversation to be had. He just kept inviting you back to his place and you kept saying yes.

He got you a hygiene kit complete with a Coach bag to put it in. You told him you could just pack something from your place, but he wouldn’t hear of it. You had your very own electric toothbrush sitting on his sink.

Every time you went to the bathroom, you stared at the thing as if it could come alive at any moment. It was a courtesy thing, nothing more. It didn’t mean you were moving in. You were quickly realizing that Tre might’ve lacked proper social skills. With all his big talk, he lacked the cues necessary to clue you into whatever the fuck was going on with him.

He couldn’t possibly think that he could get you a hygiene kit, keep pajamas over - not that you used them much - and you would just smile and wave and move into his fucking house?!

The past week, he had kept you in a near-permanent sex fog. He still ate you out at work, stating that he simply liked the taste of you on his tongue while he dealt with the company hemorrhaging money at an alarming rate. He told you that your sweet taste made dealing with idiot managers worth every solid minute.

He still had you suck him off in the morning, stating that he loved nothing more than pumping you full of him to start your day. He was able to work harder and smarter with empty balls and thoughts of what he was going to do to you later at his place.

There wasn’t enough time to really talk. There was this burning obsession with each other that didn’t seem to let up as the week went on. Every time you finished having sex, you wanted to crawl under his skin and do it all over again. You couldn’t get him out of your system. In between sex marathons, him cooking, and your conversations about interests, there wasn’t enough time to discuss the whole…headband situation.

You sat at your desk presently and your eyes kept flickering towards the front of the building. You couldn’t see much past the desks and chairs. The thought of Miss Headband returning made you ill. You were comfortable with the knowledge that Tre was yours in whatever capacity this was, but uncomfortable that Brianna thought she could walk in whenever she wanted.

What stopped any of his other conquests from walking through the door? Or calling you to set up dick appointments with him? You hadn’t been working for him long but you wouldn't be surprised if he had past assistants schedule such things.

Your nails tapped on your desk. Your jealousy was showing. And it didn’t suit you well to show it at work where anyone could see. You needed to put an end to the uncertainty. If Tre had a black book, he needed to burn it right this second. He wasn’t going to need it anymore.

Panic was a funny thing. Sometimes, it felt like a bubbling pot of oil sludging through your veins. Sometimes, it felt like a thousand tiny insects with wings fluttering beneath your skin. You felt a mixture of both as you checked your mental status.

Maybe Tre was rubbing off on you too much. Your friends had said you were turning distant lately. You usually told them everything, but how did you even begin to describe what the hell this was?

It started off as something hot and naughty between you and your boss. Everyone had that fantasy right? Being railed against an office desk until your eyes were crossing and you were screaming in pleasure?

All your life, you thought there was a schedule and order to these things. You meet a man, you go on a few dates, you explore interests together, and you date some more. You meet the friends and get their stamp of approval. Then it’s the family’s turn. You move in with each other to see if you could cohabit a space together. Perhaps get an animal together to see if you can take care of a living thing as a precursor to kids. Then, there’s some wholly romantic and unique proposal with the help of your friends or family. A wedding, a honeymoon, boom, pop out some kids and build a life together.

This was so fuckin’ backwards, you didn’t know where to start besides him swatting your ass. There have been no dates, just earth-shattering, world-ending orgasms, a few items at his place, and you left in a perpetual state of what-the-fuck?

Order and schedules made sense to you. It kept you on track. This…was messy as hell.

You sighed audibly and rubbed your head. It was too much thinking and it was giving you a fuckin’ headache.

“What’s wrong?”

You yelped and jumped in your seat. The chair went rolling to the left as you looked to the right to see Tre half sitting on your desk. Where the fuck did he come from?

“You scared the hell outta me!” You placed your hand against your chest to see how fast it was going.

“Maybe you should stop daydreaming at work,” he said with that damn smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t daydreaming, I was thinking,” you told him.

He sighed audibly and hung his head. “Nothing good ever comes from you overthinking,” he said.

“Shut up. It’s not overthinking. Logic calms me down,” you said.

His smirk returned. “I can think of something else that’ll calm you down,” he said.

“Shh!” You looked around the empty office. It was lunchtime and sunny outside, so everyone went out to the food trucks to take advantage of the warm weather. Still, you had to be cautious from anyone who might overhear.

You moved to stand up but Tre blocked your path. “Not hungry?” You asked.

Tre smiled and looked off into the distance. He took a few steadying breaths and looked back at you. “Got you on a schedule already,” he said.

Now it was your turn to look away with a goofy grin on your face. His words brought to mind something Brianna mentioned.

“Hey, what did Brianna mean by 'training me’?” You asked.

“I’ll explain all that. First, let’s go. We’re gonna be late,” he said.

“Late for what?” You asked. You turned to your computer, bringing up his schedule. The weekend had been blocked out without you noticing. He had no meetings or calls set up. “What is this?”

You clicked through the change history but Tre put his hand over yours to stop you. “It’s okay, I handled it.”

“Handled it? I’m the one that handles your schedule! When did you do this?” You asked. You literally had one job and you were too distracted this week to notice that he had been shuffling and moving things around.

You tried to picture him being sneaky and dealing with other assistants while he moved meetings. You pictured getting a random call from someone with a voice like his. A voice made for phone sex and your panties were already growing damp thinking about it. Yeah, he could finagle his way through just about anything if he had half a mind.

“Come on!” He grinned and pulled you from your seat. You had just enough time to grab your purse. He held your hand as he pulled you through the empty office. Panic jumbled your nerves. Instead of pulling you to the front of the building where the food trucks were, he pulled you to the back of the building.

You knew there was a back of the building, conceptually, but you didn’t know there was an entrance this way. You were hired in the mix of things and you didn’t get an official tour before diving in and picking up the slack.

There was nobody back here as he swiped his badge and you were let out into a parking lot. It was small, filled with only a few expensive cars.

“You have a private parking area? Ya’ll suck,” you giggled.

Tre tugged you towards his car. You weren’t good with car brands but you were pretty sure it was a Lexus SUV. He opened the door for you and motioned for you to get in.

“What about my car?” You asked.

“I took care of it,” he said with that damn smile.

“What the hell is going on?” You asked. You placed your hands on your hips and faced him completely.

Instead of answering, Tre looked at his watch. “You have about two minutes before the other managers pull in and see you hopping in my car. I’m sure they will have thoughts about it,” he said.

Your fear of being discovered was greater than your need for knowledge. You could needle him in the car. You hopped inside with his help and then he closed the door with instructions to put your seatbelt on. You rolled your eyes and did it, not because he said so, but because it was sensible.

Tre rounded the front of the black truck and hopped in himself. He sighed with a smug smile on his face and started the car. His windows were tinted well past the legal limit. But you had a feeling he just didn’t give a shit.

He pulled out of the parking lot just as a smaller sedan was pulling in. You sank down in the seat but Tre only chuckled at you. Clear of the parking lot, he swiftly pulled onto the freeway.

“Okay, I’m in the car. What the hell is going on?”

“You know, you’re cute as hell when you’re confused. You get a little crinkle in your nose,” he said. He sped up on the mostly clear freeway and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not going to tell me no matter how many times I ask, huh?” You asked.

He grinned and flicked his eyes to you. “Look at you catching on,” he said.

You growled and folded your arms across your chest. You turned away from him as much as you could in the seat and looked outside the window at the passing cars and freeway signs. You could tell that you were heading North but anything could be North.

“I promise you’ll like the surprise,” he said.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” you said.

“I know. I’ll break you of that,” he said.

“Excuse me?” You flipped your head to look at him but he kept his eyes trained on the road. One hand was on the steering wheel and he slowly inched his other hand towards your thigh. He squeezed the bare skin, his pinkie lightly grazing your pink dress.

You hated that your body reacted instantly. Your pussy fluttered and you were going to be damp in a minute thinking about that hand and all the nasty things he’s done so far.

“I don’t repeat myself,” he said.

You could be petty and point out that he’s repeated some things to you. But if he wanted to keep up his little fantasy, you weren’t going to cure him of it. As much as you liked to test his boundaries, you still had handprints on your ass from the last time you tried to get cute.

You focused on just being able to breathe while his thumb rubbed your left thigh. Soft music played in the car, low enough to not be annoying, but high enough to get the general rhythm.

The sights turned more industrial as you headed towards…LAX? Was he taking you to the fucking airport?

He got off the ramp for it, circling around, and headed towards the entrance on Century. He joined the congested traffic as he took the ramp to departures.

You huffed in disbelief. “You have to be joking. Where are we going? I haven’t packed, I haven’t got any supplies, I haven’t told anyone. I can’t–”

“I had a lovely chat with your friend, Ka’ron, the other day. She’s a little mad you didn’t tell her about me. I’ll admit, I was a little hurt too,” he said. He talked as he maneuvered around the insane traffic at LAX. It was like people lost all sense of decorum at the airport. People weaved in and out with little regard to who was behind or beside them. They had no idea which terminal to get to or realize that they couldn’t park at the curb forever.

Buses and shuttles ran through the inner road of the airport. You still hated that they changed the flow of traffic. It seemed much more dangerous to have you stand at the outer curb to be picked up. And the construction for the incoming train was plain annoying.

“You talked to Ka’ron?!” You screeched. Too many questions flowed through your head. How did he get her number? What did he even tell her? What the hell was this?

“I told her that I wanted to surprise you with a trip and after she got done laughing at the surprise part, she helped me pack your bags this week.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your friend was going to murder you. After she got done begging for every last scrap of detail she could get out of you, she was going to murder you for not telling her sooner.

“You have crossed so many–”

“I also bought you new travel bags. I didn’t care that they didn’t match, but they were really raggedy,” he said. He pulled into long-term parking, grabbing a ticket from the kiosk, and the metal arm raised. He pulled in and began the search for a good spot.

Gurgles of sounds escaped your throat but you couldn’t form a single sentence. Were you having a heart attack? Aneurysm? Were your blood vessels popping at this very instant?

“She helped me find your passport,” he said. He turned and backed into the parking space.

In the middle of your meltdown, you could appreciate the slip of skin at his neck as he looked backwards to park. It was somehow hotter that he didn’t solely rely on the back-up camera. You’d dreamt of that open collar enough times to call yourself a stalker at this point.

“Passport?!” Where the hell was he taking you? You weren’t going to say no to a free fucking trip. You weren’t that dumb. It was…the lack of consideration that bugged you. The fact that he’d been planning and plotting while he had you twisted up in all kinds of shapes no human body was meant to be contorted into.

Or perhaps…it was a control thing. You were without an anchor or foothold in this. You didn’t see this coming at all. You had no say over where you were going, when you were leaving, when your friends would know about him, what they would know about him, what you would wear, or do. It was beyond unnerving.

Tre shut off the car and got out, leaving no room for you to ask a thousand questions. You were still in your office attire for fuck’s sake? Not the most comfortable traveling outfit. There was no way in hell you were going through TSA in fucking heels.

He rounded the car and opened your door for you, letting you out with a smug wink. He really didn’t see anything wrong with whisking you off to some exotic place without a conversation first. Had there been even a tiny ounce of communication beforehand, you wouldn’t be quite so shocked and pissed.

Next, Tre went to the trunk and lifted the door, pulling out a rose gold London Fog suitcase and a complementary Coach duffle bag. Your mouth dropped open. It was so gorgeous, you drooled a bit as he pulled out his own black suitcase and duffle bag. He moved both to the side and then handed you a more personal bag.

“Move your things from your purse to that. We’ll put your purse in the trunk,” he said. You stared at him like he was some alien with four heads.

He smiled and stepped closer to you, pulling you by the hips flush against him. You refused to give him any indication that this shit was okay. But he kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and pecked your lips.

“Trust me. It’ll be good,” he said.

You pressed your lips together and decided to surrender for the time being. Your boss…lover…boyfriend…was taking you somewhere and you didn’t have to lift a finger. There were worse arguments to be had.

The personal bag looked like a smaller version of the duffle. You ran your hands over the soft fabric filled with tiny C’s and then opened it. Inside, there was your Kindle, various meds you may need, head scarf, sleep mask, and ear pods. There was also a brand new matching wallet that you transferred your ID and cards to. This whole thing was absurd but you let yourself enjoy it.

Once done, he took your purse and placed it in the trunk in an innocuous box and closed it. “We’ll change in the lounge,” he said.

Your eyes bugged out again but he wasn’t going to answer a single fucking question so you let him grab your bags and walked over to the bridge connecting you to the terminal. There, he wheeled your bags to the check in counter. He pulled out both of your passports and handed them over to the agent.

She was an attractive Black woman with her hair pulled into a bun. She openly ogled your man so you moved next to him and peered over his shoulder. “Make sure I have the window seat, baby. You know I like to look outside when we take off,” you said and grinned at him, not looking at the woman at all.

Tre smirked down at you. He placed his hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear. “You’re so sexy when you’re jealous.”

The woman cleared her throat and finished taking the necessary steps to check in your suitcases with a much better, more professional attitude. You made sure to smile and thank her while he grabbed your duffle bags and personal bag from the counter. He scooped up your passports and tickets and tucked them into his bag. Then, he grabbed your hand and you moved on to the security line.

Getting through that was a headache all on its own, but once through, Tre pulled you towards a lounge. You knew they existed, you just never had the luxury of being inside one. It was quiet with muted lighting and a bar area where people sat for drinks and the latest game on TV.

As he said, there were bathrooms and he told you there was a travel outfit in your bag. You stood in the fancy bathroom, half-giggling like a madwoman as you changed out of your dress into more comfortable clothing. You now had on black leggings, tennis shoes, a loose gray shirt, and a light gray sweater. That had been most of the bulk in your duffle, so you had room to fold up your dress. The heels were a bit of a problem, but that was okay. If they got messed up, you were making him buy you a new pair. And you’d only feel slightly guilty about it.

After dressing, you went out into the lounge area. You skipped over Tre twice, not because you didn’t recognize him, but because you were surprised to see him outside of formal wear. Sure, you’d seen him lounge at home in his briefs, or the pajamas he wore to cook, but you had never seen him out and about in his element.

He wore black, of course, but it was a black Henley T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans, black boots, and his glasses. He looked good enough to fucking eat and you had to stop just outside the door to admire how hot he was.

He was looking down at his phone so he hadn’t seen you walk out. But as if you were linked, he looked up at that moment and grinned. You walked over to the bar area and he grabbed your bags from you.

He grabbed your hands and opened them so he could take in your outfit. “You look so fucking gorgeous,” he said.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said.

He held out the bar stool for you and helped you settle in. There was already a strawberry margarita sitting there for you and you sipped it, letting the frozen treat relax you. “Our plane leaves in an hour so you have time to finish,” he said.

“Any hint to where we’re going?” You asked.

He shrugged and sipped on his whiskey. “You’ll see at the gate,” he said.

“The only thing you can’t hide from me,” you said.

He grinned. “I could if I really wanted to. Make you wear your earphones the whole trip.”

“I can see the board,” you said.

“Not if I didn’t want you to,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “You know how insane this is right? Calling my friend, planning this behind my back, ambushing me in the middle of the work day? Where do people think you are?”

“I am on my way to a conference for potential clients. Since I’m such an awesome boss, I gave you the weekend to spend with your family,” he said.

“No one’s going to buy that,” you said with a giggle. You wouldn’t buy that shit if you heard it.

“They have no proof to the contrary. I know my methods are off, but I know a few ways you can thank me on the plane. I always wanted to join the mile high club,” he said and eyed your outfit. “Maybe we should’ve gone with something easier to take off.”

You slapped his thick arm. “Not on your life,” you said. The tips of your ears burned just thinking of it. Those tiny ass bathrooms ensured there was no way two people could fit. And you were not sucking him off in first class. He was too damn big for any other seating.

He chuckled and sipped more of his drink. You talked more with him pointedly ignoring your questions until he looked at his watch. He grinned, that wide smile melting your insides, as he grabbed your things and took your hand.

The casual way he touched you, openly, in the airport where everyone was anonymous was a balm to your spirit. You didn’t know you needed this…validation of the two of you. You didn’t care what people thought of you to the extent that you were together. You were more concerned about office politics. If you wanted to be taken seriously, you couldn’t let the office gossips think you were sleeping your way to the top.

Out in the open like this, you felt excited to be the one holding his hand while he guided you through the chaos of the airport. He walked leisurely to your gate. You frantically searched the boards for destinations. These were all domestic flights to the East Coast. Atlanta, New York, Chicago…

He stopped at a gate going to Miami. You eyed him as he took up a place near the gate. They were beginning to call for your group.

“Now boarding first class to Jamaica, with a stop in Miami. Now boarding…”

“Jamaica?!” You whispered to him and he grinned down at you.

He squeezed your hand as he moved you in line, handing the agent your tickets, and then pulling you down the tunnel. You had no room to talk as he placed your bags in the overhead bin and you settled into the nicer seats in first class. For once, your big ass fit comfortably in the seat with enough foot room to swing your feet.

Shit, after flying like this, you might have to do it all the time and leave your friends in economy. You were all going to the same place, you didn’t have to sit next to each other. The flight attendant asked if you wanted a drink as more people got onboard. You accepted a tequila neat and settled into your seat, wiping everything down with cleanser wipes you found in your personal bag. Your girl really fucking knew you.

“Bougie looks good on you,” he said as he watched you.

“Shut up! I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of this. When are we coming back?” You asked.

“Tuesday night,” he said.

You couldn’t help looking outside, looking at the people who passed. You didn’t want to contain your excitement. As the boarding ended and the plane began to taxi down the runway, Tre settled in his seat and tapped your arm to get your attention.

“Why haven’t you told your friends about us?” He asked.

He wanted to discuss that now? “And say what? ‘Hey guys, what’s new with me? Well, my boss has been blowing my back out for the past few weeks?’” You whispered so everybody in first class wouldn’t hear your business.

He scrunched up his face. “It’s not official until your friends know. And I’m not just your boss,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

“Your boyfriend?” Tre asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Boyfriend! That’s what you are?” You asked.

The captain started speaking about preparing for liftoff, so you were spared a few moments as the flight attendants came around to collect trash and remind you about the trays.

The plane took off and Tre never stopped looking at you. As it ascended, he leaned in so he could be heard over the roar of the engines and mounting pressure.

“That’s exactly what I am. And I want you to tell them about me,” he said.

You looked at him. He was serious about this shit. You didn't know what to say or what to call him. You guessed it was the logical step after declaring “you’re mine” while hopping on his dick. You licked your lips and nodded. “You’re my boyfriend. I’ll tell them when we land,” you said.

He smiled and sat back in his seat as if it had been eating at him. The tension left his shoulders. When the plane leveled out, the flight attendants came around with warm peanuts and drinks. You got some water to balance the drinks you’d had.

The plane ride to Miami was comfortable now that Tre decided to relax. You were able to joke with him about the book he chose to read while you whipped out your Kindle and awkwardly told him about the filthy book you were reading. You had a brief layover once you got to Miami. You collected shot glasses for your friends.

The plane ride to Jamaica was smooth. You were flying into the night but the sight as you descended still stole your breath. The water was a mix of cerulean and true blue, with scores of seaweed you could see from the plane. The island didn’t look all that big flying overhead, but the hills were wide and varied in height.

The plane had to turn to land into the small ass runway and you were half concerned as the captain easily guided the plane onto it. You rolled into the gate and Tre helped bring your bags down.

The airport itself smelled like Shea butter and breezy sandy beaches and you inhaled deeply. You had traveled all over the world at this point with your girls. Hitting up spots in Europe and Mexico, but there was something so amazing about landing in a place with people that looked like you.

Everywhere you went, there was another Black face to greet you. There were fans up high blowing hot wind at you but to you, it was perfect. As you got off the plane, there was a man standing there with Tre’s name. He walked you past the long line to the left for regular people.

That line was long and looked unbearably hot as people stood there trying to get through customs. You assumed the young man was a driver with his company shirt and shorts on. You never saw anything like it. He guided you through the lane to the right, going down a ramp, and turning into a much shorter customs line. The agent at the gate checked in your passports, stamping them, asking routine questions.

Through, the driver stood off to the side while you waited for the bags. There were gorgeous Jamaican women with red outfits on helping people find their carousel and telling you to settle in for a long wait because they were slow.

The accents were the best part. It sounded like coming home. A deep, ancient knowing made you feel at home here than you ever did in the States. Tre grabbed your bags from the carousel since they came out among the first bags. The driver took it from him and led you out of the busy airport.

There were just…Black people everywhere. For once, you didn’t feel like an oddball out when you traveled. Seeing Black faces was the norm. The driver took you through the final screening, handing over a form Tre filled out while on the plane. Then, you were out of the baggage claim area where even more people congregated. Bus drivers were trying to find people to scoop up, taxi drivers did the same, and there were so many guides waving signs for tours.

Outside, the air was balmy but comfortable and the driver led you to his car. There was nothing fancy about it, but you climbed in all the same while Tre talked with him. Then you were off.

You had to keep pinching yourself. Jamaica was gorgeous. The rolling grassy hills were interrupted by pockets of communities. You passed by signs of colonization. Plazas, houses, Popeyes. You giggled and pointed it out to Tre who just smiled like you were the most adorable thing on the planet.

It still blew your mind that he wanted to be your boyfriend. It seemed so high school the way you felt about it. But it felt right so you decided to go with the flow. By the time you made it to the adults only resort, you were absolutely tired. Tre told you to sit in the waiting area while he handled everything.

In no time, you were showering in your suite still pinching yourself that this was actually happening. You had dinner, buffet style, and enjoyed part of that evening’s entertainment. There was live music and a dancing troupe that you half paid attention to. Now, you just wanted to crawl into bed but you still had so many questions.

You let Tre see your text message as you texted your friends that you arrived safely with your boyfriend. You had landed and your phone dinged immediately upon turning on. Ka’ron told your entire friend group that not only were you getting regular dick, you had been whisked away on a fancy trip on some real movie type shit.

But Tre didn’t look satisfied with what you said. So you made him take a photo with you with the amazing view in the background. You confirmed that he was a sex god and you would give all the nasty details when you got back. He was much happier about the photo and asked you to send it to him.

He was so…domestic and it was freaking you the fuck out. You didn’t have the energy to bombard him with millions of questions. He tucked you into bed and then you were drifting off to sleep, trying to remember everything you wanted to ask him.

The next day, after breakfast, you took a look around the resort and everything it had to offer. There were multiple pools and a small beach area where you could go and relax. The resort had towels and pool equipment for you, but it was tied to your room number. If you didn’t return it when you were done, then it would be charged to your room.

Ka’ron didn’t steer you wrong with the outfits she chose for the trip. All light, lounge wear that fit easily over skimpy bathing suits your friends made you buy. You had no intention of actually wearing them. But that was all she packed and the look on Tre’s face was worth it.

He was content to walk around like everything was fine, but your questions were burning you from the inside out. Worse than the damn sun. This was their milder season so you knew it could have been much, much worse. But the UV index was much higher so you stayed spraying on your sunscreen.

You held hands and stopped at some of the gift shop areas spread around. There was an ice cream shop that sold coffee and meat pies. You got ice cream while Tre went for coffee. But his entire focus was on you licking your spoon.

You began to do it deliberately slowly, licking every inch. You put the end in your mouth and slowly withdrew it while keeping your eyes on him. Your body heated up from the way his eyes were trained on your lips. He caught every movement and swipe of your tongue across your lips to lick it up.

Tre grabbed your ice cream cup and threw it away. “Hey! I wasn’t finished!” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. The ice cream was “free” due to the all-inclusiveness of the resort package but you weren’t going to split hairs. Here, you and Tre were always on the same page.

Your body responded to him like it had never done in the past with previous lovers. You felt him on a cellular level as your swimsuit grew damp from your arousal. He pulled you to the elevator and your room, barely opening the door before pulling you inside and slamming you up against the door.

His lips crashed into yours, desperate and needy. Moans escaped you even as his beard tickled your face. You just wanted more. You pulled at his shirt and pants, undressing him just as he undressed you. He turned you around, pressing your chest against the door. He kissed your neck as he untied your top and lowered your bottoms.

Your chest was still pressed to the door so your top didn’t fall just yet. Tre’s warm hand on your back prevented you from moving. He stepped closer and you felt the heat of his chest scald your back.

You trembled in the doorway. You wanted to see him and touch him too. But he only slipped his right hand around your hips to spread your pussy lips apart. You hissed as his fingers connected with your clit.

You felt him smile against your neck. “Already wet for me, little one?”

Your head thumped against the door as he worked your wetness around your clit, diving into your pussy to gather more of your arousal and spread it around. He toyed with your clit, rolling around his fingers, and flicking it just the way you liked.

“Oh, shit, Sir,” you moaned against the door. Your cheek was pressed against it as he rubbed his erection against your ass. He nibbled on your ear, licking away any hints of pain. His left hand came up to grab your titty. He finally let the fabric fall as he pinched and rolled your nipple in time with his fingers on your clit.

“I want the neighbors next door to hear you screaming and call the front desk,” he whispered in your ear.

Pinpricks of arousal traveled up and down your body. You could barely stay standing as that particular image flashed in your mind. “I want you to explain that it was just some enthusiastic play time and nothing to be concerned about.”

Your moans were pathetic and whiny as you raised up on tip toes trying to escape his fingers. But he only pressed into you further, pressing you against the cold door. You scratched at the wooden door. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to help you as you cried out and the orgasm ripped through you like a thunderstorm. You were whipped about in a frenzy as the power of it stole your breath away.

You cried as you calmed down. Tre withdrew his fingers and panted against your neck as if he had just gotten done fucking you. He audibly smacked his lips as he tasted you on his fingers and moaned as he licked every last digit.

He roughly turned you again, slamming his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You took control, kissing him and pushing at his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at you as you dropped to your knees.

His dick twitched as you palmed him, running your fingers over him once before opening your mouth and sucking him inside. You licked him just like you did that ice cream spoon. Slowly and sensually and maintaining eye contact. He groaned, licked his lips.

“Oh, that’s how we doing it?” He asked. He sat back against the wall and you adjusted with him. Then you continued teasing him and sucking him into your mouth. You played with his balls and he moaned low in his throat. You rolled them with one hand while keeping your other hand braced against his thigh.

You licked him, running your tongue across his tip. “Mm, suck me down,” he said. But you ignored him, continuing to kiss your way up and down his shaft. He chuckles were stuttered and he shook his head.

“I’ll remember this when it’s your turn,” he promised darkly. You knew he was going to pay you back when you started teasing him. But you just liked the sound of him moaning for you even more. You sucked him all the way down, trying to fit as much of him in your mouth as you could. Then you started sucking on him like he liked. Rough, bruising, bullying your mouth with his dick.

“Unf, that’s it. That’s it right there,” he coached while he threw his head back and groaned. He released himself and you swallowed every drop. He took a few deep breaths before picking you up and bringing you to the bed. He spread your legs apart and looked his fill at your dripping pussy.

“Wait! Fuck!” You didn’t need a break but you did need a tiny breather. You had been out in the sun all day walking and enjoying the day. But the feral gleam in that man’s eyes had you slightly worried that you were in danger.

“Tre,” you said, trying to get a handle on yourself. It wasn’t normal to want to throw common sense through the window and have him fuck your brains out. Right?

“The fuck did you just call me?” He asked. His deep, rough voice turned even darker as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He slapped your pussy and you reared up, trying to scoot away from him.

He slapped it a few more times, each one stinging more than the last. The sting gave way to a burning coil of heat that had you moaning and moving your hips for more. You hated that he turned you into exactly what you didn’t want to be, a sex doll. Well, hell, there were worse things to be while underneath him.

You stammered as you tried to think past the unbridled lust and need.

“What’s my name?” He asked. He landed another smack against your pussy. You only grew more wet. The wet slaps were getting louder and filthier and he noticed. He didn’t wait long for you to respond before continuing to slap at your pussy until your legs were shaking.

“S-Sir,” you moaned.

“What is it?” He asked. He tilted his head and you looked at him through that sex fog you’d grown accustomed to this past week. You could barely think of your answer, let alone make your mouth move, as he slammed two fingers inside you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. Your hands gripped and let go of the sheets around you on the king sized bed. He pumped the fingers in and out of you, moving them around to feel every inch of your soaked walls. You moaned and whined, your needy sounds somehow turning you on even more.

“What’s my name, little one?” You asked.

“Sir! Sir!” You yelled out, cried out, in time for your orgasm to kick in, making you shiver in time with the frost from the AC. You shook, out of control, thighs trembling and knees buckling. If you were standing, you’d have collapsed to the floor.

Tre scooted in, making sure your legs couldn’t close. “Remember our safe word?”

You nodded dumbly. “Candy cane,” you muttered.

He dropped his head to your belly, placing soft kisses there. “Only you can turn me into a fucking animal,” he whispered against your skin. You giggled as he continued to attack your plump belly with kisses.

He licked the swell of your breasts and moaned at your taste. You reached out and grabbed his dick, played with the precum between your bodies. He moaned and ground his hips into you, rocking with every swipe. You flicked your thumb across the tip, flicking all that pre against the tip of his dick. He sighed and groaned under your touch, latching on to your nipple and suckling you.

It began to dry up so he pulled away and dropped to his knees. “Please, Sir. I need you,” you said.

He took off his glasses and tossed them onto the bed. You grabbed them and placed them on your chest to keep them safe. There was a bite of cold from the metal but it quickly warmed. You didn’t want to get lost gripping the white sheets in desperation and accidentally crush them. Tre watched the movement and his eyes turned darker still, a thousand yard stare entering his gaze.

Sweat gathered at his brow, rolling down the side of his sweet ebony skin and sliding into his beard. His breathing was erratic as he lowered against your pussy lips and drew your legs over his shoulders.

His fingers dug into a deep massage of the back of your thighs as he nosed through your wet slit. You bit your lip and gyrated your hips, unable to control yourself from moving. He suckled one of your pussy lips into his mouth, pulling to the point of pain and you cried out.

You had no idea how you were going to survive another one but you weren’t going to tap out. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. Needed this. This was the only time you felt like you were on the same page. The only time you felt connected, mind to mind.

He moaned, inhaling your scent and swiping his tongue out. You were still so sensitive from your earlier orgasms that you twitched with every pass. The massage on your thighs already had your back arching off of the bed, but when he finally dived in and wrapped his sexy lips around your clit, you were crying out and clutching his head.

“Oh shit!” You moaned. This was different. This was him trying to prove something. Or earn something. He suckled on you, hard, pulling waves of pleasure from you and making you whine and groan and scream to the sky. Perhaps he would get his wish and the front desk would be calling you any minute, asking if everything was okay.

No, everything was not fucking okay. You were getting the life sucked out of you and it was bordering on painful. It felt too fucking good as he licked and moaned his way in between your legs. His tongue speared in and out of you, mimicking how he was going to fuck you. One of his hands disappeared from your thighs and you felt him groan and tug on himself.

“That’s my job, you know,” you managed to breathe out.

He huffed against your pussy, rolling his tongue around your clit in small, tight circles that made your eyes cross. His tugs grew rougher and you panted to get enough oxygen to form a thought.

“That’s mine,” you said before succumbing to another orgasm. This was brutal and unforgiving. It blinded and deafened you. Sweat gathered everywhere. Pooled in the crevices of your skin. Your thighs locked his head in and he kept going, kept working his jaw to wring every last bit of it out of you.

Your knuckles hurt from clutching the sheets so hard as you came and came, wave upon wave of pleasure soaking the sheets beneath you. Tre licked up everything you gushed out. You twitched with every pass, too overstimulated.

Your cry was small and weak and he finally stopped, kissing up your thighs and over your belly. His hands roamed your body, touching every inch he could. He rubbed feeling back into your limbs, anchoring you in place and bringing you back to the world of the living.

Your essence dripped nastily from his beard and he swiped a hand down to work it in. “I like when you get possessive. You said this was yours?” Tre stood over you, peering down at you. He tugged on his thick erection and it jerked as you struggled to your elbows to hold yourself up.

It looked fucking painful the way it strained away from him, veiny, and begging for you. You licked your lips. Fuck, you wanted to taste him. Wanted him to feel just as good as he made you.

“Mine,” you huffed out.

He swiped his hand through your slopping juices and coated his dick with it, rubbing himself and groaning as he looked into your eyes. “One day, I’ma paint your belly with my cum and see how many paintings I can make.”

Your pussy clenched sharply and you moaned at the mental image. You needed him to do that, like right now. Something on your face made him grin and huff a laugh. He gripped your legs and tugged you closer, ass half-hanging off the bed.

“I like the idea of stuffing you more. Fucking my cum into you and painting your insides with everything I can give you,” his rubbed the top of your thighs and your hips. His hands were always deliciously callused and it worked at turning your body into jelly.

“I want everything,” you said. You gave him puppy eyes as your voice turned soft and girly, small with need.

His hand went to your face as he leaned over you. Your sweaty bodies rubbed together and you moaned, pulling him closer by his hips. He watched you rub against him, grabbing his ass with one hand and pulling him into you.

Your head was deliciously empty. You were operating on basic instinct. You just wanted him inside of you. You just wanted to be connected to him. Claimed by him. He moved his hips, rubbing his fat dick against your folds. You were trying to move him inside of you but he was too big for all of that. He’d have to be guided in.

“You want this dick, little one?” He asked.

The pet name was like a dose of dopamine that traveled from your brain to the tips of your toes. It relaxed you further, making you smile goofily at him.

“I want that dick, Sir,” you moaned.

He pulled you by the chin for a sweet, tender kiss that made your eyes water. He used his other hand to guide him inside you. That was anything but tender. He shoved inside and your mouth dropped open.

He groaned as he looked at you and began to pump his hips at a fast, punishing pace. You couldn’t breathe. You would probably pass out in a second. Your mouth flopped like a fish as he found a spot deep inside you already. You felt full and connected just like you wanted, getting closer to him every time he was inside you.

“Breathe, little one. I don’t want you passing out on me,” he said against your lips. He kissed you as if to give you the very breath you desperately needed. You gasped and sucked in as much air as you could while he was currently stealing it from your body.

Fuck, you felt electric. On top of the world. You felt like you could do anything now that he was inside you. You rolled your head, unable to choose a position to hold and keep it. He felt too fucking good pumping into you.

Your arms trembled from trying to hold yourself up but it was important to you to stay like this. Stay close like this. Your head was bent towards his. His lips were pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You returned his sweet kisses so at odds with how he was fucking you.

And make no mistake, this was pure, animalistic fucking. He was rutting inside of you. “Fuck,” he moaned. “Feel so fucking good.”

You clenched around his dick. His moans made you greedy for more. You felt invincible. Power drunk. You rendered a powerful man like him speechless and sloppy as his hips jerked against you.

He stopped to adjust himself, lifting one of your legs higher and then he set to work again. You grabbed his forearms and held on, looking into each other’s eyes, as your moans matched. Your face started to contort with a rising orgasm.

“Mhm, let that shit go. Let me feel you flooding this dick. Get that dick wet for me,” he cooed.

“Sir, Sir,” you moaned. Your nails dug into his arms as you leaned your head back and it finally overtook you. “Ouue, fuuuuck, babbyyy,” you moaned as you came. Your body convulsed on his dick, flooding him just the way he wanted with your slick.

“Fuck, I feel it. Feelin’ that shit,” he groaned. He hung his head as you closed your eyes. Stars exploded behind your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to survive this. Trying to survive him and his body.

His own orgasm was ripped from him, soaking you in his cum. You felt it pulsing inside of you, pumping load after load. His hips still snapped inside of you, fucking it even deeper. You held on, your head against the bed and flopping from side to side as you cried and moaned, shaking on his dick.

Tre panted and groaned, his hips slowing down. Fuck, you were definitely going to feel this shit later. He dropped against your shoulder, off to the side and careful to avoid his glasses on your chest. He licked and kissed on your neck as he panted and recovered.

You messily sucked in air. He’d already seen you in a bonnet and shower cap, you were out of dignities to spare. You massaged the back of his neck while he laid there. He groaned, tension leaving his body in visible waves.

He softened inside of you and slowly pulled out. He leaned back into standing, so he could open your legs and watch his cum spill out. He licked his lips as if he still wanted to play with you but you were both too fucking tired to do anything but huff and look towards the ceiling.

He flopped beside you, wiping sweat from his brow. You yawned, but he told you not to fall asleep.

Not to fall asleep? How could you not? Your poor vagina was begging you for a break and he wasn’t giving an inch.

You heard him flittering around the suite. You distantly heard water running and then he was running a warm towel between your legs. You hissed at the contact, the soreness, the desperation finally leaving your bones for the time being.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he cleaned you up. He disappeared again and then he was back, picking you up and scooting you further up the bed. Somehow, he produced a tray of fresh fruit and made you sit up to eat and drink the water that was also on the tray.

“Where did this come from?” You asked.

“I sent for it while I was cleaning myself off. I think you dozed off,” he said. He had a proud grin on his face and you rolled your eyes. Yes, yes, we all knew he was a sex god capabale of fucking you to sleep.

You nodded and opened your mouth while he popped a strawberry in. The fruit was delicious and refreshing after something so intense. The last thing you wanted was to eat or drink. But he pointed out that you needed something besides your light breakfast and ice cream.

You were sitting against the headboard, letting the coolness ease your feverish skin. Your legs were tucked in and he closed the distance, sitting as close as possible to you while staying in front of you.

“I owe you some answers. But first, I want to say that this was an apology trip and fucking,” he said.

“Apology?” Shit, you really couldn’t think. Your thoughts were…nonexistent.

“I owe you an apology for not letting Brianna know that we were done. That she couldn’t just walk into the office whenever she felt like anymore. We ran in the same circles and shared the same tastes. I like my women to be a little submissive in the bedroom. Tying them up, controlling their orgasms, the whole bit. That’s what she meant by training. She thought I trained you to call me, Sir.”

He hadn’t, not really. It was a default to call your bosses Ma’am or Sir or whatever they preferred to be called unless they gave you permission to call them by their name. A holdover from your old school grandparents to teach you manners. Tre terrified you in the beginning, you had honestly been too afraid to call him anything else.

He told you more about how he usually got with his women. He found that he was into the whole scene life from his time experimenting in college. He didn’t “do” relationships. In every sense of the word, you were his first real relationship. He was so focused on getting things together, he skipped over a dozen or so steps and just wanted you by his side.

It was…sweet and started to answer a lot of fucking questions about him.

“I knew that I fucked up with the Brianna thing, I heard how she was speaking to you. We spent the lunch hour talking about how we were over whether she liked it or not. She kept asking what made you so special. And I just kept telling her everything. Everything made you special.”

Your eyes were starting to tear up so you bit your lip to keep from making them fall. He was being so damn sweet and open, it was tearing you to pieces.

He looked away, looked down at your legs. His hands idly rubbed your calf as he talked more. “I knew I needed to make it up to you beyond just saying sorry or taking you to dinner. I needed you to know I’m serious,” he said.

You reached out and caressed his cheek, tugging on his beard. “Trust me, I know you’re serious,” you said with a giggle.

He shook his head. “I know I ambushed you with this. But there’s still so much I don’t know about you. I heard you talking to Ka’ron one day and knew she was the main one to ask about this. When she said she never heard of me, I will admit, that hurt.”

He said as much back at the airport. You dropped your hand to his, to the one drawing circles on your calf. You squeezed his hand and looked into his open, brown eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you. I didn’t know how to explain it. You’re still my boss,” you said.

“I’m not just your boss,” he said.

“No, but…sometimes you push forward and there’s never a conversation in between. Like you decide all these things in this…relationship but you don’t tell it to me. You leave ‘me’ out of the relationship and that’s no way to be together. I need that conversation to ground me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I can’t help it. It feels like I’m always trying to gauge whether you have one foot in or one foot out. I feel like…I have to catch you by surprise,” he said.

That was fair. You had a history of running and being scared. You were constantly running from situations that were too real, too honest. You hated that you weren’t always seen as the “fun, uncomplicated” girlfriend. When guys pushed for more, you were the first out of the door and onto the next one. Over and over, ready to bolt at the first sign of something being real.

“I am in. I am yours. I am not going anywhere,” you said. “I promise to talk to you first if I ever feel like bolting. But that’s just it! I don’t feel like bolting with you.”

You still felt panicked sometimes, like you couldn’t breathe with the mounting pressure and knowledge that all of this could come crashing down on your head. That everyone would find out and snicker and laugh you out of the office. That Tre would realize that he was dating someone so far beneath his league, it was laughable.

“I feel like you’re going to realize we’re not on the same level,” you admitted.

“We’re not. You’re so far out of my league, I don’t know why you’re here,” he said.

You looked at him, waiting for him to laugh or yell, “Gotcha!” It never came. He was fucking serious. The realization made you look at him like he was crazy.

“Get the fuck out,” you said and shook your head, laughing.

“I’m very serious,” he said. You felt like you knew him by now. He didn’t “do” humor that much either. He made you laugh and you had fun watching comedy specials together, but for the most part, he was deadly serious.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, funny, and you can talk about so much shit I never heard about. I feel like I have to shower you with gifts and trips to make you like me,” he said.

You pushed at his chest. “You’re so full of shit and I’m not falling for it. I’m not after your money!”

“I know,” he said with that shit-eating grin you’re so fond of. “I check the statements. You haven’t used my card once. What’s up with that?”

You threw up your hands. “Did Brianna ever get a card?” You asked. You couldn’t look at him while you asked that question. You didn’t want to compare yourself to Lil’ Miss Headband but you needed to know.

“You are the only one I’ve ever trusted my money to,” he said. He brought your hand to his lips.

You sighed quietly, loving to hear that. You’d just about die if it turned out that he gave every little woman he slept with a card.

“Sounds like we’re both harboring shit instead of talking,” you said.

He nodded. “We promised honesty from here on out, yeah?” He asked.

You nodded, popping a grape into your mouth. “Total honesty. No matter how scared we are or how much it hurts.”

Tre sucked his teeth and fought you for a piece of cheese. “Ain’t nobody scared,” he said.

You laughed and called him a liar and continued to talk a few things out. He didn’t mind reassuring you over and over that you were the only one he’d really been with. You still found it hard to believe, you had eyes.

His ego needed no stroking as he confirmed that there were always women after him but it was hard to tell if they wanted him or his money. He had no problem treating his lady, but when it was expected and not appreciated, it got old fast. You respected it. You’d still have a hard time believing it though.

You spent the rest of the weekend, much more relaxed that you didn’t have the weight of Brianna hanging over your head. You were able to swim and venture out into Jamaica to a local shopping place with women selling wares. A lot of it was the same thing from stall to stall and you felt bad having to tell a lot of them no. Tre was patient and let you get however many souvenirs you wanted for your friends.

You spent New Year’s with him inside of you, making you beg for mercy until your voice gave out and your body quaked. You got your kiss at midnight. It was sloppy and wet and perfect.

Unfortunately, you had to return home to a million calls from your friends and family. Cat was out of the bag officially. You made sure that Tre knew it was all his fault to which he only grinned and asked which house you were visiting first. But now that you were back in sunny California, a pit gnawed in your belly.

You didn’t know how to broach the subject. You had planned to tell him when you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off last week, but then the trip threw you for a loop.

He brought you to your place, after you had to practically grab the steering wheel and make him drive you to your place and not his. You made sure he knew that you weren’t trying to leave him, you just had things to check on and he was perfectly capable of coming to your place. Unless he’d spontaneously burst into hives from not sleeping on black sheets. Traveling was a fluke, the rules didn’t apply while on vacation.

“Oh, we got jokes,” he said and grinned on the way to your place. “I’ll remember that tomorrow.” He kept that evil grin on his face and you shuddered to think of what he had planned while you clenched your thighs together.

At your place, you stopped him from getting out of the car with a hand on his. He looked at you, growing more and more concerned as he looked at your face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I don’t know how to just blurt this out,” you said. Your leg bounced in your seat. Your street was quiet for once, no one outside to distract you.

“Hey, total honesty.”

You nodded. “I was going to tell you last week but…” You took a deep breath and then closed your eyes. Rip that bandaid off.

“Someone’s stealing a shit ton of money from the company.”

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