#and then that little bit of growl they add to some of the stronger lines is just the 🍒 on top

[shapoopy178]

Bro

Demi Lovato Revamped

I'm absolutely fucking floored

[chunkypossum]

Come Hel or High Lord: Ch 18

Chapter 18: We'll Meet Again

Words: 6800

Reminder: This is a crossover between all SJM series. So spoilers for TOG, ACOTAR, and CC

Summary:

“So I suppose it’s my turn. I’ve told this story so many times that it almost doesn’t feel real anymore.” Aelin smiled and Lorcan grumbled behind her. “Feel free to add in any bits you want to Lord Lorcan Lochan. As long as it makes me look good.” 

Eris snorted softly hearing the male’s full name and title and Feyre caught the slightest uptick in Azriel’s lips as he continued to stare Eris down. 

“Then I will keep my mouth shut.” He replied darkly, causing Aelin to let out a cackle of laughter. 

+

AZRIS angst ( More?!?) (yes it's all I can write)

More of the snippet below the cut. Read on Ao3

“Go.” A voice said next to him. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed, his heart dropping into his stomach. 

“What about you?” Feyre asked.  Panting, he tore his eyes away from his father’s soldiers and met Feyre’s stare with urgency. “I can hold them off for a little while longer. Long enough for you to get to Day.” Eris flipped his hair out of his face and flashed her a smile. “At least until my father gets here. So hurry!“  Azriel snarled softly next to him but it was quickly drowned out by all the shouting going on around them.  No . The protective wall of shadows around that special spot inside of him dropped completely to barrel that one word, that demand down that long, unused bridge between them, the one he had spent too long pretending didn’t exist. He only met a familiar wall of flame on the other side.  “Eris,” Feyre began, biting her lower lip. After the help he had provided Azriel could tell she didn’t want to leave him behind either. He could also tell she would concede to him though, if she thought it was the only option.  “I wasn’t going to go with you anyway.” He sneered, almost laughing.  Don’t do that. Not now. Take off your mask. Azriel pleaded but the wall of flames only grew stronger, blocking him out.  Feyre hesitated then took a step toward Eris, then another, until he was face to face with him. His beautiful, kind High Lady, took Eris’ face in her hands and met his forehead with her own, whispering softly to him.  Azriel watched as Eris’ mask cracked wide open. His features softened, making his freckles stand out in stark contrast to his porcelain skin and his hair seemed to brighten in his braids. A  tear tracked down the side of his face until it faded into the corner of his lips. When Feyre stepped away from him and he opened his eyes they blazed with amber fire. She was gifting him some of her strength in a final goodbye. Thanking him.  For his sacrifice. Some part of Azriel said inside his head. No, no, no this was all wrong.  Feyre hesitated. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something but closed it again and swallowed her words. “Thank you.” She said quietly, tears in her eyes.  Eris rolled his own eyes and laughed. “Don’t cry for me now Cursebreaker. This is hardly the time.” He ignored Azriel’s stare boring into the side of his face and looked back out towards the woods like he expected Beron to walk out of the treeline at any minute.  A small smile graced her lips and she nodded before turning and running after her sister and son. Azriel didn’t move from his position next to Eris. His shield held strong even as his siphons were starting to dim.  “Come on Az.” Feyre said to him softly before turning and following her sister and the others down the dark cave corridor. Azriel watched them go, unable to resist the pull of Feyre’s power over him and unable, or unwilling to pick up his feet and leave.  “Go Shadowsinger. Go protect your High Lady. Leave them to me.”  A feral smile matched the fire blazing in his eyes and Azriel wanted to smile at his tenacity. They had only ever fought together side by side at Hybern and Azriel had almost forgotten the thrill of it.   Azriel ignored him. His mouth was set in a hard line. “No.” He growled still not looking at him. His shield holding strong from his position next to Eris. “Your father will kill you when he arrives.”  “Or worse.” Eris mumbled.  He met Eris’ stare, a flash of terror and sadness washing over both of them. Gone as quick as it came.  Eris threw his head back and laughed.  “Last I heard, you were quite regretting not killing me yourself. I don’t see why it should matter that I meet my end now.”  Even though he was trying to say it in jest, Azriel looked at him just in time to see more pain flicker in his eyes. Only this time, it didn’t disappear quickly. Eris let his face fill with that sadness and Azriel felt his heart weigh down with the vulnerability he was being gifted with.

This is a cross over fic so a giant cast of characters and a big stupid storyline but Azris is my main bitch in this fic so ... Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars

[shywhumpauthor]

Hii! I have a request for you!

So, I was thinking about a villain capturing and restraining hero to stay out of the way while causing chaos in the city. Coming back after a while and dragging hero from their cell to force them see their beloved city in fire. I'd love a crashed hero, and I'd love a possessive (over them) villain who's hungry for every devastating expressions (or reaction) they can get out of the hero. I want villain to keep hero for themselves now they are purposeless and weak, restrained at their mercy.

I do hope the idea inspires you, you can add things if you'd like and develop it, again, however you please. If you write this I will foreverever be grateful!!!

<3

Omg I love this trope sm- Anon I hope you enjoy!!

I know I focused a bit more on the kidnapping itself here—sorry kskdjdkd

Cw: torture, kidnapping, injury, restraints, fire, bombs, destruction, bruises and blood, starvation

Villain had never fought fair.

They were a criminal, for god’s sake. Of course they didn’t. Their entire damn career centered around their ability to deceive and lie.

Somehow, Hero had managed to overlook this seemingly vital fact.

The battle had been a long and tiring one. By the end, both Hero and Villain were panting, covered in blood that was not entirely their own. Both their weapons had been lost in the midst of the fight, scattered somewhere amongst the gravel and trash that lined the alley which served as their battle field.

“Give up now, Villain,” Hero gasped, their hand clutched against a rather nasty gash cut just below their ribs. “The police are coming. If you tu- turn yourself in, they might give you a.. a lighter sentence…” Their voice was nearly lost in the howls of the wind as they braced themself heavily against the brick wall, warm blood seeping through the tattered fabric of their uniform.

From across the way, Villain barked out a laugh, a sound that rang clear despite the blooming storm.

“You’re not looking too good, Hero,” Through their obvious exhaustion, a sort of glee lit clear upon their features, completely oblivious to their own bruised figure. “Maybe you should take the loss this time, go home to all your little hero friends before you really regret staying.”

“Is that a threat?” Hero growled, their hand moving to subtly tap the button on the side of their watch twice. After their first save, the governor had insisted they have some form of direct communication with the city’s police. Hero had pressed the alarm three times in the past hour, signaling that they weren’t able to handle this by themself.

Where the fuck were they then?!

“Maybe it is.”

In the glint of the streetlight, Hero could see Villain’s lips curl back into a grin.

“You had your chance, Hero,” Villain chuckled, their hand slipping into their back pocket and slowly drawing out a blade. The knife was small, practically useless in the normal context of a battle, but now it could quite possibly mean life or death. Villain’s grin only widened as they saw Hero’s expression shift.

“What, don’t tell me my little hero is all out of weapons?” Villain laughed, spinning the knife in their hand with a practiced ease, making a big show of catching the glint.

With a low huff of determination, Hero held out their fists as they sank back into a fighting stance, their mind whirling as they tried to formulate a plan. They were too far to grab their knife, all the bullets in their pistol had been fired. The only choice they had was to try and hold Villain until the police arrived.

Villain didn’t give them another second to prepare before they lunged. Their form was sloppier than usual, strikes riddled with exhaustion as they pressed forwards, but still they were stronger than Hero, and they knew it.

It was like watching a cat toy with a mouse. Villain’s grin didn’t falter as they slashed and struck, easily blocking Hero’s flimsy punches. Their knife cut Hero’s skin smoothly, just a little scratch here and there, though to make them hiss and wince as they backed them up against the wall.

“You’ve lost, Hero.” Villain’s tone was filled with a cold glee as they brought the knife up to the other’s throat, their other hand moving to grab Hero’s right wrist and pin it against the brick by their head.

“No-” Hero gasped, their head tipping back on instinct as the sharp of the blade grazed across their neck. They twisted their wrist and kicked at Villain’s shins, trying desperately to push them away with their free hand, but Villain didn’t budge.

“You’ve. Lost.”

•••

The hours blurred together within the four walls of their cell. Hero couldn’t tell minute from day as they sat there, curled alone in the corner under the bright lights.

Every so often, Villain would visit them. They would saunter in through the metal door, a shit eating grin curled across their lips as they recounted their latest crimes. Hero tried not to listen, but every time Villain would pry their hands away from their ears, voice growing louder with each word as they boasted about all the destruction and chaos they had called.

Sometimes, Villain’s henchmen would come in. Hero wasn’t sure if it was under villain’s orders or to fulfill their own sadistic desire, but every time they would mock Hero, tugging at the chains fastened around their wrists and ankles to make them trip, shove and push them all while laughing to each other before they eventually left, leaving Hero with a new bruise and a new blood splatter across the tiled floor.

Hero could tell something about this day was different, though. As Villain sauntered into their cell, they didn’t begin their usual monologue. They didn’t begin rambling about bombs and robberies, they just stood in the doorway, grinning widely.

“Stand up.”

Hero slowly raised their head, looking up at villain through half-lidded eyes. Their left one was nearly swollen shut, surrounded by a dark bruise that engulfed nearly a quarter of their face. Their dry lips pressed together, not a sound slipping past. Their cheeks were sunken, mouth dry. They couldn’t remember the last time they had eaten—based off the deep ache rooted in their gut, it had to have been a while.

They didn’t move.

“Come on, Hero,” Villain sighed, their grin slowly dropping as they stepped into the small, bare room. “Keep your last bits of dignity. Don’t make me drag you.”

Hero didn’t think they’d be able to stand if they wanted to.

They let their head fall back, resting against their bony knees. Eyes falling shut, the mere task of holding their head up had drained them.

Hero barely flinched as Villain grabbed the back of their shirt, hauling them to their feet with ease.

“Come on, walk,” The criminal growled, forced to support the majority of Hero’s body weight as the other all but collapsed against them. “You can’t be this fucking weak-”

Villain let out a groan of annoyance as they realized that yes, Hero was actually that weak, and not just acting as dead weight to be a pain.

They ended up practically carrying Hero down the hall, the manacles around their wrists and ankles clanking loudly as they did so. Villain let out a huff of annoyance, about a moments away from slinging the Hero over their shoulder and carrying them like that. They could tell Hero was trying, though, but their attempts to walk only made it more difficult for Villain to keep hold.

“I guess I probably should feed you,” Villain sighed as they reached the end of the hall, twisting off their glove and pressing their right thumb against the elevator button’s scanner. With a low beep, the technology confirmed their identity, and the door slid open to reveal the small compartment.

“Wh..’re…?” Hero’s voice came out nothing but a rasp, barely comprehensible as Villain dragged them into the elevator, and pressed the button for the roof.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, my dear Hero.” Villain’s grin returned as the elevator began to ascend. They adjusted their grip on the city’s once savior, looping their arm around the other’s shoulders and propping them up that way.

The ride, in reality, was likely only a minute or so, but to Hero, it seemed to drag on for years. They could feel Villain’s warmth, leeching through their tattered shirt. They could feel their breath, tickling the side of their bruised face. They were too close, much too close.

When the door finally opened, and the cool breeze hit their face, Hero couldn’t help the relief that flooded their chest. Their eyes fluttered closed, taking a moment to just bask in the fresh air as Villain pulled them forwards.

Then the stench hit them.

Smoke, thick, dark smoke clouded Hero’s lungs, so sudden it nearly made them gag. They coughed, their knees buckling from the force of the heaves. Villain just laughed, drawing their arm back and letting Hero collapse to the gravelly roof.

“Open your eyes, Hero.” Their voice cut through the air, louder than the sirens and screams Hero was just beginning to hear. “Open your eyes and watch your city burn.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

ALL IS FAIR

a/n: woohoo!! finally a harry fic! lol sorry i got very into marvel these past weeks but im finally bringing you some harry content! this one was originally requested by an anon sometime and then we kept talking about it until i actually got around to write it! hopefully you’ll like it and if you do, please like and reblog!

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

“Stop being such a stuck up dick, it’s your birthday, bro!”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend who walks into his penthouse as if he owned. Niall Horan was so well-known in Harry’s building that he could have easily walked into any homes in the tower and people would still welcome him warmly. It might have a few things to do with the fact that half of the residents in the Compass Tower are women who are hopelessly in love with either Niall or Harry, hoping for a chance to drag either of them into their bed one day. They have a lot more chance to do that with the Irish bloke than with Mr. Styles. Not that Harry doesn’t find them attractive, but he is not the type to have one night stands, something his friend gives him quite a lot of shit for.

“Would you fuck off for twenty more minutes?” Harry sighs, shooting him a look as he covers the speaker of his phone, in the middle of a call.

“You have ten minutes and we are leaving. I’m not letting you work on the night of your thirtieth birthday!” Niall warns him before walking into the kitchen to roam the always full, neatly stocked fridge.

As much as Niall Horan comes off as an irresponsible cocky child, he is quite the businessman himself as well. As the Lawyer of one third of New York’s most influential people, he surely doesn’t have to worry about making a living, enjoying his luxurious apartment a few streets away from Harry’s place on the Upper East Side. It’s not as expensive and impressive as Harry’s penthouse on the top of the tower his father built in the heart of the posh neighborhood most people only know from TV shows, but he couldn’t complain.

“Another designer refused to sign with us, H. We are running out of options,” Lambert’s voice rings through the phone as Harry turns to the floor to ceiling window, staring out to the city skyline in front of him.

“We have quite a few left, right?” Harry asks clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, but I heard that Cometa is planning on announcing something big next week so I think a lot of them are waiting for that to happen.”

“Do you think it’s another collab? But they just had fucking Chanel have a line sold through them!” Harry growls, his blood boiling at even just the thought.

When it comes to fashion in the virtual world, there are two businesses that totally dominate the industry. In the men’s wear, Twisted is definitely the number one selling place. The idea started off as just a freshman school project that originally wanted to sell tech stuff, but a few years into the project Harry met Lambert who was already a rising star in the fashion industry and they joined forces, creating the most classic yet affordable and user friendly online empire: Twisted. Though Twisted mostly features men’s clothing, they’ve been trying to venture to the field of women’s fashion, but it hasn’t been as easy as they thought it to be. And the reason for that is Cometa.

Cometa was originally a website where anyone could sell their own clothes, make their online wardrobe sale. But eventually the business grew itself out and stepped up a few levels, collaborating with various designers and brands, selling exclusive lines and a highly praised seasonal variety four times a year, earning a well-deserved top spot in the online fashion industry. It’s hard to compete with what Julia Bianchi built up through sweat and blood and Harry Styles has been working on stepping up to be a major competition for Cometa in women’s fashion, with not much luck so far.

To top the cake with a delicious looking cherry, Cometa has been trying to set feet into men’s fashion as well in the recent years, bringing out several lines with some mentionable designers, but they never made it be as big as Twisted. The two businesses have been trying to outdo each other for about a decade now, with not much luck so far and Harry’s patience is running low by now.

“I don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out. I’ll call you on Monday, alright?” Lambert sighs through the line.

“Okay, thank you,” Harry nods, feeling a little defeated.

“And happy birthday, man. Go and celebrate!” he chuckles, making Harry’s lips curl up as well.

“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Harry bids his goodbye before the call ends.

Wandering into the kitchen Harry finds Niall with the thickest ham and cheese sandwich between his hands, sitting at the kitchen island.

“So where exactly are we going tonight?” he asks, grabbing himself a granola bar as he joins the Irish lad on the stool next to him.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he grins, mouth full as he chews mercilessly. Harry grimaces, not sure how this is the same man who can convince a judge about basically anything, wearing his designer suits, putting on an intimidating and serious act for his cases.

“I have a switch,” Niall once told him when he asked how he does it. “I just turn it off when I’m off the clock.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Harry informs him matter-of-factly, but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered by his comment.

“You’re thirty now, no one cares what you hate.”

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

“Me,” he grins, making Harry roll his eyes.

The bass is throbbing, red tinted lights illuminating the exclusive bar in the heart of Manhattan where Niall chose to gather some of Harry’s close friends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Sitting in the leather couches at a restricted area at the back of the place, they are hidden enough not to draw too much attention to themselves but still feel like they are part of the party.

“Cheers to three decades of this cocky motherfucker!” Niall beams as their glasses meet in the middle, everyone laughing and wishing Harry a happy birthday before they all chug their drinks.

Harry is not necessarily the type of person to enjoy going out too often, but he admits it’s been a while since the last time he let loose. It feels nice to have the evening to himself, leaving the business behind for just a couple of hours before he returns to his busy everydays.

Though the occasion is Harry’s birthday, Niall is surely enjoying the evening a tad bit more than his friend. After Harry sees him send down three tequilas in a row he realizes it’s not gonna end well if he doesn’t get some water into his system as well. Excusing himself from the group he heads to the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies until he finally reaches his destination.

Given how it’s a Friday evening, the place is packed and he waits in the line patiently while the bartender is fixing up the order of a group of girls a few stools down from Harry. Leaning onto the counter Harry runs his gaze over the dancing crowd, tapping his fingers against the surface to the beat, even bopping his head a little when he feels a push from behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” A female voice calls out and as he turns around he spots the owner of it, a young woman, her curvy body wrapped in a tight mini dress that leaves very little to Harry’s imagination as his eyes run up and down her figure. He has never seen a curvy girl as confident as her, she is radiating, drawing every male’s attention to herself like she is feeding off the hungry stares and dirty thoughts birthed by her.

Her eyes meet Harry’s gaze and the sly smirk that tugs on her perfectly shaped lips gives it away that she is not that sorry to be bumping into him.

“No worries,” is all he manages to say, the urge to drop to his knees right then and there stronger than anything he has ever had to fight.

“He won’t notice you,” she tells him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The bartender. If you just stand there like that… he will never come here,” she explains.

“I’m not sure I have what catches his eyes,” he jokes, making her laugh and he swears his stomach drops at the heavenly sound.

“May I?” she arches an eyebrow and Harry nods, letting her step in front of him. He stands tall above her, eyes fixed on her figure as she leans onto the counter, the marble pushing her breasts up just enough to spark the bartender’s fantasies when he glances in her way. She waves at him with a charming smile and a moment later the guy is standing in front of her, ready to please her in any way she desires.

“Three vodka sodas and…” she turns in Harry’s way, her lips slightly parted and his breath hitches in his throat. “What did you want, handsome?”

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t comment on it, just adds the two water to her order. The bartender nods and disappears to fix up her drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and sticking his hand out to her he introduces himself.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” She takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?”

“Um, no. I’m here with a few friends,” he replies nodding towards the back of the place. “Are you here with someone?”

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

“A few of my girlfriends,” she smiles, brushing her hair over her shoulder, flaunting a better look at her naked neck and just one glimpse is sending a whirl of dirty thoughts into Harry’s mind. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under his lips, what her moans would sound as he sucks on it, leaving a mark on her, letting every man in the house know that he made her feel good.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” Y/N asks, a knowing smile on her lips as she most definitely saw Harry staring at her.

“Actually, yeah,” he chuckles a little nervously. “It’s my birthday.” Y/N’s eyes brighten up as she beams at him.

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly. “Are you guys celebrating something too?”

“Well, I…” she starts, her thoughts wandering off for a second before she continues. “I kind of got promoted,” she explains and Harry smiles down at her warmly.

“Congrats then!”

The bartender returns with the drinks and she is already about to get her card from her little clutch when Harry pulls his card out, handing it over to the guy behind the bar.

“Birthday boys shouldn’t pay for others,” she smirks, but doesn’t try to fight him that hard.

“You can pay me back later,” Harry shrugs with a suggestive smirk on his lips. He doesn’t want to part ways with her, but she is obviously expected to be back with her friends and he needs to get back to Niall as well before he absolutely loses control. Stepping closer to him, Y/N slides a hand up his chest, her palm resting at the base of his neck as she leans to his ear.

“Save me a dance, birthday boy?” she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing against him for a split second before she steps back, grabs her drinks and winking at him one last time she disappears from the bar. Harry stands there for a few more seconds before the bartender hands him back his card and snatching the waters from the bar he heads back to his friends.

 Luckily, Niall is slowing down a little, The water does him well and Harry finally doesn’t feel like he’ll have to take care of him, dragging him home once the night is over. Sitting by the table Harry is trying to focus on the conversation, but his gaze keeps wandering over to the dance floor, looking for one particular curvy figure in the sea of dancing bodies.

It takes him some time to spot her, but when he does, he is not able to tear his eyes away from her.

She is almost perfectly in the middle with her friends surrounding her, lips and shoulders swaying to the rhythm perfectly. He catches her chug down the last sips of her drink before she disregards the glass and gets back to dancing. Watching her every move intently, Harry feels his lips slightly part at the sight of this angel who is for sure a devil in the sheets. He can’t stop himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to dig his fingers into her thighs, kiss her neck, her cleavage that’s on show now, how her curves would fit into his hands perfectly. He wants to praise this woman, make her feel good and not just because he wants to be selfless and please her, but also because seeing this woman reach her high because of him would be the biggest ego boost for him and he just needs that.

“Go dance with her!” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at him when he catches Harry staring at her.

“What? No, I’m not a dancer,” he shakes his head, shifting his eyes away from the dancing goddess on the dance floor.

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

“You’re a pussy. I saw her looking in your way as well, she wants your dick!”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry whines rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when he gets so vulgar, but luckily no one heard their conversation. Glancing back in Y/N’s way Harry sees how men are eyeing him, probably building up the courage to go up to her and that has his blood boiling. He needs to be the one to touch her.

Chugging down the rest of his drink he snaps the glass on the table before standing from his seat, ignoring Niall’s cheering as he makes his way into the crowd.

Harry didn’t lie when he said he is not a dancer, he feels uncomfortable, awkward and uncoordinated most of the times he tries to dance, but he is pushing all of those to the back of his mind for now as his eyes are set on one person in the crowd.

When Y/N spots the man approaching her, she can’t push a pleased smile off her lips, slowing her movements down as Harry finally reaches her, leaning closer to her ear so she can hear his voice over the music.

“Here to collect that dance,” he smugly tells her, making her laugh, though the music is too loud to let him hear her. She just nods and turning around she presses herself up against him, her backside fitting his front perfectly. Harry’s hand snake around her waist, his large palm smoothly moving through the silky fabric of her dress as they start moving together.

She is intoxicating, makes Harry feel like he is some kind of horny teenager, like he hasn’t dealt with women before, but in a way, she makes all of his past flings appear to be only girls. Her confidence in her own body is easily one of her best traits, the way she handles herself, moves her body, the look in her eyes, Harry is getting drunk on just watching her and now he is able to touch her as well.

When he feels himself getting hard in his pants, he knows he should be at least a slightly bit embarrassed by himself, but as Y/N turns around in his arms and he sees the pleased smirk on her lips, the feeling vanishes in a heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close, her lips brushing against his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?” she prompts before pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his ear and he can’t hold a growl back. The friction is almost unbearable, as his hands slide lower on her back, stopping on her ass, he knows he won’t be able to control himself any longer. Luckily, he is not the only one having this inner fight.

Snapping around Y/N grabs his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the hallway of the bathrooms. He follows her eagerly, lucky for them, the club doesn’t have restrooms with several stalls, but single bathrooms with a lot more comfort and privacy. Just what they need right now.

They find the third bathroom empty, pushing their way inside and locking the door before Harry pushes her up against it the moment it’s just the two of them, their mouths hungrily meeting in the middle. He almost grunts against her lips, she tastes even better than he imagined and the way her tongue is the first one to come into action has got his mind blown. His hands roam up her body, running up all her curves until they reach her face and he cups it in his palms, pressing his hips against her. She moans against his mouth when his hard cock pokes against her, both of them desperate to take it further.

Tumbling further into the small bathroom, he helps her up to the counter next to the sing, her legs instantly opening for him, her tiny dress rolling up her thighs, revealing her clothed sex. Harry eagerly kisses his way down her neck and chest, her skin feeling so smooth under his lips. His fingers hook under the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down so he can push the dress past her full breasts and thank God she is not wearing a bra underneath!

“Fuck me, you are so hot!” he breathes out, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she cockily answers before Harry’s mouth attaches to her nipple, his hand working on her other breasts before he switches.

He quickly gets down on his knees, pushing her underwear to the side before his lips and tongue meet her sensitive clit.

“Oh shit!” she moans, a hand coming to tangle in his hair while she tries to hold herself steady with leaning on the other one behind her. There’s no time for teasing now and they both know that.

She is so lost in the experience, Harry is licking and sucking just the right spots and she tries to close her legs, locking his head between her thighs. His arms come to curl around them, ring clad fingers digging into her flesh and the situation might be a little suffocating for him, but he doesn’t mind it a bit. In fact, if he died this way, he would die a happy man.

She doesn’t let him finish what he started, pulling him up, his lips still glistening from her own juices as she kisses him messily, wiggling herself out of her underwear while he undoes his pants as well.

“Shit, do you have a condom?” he breathes out when his palm wraps around his throbbing cock. She nods, reaching for her clutch she dropped to the counter and digging into it she grabs the package, smacking it against his chest playfully. “Were you planning to do this tonight?” he grins cockily as he rips the package open and starts rolling it down his hard length.

“No, I’m just smart, unlike you,” she retorts, her sass dripping from her tone and it just riles him up even more.

Grabbing her thighs he yanks her to the edge of the counter, a gasp leaving her plump lips as she tries to find her balance quickly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he growl against her lips before kissing her, while he lines himself up with her, the head already pushing in.

“Then fuck me, birthday boy,” she challenges him again and it’s the last straw.

Harry slams into her, both of them moaning at the sensation before he starts thrusting in a fast pace, needing all the friction he can make to get them to finish as soon as possible. Y/N’s head falls back as she holds onto the back of his neck, her other hand on the counter behind her again and Harry glances down, watching her breasts bounce every time he rails into her, slamming his whole length into her every time their hips meet.

She reaches for one of his hands that’s holding her thigh and she boldly brings it to her core, tapping his fingers to her clit, letting him know that she wants some extra effort. Harry doesn’t say it, but he is blown how she didn’t just do it herself, she made him do it. It’s got to be one of the hottest things he has ever seen.

“Fuck, go harder!” she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist as he picks the pace up, feeling his orgasm building rapidly with each thrust.

They both are a whimpering, moaning mess, the bass of the music is thumping outside and for a moment, Harry feels like he is finally living his life to the fullest.

“I’m gonna cum!” she breathes out, his name falling from her lips moaning after that and when she pulls him down to kiss him, biting into his bottom lip and tugging it, he loses himself.

He feels himself jerking inside her, still sliding in and out of her as he grunts, releasing himself into the condom. He flicks his fingers on her clit at the same time, creating just enough friction to push her over the edge as well. He is coming off his own high when her walls tighten around his cock, dragging his orgasm out even longer as she basically screams, gasping for air, riding her orgasm out to the last bit.

Leaning down he kisses her again though they are still panting, this time making it a lot less rushed than the time their lips met for the first time. Her legs fall from around his waist and he pulls out, both of them cleaning themselves up in the aftermath of their little session.

“I know this was quite rushed and all that, but can I have your number?” he asks, even feeling a little nervous. She puts her underwear back on, smoothing her dress down as she smiles up at him, cupping his face in her palm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to skip on that,” she tells him simply, shocking him for sure.

“D-Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” she shakes her head and now Harry is confused.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” he then asks, trying his best to figure out the reason behind the rejection.

“I did. But it was a one time thing. If it’s supposed to turn into more…” she sighs, grabbing her clutch from the counter. “Then I’ll leave it to fate if we ever meet again,” she shrugs before turning around she just unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Harry stand there in complete and utter shock.

This is definitely a first for him, a woman who doesn’t want to see him again. He is not that egoistic to think that everyone is in love with him, but he never had an encounter similar to this. Not after the most amazing sex ever.

Harry fixes himself up, still not believing she walked out that easily, but there’s not much he can do now. Walking back to his table, he acts like nothing happened and when his eyes scan over the crowd again, he can’t see her anymore.

Harry lets out a tired sigh when Zayn, head of the graphic design department walks into his office with a familiar brown paper bag with the logo of Harry’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Has it started already?” Zayn asks, though glancing at the big screen on the wall he can see the stream is still waiting to be started.

“No, I’ve been staring at it for like twenty minutes,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself away from his desk to join Zayn on the couch in front of the screen as he unpacks the food. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

Today is the day of Cometa’s big press conference and no one knows what they are about to announce. It’s been keeping Harry on the edge for the past few days, because whatever it is, it has got to be major. Julia Bianchi is not the type of person to hold press conferences, she is a private person who has managed to keep most of her life behind closed doors. That’s something Harry admires in the woman even though they are competitors in the business. He can relate to wanting to keep her life just for herself, he has been doing the same thing. No public appearances, no lengthy interviews, no photoshoots. He likes to let his work talk for himself and it’s proved to be a successful move so far.

“I don’t know, but I hope they don’t suddenly announce a full graphic makeover right before our update,” Zayn chuckles. He has been working on an entirely new appearance for the website these past weeks and it’s supposed to go live sometime later in the month. A change for Cometa would totally throw their attempt off, making them look like they are just copying Julia’s move.

They eat and wait for the stream to start when the screen finally comes alive. There’s an empty stage shown with just two mic stands in the middle and nothing really happens for a few minutes before clapping is heard from behind the camera and Julia finally walks on the stage.

The woman is a real diva. Wearing a matching pant suit with bold floral print all over it, her short hair is neatly straightened into a bob cut, her red lips smiling lightly as she waves around in the room. Julia has been in the fashion industry for almost three decades now and she surely made a name for herself, sitting front row in every fashion show she attends, her words on any new trend being basically the standard.

Stepping to one of the mics, she clears her throat as the clapping dies down and her calm, gentle voice rings through the speakers.

“Welcome, everyone, thank you for coming, as you might already know I’m Julia Bianchi, head of Cometa, the world’s best online women’s fashion house.”

Harry leans back in his seat, eyes fixed on the woman on the screen as he is patiently waiting to hear what she’s got for the people this time.

“I’ve spent twenty-seven wonderful years in the business, building my own one for the past two decades. I fell in love with fashion as a child and moved to Milan to study designing from the bests. Though designing has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, I saw an opportunity in the early years for a brand that would hold together every other brand in the industry, bringing it to everyone’s home thanks to the rapidly developing technology. Cometa has always been my little baby and I’m proud of everything I achieved as head of such a great company.”

Harry realizes what it’s about before Julia could even say the words herself. The phrasing, the nostalgic tone, it’s all adding up to the obvious: Julia is about to announce her retirement.

“I gave the best years of my life for this company and I regret nothing, but recently I’ve realized that it is time for me to slow down for a little bit and enjoy a life that’s not filled with work anymore, and spend more time with my beloved husband, Fabio and my family who supported me on my long way here. Therefore, I am now announcing it with an aching heart and a lot of excitement as well that I am stepping down from my role as CEO of Cometa. I might be leaving now, but my business will not. So it is a pleasure to introduce you the person who will carry my legacy on, my amazing niece, the absolutely most perfect woman to carry on the work I started, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The moment another woman comes into the picture Harry almost chokes on his own saliva, seeing the same curves he had his fingers dug into last Friday. Y/N smiles and waves around as she steps to the other mic next to her aunt, exchanging a short look with her before turning towards the people in the room and the camera that’s streaming the event.

“Dude, you alright?” Zayn asks, patting Harry’s back a few times as he is still struggling to breathe normally.

He refuses to accept that the woman he fucked in a bathroom on his birthday, the one that made him moan like never before, is the same woman who is going to take over his biggest competitor.

“This has got to be a joke,” he breathes out with teary eyes from all the coughing.

“It is an honor to be here,” Y/N starts speaking as the clapping dies down once again and the two men are staring at the screen. “Just like to be the one to step into the perfectly stylish shoes of my aunt. I hope to live up to not just her and everyone else’s expectations, but also to mine as well. I grew up watching my aunt build up this empire with basically dust so to be the person to take her place is a dream come true. I promise to keep the quality the same and work on improving Cometa to its possible best while being in charge.”

As she finishes talking, questions are thrown in her way, but Harry doesn’t pay attention any longer. Standing up he walks to the window, staring out to the city as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“What the fuck is your problem, H? It wasn’t as bad as we expected, right?” Zayn questions.

“It’s fucking worse!” he snaps turning around. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that… I told you about what… happened on my birthday.”

“The bathroom fuck, oh yeah,” Zayn chuckles with a playful shine in his eyes.

“Well, that woman… the woman I fucked was her.” Zayn stays silent for a moment before he turns towards the screen, eyeing the woman on the stage as she is still answering questions, standing confidently in her tight, black dress and red heels.

“You fucked Julia Bianchi’s niece? And she is now taking over Cometa?” he raises his eyebrows at Harry who just nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “And she is also the one who didn’t give you her number?”

“Don’t… bring that up. But yes, it’s her.”

Zayn starts laughing, clearly finding Harry’s misery entertaining, but Harry doesn’t feel like taking it that easy. He wonders if she knew who he was, if she did it on purpose or it was fate’s horrible joke on both of them.

“Ah man, that charity event on Saturday will be one hell of a show then!” Zayn points it out and Harry’s face falls. He totally forgot about the charity event he was invited to, one that would have the biggest names in the fashion industry together in a ball room to raise money for a chosen good cause. It happens every year and it’s a major event, the perfect place to network and also to see your biggest enemies. That means that Harry will see Y/N again in a few short days and if he is being honest… he is not ready to face her, not after the information he learned today. Sighing he steps to the minibar he insisted on having in his office and though he never drinks during the day, he now thinks that now might be an exception. He pours himself some whiskey and before he chugs it down at one go, he lets out a long, tired sigh.

“That’s just my luck…”

Leslie helps you with the zipper of your dress, the silky, red fabric hugging your body like a second skin. She smoothes the wrinkles out while you fix the straps, staring back at yourself in the mirror with judgment. You need to look perfect, this is going to be your first time appearing at an event as CEO of Cometa, your big entrance into the industry, you can’t let anything go wrong.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Leslie smiles at you, bringing your hair behind your shoulders as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Leslie might be your assistant, but she is a lot more than that. You’ve been friends for almost a decade and when she lost her job a few years ago you didn’t hesitate to offer her a spot next to you. You wouldn’t be here without her, she doesn’t try to use her privilege of being your friend to not do the work, she is always on top of her game and you’ll always be grateful for her to not make it awkward at all.

“I think you need some diamonds though,” she winks at you, stepping to the table where all kinds of jewelry is sprawled out. She reaches for a simple one, not too much, quite elegant and you nod as she holds it up for you. Walking behind you she brings it around your neck, the diamond brilliantly sitting on your chest now, giving that little extra shine to your outfit.

“You’ll make every man fall in love with you,” she smiles at you and breathing out you nod, hoping to believe that everything will go perfectly.

While you make a few last minute calls she gets dressed as well before the car arrives for the two of you. She is wearing a less daring but still beautiful black dress, her curly hair pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her heavily freckled face bright from her happy smile as the two of you make your way to the event.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I tried to memorize the faces and names from the guest list,” she grins at you, earning an eyeroll.

“Les, I told you, this is not The Devil Wears Prada,” you chuckle softly. She is obsessed with that movie and hasn’t shut up about feeling like she is literally living in it since your aunt has shared her plans with you about your future position last year.

“I know, but it might be impressive if you already knew everyone!”

You have to give that to her, it would earn you a few good points if you knew the names already, you’re just still nervous about the whole thing. So many things could go wrong and you want it to be perfect.

 At first you feel intimidated by all the influential people around you. Everyone here is one of the bests in their own field and you feel like an impostor, but then you remind yourself that you earned your spot. Your aunt wouldn’t have given you the company if she didn’t trust you entirely with it. You worth no less than anyone else in this ball room and that reminds you that… you’re that bitch.

Leslie’s knowledge of names actually comes handy. You love seeing people get shocked when they try to introduce themselves to you, but you already greet them saying their names. It earns you some appreciative looks as you make your way around the room. Everything is going smooth, right until you spot one particular man in the crowd.

You’re in a little circle with a few designers when your gaze falls on Harry who is standing across the room, talking to two men. The champagne almost slips from your hand when you realize it’s him.

“Leslie,” you grab her wrist catching her attention. “Les, who’s the man in the blue Gucci suit?” you ask in a whisper and she follows your gaze, finding the man in talk.

“Oh, that’s Harry Styles, head of Twisted.”

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and head out to the balcony to get some fresh air before you faint right on the spot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leslie follows you.

“I messed up,” you squeak as you step outside, the chilly evening air hitting your uncovered skin immediately. “I messed up big time!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

Stepping to the edge, you wrap your hands around the railing, staring out into the void for a moment. Leslie Stands beside you, quite puzzled about your sudden panic.

“Remember the guy I told you about from Friday night?” you ask, keeping your voice down even though there’s no one really around. Leslie nods. “Well… he was the guy.”

Leslie glances back inside and then at you before her eyes widen and lips part in shock.

“You fucked Harry Styles at a club’s bathroom?!” she whisper-yells at you and you feel like a teenager who is getting scolded.

“I didn’t know who he was! And I genuinely think he didn’t know me either, how could he?! But now he is here and… Oh God, this is so bad,” you whine, your head dropping backwards as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Okay, don’t panic. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t remember you.”

“You can’t make me believe he doesn’t remember me after fucking me on a counter,” you tell her giving her a look.

“Alright, alright. Then… you just have to suck it up. It’s not like you can unfuck him,” she shrugs and though you know she is right, you just wish you could leave right now.

You never planned on seeing him again. Your bullshit speech about letting fate decide it was just an excuse to not give him your number. You didn’t want to because you thought he is not the kind of man that would be good for you. From his look you thought that he was either a fuckboy, not willing to commit to anything serious, or the kind of man that seems all nice and respectful at first but then turns out to be a total asshole and you’ve had enough of those in your twenty-eight years.

Soon enough you head back as the auction is about to start. Luckily, your seat is far away from Harry and it seems like he hasn’t noticed you yet. Though you wish to keep it that way, you can feel it coming already.

The auction goes by fast, you buy a new painting that will look amazing in your living room and almost twice as much money is raised through the evening that was the goal. You leave Leslie behind at the table as you go to the bar to get yourself another drink, probably your last one of the evening if you don’t want to end up making a fool out of yourself.

Patiently waiting at the bar you’re already thinking about watching Grey’s Anatomy when you get back and out of this tight dress. You look hot, but it’s not the comfiest look, if you’re being honest. There’s only one more person in front of you when you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turning around your stomach drops when you see the man you’ve been trying to avoid all evening.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he nods shortly, his expression is quite blank, but he is definitely not shocked to see you. You tighten your jaw before looking away from him, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You don’t seem surprised,” you point out.

“I was kind of expecting to see you here tonight.”

“So you knew who I was all along?” you snap at him, but he shakes his head.

“Not until the stream this week. I was pretty shocked when you walked on stage.”

Nodding shortly you brush your hair over your shoulder and you catch Harry glimpsing down your body, but decide not to comment on it.

“Did you know who I was?” he then asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with my biggest competitor willingly.”

“Just from the abrupt ending I had a feeling that you might have known me.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t throws herself into your arms after a fuck, doesn’t mean she had ulterior motives,” you scoff. “Get off your high horse,” you add before turning back towards the bar so you can order your drink. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. His hand is laid flat on the counter in front of you as he stands on your right, a little too close to your liking. You can smell the expensive cologne on him, the same that hit your nose on Friday as well and suddenly your body is betraying you.

However crazy the situation is, you can’t deny that he gave you one of the best times last Friday. Men you dealt with were more concerned about their own pleasure and most of them didn’t even get you to finish. But Harry made it happen so fast and didn’t even bitch about it when you made him rub your clit. He just obeyed like a grownup man who is willingly take care of his partner. That almost made you change your mind about leaving, but once you came down from cloud nine, you returned to your original plan.

But not as he is standing in front of you and you can smell him, your senses trick you into thinking that you’re in that bathroom again, almost aching for him to touch you the way he did then. He leans closer to your ear as he speaks up again.

“Leave the drink, dance with me,” he tells you as the bartender places your drink in front of you. You debate what to do before grabbing the drink and chugging it down in one go. You’ll need the alcohol if you are about to dance with your enemy.

Harry takes you to the dance floor in the middle of the ball room, one of his hands finds the small of your back while the other takes your hand as the two of you start swaying to the gentle music played by the band.

“Your aunt set my company back in women’s fashion every time I tried to take a step forward. Are you going to do the same?”

“She didn’t do anything to set you back but to build her own company. Not everything is about you.”

“You sound a little naïve, Love. It’s pretty clear you are new in the business.” This statement riles you up big time. How dare he degrade you like that? He knows nothing about you, yet he assumes things that are not at all real.

Smirking to yourself you lean back enough so your gazes can meet. Your hand slides up from his shoulders to the base of his neck so your fingers can gently brush against his skin and you notice the shudder than runs down his spine. He is not the only one having flashbacks from your last encounter.

“Wanna know what I know about business?” you purr, his eyes glued to your red lips as you speak. “I know that… Twisted was one of the last sites to participate in personalized ads on online platforms, failing to reach it’s targeted audience as fast as literally everyone else. I know that your company and my company use the same security system in our server rooms yet I can assure you that it cost me twenty percent less because we waited a month before installing it and got a huge last minute discount because the security company was trying to boost their numbers for their end of year closing. And I also happen to know that you are working on a new design for your website that could easily be outshone if I just did the same before you could do it.”

Harry’s lips part, probably mostly at the last information. He has no idea how you know these stuff, but you have a wide circle of connections in the city, you have an insider at every big companies in the industry without them even knowing. You’ve given countless tips to your aunt through the years, that’s how she managed to stay on top of her games.

Leaning closer your lips almost brush against him and you see how he weakens, he is expecting you to kiss him and he wants it. But you just smile at him, your eyes snapping down to his lips before up to his eyes.

“I will not do the same as my aunt, Harry,” you softly speak, your fingers grazing the back of his neck. “I will do way worse things.”

And with that, you slip out of his arms and walk back to your table, leaving him standing there alone at a complete loss of words.

“What the fuck had gotten into you?” Niall grimaces upon hearing everything he told you on the evening of the charity event. And quite frankly, Harry has no answer to that. He has absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to act like such a dick when you didn’t do anything against him.

The situation just messed with his head, seeing you in that breathtaking dress, mingling with everyone, smiling and laughing, oh how he wished you were laughing on his jokes! But then you seemed so tensed when he came up to you and something just switched in him. He wanted to take dominance, to somehow get out of it on top, but he miserably failed. When you brought up their plans to change the design he completely froze.

“No idea, okay? I just…lost it,” he growls, sinking into the couch. When Niall found out that Harry met the woman from the club again he insisted on coming over with some wine to talk it out, but he was not expecting this kind of story at all.

“Dude, you just put yourself on her radar big time, maybe she wouldn’t have even bothered to compete with you like her aunt did, but you surely changed her mind now.”

“I know, Niall!” Harry growls, not in the mood to be scolded like a little child. “Do you think she’ll change their design before we do?” he peeks at his friend, but Niall just shrugs.

“No idea, but I would try to speed it up before she actually does it.”

 Harry made you into a ticking bomb and you successfully got under his skin about the whole design project so first thing the next morning he went to Zayn to discuss a possible earlier debut for the new designs. Though it would be a close stretch, they agreed that it would go live by the end of the week and that got Harry somehow a little relieved, but in the middle of that he failed to put the right amount of effort into finding designers for their female lines.

When he meets up with Lambert a few days later he is not there to deliver great news. Apparently, three out of the four designers they were negotiating with recently pulled out of their deal and signed a contract with Cometa.

“We have one last designer on the list, but then… we are out of the bigger names,” Lambert sighs as Harry chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels like he has fallen into a hole a while ago and instead of climbing out he is just digging it deeper underneath him.

“Okay, do we have an appointment with them?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her this afternoon.”

“I’m going with you,” he nods before standing from his chair and opening the door he calls out for his assistant. “Rebecca, please clear my schedule for this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office.”

Rebecca nods behind her desk, already starting to make calls about Harry’s meetings and appointments.

It’s obvious he is anxious about the meeting, because if it falls through they are forced to look for less known designers and that won’t bring the change for the company they’ve been seeking for a long time. Arriving to the showroom where the designer is working, Harry is setting his thoughts straight, determined to convince her to sign a contract with them. The two men are let into the building by the nice assistant working at the front desk and she shows the way to the showroom where Kennedy, the designer is waiting for them.

Harry is confident, he trusts his skills to make this happen, but when they walk inside he instantly freezes upon seeing an all too familiar figure standing with Kennedy

A maroon colored pantsuit is hugging your curves, a Hermés handbag hanging from your arm, your hair falling in loose curls. As if you could sense his presence, you peek over your shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips when you see the shocked expression on Harry’s face.

“What a great surprise!” you beam, selling how happy you are to see him and in a way, you are. You wanted to see his face drop when he realizes you snatched yet another designer from him.

“Oh, Mr. Styles!” Kennedy smiles nicely at him and he finally snaps out of his trance, shaking hands with her and then turning to you, doing the same but in a lot colder manner.

“Y/N, nice to see you again,” he fakes a smile as your hand falls from his palm.

“I could say the same. But I’m heading out now. Great talk, Kennedy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at the young designer who seems to be thrilled by your words as she walks you to the exit.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath and Lambert shoots him a look before Kennedy returns.

The three of them take a seat on the couches in the corner of the room and Harry is quick to get down to business, trying his best to make his offer appear more appealing than anything you told her right before their arrival. Kennedy listens intently, even takes notes and then she shows him some examples of what she was thinking about for her next line and Harry is beyond thrilled.

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

“Harry, I’m gonna be honest with you,” Kennedy starts and Harry already knows what she is about to say. “Your offer is very tempting and it would be an honor to design a line for Twisted, but in my situation it would be more beneficial if I collaborated with Cometa. It is nothing against your company, it’s more about my personal path and growth.”

Harry can feel his stomach dropping and he clenches his jaw as he listens to Kennedy’s worth. He understands, of course he understands, she has the right to selfishly look at her own benefits upon signing with a new company, but he wished she would take the risk and chose his company instead of yours.

“I’m keeping the offer open for you still,” he forces a smile on his face. “If you change your mind, Twisted would be more than happy to work with you.”

Kennedy walks the two men out and the fake smile quickly vanishes from Harry’s face upon stepping out of the building.

“What are we going to do now?” Lambert asks, clearly worried about how they’re gonna move forward with their last chance falling.

“If Y/N wants a war, that’s what she’ll get,” Harry growls, revenge burning in the greens of his eyes.

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, only hours left from the day before you are headed home finally. You’re sitting in your office with Leslie, going over next week’s schedule to make sure everything is set and clear.

It’s been almost an entire month since you stepped into your aunt’s shoes as head of the company and though the start was a little rough, especially with finding out who Harry was, but you feel like you have everything under your control by now. After all, you didn’t learn business for years from the bests for nothing, right?

Harry’s comment on you knowing nothing about the industry made you bitter, because he knows nothing about you and the struggle you went through your life to get to this point. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbow, being Julia’s niece might have been a hugely influencing aspect of you taking over, but you worked your ass off to be the best leader you can and not just ruin everything she built up through her whole life.

Though you didn’t always want to be the one following her, but you like to think that things worked out to your favor and you are where you should be.

“Alright, everything is looking fine,” Leslie smiles at you over her laptop. “I’ll send you the notes from today’s meeting.”

“Thank you. Can you call in with the delivery company about next month’s transactions?” you ask her and she nods, already adding it to her list of tasks for the rest of the day. “Alright. I’ll do the rest of the signings and then we can head out,” you smile at her.

Leslie is grabbing her things from the table when there’s a soft knock on the door. You give your permission and one of the tech support guys walk in with a worried look on his face.

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m afraid we have a problem,” he clears his throat and you can already feel your anxiety crawl up on your spine.

“What is it?” you ask firmly. The guy steps farther inside, fumbling with his fingers as he presents the issue.

“There’s been an attempt to break our software’s security system where we keep our data about the sellings. A-And I’m afraid it wasn’t just an attempt, they succeeded.”

You take a deep breath, glancing over at Leslie for a moment before you follow the man to the tech department to investigate the issue further. You don’t know shit about these stuff, but from what he said you know the trouble is huge and if you don’t solve it as soon as possible, valuable data could leak out to the public. They try to explain you what they are working on as of right now and that there’s not much you can actually help with.

“Make sure to put your extra hours on your attendance sheets and let me know when you are able to restore the system,” you tell them and you earn quite a few thank yous on your way out for actually paying the overtime. Then you turn to the guy that first came to your office. “Do you have any information about who it could have been?”

“We weren’t able to track them back, but whoever it was, they’re surely professionals and they might know the system from the inside.”

“What do you mean from the inside? Someone did it from the company?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together as you fold your arms on your chest.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We would have been able to track that back. I mean that they know the system, maybe they worked somewhere where the same one was used and they could see into it.”

It takes you a few moments before you realize what this really is and it has your blood boiling right away. Nodding shortly you exhale sharply through your nose.

“Thank you, please call me when it’s up and running again, I’ll take care of the rest,” you tell him before turning around you walk away.

When Leslie sees you approaching your office with a head practically turning red she is quick to jump to her feet, following you into the office.

“What’s happening?”

“Harry Styles, that’s what happening,” you snap as you grab your phone, purse and coat before heading out, not wasting another minute.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“To the devil himself,” you growl back and enter the elevator, leaving her alone with her questions.

Sitting in your car on your way to the headquarters of Twisted, you imagine every scenario you want to make happen when you arrive, most of them including hitting the man across his ridiculously handsome yet annoying face. He crossed a line with breaking into your system and stealing valuable data. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t dare to sell or publish it, because he would be in a big legal trouble if he did, he still had a glimpse into your numbers and that’s already an advantage. He is playing dirty and you’re not having any of it.

Arriving you burst through the doors and demand to see him. Though the woman behind the front desk tells you that you can’t see him without an appointment, you still get her to make a call up and naturally, Harry allows you to see him. The fucker might already have been waiting for you to show up. As you stand in the all glass elevator, on your way up to meet him you take a few deep breaths to keep your cool and not snap like a maniac, however it all vanishes when you see him waiting for you with that shit-eating grin on his face when you step out of the elevator.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go straight to the police with your little stunt, you fucker!” you snap, not able to hold back your swearing any longer.

“Do you have any evidence?” he tilts his head to the side and you don’t miss how his gaze runs down your body as you march towards him. You’d find it flattering in another situation, but right now you just want to punch him in the face.

“I’ll show some evidence down your throat, Styles, if you don’t stop messing with my security system,” you growl back, standing so close to him now that you see every tiny freckle and blemish on his face and the way how he clenches his jaw, holding his gaze on yours.

Without a word or invitation, you walk into the room that you suppose is his office and he follows with a soft chuckle.

“Did you hire a hacker just to mess with me?” you throw the question at him as he closes the door so his employees don’t hear everything.

“What if I did?” he shrugs, stepping to the tray on his desk that already has a glass of whiskey on it. He grabs the glass and simply lifts it to his lips, taking a tiny sip from it. “Oh, excuse my manners. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m driving,” you answer shortly. “You crossed a line, Harry,” you warn him.

“What line?” he chuckles, rather entertained by your rage. “After what you pulled with Kennedy, I think I went easy on you.”

“I didn’t pull anything, I just gave her a better offer! It’s not my fault she has better chances with my company!” you snap back, feeling your heartbeat fastening from the anger that’s boiling in your veins.

“You knew I wanted her to design for me, why couldn’t you just let one person out of your endless list? You already have everyone else, she was my last fucking chance!” Harry barks back, clearly having some built up tension in him as well.

“If you didn’t act like an arrogant asshole at the charity gala, I would have happily let you work with her, but then you felt the need to fucking degrade me! That’s why I didn’t let you get away with it!”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes his mouth, probably knowing well you’re right. He did act shitty towards you that evening and he has no excuse for his behavior. You walk closer until there are just a few feet between the two of you, your eyes glued to his burning green gaze that’s staring back at you, but before you could speak up, he cuts you off.

“Well, you know. All is fair in… war and business,” he shrugs and you honestly barely can stop yourself from laughing at how stupid that just sounded. You can’t miss the twitch in the corner of his mouth as well and you can’t believe how easily he made you break out of your rage.

“Don’t try to make money out of writing slogans,” you huff shaking your head and now he is grinning widely. “Do you have the data?”

“I don’t,” he answers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “I had it, but I already deleted it. I know it wasn’t ethical so as soon as it was handed to me I deleted it. I didn’t even look into it. I just wanted to scare you.”

“And how do I know your hacker doesn’t have it either?”

“Because he signed a contract that would cost him millions to break and I don’t think a junior in college who is still living in a dorm can afford that,” he points out and now you are somewhat convinced. You stare back at him for a few more seconds before nodding.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, how does that sound?” you offer generously.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he questions with a smug smirk that makes your arch an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he then asks and you can’t mask your surprise in front of him.

“That does not concern you, Styles,” you scoff, though it boosts your ego that even through all the hate you’ve been targeting at each other, he still wants you the same way he did at the club that evening. You can’t deny, this rivalry has sparked a few thoughts in you as well, but you are not going to fall into the same mistake you made that evening. You pay him another smirk before turning around and heading towards the door. “Stay out of my way, Styles!” you call back without looking at him, but you just know he is grinning at you, a growing sexual tension thickening the atmosphere in the room.

“Or what?” he smugly questions and you stop at the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Or… You said it yourself. All is fair in war and business,” you smirk before walking out of the office.

Following your visit to Harry’s office things take a… playful turn in your rivalry. The attempts and competing don’t stop, both of you are on each other’s radar, ruining and messing with each other’s projects and works whenever and wherever it’s possible, but it’s not as hateful as it was at the beginning. If something, it even helps you to always be on your toes and watch out for possible threats, not just from Harry but from everyone else.

Neither of you succeeds in evolving in each other’s field, Cometa keeps thriving in women’s fashion with a quite small variety offered for the gentlemen while Twisted fails to grow out of men’s fashion and venture to the ladies, but somehow it’s not as frustrating as it used to be before.

Harry keeps up his flirty acts and tries to ask you out every time your paths cross each other, but you relentlessly turn him down every time, only fueling him to keep chasing after you more the next time. It’s a thrilling and flattering little game, knowing that even with all the rivalry between the two of you, being the biggest competitors in the business… he still wants you.

New York fashion week rolls around and it’s by far one of your favorite times in the year. You managed to snatch an exclusive deal with YSL to release a special line just for the fashion week and it sold out in the first two hours, now waiting to be restocked in a few days. Cometa is thriving and your aunt has expressed her pride towards the work you’ve been doing at the company, so things are heading the right direction.

You knew Harry would be attending the same shows as you, but it’s fate or just luck that you are seated next to each other at one of the shows, giving you the chance to talk without any of you attempting to corrupt the other this time.

Harry is already sitting in his seat when you arrive wearing a custom made Gucci dress, something that immediately catches his eyes since he is a huge fan of the brand himself.

“Your fashion sense never disappoints, Y/N,” he beams up at you as you take the seat next to him.

“Hope that’s not surprising, Styles,” You smirk at him, taking a glance at his own Gucci outfit, the checkered pants fitting him perfectly while the pussy bow adds some spice to the whole outfit, you have to admit. He looks good, he always does.

“Any plans after the show?” he asks right before the lights go out and the show starts. You leave him without an answer, just let out a soft chuckle as you glue your eyes to the first model who walks the runway.

Once the show is over you head out with Harry by your side, having an actually entertaining discussion about the designs you just saw. He might not be an expert in fashion, but he has developed a good sense through his years.

As you make your way out of the venue you are stopped by an interviewer and Harry remains on your side as the woman asks you a few questions about the show.

“I’ve always wondered, does it bother you that you couldn’t be on the runway yourself? You’ve been sitting front row the past years, but you once had aspirations of being a model yourself, is that right?”

The question makes you tense up and you can feel Harry’s puzzled look on you from the side.

“It’s not like it was my fault for not making it up there,” you sass back, forcing a smile to your face.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the woman chuckles and it has your blood boiling, because you know the real meaning behind her words.

It’s your fault you didn’t become a model because you were never thin enough to be one. It was your fault and not the industry’s to hold impossible standards to women who wanted to succeed as a model.

The smile falters from your face and you take a long, judgmental look at the woman in front of you. Because if she is brave enough to talk like that to you, you’re not gonna shy away from bringing her spirits down either.

“Judging from your appearance and attitude you wouldn’t make it either,” you spitefully reply and her smile quickly fades, clearly shocked at your answer. You open your mouth again, ready to continue, but then you feel a hand on the small of your back and you realize Harry is still standing next to you.

“Come on, we have somewhere to be, right?” he smiles kindly as you just simply nod and walk away from the woman before she could offend you again.

Harry senses your tension as the two of you leave the venue but doesn’t try to talk to you and that’s a wise choice from him. As you step out of the building you realize that if you went home now you’d probably get drunk on your own and let that comment get to you more than you should. So instead of doing that you turn to Harry.

“So, what are our plans?” you ask and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he stares back at you.

Not in the mood to stay around people at a bar you accept Harry’s invitation to his place, since it’s also close. The contrast between his extravagant penthouse and your cozy but still quite modern townhouse in Park Slope is major, but you didn’t expect anything less from the man.

You’ve managed to calm down since you left the venue, but you’re still quite bitter about the comment the woman made. Harry hasn’t tried to ask you about it, but you can tell he is dying to know more about the situation that’s behind the madness.

He fixes you a drink and you find yourself sinking into his comfortable and probably ridiculously expensive couch in his living room area.

“I used to want to be a model,” you start, breaking the silence that settled between the two of you. “When I was a teen. I was a lot thinner, I was a competitive dancer until I was seventeen, but I had a knee injury, so I had to quit.”

Harry sits on the other end of the couch, listening to you with patience as he sips on his own drink.

“I was never as thin as the other models at the agency I was trying to get into, but I definitely wasn’t overweight. Yet, they labelled me as a plus size model. I was a healthy, strong young girl with a perfectly good body, yet they told me that I was too fat to be a model.”

Glancing at Harry, you can tell that he is surprised at the information he just learned. He is probably picturing you thinner now, going to model castings and if you’re being honest you enjoyed that part. The trouble came when you got rejection after rejection, telling you to lose weight and come back after that.

“I quit my whole plan to be a model and studied fashion and business instead, consciously working my way towards this point. But I never got over how the industry made me feel less of a person because I wasn’t a size zero.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares at you and it’s actually nice that he doesn’t try to make you feel better right away, praising you how you are perfect just the way you are. Because you’re not, but that’s fine because no one is.

“I’ve honestly never seen a more cruel industry than fashion before,” he then speaks up. “I didn’t grow up in it and still don’t really have that much and deep connection with it, but I know how fucked up it is. And it’s nice to see that you know your worth even after everything that happened.”

Your gaze meets his and you’re looking for any sign that gives away that he is just messing with you, but it’s all genuine. You just shoot him a small smile before lifting your drink to your lips. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him, including the ones you had in that bathroom.

“Okay, now you tell me something about your life,” you prompt, wanting to divert the conversation on him a little bit.

“What do you want to know?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“Why did you name your brand Twisted?” you ask. The question has been on your mind for a while.

“It’s coming from my mum’s name. Anne Twist.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, you weren’t expecting such a deep and personal reason behind the name, connected to a family member.

“Why her?”

“Why not?” he smirks shrugging his shoulders. “She raised me and my sister up, I wouldn’t be here without her. It was obvious I would make her be part of it in some kind of way.”

“That’s actually very nice. Who knew that you could be something other than an egoistic asshole!” you joke, making him laugh as well.

“Okay, what’s the meaning behind your brand?” he then turns it back around.

“Well, my aunt met her husband when they were very young, maybe eighteen. She fell in love with Fabio on her trip to Italy and being the impulsive and adventurous woman that she is, she stayed for a month there just because of Fabio. He is a very passionate man and he was always ready to bring the stars down for Julia. He always used to tell her that he would even catch a comet for her, if that’s what she wanted. And that was my aunt’s favorite saying from him. Cometa is comet in Italian. It’s her tribute to the love of her life.”

“That’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry hums and you just smile nodding at him. It really is like a fairytale and it’s also one of the reasons why you were so happy to take her place at Cometa. Julia is still just as in love with Fabio as she was at eighteen and she deserves to spend more time with her beloved husband. She earned the time off after all the sacrifices she made for the company and all through them Fabio stayed by her side. It’s their well-earned happy ending now.

“You know a lot about romantic things?” you cock an eyebrow at him, finishing up your drink.

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah, you just never gave me the chance to show it to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?” you chuckle, handing him your glass when he stands from the couch to get you a refill.

“Exactly!” he chuckles holding up your empty glass on his way. “I hope you know you absolutely broke my heart when you didn’t give me your number that night.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” you chuckle, resting your head in your palm, your elbow on the back of the couch. “I’m not sorry though. You didn’t give out the right vibes.”

“The right vibes?” he huffs as he returns with your drink and now sits a little closer to you. “What vibe did I give you?” “The vibe that told me I shouldn’t mess with you,” you simply answer as you take a sip from your refilled drink.

“You were so keen on hating me even before you knew who I was, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I’m just cautious!” you protest. “I’ve dealt with some problematic men in the past, I can’t let myself walk right into another one that easily.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men just can’t treat women right. Especially confident ones with a body like mine,” you simply shrug.

Men like to think that bigger girls are so terribly insecure about their body that they need the validation of a male to feel good about themselves. But when you’re confident and feel good in your own skin without needing them to praise you, they think that you’re egoistic, so full of yourself and they are quick to try to drag you down. That’s something you can’t tolerate. You don’t need a man to feel good about yourself, you don’t need anyone for that. You know your worth and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s eyes travel down your body, taking his time on your curves and you smile shaking your head as you reach out and cupping his chin you pull his head up so he is looking into your eyes.

“I honestly can’t see what problem anyone could have with your body. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our bathroom fiasco,” he bluntly comments making you chuckle, even flattered by his words.

“You are such a flirt,” you grin at him and he doesn’t try to protest.

You stay for a couple more drinks and you drop the heavier topics, venturing over to music, fashion and any funny stories that come to your mind. Harry is actually amazing company when you’re not trying to jump at each other’s throat and for a few short hours you forget that he is supposed to be your competitor.

You’re a little tipsy, but you are definitely not drunk, so when Harry offers you to stay the night you turn it down, calling yourself a car since you are not in the right state to drive.

“I’ll come and pick my car up in the morning,” you breathe out as you put your heels back on that came off your feet sometime during the evening, making yourself home in his place.

“I’ll text you the security number to the garage,” he nods, walking you to the elevator.

“Thank you. And… I guess thank you for the evening,” you smile at him, turning to face him. He is standing close, but still takes a step closer, one of his hands finding your waist as he pulls you against his chest. Your palms lie flat on his chest as you try to get yourself to the right mindset to leave now before you regret doing something. Leaning down his nose nudges against your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss under below your ear, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I should go, the car is here,” you breathe out, but don’t move.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, his lips peppering kisses on your jaw and your cheek, as if you didn’t say a word. You want to continue it, not just because of the alcohol but because the sexual tension between the two of you has been growing since that charity gala, but the remainder of your rationality stops you before your lips could meet.

“Bye Harry,” you smile at him softly as you push him away and you walk into the elevator, leaving him hanging. Again.

“Bye Y/N. I’m still going to try to ruin your company!” he calls after you as you turn around to face him, the sliding doors slowly closing between the two of you.

“Same back at you, Styles,” you smirk before the door closes and you are taken down.

Well, that was a lie. Following your evening at his place neither of you really tries to work against the other, leaving each other be without any fuss. It might also have something to do with how you kept in touch after that day. You’ve been texting occasionally, attending some events together, even had a business dinner together with a few other peers from the industry. Things have been quiet and you’ve been feeling content with the current state you’ve managed to reach. Or so you thought.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you. You both put your projects aside that targeted the other’s profile. Harry stopped looking for designers for his women lines and you put your men department to the side as well. There were a lot to work on beside these fields so you felt like you were in peace. Right until Leslie bursts into your office on a casual Tuesday.

“Have you seen this?” she asks, placing a tablet in front of you with an Instagram account open on it.

You want to ask what you’re supposed to look at, but then you realize what it really is. A shiny new account for a new brand that promises to take online shopping to the next level; female and male as well.

“You think it could be…?” you ask, not quite convinced that Harry is behind this.

“Well, the wording is similar to theirs and creating a new brand might be a solution to their gap in women’s fashion,” she points it out, though you don’t want to believe he could have been working on this all along, basically in front of your face.

But it’s a possibility and you have to consider this option before jumping into defending him without any proof.

“Men can’t be trusted,” you grumble under your breath before jumping into work.

What you didn’t know is that an eerily similar situation goes down in Harry’s office as well when Zayn bursts in, showing him the ad he found for the new brand called Farfalla.

Harry immediately digs up everything about the company, though there’s not much other than their new Instagram account and heavy marketing that started just yesterday.

“What is Farfalla even?” he grimaces leaning back in his chair.

“It means butterfly in Italian,” Zayn explains and Harry’s eyes flicker up to him.

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

“It’s possible,” Zayn nods. “Starting a new brand to finally reach men’s fashion is a good idea.”

“She wouldn’t have done this,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. Could you be working on this all along? Was this your plan from the start? To make him fall for you and forget about business while you built up your new empire to ruin him?

“What if she did?” Zayn prompts and in a way his suspicion is valid, but Harry is having a hard time believing it. You would never play him this dirty, not after how the two of you have grown closer in the past weeks, almost became friends.

“What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him as he pushes himself away from the desk and quite obviously starts getting ready to leave.

“She is not getting away from this,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he grabs his coat and phone before storming out of the office.

It’s past six when Harry gets to Cometa’s building and he is informed that you’ve already went home. He could have just come back in the morning, but he knew he would just stew in his own anger if he didn’t talk to you as soon as possible. So using his charm he gets the woman sitting behind the front desk to share your address with him, saying that he needs to talk to you urgently. That’s how he finds himself heading to Park Slope, slightly surprised you are not living somewhere in the heart of Manhattan.

As the scenery around his changes, skyscrapers turning into brick buildings and townhouses, Harry tries to figure out what he even wants to say to you. Should he just get straight down to business and accuse you? Snap at you? Or should he give you the chance to explain yourself? He can’t really make up his mind, mostly because he still feels like you betrayed him even though he can’t be sure Farfalla is yours.

Parking down at the address he got from the woman, he stares up at the deep red brick townhouse, a simple, black door at the top of the stairs that’s lined with a few potted plants and flowers. This is not what he would have imagined your home like, but now that he is standing on your doormat, he realizes it kind of suits you.

Ringing the bell he hopes that you’re home and not out and about somewhere in the city, but when he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor he knows you are on the other side. When the front door flings open and you come into his sight, for a split second he forgets why he is here and his anger vanishes. As always, you look amazing, a tight, black dress hugging your curves, the middle part appearing like it’s a corset, emphasizing the dip of your waist. Your hair is let down in loose curls and your feet are bare, but he knows you probably wore heels all day. You must have gotten home not long ago and as your eyes fall on the man at the door, your expression hardens on him.

“You really had the balls to come her, huh?” you cock your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his green ones for a moment before you let him inside.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he huffs walking into the hallway and stopping as you close the door and turn to him.

“Me? I could say the same! You thought I would just ignore it or what? I proved you a few times that I’m not stupid, Harry,” you retort, folding your arms on your chest as you walk past him, into the kitchen and he follows.

“You surely are not stupid, playing me so dirty behind my back!” Harry spats standing his ground. “Playing all friendly and nice and then make a fool out of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you question narrowing your eyes at him as you lean against the kitchen island’s counter. “If anyone played dirty it’s you! And you have the balls to come here and talk like this to me in my own fucking home?!” you snap, walking closer to him, keeping your deathly glare on him.

“What the fuck did I do?!” he scoffs throwing his hands into the air.

“You created a whole new brand just to fuck with me! Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about it?!”

“Me? You made a new brand! And you didn’t do a great job hiding the fact that it was your work, even the name is Italian, like your current one!”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you process what he is talking about. All along, the two of you were accusing each other of something neither of you did.

“Harry,” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Farfalla is not my brand.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

“Well you better be because it’s the fucking truth!”

“Prove it!” he hisses at you, taking a step closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Until about twenty seconds ago I thought that it was your new brand, Harry. I thought that you were the one who backstabbed me!” you snap back, standing up for yourself in this giant misunderstanding you fell into, accusing each other without any proof.

Harry stares back at you, his gaze burning into yours as he stands his ground and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes your words.

“So… it’s not yours? You didn’t do it to fuck me up?”

“Of course not!” you breathe out, suddenly quite tired of all the anger that’s been eating you away through the afternoon. “I thought that we had a kind of silent agreement not to mess with each other so I wasn’t planning anything anytime soon. That’s why I got so mad when I thought you did it!”

“I thought the same!” he growls shaking his head. “I thought you did it all to just make me look stupid, that the friendly act was just so I wouldn’t notice a thing and I fell right into your trap.”

“There was no trap,” you simply tell him and you hope he senses the hidden meaning behind your words.

Luckily he does. But for your biggest surprise there’s no snarky comment or smug smirking, he just steps closer and before you could even protest, his hands find your waist and he pulls you against his hard chest, lips hungry attacking yours. He makes you back until you bump against the kitchen island, his hips pressing against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface, his hands wandering on your sides and back, up and down, exploring every curve of your body while his kisses never slow down, your tongues meeting in the middle.

Bringing up a leg you curl it around his hips, your heel digging into his round ass as he leans forward, making you arch your back, leaning onto the counter as his lips move from your lips to your jawline and neck, his fingers digging into your waist and the thigh that’s lifted by his side. He nibbles on the soft skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark, but you just comb your fingers through his hair, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

“As much as I would love to fuck you on a counter again, can we take this to a bedroom?” he mumbles as he kisses his way back up to your lips, smirking against them as he captures them again.

You don’t answer, just grab his hand and pull him upstairs with you, right into your bedroom. He is all over you, lips, hands, tongue, pressed up against you as the two of you stumble your way to your king sized bed. Harry’s fingers fidget with the corset on your dress, but he soon realizes it’s a little trickier than he expected, so leaning back he furrows his eyebrows as he glances down at the dress, still trying to figure out how to get you out of it.

“Harry,” you smile at him softly. “It’s faux. There’s a zipper at the back,” you inform him and he sighs in defeat as he kisses you again, his fingers quickly finding the zipper. The dress pools at your feet and you rid him from his jacket and shirt, revealing his inked chest, a sight you’ve been thinking about way too much lately.

By the time the two of you fall to your bed, neither of you are dressed in more than just your underwear. Because both of you like to be in charge, you roll around for a while, trying to get on top of each other but eventually Harry stays up when he starts going down on you, kissing his way through your heated skin. You don’t shy away when his hands snake under your back and easily unclasps your bra, being bare in front of him is not something that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure. The way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel brings you so much confidence, you have absolutely no problem being nude.

When your bra flies to the floor, Harry leans back a little to admire you lying there, before his lips find their way over the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties he tugs them down easily as you lift your hips, your thighs parting as you bare yourself in front of him.

“Don’t be shy about screaming my name,” he smugly tells you before his lips and tongue meet your clit. Your fingers lace through his hair immediately as you gasp out at the sensation, his tongue drawing the whole fucking alphabet to your bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, ring clad fingers digging into your flesh as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Harry! Yes!” you moan out, tugging on his locks when he teases his tongue around your hole, your walls tightening around nothing as you are growing desperate to feel something inside of you.

You pull on his hair, signaling him that you want to get it on with, Hands reaching down to get rid of his boxer briefs before you blindly pull out the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing a condom. His lips eagerly meet yours as he wraps his erected cock and though you would love to have a taste of him like he did with you, you just want to feel him inside you.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls against your lips, teasing you with running just the head up and down your slit.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna rip your guts out,” you warn him, earning a soft chuckle as he kisses you again, tongue pushing into your mouth as he finally pushes inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up perfectly and it somehow feels even better than the first time.

“Go hard,” you gasp, a hand coming to grab his ass as you push him even further into you. He doesn’t need more, he starts slamming into you, his hips meeting yours roughly with each thrust, his whole length disappearing inside you every time.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin. You almost think about telling him not to mark you, but it just turns you on even more so you let him do whatever he wants.

“I want to see you on top,” he pants, lifting his head so his gaze could meet yours. You nod, before the two of you turn around and you straddle his hips, guiding him back inside you as you sink down his length. Your hands are sprawled out on his hard chest as you find your balance in the position, Harry’s eyes roaming your body up and down, not able to get enough of how blissful you look, sitting with his cock buried inside of you, enjoying yourself to the fullest. His hands run up your thighs and upper body until they find your breasts, kneading them as you start moving your hips up and down, back and forth. When you moan his name or gasp because his cock reaches that one particular spot inside you, those are the moments he wishes he could capture on camera and watch whenever he wants.

“I want it from back,” you pant as you lean down and kiss him roughly. That’s all he needs, he helps you get off of him before you get on all four, pushing your butt up in the air while Harry kneels behind you, the sight in front of him hardening his cock even more, if that’s possible. His hands grab onto your waist as he pushes inside you, making you both let out a satisfied moan before he starts moving again.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Y/N. I love your ass,” he growls, giving it a smack that surprises you, but you absolutely love it.

“Harry, go faster!” you whimper, feeling your orgasm nearing as you grip the comforter on the bed, desperate to reach your climax. You’re just about to reach down between your legs to play with your clit when Harry not only picks his pace up but also reaches around you, two of his fingers starting the circling motions on the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he growls, railing you from behind without missing a beat.

“Harry!” you scream when he thrusts into you so harshly, your whole body rocking in the motion.

“Come on, angel. Cum for me,” he murmurs and leaning down he wraps his arms around you, bringing you up straight, your back pressing against his sweaty chest, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he keeps thrusting up into you, pushing you over the edge.

You moan and gasp and scream his name as your walls tighten around his length, riding out your bliss and it helps him reach his own high, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck and shoulder, grunting and cursing under his breath as he fills the condom.

As his thrusts come to a halt, he sinks into a sitting position, bringing you with him, you lean against him feeling like jelly as you’re still just trying to catch your breath. Harry peppers your shoulder with small kisses before you muster the energy to break the position and lie down on the bed.

“Towel is in the bathroom,” you tell him knowing that’s what he’ll look for as he stands from the bed and you point at the door that leads to the joined bathroom. Harry nods and pads his way in there, cleaning himself up before he returns with a small damp towel, doing the same for you. He drops it to the floor next to the bed before joining you, cradling you into his arms as you take a breather together.

One hand is on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the naked skin, the other one is holding your thigh that’s across his lap while your head is resting on his chest.

“You really thought I would backstab you like that?” he hums after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You did the same,” you answer, lifting your head, resting your chin on his chest.

“Touché,” he chuckles, before leaning down he kisses you shortly. “So, if neither of us did it, then we have a quite major problem on our hands.”

“I know,” you hum. “That shit looks promising and they can easily ruin both of us.”

Harry stays silent for a little, but you can see the gears turning in his head. When his gaze snaps back at you, you know he has an idea.

“Unless… we join forces.” Your eyebrows arch as you stare back at him. “I know it’s a risky move, but this is the only way to stay on the top.”

“How much you want to be joined?”

“We could start with just one line, the men part designed by someone from me and the women by someone from you. And if it presents well we can just figure out where to go from there. Obviously, the men part would be sold by us and the women by you, but we could join the pages and direct users to each other’s sites in connection with the lines.”

“That could… actually work,” you nod shortly, thinking about the idea. It needs a lot of planning, but it could actually be a big hit if you do it right. “And you’re willing to partner with me?” you ask cheekily as you push yourself up into a sitting position, Harry doing the same.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m willing to do about anything with you,” he chuckles, making you smile at his playful answer. “I hope you know I’m not talking about just business,” he then adds with a meaningful look.

“You are still so keen on this?” you sigh, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“Do you not like being with me?”

“I do, surprisingly,” you roll your eyes, making him laugh.

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious to that,” you give him a look as he smirks back at you.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

“I enjoy having sex with you, Harry,” you roll your eyes again, but he just kisses you short but hard before leaning back.

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

“We just agreed that we should join forces. We are partners now.”

“You are running a little ahead, Harry,” you cock an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages. I probably suck at it at this point,” you shrug, but it’s just a lame excuse and you both know that. Leaning closer Harry smirks at you smugly.

“I have something else you can suck.” You smack his chest at his nasty remark, but can’t push a smile back. His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. “I want you, Y/N. I really do. You are all I think about even when you are an annoying piece of shit, getting under my skin. I still want you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” you chuckle shaking your head. “What if we can’t get over our differences in the business? That can easily poison any relationship.”

“Then we’ll have a lot of mind-blowing angry and makeup sex. Those are the best. We can put all our frustration into sex, I think that’s just perfect.”

“What are you, a horny teenager? Sex is all you can think about?” you chuckle.

“It is when I’m lying in a bed with you naked. You can’t blame me,” he grins smugly and you want to hate him, you want to hate him so badly, but you can’t. You want him just as much as he wants you.

“So… partners?” he prompts, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he waits for your answer.

“Partners in business and life?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan,” he nods, his smile growing wider with each passing second.

“Alright,” you breathe out. “So… it’s not—All is fair in war and business?” you ask teasingly, using his own words from earlier.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[reidamancy]

too late || spencer reid

summary: Spencer and you never got closure after you broke up. But hidden feelings and confessions reveal themselves when you’ve been abducted. Now Spencer is forced to analyze a voicemail you left for him to try and save you before it’s too late. (spencer reid x fem!reader)

category: angst

warnings: s2 spoilers, kidnapping, knife and gun usage, slight mentions of blood and drugs, plot holes, probably incorrect medical info

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this is my very first cm fic, and I’m completely new to the fandom so I hope there are still people out there who read cm fics lol

MASTERLIST

(part one | part two)

Spencer’s POV

“Spencer?” Her voice breathed shakily through the voicemail.

Y/N. I recognized her voice immediately. For a split second I was filled with bliss just from the sound of her voice, but my heart dropped when I recognized the terror laced in her words.

She paused for a bit before continuing. “Hi, it’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now,” She choked on a sob, but little did she know that was furthest from the truth. “But I didn’t know who else to call.” Another pause. 

I leaned forward in my seat, resting my arms on my desk while listening intently to the message. 

“I... I’m in trouble Spencer. I don’t know who he is. He took me from my car and brought me here. He made me call you because he knows,” She took a deep breath before letting out a sob. “He knows you will never save me in time.” By now, her voice came out as a squeak. My breath caught in my throat as my worst nightmare came true.

“No, Spencer, wait, please listen to me.” I shut my eyes and exhaled. I pinched the bridge of my nose; she must have had to pretended I answered the phone, and I wasn’t there when she needed me most.

She sniffled on the phone and continued.

“I don’t know how much time I have left... So I guess this is goodbye Spencer...” I felt my heart shatter as tears pricked my eyes. 

“When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life. But you, you changed that. You taught me so much, Spencer. I remember all the games we'd play when you were home.” Y/N paused as she left out a sigh. A sad smile crept on my face as I recalled our shared competitive nature and the countless games that sprung from it. I could only imagine her expression mirroring my own as she spoke. “You'd always win but I guess that's what happens when you play against Dr. Reid. I still think you forgot two dozen names just to let me win.” She let out a dry laugh. 

“The last time I saw you was on our anniversary, June 6. 9:30 on the dot. And then you abandoned me Spencer, you left me alone in the big, cold world.” She took a breath and I let out a small gasp when I heard the sound of a gun cocking in the background.

“I told myself I'd never forgive you, but the truth is I already have. I can't leave without you knowing that. Please save me, Spencer.” She whispered the last line before the phone was yanked out of her hands, evident by the small yelp and shuffling I heard, and the voicemail ended with a low growl saying, “You’ll never get here in time.”

The voicemail ended and the fear I felt from before melted into rage. I knew exactly what I had to do. Phone in hand, I marched straight into Hotch’s office.

Reader’s POV

The man snatched the phone out of my hands and quickly hung up on the call before redirecting his gun at me. He had it pointed at me the entire call and cocked it once he was getting impatient.

The worst part was he didn’t bother to hide his face. He had bound my arms and legs together, but never blinded me. I knew exactly where I was and who he was, which only meant one thing: I wasn’t getting out of here alive. 

My abductor shot at the ground and I let out a scream. “That was a bit long now, wasn’t it?” He sneered.

“You’re gonna kill me! I had to say goodbye properly!” I sobbed. 

It was partly true. What he didn’t know, however, was the fact that I had an FBI agent for an ex-boyfriend, and a genius one at that. I haven’t spoken to him in months, but I prayed that he would understand the hidden clues I left in the voicemail. I hated how this was our first interaction since our breakup, but I needed him now more than ever. 

I’ve wanted to call him countless times; it’s almost ironic that it took a literal kidnapping for me to finally do so. In the wake of our breakup, I found myself completely miserable. I missed everything about him, and I caught myself staring at his phone number on my screen numerous times, contemplating if I should actually call him or not. I wanted to, I really wanted to. I wanted to tell him how much I missed his voice, his touch, his love. But every happy memory we had would then be overshadowed by stronger memories of him snapping at me, being repulsed by my touch, and his mood swings. So I never got the courage to push the dial button. 

It was a never ending cycle. I’d want to call him; perhaps I wanted to try to fix things one more time. I knew something was wrong, maybe I could have done more to help him. But then I would realize I couldn’t help him unless he let me. So I’d always end up deleting the digits on my screen and hope he was doing okay. But days later I’d find myself punching in those exact digits once again, only to delete them minutes later. In time, I had memorized his number by heart, which is why it was almost instinctive to dial him today.

The fact that he was an FBI agent was the last thing on my mind when I pushed call. I just needed him, I needed Spencer. It felt wrong, after months without speaking I thought we had both moved on. But he was the first person I thought of when given an instrument to cry for help. And as soon as I heard his voicemail, as soon as I heard his voice, I realized I needed more than Dr. Reid. I needed Special Agent Reid.

I tried to remember everything I could from the few times Spencer would talk to me about his cases. If I could understand this unsub like he and his team could, maybe I could survive. But the more I remembered, the quicker I realized my chances of survival were slim. He’s way too confident for me to have been his first victim. He gave me the freedom to call whoever I wanted and say whatever I wanted, and he wouldn’t have done that if he knew he wouldn’t get caught. So the phone call must be part of his signature, but why? Why give that much freedom to his victims at all? Maybe he just likes to hear the pain in our voices when we say goodbye.

No, it has to be more than that. Right before I dialed Spencer, the man told me, “Make sure they answer.” And that’s when it hit me. He must take pleasure in knowing his victim’s loved ones are aware of what’s happening but can’t save them. He’s stripping them of their power to help, to save, their loved ones. I hope that isn’t the case for me. I didn’t want to call Spencer (okay, maybe deep down in my heart, I did), because he made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with me. But if anyone could save me, it was Spencer Reid.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when my abductor leaned in front of me, his putrid breath fanning over my face. I noticed his gun was now in his holster and one of his hands was behind his back. He slowly pulled it out to reveal a knife and he placed the blade against my arm. I winced as he put pressure against my skin, but not enough to draw blood.

“Now that... what was his name? Spencer?” He let out a low chuckle. “Now that Spencer knows you’re here, he’ll try to save you.” The unsub slowly dragged the knife up my arm, still not breaking the skin, and I let out a whimper. 

“He’ll tell the police, but they’ll be too late.” He taunted. “They always are.”

The man now used his knife to push hair out of my face. “While we wait... Let’s have some fun.” He sunk the knife into my shoulder and I let out a scream.

Spencer’s POV

As the case was presented to the team, I was paralyzed in my seat with the voicemail replaying over and over again in my head.

It’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now.

I’ve been wanting to hear her voice for months, and when I finally do it’s because she was abducted. Even worse, she’s apologetic that she even has to call me. As if she’d ever have to apologize for speaking to me... 

“Reid?” Hotch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at him and he repeated himself. “Will you analyze the voicemail for clues on Y/N’s location?”

I silently nodded. He turned to JJ and whispered to her to stay with me. Everyone then dispersed to do everything they could to bring Y/N back.

“Kid, who is this?” Morgan stayed behind and questioned me.

“Hm?” I questioned innocently. 

“Look, she could have called anyone in the world, but she called you. And you obviously care for her or else you wouldn’t be so quiet right now. So who is she?” Derek displayed concern in his eyes.

I let out a sigh. JJ took a seat in front of me and Morgan leaned against the table. My eyes were fixated on my hands, which were in my lap. “Her name’s Y/N. She was the one who got away.” I heard my voice crack, but I didn’t care. JJ and Morgan looked at me with sorrow as they listened to me open up about the love of my life. 

“I met her at the library. She saw I was checking out a book about physics and she gushed about how it was her favorite subject. We went on for 20 minutes talking about the subject, and then she asked me out for coffee.” I bit my lip.

“We started dating for a few months and everything was perfect. She didn’t mind my work schedule, and she listened to all my rambles. Sometimes she even had some facts of her own to add.” I recalled all the times Y/N would add to my fact spews instead of shutting me down, and I couldn’t stop the smile resulted from the memories. “She was perfect. In every way.”

I took a deep breath as my love story took a sour turn. “But then I... I started to push her away. After Tobias Hankel I pushed everyone away, but Y/N got it the worst. I was a horrible boyfriend, but she never gave up on me. She never knew why I was acting that way, but eventually I pushed her too far. We broke up because she thought I hated her. But I don’t. I never did.” I trailed off, remembering fragments of the last fight we had. I cringed as I remembered how broken her voice was, and how I continued to tear her down. I wasn’t in my right mind. If I could go back, I’d never let her leave that door. But in hindsight, I don’t blame her for leaving.

I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks as Morgan rubbed my shoulder. JJ got up and hugged me. She lowered her face towards me and said, “We’re gonna save her, Spence. And when we do, you’re gonna tell her all of this.” She flashed me a kind smile.

“After I got off dilaudid, I realized I lost her, so I tried to get her back. I wanted to surprise her, so I went to the cafe we went to the day we met, and I saw her there. She was there with another guy... She had already moved on and I was too late. I never got to apologize to her.”

I didn't want to meddle in Y/N's new relationship. She had every right to move on. So I tried to as well. But it didn't hurt any less, especially since I never got to explain myself to her. I had accepted the fact that Y/N had moved on from me, but her voicemail gave me an ounce of hope. In the direst of circumstances I was the one she called. Perhaps it was because of my job, but I let myself hope that maybe I misread the situation. That man could have been a friend. And I could still have a chance.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

“Reid, I know this is hard. We all want to get Y/N back safe, but you’re the only one who can understand what she’s trying to tell us here. Think you can focus?” Morgan wanted to make sure my head was clear enough to analyze Y/N’s message. The truth was, I wasn’t sure.

But I nodded and played the voicemail again.

“June 6?” I repeated once the voicemail ended.

“Is that when the two of you met?” Morgan asked.

“No, that date doesn’t have any significance to us at all. June 6, 9:30? Why would she say that?” I wondered out loud as I wrote 6/6, 9:30 on the board. 

“Can you play it again?” I asked JJ.

When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life. 

“There right there, pause.” I knew that was a lie. “When we met, she was a graduate student but she didn’t know what to study. I helped her with that.”

“Okay, so she knows you can catch onto her lies. What is she trying to tell us?” JJ wondered out loud.

It was then that I realized what Y/N was doing. “This entire call is full of lies. She knew I’d catch onto them, but I don’t know what she’s saying.” 

Morgan jumped in, “Okay, so if you catch all of her lies, we’ll decode the message.” I nodded as JJ pressed play and I wrote down all the lies in the voicemail.

By the end of the call, my board looked like this:

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life”

winning game - 2 dozen names?

“Okay, so what does this all mean, Reid?” Morgan asked. 

I stared at the board, trying to make a connection. “I don’t know...” I mumbled. I knew Y/N was trying to tell me something, and if I could figure it out I could save her. The thought gave me enough confidence to analyze her diction. “But did you hear the end of the call? She said I left her alone in the ‘big, cold world.’ It’s odd that she would describe it like that.”

“So she’s somewhere big and cold?” JJ chimed in.

“Probably...” I answered as I added to the board. 

“What about abandoned? Is that describing where she is or is this actually about your relationship?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t think she would use 'abandoned' to describe our relationship...” I bit my lip. I wouldn’t say I abandoned her, but I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she actually felt. I cleared my throat. “That’s probably where she is. Big, cold, and abandoned.” 

“So what are we thinking, warehouse?” JJ inputted. 

Morgan nodded. “Okay, we’re getting somewhere. So does that mean when she said she knew exactly where she was in life, she meant she actually knew exactly where she was taken?”

“What about the game she talked about? What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“I never let her win any games, she insisted we both play fair and square.” I tried to think back to all the games we played. “She mentioned names... There was only one where we used names,” I held back a smile. “We were trying to see who would be the first to name all the U.S. presidents.”

Morgan and JJ looked at each other. “Why am I not surprised.” Morgan let out a small chuckle.

“But you forgot two dozen names?” JJ questioned.

“Two dozen is specific... and Reid doesn’t forget.” Morgan thought out loud.

I tried to remember more about the game. “I won that game. I was the first to put down my pencil and she teased me for it. But she wanted to finish her list so I’d give her clues to who she forgot... But there was one name she just couldn’t remember.”

“Two dozen... Did it happen to be the 24th president?” JJ wondered.

I let out a small smile. Clever girl. “Yeah, it was Grover Cleveland. The 24th president.”

I now looked at my new board, filled with new information.

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life” am

winning game - 2 dozen names? ➝ Cleveland!

big, cold

abandoned

warehouse?

My head was swirling, trying to make sense of what Y/N gave me. My eyes darted up and down the board, trying to see her message. She knew where she was. She gave me a name, numbers...

“I got it!” I yelled. “It’s an address. She knew exactly where she was and she was trying to tell us! June 6, 9:30? 66930. Where’s Garcia? I bet there’s an abandoned building at 66930 Cleveland Street.”

Morgan raced out of the room to grab Garcia. Moments later she rushed into the room with her laptop and I hurriedly asked her, “Garcia, what is at 66930 Cleveland Street?”

Her fingers blazed across the keyboard then she shook her head. “No, I can’t find that address.”

JJ leaned towards the monitor. “Try Cleveland Road?”

Garcia shook her head once again, “Sorry my sweets, there’s no 66930 Cleveland Road either.”

She continued to clack at her keyboard, and moments later she lit up and said, “Wait, I see an abandoned warehouse at 6693 Cleveland Road!”

“It was probably easier for Y/N to use time to disguise the numbers, even if it added another digit...” I thought out loud.

Morgan rushed over to her computer as I felt my body fill up with hope. “What can you tell us about it, baby girl?” He asked.

“It was previously owned by a man named Hubert Roffkins, but then the trail ends 2 months ago. It looks like it was abandoned then, and oh dear.”

“What is it?” Morgan pushed.

“Hotch asked me to look into similar abductions with phone calls ending with murder.”

I swallowed harshly. “And?” I asked.

“The dates coincide with the first kidnapping.”

“Let’s go.” Morgan commanded.

Third Person POV

Hubert Roffkins had stabbed Y/N for the seventh time by the time the FBI got to the scene. He was cornered and surrounded by agents, he knew there was no way out of this. As he reached for his gun, Agent Hotchner fired a single shot to the head and Roffkins was dead before he hit the ground. 

Y/N was still conscious when the agents came. She was surrounded by her own blood and dizzy with pain, but she knew once she saw those FBI vests, she’d be okay. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she heard a gunshot and saw a pair of converse running towards her. Her vision was blurring, but she didn’t need it to identify the figure who picked her up off the ground and held her face. He kept telling her to stay with him, but she couldn’t hear him. Her vision focused on his face for one second and she smiled at the familiar face. “Spencer,” she whispered, so faint he could barely hear her.

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m here.” He cried, holding her closer to him.

Her vision blurred once more and she let the darkness succumb her.

Spencer rode in the ambulance with her, and he would not let go of her hand the entire way to the hospital. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, wondering what could have been if he’d arrived just a few moments earlier. 

Once in the hospital, it took an army of nurses to separate Spencer from Y/N. He couldn’t let her out of his sight, too scared of losing her again. So he settled on sitting outside her room while the doctors operated on her. 

The rest of the BAU team met him at the hospital. They exchanged glances and sighs, unable to help their youngest teammate. No matter how they tried to comfort him, his mind was fixated on the well-being of his lost love.

The doctor emerged from Y/N’s room and Spencer immediately sat up.

“Her vitals are stable and he missed the major organs. She will be incredibly sore, but she’s gonna make it.” The doctor announced.

Spencer smiled. “Can I see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded, warning him that she was still sleeping and she will be very tired.

Spencer walked into the room and sighed. He hated seeing her like this. She was pale, and she looked so fragile. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and hold her forever. 

He took a seat next to her bed and grabbed her hand. His thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand while he studied her face. Finally, after months of being apart, he was finally here with her. He was both relieved and terrified, knowing that once she woke up, she would have his entire heart in her hands. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, his voice coming out broken. He cleared his throat and continued. 

“I uh, I got your voicemail.” His voice cracked and he let out a sad smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But you did so good. I understood, Y/N. I remembered everything.” His voice cracked and tears were welling up in his eyes, but he continued. “You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was now barely above a whisper. 

Spencer stopped for a moment to compose himself. It was the moment he had been waiting for. Y/N was right in front of him and all of his emotions were overwhelming. He had to tell her right now. Even if she couldn’t hear him; he needed the practice. Because the words have been bottled up for so long, and now that she was right in front of him, he felt like he was going to burst. But he just didn’t know where to start. 

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I really need to tell you something, and I can’t wait any longer.” Spencer let out a sigh and stared at her hand in his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months, and I-I need to let the words out before I lose my confidence.” Spencer swallowed thickly. “Or I don’t know, maybe you can hear me. Studies have shown that...” He trailed off. He was rambling.

Spencer let out a deep sigh and brought his eyes back to Y/N’s face. “Y/N... You were the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can’t believe I let you go.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You were right, you know. Something did happen to me on a case. But I didn’t want to bring you into the evil that corrupts my world, so I kept you in the dark. But then it got out of hand... It became less about shielding you and more about protecting myself.” Spencer licked his lips and lowered his eyes again. He felt ashamed. Had it not been for his own pride, perhaps Y/N would still be in his life. Maybe he could have even prevented this. But he let out a shaky breath and continued.

“I was abducted and tortured by a man named Tobias Hankel. He had multiple personalities. So when he wasn’t torturing me, he was giving me painkillers. It was dilaudid.” Spencer shook his head as the memories of his abduction came back to him. 

“I... I became addicted, Y/N. I knew I needed help. But I wanted to prove I was strong. I wanted to prove that I could bounce back and show that I could handle it. But I couldn’t.” By now, the young doctor was crying. He continued through his sobs. “I guess I... I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own, so I pushed everyone away, Y/N. Not just you. And I know that doesn’t make it better, but you were never the problem, Y/N. It was me.”

Spencer looked at Y/N’s face and rubbed circles on her hand. “I know there’s no way you could have known that, but I don’t want you blaming yourself for what happened between us. And I know what you would say if you were awake right now. I know what I did was wrong. I realized that you would never see me as weak for this, but in that moment I've never felt so weak. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Hot tears streamed down the Spencer’s face as he continued. “I’ve been sober for half a year now. I’ve been sober ever since we broke up. And I know drugs don’t excuse how I acted towards you, but I just needed you to know,” Spencer held onto Y/N’s hand tighter. “I never stopped loving you.”

As the young doctor spilled his heart out to his love, the words he spoke never reached their recipient. Y/N laid in deep slumber, unaware of Spencer’s confession as he sat next to her. She would stay in her comatose-like condition until the next day, never to hear the truth behind the end of her and Spencer’s relationship.

Because when Y/N awoke, Spencer had gone to get his morning cup of coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria. He had spent the entire night sleeping by her side, desperate to be the first person she saw when she woke up. By the time he returned, fits of giggles were emerging from Y/N’s room.

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he heard her laughter echo in his ears. She was finally awake, and he could finally get his confession off his conscience. All he had to do was repeat the words he had said the night before, this time to active ears.

But the words were caught in his throat once more, because when Spencer entered Y/N’s room, he was met with two sets of eyes instead of one. Y/N had lit up and exclaimed, “There’s the man who saved my life!” Her excitement and smile still brought butterflies to Spencer’s stomach. But they quickly disappeared when she spoke her next sentence, confirming Spencer’s fears. 

“Spencer, I want you to meet Connor. My boyfriend.” She gestured to the man sitting next to her. Spencer had recognized him immediately, he was the man he saw Y/N with at the cafe.

Spencer’s stomach dropped and his heart broke once again. 

He was too late.

---

read part two here!

[harrywritingsbyme]

HarryWeen: Home Edition

Based Off Of This Ask 

And This One

This One Too

A/N: Spooky szn has come to an end...but it’s going out with a bang. This bitch right here is hot as fuck and y’all have been waiting for this one. My 🐱is quaking and yours will be too once you’re done reading it...hopefully😭. Enjoy🙃

4.1k wordsss

The day you’d been anticipating for the past month and a half was here. It was finally Halloween! Since you two and everyone else in the world were living in the midst of a pandemic, you made sure to put forth the effort to really enjoy this Halloween to the fullest. Harry’s “Harryween” show was canceled because of it, and you couldn’t go out to Halloween parties because it wasn’t safe at all. So with all of that in mind, there was only one option left; the two of you could have your own little party at home. Which is exactly what you were planning on doing. And since you and Harry loved role playing, it was kind of a given that you two would go out for this holiday in particular. Mainly you though. You started preparing and planning in the middle of September. You went down you guys’ role play list and you scoured the internet until you found the perfect idea for yours and Harry’s costumes. When you started searching for costumes for yourself, hoping that you’d find some type of inspiration, you stumbled across the perfect red riding hood outfit. So naturally, you were already planning for you to take over the red riding hood role, and for Harry to take over being the big bad wolf. And once you figured that out, the entire process of picking and choosing things for your costumes went smoothly. Once you placed your orders, all you had to do then was wait in anticipation.

Fast forward to today and you were finally going to put on your costume that you only took a quick peek at when they arrived in the mail and get Halloween started. Now you decided to give Harry a bit of a surprise and not tell him what you had planned for costumes. All you told him was that he was going to love it and to just put on whatever you laid out for him. While you did the absolute most with your red riding hood get up, you didn’t do so much for Harry’s werewolf costume. You didn’t want it to be crazy extra or over the top, that was your job. You just wanted him to be hot. And since he already had that down, you pretty much picked what he was wearing from his closet except for little more specific things. You on the other hand were going all in with your costume. You thought of just about everything when making your purchases. For starters, you found the most perfect red riding hood costume out there. The red, white, and black dress hit right above the middle of your thighs and it rose even higher in the back which was perfect. The dress itself had everything you wanted and was amazingly detailed. The entire dress was satin with a very low and frilly top half, a corset in the middle with a monochrome floral pattern lining the sides to cinch your waist a bit, and the skirt portion had a little bit of a layered effect which allowed for there to be a sea of ruffles underneath to help billow the skirt out a bit and add a touch of innocence to the not so innocent look. To make this look even better, you threw in a couple more items. You couldn’t be little red riding hood without the infamous red cape, so you found the perfect hooded cape that tied in the front and went all the way down to the floor. You also threw in a pair of white thigh highs with black satin bows on the upper bands, a shiny new princess plug with ruby red jewel heart on top (you couldn’t have too many of those), and a lacy little red g string to tie everything underneath together. And to get a real idea of how perfect everything was, the g string was so small that your pussy was barely staying in, and your ass had practically swallowed up the little string in the back. You were so glad that Harry was going to rip it off later on. To round out the entire look, you bought a cute little basket to give it all a little bit more innocence and a pair of long stain gloves. You pulled your patent leather heels from the closet and you did something really simple and cute with the hair and makeup to really drive Harry crazy.

Once you were all done putting the pieces together, tightening and pulling things things into their proper places, and creating this look, you couldn’t believe your eyes. You were completely taken aback at how good you looked and you couldn’t wait to get an even stronger reaction from Harry once you showed him. Since you were keeping the whole surprise thing going, you laid everything out for him in the room next to yours so that you could get dressed separately and do a little reveal before taking some pictures. You do a final once over of yourself before grabbing your phone and the little things you got to round out Harry’s costume and heading over into the next room. As if he could just sense your presence, Harry’s head quickly lifts up from his phone and brings his undivided attention onto you.

“Holy shit!” He gawks, quickly moving himself to the foot of the bed so that he could get a better look at you.

“You like?” You ask, quickly sitting the items in your hands down onto the bed do that you can pull the cape away from the back and do a little twirl for him.

“You look amazing.” He whispers dumbfoundedly. There were no words to describe what was going through Harry’s head. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, his mind was flooded with the filthy things he wanted to do to you. He was also excited to role-play with you a bit. He never really thought about doing little red riding hood and the big bad wolf but he was very happy that you did because this was crazy hot.

“I’m glad you like it.” You reply happily, coming in closer to him.

“M’just trying to figure out why my costume is so simple.” He asks amusedly, pulling you closer between his legs.

“I didn’t want it to be costumey, I just wanted it to be hot. And the tattered red plaid and ripped blue denim was the only werewolf costume inspo I could find.” You say simply, moving yourself onto him so that you’re straddling his thigh. “Plus I didn’t want to be scared while you’re fucking me. But I did buy you some fangs and one of those werewolf  mask things.” You continue, reaching over to grab the two items.

“I think I’ll stick to the fangs.” He chooses, taking the fangs from your hand.

“Can you just wear it for one picture please?” You ask sweetly, sitting the mask down wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Fine, but only if you let me do anything I want to you tonight.” Harry bargains, bringing his hands down to your thighs.

“Of course daddy.” You readily agree.

“Good. Now as much as I like having those tits in my face, we should probably head downstairs because the longer you’re on me like this, the harder it’s going to be to get those pictures you want.”

“Then let’s go.” You reply, bringing your feet back to the floor before standing up in front of him. You then proceed to waste no time grabbing your things from the bed, pulling Harry up as well and walking you both out of the room.

Now it was time to set everything up. You wanted perfect photos so you took out the tripod and clicker so that the photos could be perfect and so that this process could be hurried along to the fun stuff. After finally positioning the camera in a way that has the best lighting that flatters you both, and figuring out the cameras timer, you and Harry take some pictures of the both of you in your costumes. You were able to get some photos of just yourself, some cute coupely photos that you were definitely going to post on Instagram, the one picture of Harry in the mask, and you also got some that were definitely going into your archive of more nsfw photos. When you took the cape off to get some pictures of the actual outfit, Harry’s hands were all over you. When the final second markers flashed across the phone screen, Harry’d spring into action and do something inappropriate. In one of the photos, he randomly pulls you up into his arms, squeezing his hands into the flesh of your ass, and lightly sinking his teeth into your neck. Another time, he stood behind you and just as the time began to wind down, he reached around you to push his hand up the front of your skirt to cup your barely covers pussy and used the other to cup one of your breasts all while keeping you tight against him with his face in your neck. Every time he did this your pussy got wetter and you got more excited for what was going to happen a little later. Luckily for you, a little later wasn’t going to be that much later. When you bend down to undo your heels after you two were done taking pictures, you gave Harry a full view of what was going on underneath your dress. Your fleshy thighs and ass spread perfectly so that he could see the princess plug and the practically nonexistent panties you had on. Seeing that on top of being teased for what was going on an hour was more than just getting to him. Harry was fired up and he couldn’t take it any longer. So once your shoes were completely off and you were no longer using the wall for support, he quickly pushes you against it, leaving no space between you two. And before he even says a word to you, Harry brings one of his hands up to wrap around your throat and he moves the other down and up your skirt to toy at the plug that was pushed into you.

“’Now we’re gonna play a little game. I’m gonna let you run away, and you better be prepared for me to catch you.” Harry growls into your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. In that moment, he just wanted to fuck his cock into you and just pound you right into the wall. You managed to look like a sweet innocent girl and a filthy slut at the same time. Harry could barely wrap his head around it all. The only thing he knew was that he was definitely going to have some fun with you tonight. “Understand?” He asks, keeping his grip on your throat. You could barely form a word because of his tight grip on you so the only response you gave him was a pitiful nod yes and a whimper, causing him to let go of you completely. “Now run.” He growls, moving back to let you go and get a little head start. And once he does, you’re off. You didn’t even pay attention to where you were going you just went. Your entire body was on fire from his authoritativeness and you wanted him to make a mess out of you. Like no breaks, just back to back pounding and licking into you. You started off in the living room and you made it to the kitchen  and the hallway leading to the laundry room. Before you could even decide which way to turn, Harry has his arms tightly around you and is dragging you both over to the kitchen island where he turns you around and hoists you up onto the cool surface. His hand goes back around your throat, he pulls your forward, and leans in to close the gap between his mouth and your ear. “I caught you.” He whispers cynically before pushing your upper body down against the counter.

He then pulls you a little closer to the edge so that he could easily fuck into you before pushing the bottom of your dress up to reveal your skimpy panties.  When he sees the tiny string completely enveloped by your puffy and wet cunt, Harry can feel his cock instantly twitch in his pants. Your cunt was so plushy and puffy on the outside, (as well as inside) so seeing the thin strip pushing in between your lips was definitely a sight he’d never get out of his mind.

“Aww, was little red not able to find panties to fit her pussy?” He asks condescendingly with a smirk spread across his face before snapping the flimsy fabric off of you. When he lifts it up to inspect, he can see the darker spots where you drenched them with your juices. So since your mouth hung open because of his grip on your throat, Harry simply lowers the panties down into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself while he fucks you. He then uses his free hand to swiftly undo his pants and release his cock from his pants. Instead of giving himself a couple tugs, he pushes his hard cock right into you. As he pushes in, your toes are curling as tight as they possibly can. His large cock pushing you apart felt so good. Even the grip on your throat felt good. As he enters into you, you could hear his moans and growls as his cock is enveloped with your pussy. “Fuck! Such a good cunt.” He groans, pushing in the rest of the way before beginning his thrusts. He quickly shoves his hips back and forth against you, thrusting his cock in and out of your cunt. You felt like you were floating; his hand was around your throat and he was fucking you hard against the counter. You couldn’t believe how bad you needed him to pound into you like this. He was relentless with his thrusts and didn’t stop pounding into you or circling his thumb around your clit. It was like he was addicted to fucking your walls. Once he pushes in, he just can’t stop. He loved the way you let out the most pathetic whimpers as he enjoyed your spongy walls around his cock.

As he continues to thrust into you, you can feel your sweet spot deep inside you beginning to warm up in the pit of your stomach. The way he continuously thrusted into you and circled his thumb around your clit was absolutely insane. He had you right in the edge of your release, and you couldn’t wait to fall right over into it. While you were clenching around him and squirming in his grip, Harry too was feeling his release bubbling up inside of him. He could feel your walls tightening with every thrust he made and he could also feel you becoming wetter and warmer as he continued on which meant that he was on the edge as well.

“Should the big bad wolf let you cum?” He grunts, loosening the grip on your throat and slowing down his hips to deliver deep and sharp thrusts into your cunt.

“Please!” You beg. You felt like you were about to explode.

“Cum!” He grunts loudly, slamming into you once more and holding himself right against you as he emptied himself into you for the first time of the night. And as he lets go, so do you. Your walls rapidly contract around him as you just let go around as well. After he’s completely done riding the wave of his release, Harry pulls his cock out of you and bends down towards your cunt. Your legs were limply spread against the counter so he takes this opportunity to just dig right in. He opens his mouth wide and goes right into licking into your freshly fucked pussy. Since you were still recovering from your first release, you were extremely sensitive. So having his mouth on you so soon was definitely a shock. Your hands went straight to his hair in an attempt to push him away a bit.

“Oh my-Fuck!” You whine out feeling his tongue go deeper despite your pushes. When you continue pushing at his head and squirming, Harry pulls away from your cunt and stand up to tower over you. He then reaches out and cups your throat again, only this time, he pushes down to pin your head back against the counter.

“When i eat you out, don’t fucking run away from me. Don’t push my head away. Run, Im pulling your ass back. Touch me, i growl at your ass. Do not disturb me when I’m eating.” He snarls, making sure to get his point across to you. “Was gonna make you cum again, but since you obviously don’t deserve it, you’re gonna make me cum instead.” He continues, releasing his grip from you and pulling you down from the countertop. “Now on your knees.” He instructs.

“Yes daddy.” You reply submissively, quickly dropping down to your knees in front of him.

“Open.” He further instructs, wrapping his hand around his cock that was still hard. He couldn’t get enough of you. When your mouth is parted wide, Harry steps a bit closer to you before pushing his entire length into your open mouth. As he travels past your tongue and down your throat, you gag a little and you try to rest your hands against his thighs to stop him but he quickly slaps them away. “Stop trying to fight me. A little girl like you shouldn’t be playing with wolves like me.” He growls, nudging at your throat a bit to get you to gag around him again which causes him to chuckle a bit. He holds himself there for a few more seconds before pulling out of your mouth and letting you catch a breath. When you’re all caught up, you go in to take him back inside but he steps back a little, causing you to crawl forward a bit. “That’s it little girl, crawl for daddy’s cock.” He taunts, watching you inch closer on your hands and knees with every step he takes.

Once you’re full on crawling, Harry’s losing his mind. You look like a complete fiend for his cock as you continue to follow him. He could just imagine how wet your cunt was as you followed his cock. To make it even worse, your ample cleavage was spilling right out of your dress. They were just calling out to him to grab them in his hands and just squeeze and play with them. As you crawled, Harry continued on making little remarks about how much of a cockslut you were for him and how pretty you looked on your knees. Meanwhile, your focus was directly on the hard and glistening cock right in front of you. You just wanted to feel him in your mouth again. After a little more crawling, the two of you make it back to the living room where it all began. He manages to move you both around so that you’re in between the side of the couch, and his towering body. Without waiting much longer, Harry grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you forward and back onto his cock.  He wraps a hand in your hair and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth, listening to your moans and gags aground him. Your mouth and throat felt impeccable around his cock. Again, you were warm and wet which was all he could ever ask for when it came to your mouth. Because he was tugging at his cock as he lured you back into the living room, Harry was pretty worked up by now. This meant that he was really close to letting go again. And just as he does, Harry pulls his cock from your throat so that he could be right on your tongue and flood your mouth with his cum.

“Fuck!” He growls loudly, keeping his grip on your hair tight as he lets go. Spurt after spurt he floods your mouth with his thick cum. He came so much that it began to drip out of the corner of your mouth. Right now you were starting to wish you hadn’t tried to push his head away. Once he calms himself down a bit from his release, he pulls his cock from your mouth, unwraps his hand from your hair, and grabs you by your forearm to lift you up from the floor. You looked so pretty with your watery eyes and cum on your face that he couldn’t help but go one more time.

Without warning, Harry quickly lifts you up into his arms and rushes you both upstairs to the bedroom. Once inside, he drops you onto the bed and quickly removes every piece of clothing on his body along with the before moving onto you. He pulls at the strings at the front of your dress to loosen it from your body beef pulling it off and tossing it behind him. He pulls the gloves from your hands as well and leaves the stockings on because why not and then crawls onto the bed. Then he pulls your hips up and positions himself behind you so that he’s nudging at your entrance.

“Please daddy!” You whine out to him, pushing back in his direction, trying to sink his cock into you. You really wanted to  feel his cock and cum again.

After watching you beg and move around a little bit more, Harry finally gives in and pushes into you. It felt so good, you herein need of a second release and you were finally going to get it. As he quickly thrusts himself in and out of you, Harry decides to play with your second hole a bit. Continuing his thrusts, he wraps his fingers around the top of the plug and he slowly pulls it out of you. He watches as your hole seizes back up and listens to your desperate moans get louder because he’s done this. He then spits down onto your hole and pushes the tip of the plug around there area to spread it.

“Oh my god!” You scream, feeling him go even deeper.

“Feeling good babygirl?” He asks nonchalantly through his own pants and moans, keeping his attention on teasing your second hole and watching the flesh of your ass move in synch with his thrusts.

“So good. M’gonna cum.” You slur, as you feel yourself becoming lightheaded from the massive release that was fast approaching.

“Wanna cum on daddy’s cock?” He asks, pushing the plug back into you in the process and continuing to thrust into you.

“Please” Whine softly. When Harry hears you respond in that way, he can tell that you’re about to have a really big release. So he pulls himself out of you and in one swift motion your flipped onto your back with Harry between your legs. He wastes no time pushing back into you and slamming in as hard and as fast as he can go. As he does, he can see that your eyes are watery and rolled back, and you have a little bit of drool forming in the corner of your mouth.

“You look so pretty getting fucked stupid babydoll, milking my cock for all I have, such a good girl.” He praises, slamming down onto you and feeling his third and definitely final release creeping up on him. “Daddy loves his stupid little girl.” He hums shakily, feeling himself nearing the edge as well.  When his thrusts become staggered, Harry realizes that he can’t hold it anymore. “Now be a good girl and cum with daddy.” He grunts, stilling himself inside of you for the final time of the night and emptying whatever drops of cum are left in his body. And while he lets go, so do you. But yours is much more intense. Your body is full on quaking as you not only let go but also squirt all over him. The fact that he was hitting that sweet spot over and over again and the fact that you were desperately in need of a second release catapulted you right over the edge and into a powerful release.

Once he’s completely done, Harry collapses right onto the bed next to you. The both of you were deep into your post orgasm comas and you were going to be there for a good while too. There was just a lot for your bodies and minds to process.

Maybe being stuck inside for Halloween wasn’t so bad after all.

Masterlist

[emrysaf]

A-Z Affection Prompts- Victor Creed

“Marks and nuzzling with Victor Creed? If you're still doing the prompts.”

“A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.”

 - John Stuart Mill

Your mutation wasn’t the best, so to speak. Genetically, you had a lot in common with feral types of mutants; those with animalistic qualities and high healing factors. 

Only, you didn’t heal fast from actual wounds. You had the higher healing factor than a “normal” human like most mutants, but nothing in comparison to Victor, or Logan (whom you’d only met once). Scientists who had done studies of various types of mutants and the subgroupings had said your mutation’s power was all used up in keeping you appearing like you didn’t age. It wasn’t something you could turn on or off and it didn’t come with claws or bone skewers coming out of your body. However, you did have slightly pointed ears and what appeared to be two sets of sharper-than-average canines on the bottom and top rows of teeth along with more strength than would be normal for someone of your size.

Despite how you felt you were weak or a hindrance, Victor kept you around after he had found you in a cage years ago. He was a murder machine even at the best of times, but he was your protector and friend. 

In recent years something had changed. The familial love had shifted and grew into something else. But even being with him for years, you weren’t the best at reading his emotions unless it came to rage. That one you saw a lot, never pointed at you though.

After living so long one would suppose you’d had a lot of . . . experience. That wasn’t necessarily true. Yes, you had been with people, even felt love you supposed (though it was nothing compared to how you felt about the large feral mutant), but they were few and far between. Either they began to age and wanted to settle when you knew you couldn’t or you were being hunted as recognition, understanding and acceptance of mutants fluctuated over the years of your long life.

What you did know from experience is that you weren’t some frail, breakable thing. Unless you were to be honest about your love for Creed. Then, yes, you were weak.

But these average, human men in the alley that had clear, albeit disgusting, goals? You were definitely not weaker than them. And you proved it when you beat the absolute shit out of them for their attempted gang assault. After you finished demolishing them and some of the alley walls, you wiped your bloody knuckles on the sides of your jeans. Then you buttoned up your flannel all the way since the tank top underneath had been roughly grabbed and nearly torn from your body to expose what the men were after. 

One of the men lightly groaned as he moved his head a bit, and you took a final kick to his temple as you slightly limped from the dark alley. Checking your phone you doubled down on your pace to hurry home. Victor was due home today, and you had wanted to cook something. Now you were running late.

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Regardless of the fact that you had made it home before him and started on something for dinner, (burgers if his nose was to be believed), Victor was not happy. 

Try as he might to not be possessive, Victor Creed was a territorial man. You may not be his partner, but the rule was no sexual partners in the loft apartment. A rule you made, he might add, and he agreed to out of respect for you and the bond you shared.

Now before he even makes it to the door he can smell a man? Men? And the coppery tinge of blood- he knew you hadn’t gotten any in. . . Well, a while. So he factored that as the blood smell, but another male in his home? More than one? You made the FUCKING rule.

So he was already tense as he opened the door and slammed it shut. Ready to berate you into the next life, and inevitably slut shame a bit. He was known for being an asshole after all.

But all thoughts were cut off as you turned with a tight smile to greet him from the kitchen across the open floored apartment. There was a dark bruise that looked suspiciously like a handprint blooming from under your chin and up your cheek a bit. The blood he had smelled could be seen along your hairline and crusted in your hair a bit. Quickly he took in the flannel buttoned up to the absolute top button and a tear in one shoulder seam. Then down to the hand holding the spatula you were using to flip the burgers; split skin and more dark (almost purple-black) bruising.

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Immediately you saw his angered face contort to something else as his eyes flickered around your prone form. You almost forgot about what happened in your haste to get home and start food. You had wanted to do something nicer, but burgers were always a good go-to for Victor. Burgers and beer.

Now you wished you had taken the time to shower or something before starting on the food since it wasn’t ready when he got home anyway.

Again he wore a look, an emotion settling that you couldn’t read.

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“What happened?” he grunted.

A relieved look passed over your face as you turned back to the sizzling burgers. Had you already sensed he was angry at you?

“Oh, not much. Got home late so sorry about it being burgers again,” you laughed.

“I meant the blood and shit Y/N.” Gruff as ever.

Back turned to him, he saw your shoulders tense a bit. You weren’t worried about the men who attacked you or what they thought they were going to be able to do to you. You were worried about telling him, and seeing how weak he really thought you were. All marked up and bruised after a fight with some humans? Probably would think you were pathetic.

“Uhm, well…”

A irritated ‘hmph’ came from the stock-still man.

“Some men tried to. . . Attack me. Came at me all together thinking they’d get the upper hand and get- Y’know?..” You lifted the burgers from the skillet to a plate covered in paper towels to catch excess grease.

Behind you Victor had tensed even more. Angry at what happened. Those men. Himself. 

Himself for not being there and for intending to come in and rip you a new one earlier. His inner feral growled lowly. Over the years, probably before your feelings had even shifted, he had grown attached to you in a more romantic, loving nature. But he didn’t want to hurt you. He knew what he did to other frails and knew he held you in higher regard than even himself when he realized he never wanted to see you hurt. But his inner animal was raging; some average human men had not only tried to hurt you, but force you to… to..

You were still putting the burgers together, knowing exactly how he liked his, while you talked. “Got a couple good ones in yeah, but I got ‘em all Vic. Really tore into ‘em like you taught me!” You were getting a bit giddy to regale you triumphant tale as you spun around. And he was right there. ‘Holy shit.’

Victor grabbed the plate from your hands and set it on the counter to the side, picking both your hands up in his clawed one while the other smoothed hair away from the side of your face with the bruise.

“You won?” he questioned, but your indignant reply was cut off as he raised your torn knuckles to his mouth and laved at them. Wet tongue softly grazing over the split skin in a comforting and healing gesture reminiscent of his large cat namesake. Your gasp brought his blown gaze to your own wide eyes. “Of course you did.”

“V-Victor?”

He gave a light growl that further warmed your belly as his gaze shifted back to the handprint on your neck and face. “One of them grabbed you here? Marked you up.”

Breath shaky you replied, “Yeah. Tight grip while I was getting some other guys’ paws off my undershirt. They say we’re the animals. But I won! I’m stronger than you think y’know?” 

The last bit was supposed to be a tease to hide your own insecurity, but his incredulous gaze met yours like he was having an epiphany. (He was.)

‘She thought I thought she was weak? I mean, I did. But not. . . Not as a negative thing.’

“You really are something Y/N,” he chuckled. “Much stronger than I was giving you credit for. I’m sorry.”

‘An apology? What is going on with him?’ Victor dropped suddenly on his knees gazing up at you. ‘Ahhhh!!!?? What is going on? Why is he- Wait.’

The large man wasn’t looking in you eyes anymore but off to the side with his head craned to expose the thick expanse of his neck. Submitting. To you.

“I was wrong. I’ve seen the way your gaze changed over the years. Practically fucking me with your eyes Y/N.” Your face was bright red now. He gave a low chuckle while his head and eyes were still turned away. “You weren’t as subtle as you thought you were. I told myself it couldn’t happen. That you were too weak-” 

Now the salt smell of your tears hit him as he practically felt you stop breathing and he looked up at you in a panic. Tears were welling and slowly teetering the line of falling down your face.

“No. Shit.” he groaned as he wiped his empty clawed hand down his face. “I meant. You’re healing ability. I didn’t want to hurt you. To see you in pain.. I couldn’t live if I hurt you Y/N. But me wanting to protect you like I’ve done for years made me blind the you now. Strong and capable of protecting herself despite a little pain and some cuts and bruises.”

Once he saw the shimmer dissipate a bit he craned his head again. Exposing the column of his throat once more. “I can’t stay marked up. If you tried to it wouldn’t stick. But I am claimed by you. I have been for years now. If-if that’s still what you want?”

Understanding hit you like a freight truck. Slowly you crouched, if you also knelt you would be shorter than him again, to make a point.

“No submitting. You’re Victor Creed. The Sabertooth. These- These feelings are ones we both have right?” At his nod and the curious glint in his eyes you continued. “Then it’s equal. We are equal, bub.” 

Then you gave him what he wanted. Lightly you pressed kisses to his brow, his nose, his lips and his jaw. He reciprocated in his own forceful way. Carefully your gazes met again and you gave a slight nod. You ran your nose down from where you kissed his jaw to the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. He skipped the trailing and harshly pressed his nose to the same spot on your neck, nuzzling, and waited for you to press your open mouth to his skin. 

He felt your hot tongue and groaned loudly. Then there was a slight tearing sound as he dug his sharp canines into your neck, and you repressed your scream by biting him back as hard as possible with your duller teeth. When his teeth pulled from your skin he immediately began lapping at your wound in that healing way again as your body collapsed into his.

When you gave a high whine followed by a moan Victor’s arms wrapped tightly around you and he stood to his full height with you in his hold. Sensing a shift in mood from the loving, openness to a more erotic tone, you laughed.

“Got more plans?”

Another grunt but you felt the curve of his smile where his face was still pressed to you.

“What about the burgers?” You joked.

“Fuck that.” he gave a chuckle this time, hearing your joking lilt. “Let’s work up an appetite first, eh?”

Now you giggled as he practically ran to his dark room down the hall. You were certainly up for a long night making up for lost time, and he was ready to mark you up and see your strength first hand.

[ak47stylegirl]

Hmm... sicktember, huh? Let's go for #10 and I'm going to be boringly predictable with Scott :D Your choice of caretaker.

This was fun 😁 I know you love Scott and Gordon, so the choice of the caretaker was easy lol 😂 I hope you enjoy it! I went with a little bit of a different writing style with this fic, so hopes it's good 😅

I'm doing this challenge by asks, so send in a number and a bro, and I'll get to writing 😄 Overload my inbox!! 😁

----

Glass crunched under his feet.

“Wow…this place was asking to become a danger zone...” Gordon muttered, gingerly tipping over an empty beaker with a finger. “What even was this place?”

It was hard to tell what was dust and what was rubble from the earthquake; everything was in some form of ruin or decay.

“The building is listed as an office complex, owned by lee frank industries, but….” John frowned, sounding perplexed, “something doesn't add up….”

Frustration was evident in John’s voice, because there was nothing that John hated more than a puzzle piece to a mystery being just outside his grasp.

That or false information, especially incorrect space facts…oh boy, does John go feral if you joke that the sun is just a planet that‘s on fire.

So does Alan, though he's more the barking puppy variety, Gordon thought with a smirk, oh that was a great mental image…

“You’re right about that, John….” Scott reported, stormy blue eyes scanning the room, back rigid. “This looks more like a lab than an office, and not one that reaches any legal safety requirements either….”

Gordon straightens unconsciously, becoming more alert and focused. He understood what Scott was implying and what that could mean…

The building’s stability may not be the only danger…

There was a tense pause on the comms before “I’m contacting the GDF….” John's voice filtered over the comms, each word heavy with the severity of the possible growing situation.

“Good plan, John….” Scott nodded, looking left and right down the long complex “in the meantime, Gordon and I should look for survivors….”

“FAB….just..” John’s professional mask slipped for a second, his voice softening, “be careful down there, okay?”

“Will do…” Scott nodded, with a small, confident smile, catching his eye, “Gordon will search the left side of the building, while I take the right, all agreed?”

“FAB”, Gordon and John replied in unison.

“Good”, Scott’s eyes hardened, his commander persona coming to the forefront, “comms stay on at all times, is that understood?”

Acknowledgement was voiced, and in Gordon’s case, in the form of a mock salute, and an ‘Ay, Ay captain!’

Scott’s eye roll could be felt from space.

----

So far, the left side of the building was devoid of life, a ghost town of broken glass and rubble.

And bodies.

“I found another one, John..” Gordon grimaced, crouching down next to a middle-aged female, who was crushed by a shelf, chemical burns making her unrecognisable.

“Damn it, Scott was right, this place was a safety hazard waiting to happen…” Gordon looked around the small stuffy room, bottles of chemicals stacked haphazardly, sharp objects just discard all over the place.

Brains would have a fit if he saw this…

“Had any luck on your end, Scott?”

“Not so far, but keep-” the sounds of harsh coughing could be heard over the comms, “-keep l-looking….”

Gordon frowned, “Scott, are you alright?”

There was more coughing before Scott replied, “I’m f-fine…I just-” Scott groaned, his words starting to slur, “-I just cau-caught my..my b-breath, I-”

There was more coughing and a thud on the other end, followed by Scott’s comm going dead. “Scott?! Scott, are you alright?! Answer me!”

Gordon started to run full speed, all thoughts of lab safety abandoned in his panic. All of the alarm bells in his head were ringing; something’s wrong, something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong!

“Gordon, put your helmet on now!” John barked over the comm line, causing him to halt and follow without question. “There is an unknown gas radiating from Scott’s location! GDF and Virgil are on route now!”

Gordon took off in a sprint again, helmet now secured. “Good! We may need it! Do you have eyes on Scott?”

Gordon flew around a corner.

“He’s still not responding; vitals show he’s conscious, but none of them are in a healthy range.”

John sounded worried. Not a good sign. As was the yelling he could hear as he neared Scott’s location, but something was off about it.

The only one yelling was Scott.

He slowed down his pace, not wanting to run into an unknown, possibly dangerous situation unprepared.

“No! No! Gordon! Please, wake up!” Scott could be heard screaming; his voice filled with pure anguish. “Please!!”

A shiver ran down Gordon’s spine, “John, you don’t have any clue what that gas does, do you?” He whispered tensely; honestly a bit freaked out by Scott’s cries.

“I’m working on it….” John growled, sounding beyond frustrated that vital information was alluring him. “Don’t engage Scott until we know what we’re dealing with, okay?”

Gordon scowled, hearing Scott scream and cry his name again. “Sorry John, no can do….” He turned the corner, finally laying eyes on his brother.

Scott was hunched over a body, screaming his name and begging the dead body to wake up, sob rattling Scott’s shoulders.

Scott thought that body, a young adult male, was him, Gordon realised in horror, his face going ash white.

“Scotty?” Gordon spoke softly, taking a cautious step forward, his hands held up in front of him in a gesture of peace. “You’re okay there, bro?”

Scott’s head snapped up at his entrance, blue eyes locking onto him. Blue eyes which were cloudy and glazed over.

Gordon grimaced, taking another step forward.

Yeah, Scott wasn’t in his right mind; that was plainly obvious.

The situation changed so fast Gordon barely had time to react as Scott launched to his feet with a snarl, yelling, “You!”

Gordon barely dodged Scott’s punch, his eyes going wide. “Whoa! Scott, it’s me! Gordon!” He pleaded as he dodged Scott’s attacks.

That seemed to just make Scott angrier, “don’t you lie to me, you bastard! You killed my brother!!” Scott jumped at him, finally managing to knock him off his feet.

This was bad! This was very bad! Gordon thought as his big brother started to punch him, pinning him down with a crazed look in his eyes.

Virgil and John were yelling at him over comms. He had to do something! Gordon thought as he struggled against Scott, whose punches were becoming more painful.

Gordon’s elbow stuck Scott’s cheek, stunning Scott long enough for him to shove Scott off, and put distance between them.

“Scott! Stop this! I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not true!” Gordon yelled as he once again began to dodge Scott’s attacks, his ribs protesting immensely. “Please, Scotty!”

Scott’s attacks stopped, blue eyes clearing for a second, “Gordy?” Scott’s voice trembled, sounding so terrified.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Scooter….” He took a hesitant step forward, a plan forming in his mind. “We were on a rescue, remember?”

He took another step forward, seeing that Scott was staying still, slowly reaching for the emergency sedative in his sash.

Scott’s eyes latched on his hand movement, eyes going wide, and the anger returned. “Ahhhrgh! Get out of my head!” Scott shook his head, gripping his hair in his fists. “Your tricks won’t work on me, Hood!”

Well, that explains a lot…

He took another step forward, “Scotty, I promise I’m not-“

“Enough lies!” Scott screamed, tackling him to the ground, his head hitting the ground hard, being momentarily stunned.

“No!” Gordon cried out as Scott knocked the syringe from his hand, it rolling just out of his reach.

“It’s over, Hood!” Scott sneered, blue eyes devoid of their normal kindness and love, “you’re never going to hurt my family ever again!”

Gordon looked into emotionless eyes, and felt proper fear of his brother for the first time in his life.

Scott wasn’t going to stop; he was going to...

Gordon growled, his eyes hardening in detention as his fist met Scott’s nose. Scott cried out in pain, distracted for a second, and in that second, he was able to wrestle Scott under him.

While Gordon was quick and agile, a good fighter in his own right, Scott was stronger than him. The fight quickly escalated into a wrestling match, neither letting the other get the upper hand.

Gordon spotted the syringe near them, just as Scott got the upper hand, slamming him into the ground.

No matter how much he struggled, Scott had him well and truly pinned this time, one arm pinned above his head.

One arm was free, but mobility was limited by Scott’s body weight on his upper shoulder and arm. But he had to try!

“Scott! I’m just tr-” Scott pressed his forearm against Gordon’s throat, beginning to cut off his air supply “,-t-trying to help you!”

His fingers brushed against the syringe, it slipping just out of his grasp. So close! So close!

“Like hell you are!” Scott cried, tears of anguish and fury pouring down his cheeks. “What have we ever done to you?! What have my little brothers done?!”

Tears pickled at the corners of Gordon’s eyes, his vision darkening just as his hand finally gripped the syringe.

He didn’t hesitate, slamming the syringe into Scott’s thigh with all of his remaining strength. Scott cried out, the pressure on his throat disappearing as Scott leapt away from him.

“What did you-” Scott stumbled, falling on his butt, eyes starting to blink rapidly. “What did you just...just inject into me?!”

Gordon slowly sat up, wrapping an arm around his ribs. “Scotty, it’s okay….” He moved towards Scott, who tried to flinch away, but only ended up collapsing onto his side.

“No, no, this, this can’t be h-happening..” Scott whimpered in despair, unable to lift his head or stop Gordon from moving towards him. “P-please, not G-Gordy….”

“I’m right here; I’m right here, Scotty..” Gordon pulled Scott onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “It’s alright, shh come on, go to sleep now….”

Scott’s eyes were becoming heavy, each blink becoming more prolonged than the last, “No, I can’t…I gotta…I gotta…“

Scott’s breathing evened out, eyes slipping close and not opening again. Gordon sighed in relief, slumping backwards, Scott’s head resting against his chest.

“You owe me big time, big brother…” Gordon whispered with a small pained smile, hearing Virgil’s voice in the distance. “So very, very much….”

[evolutionsvoid]

The frequent attacks from the beast known as "Vish'El" left the world in chaos. Despite all technology we had created, all the weaponry we built and hoarded, we were powerless to stop it. We let loose enough firepower to last three wars, but the creature hardly seemed to flinch. At times it would act like we hurt it, but then when we stopped to observe or swooped in to take advantage, it would let out that weird shout and send us all flying. Nothing marred its impenetrable skin, so all we could guess was that it was playing pretend in order to trick us. No clue why that is necessary, as it could carve through our armies in seconds without suffering a scratch. All we could do is keep running to the drawing board and try to think up of some new strategy or weapon that could take it out. Until we found its weakness, humanity just had to accept the fact that our cities were just open season to a sudden monster drop in. No surprise so many people fled to the countryside once they figured out their governments couldn't stop the thing. Everything became a nightmare, and we were all lost on what to do. So imagine our reaction when another one of those wretched things suddenly appeared. It showed up a little after Vish'El dropped in and started stomping an empty city, arriving in the same bizarre manner. It was obviously a different creature, no doubt some other cosmic species of titan, but there were some odd things we immediately noticed. This one moved a bit more fluidly, though still had a bit of an awkward gait and pace. Its mouth seemed to function more than Vish'El's, so much so it seemed to constantly be flapping open and closed like a chattering crocodile. This beast too seemed like a noisy one, as it liked to roar just as much as Vish'El, though it was a bit different. While Vish'El's were strange variations of the same sound, this fellow seemed to have only one noise that it could duplicate perfectly. That strange metallic howl just over and over, constantly repeating in a deafening loop. It was bizarre. When it arrived, our hearts stopped. Another monstrosity just entered the ring, what hope did we have now? The appearance of this intruder seemed to upset Vish'El as well, as it stomped and screamed in a furious tantrum. Without warning, the two launched themselves at each other and fought. They slammed together with incredible force, shaking the earth with the impact. Neither seemed too fazed by the collision, as they backed up and did again. And again. It was a strange fight to behold, as they just rammed into one another again and again. They would roar and scream, sometimes stumbling or getting their limbs locked, but they would eventually regain this position and continue to bash their heads together. Once in a while, one would hit the other with an awkward tail swipe, sending the opponent tumbling, but then they would just get back up and charge in. We watched the brawl closely, hoping that it would reveal some secrets to us. Despite the ferocity of the fight, the two didn't seem to be getting hurt. But just as our disappointment began to grow, we saw a glorious sight. Vish'El did a tail swipe and suddenly tore a chunk of flesh from the other's shoulder. The meaty hunk slammed to the ground and the intruder trembled and howled. We cheered when we saw it, as it meant that these beasts could be hurt. We looked for any clues on why this attack caused damage, but failed to find any answers. The odd thing was that the stranger did not seem to bleed, despite the grievous injury. It appears these creatures do not possess blood as we know it, or they can easily staunch the flow in these situations. Empowered by this mutilation, the new beast lunged in and seized Vish'El's leg in its jaw. Chomping down hard, it suddenly launched itself into the air, dragging its opponent with them. There was a struggle, but Vish'El could do nothing as its foe spun wildly about. High in the heavens, it flipped around and aimed Vish'El towards the ground. Like a meteor, it drove the duo straight towards the earth, spinning wildly like a crazed ballerina. The impact was devastating, as it slammed Vish'El into the ground. The whole city practically exploded, the plume of dust and debris blotting out the sun. When things started to settle, we saw the aftermath. Vish'El lay on the ground, whole but unmoving. The other beast lurched onto its hind limbs and let out another roar. The victor had been decided. Before we knew it, the two were gone. Vish'El and its destroyer zipped into the heavens and vanished. The whole event caused another uproar, as we scrambled to find meaning and information from this legendary brawl. Vish'El had been soundly defeated, so there had to be hope. The other beast was shown to be mortal, seeing that it could be wounded. Surely we could find something from all these observations to help create a weapon and put an end to this new beast. We hoped that Vish'El's state meant that it would be gone for good, as any animal will flee its territory once a stronger creature appears. The other foe suffered a terrible injury, so perhaps it would slink off for a bit to heal, giving us time to gather and plan. Despite the fact that another titan had appeared, we felt motivated from it. We would get new ideas and new data, and eventually humanity would win. Those dreams ended just as quickly as they started once the dueling duo appeared the following week. They dropped into another city, and we braced for another fight. It seemed Vish'El did not wallow in defeat for long, and the other creature had healed its wound quite quickly. We all were glued to our screens, hoping to glimpse another hint on how these things lived and died. The two squared up and lurched towards each other. Then with a bump of limbs, they turned towards the city and started wrecking. They stomped and smashed with glee, crushing the streets and knocking over buildings. The animosity they held was suddenly gone, as they did not trade a single blow or bite. They just demolished the city side-by-side, occasionally working together to really give it a skyscraper. Once everything was mashed to paste, they returned to the heavens. The world was filled with dread, the two beasts were now allies. Or were they? Two weeks later, they showed up and duked it out again. This time, the beast we dubbed "Mant'Tal" fell, after Vish'El tore a chunk out of its shoulder and shouted it into the ground. They left and returned a few days later, with Mant'Tal winning the day despite having its shoulder wounded in the harsh duel. This victory was secured by spinning its body like a tornado and ramming into Vish'El. Not long after that, the two joined forces to smash another city, only to turn on one another a week later. The friendship was seemingly over after Vish'El gouged Mant'Tel's shoulder and bashed them with a weird flying/sliding dropkick. What relationship these two had was a mystery, but the end result of every meeting was another destroyed city. We couldn't figure anything out, we had no idea what to do next. Things became even more muddled after a video popped up of the two beasts somewhere in the countryside. What we saw was baffling, its purpose known only to these crazed titans. The first bizarre thing was that the two were not in a city, instead out in the wilderness amongst the trees and fields. Their lust for destruction and death seemed to be gone at the moment, as they moved more slowly and methodically. They did not stomp or screech, they did something far strange. Mant'Tal stood in a forest, their huge bulk jutting from the pathetic trees. With bizarre movements, it somehow was tearing up the trees and placing them in a pile, occasionally stopping to add trees to a different pile and then kind of mix them around. It did this while it grumbled an odd noise, something more organic and melodic than is previous roars. Vish'El was not with Mant'Tal, rather the beast was out in the fields, kind of just standing their motionlessly. Eventually it seemed to snap awake and slowly trot its way over to Mant'Tal's forest. When it reached the tree line, it stopped, spun ninety degrees, spun back and then stepped forward. Once in the trees, it turned all the way around, let out a loud noise and then turned back forward. The noise attracted Man'Tal's attention, and they abandoned their various piles of trees to greet the other titan. They growled and roared in odd tones, bouncing in place as they did. Eventually the two moved toward the tree piles and sat by them. They jammed the torn plants into their maws, shoveling them in at a constant pace, despite the fact they kept tumbling out of their open maws. When the piles were scattered at their feet, the two strolled deeper into the forest and then lay on the ground. Once on their sides, all movements ceased. Moments later, they were gone. What this video showed was brand new behavior, but we didn't understand a lick of it. It felt like a dream, especially when the two went back to fighting and smashing weeks later, with no sign of them acknowledging this strange behavior. There is something more to this, beyond mere destruction. We don't know what they are playing at, but its critical we find out what that is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah crap, Kaijune is wrapping up and I am hurrying to post the last few scraps! No kaiju is complete without a trusty sidekick/arch-nemesis/friend/something! Complete with battle damage!  

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

airhorn sounds in your ear as you try to sleep ITS FIC TIME, CHILDREN

His father’s first reaction is, predictably, nervous. They’re sitting in the living room as a family, all sort of hanging out, but doing their own thing. Hoarders is passively playing, Lydia is tucked under the couch with a book and flashlight, Emily is in the corner with her laptop, and BJ and Charles are each sitting on opposite ends of the couch, going through their phones. He gets a very sweet text from Adam, showing that the other teen has put the photo Lydia took of them in a frame, and he grins, and holds the device to his chest, feeling giddy and flustered. His dad notices. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Charles smiles, and BJ figures this is as good a time as any. “I got a text from my boyfriend.” Charles stares. From her chair in the corner, Emily’s typing slows, and then stops, as her brain catches up with that sentence. His phone pings again, and he looks back down at a message from Barbara, then back to his parents. “And my girlfriend.” Emily closes her computer. Her smile is enormous. “Shut up.” “No, seriously!” he grins back at his mother, and then notes the color Charles is going. “Adam and Barbara?” Emily asks, knowingly, and he nods. “We made it official yesterday. I took em to th’ Smallpox Hospital.” “Awww! That’s so romantic!” “You’re dating?” Charles finally finds words. “Unclench your everything, dad, jeezus.” “It’s just… do you think that’s a good idea?” “I think it’s a great idea,” BJ says, a little defensive. “What, I’m not allowed to date? M’too weird for it?” “That’s not what I meant, BJ,” Charles frowns. But he can tell it kind of is.

“Charles, honey, he’s sixteen. He’s going to date,” Emily says softly, and Charles looks back at her. “But two people at once? And they’re-” “They’re what, Chuck?” “Humans. They’re human, BJ.” “Holy shit, they are? Here I thought they were just really crappy demons.” “I just don’t know if you’ve thought this through. Wouldn’t you be happier dating another demon?” “I don’t know any other demons, dad,” he growls, temper flaring. “Unless you want me to date Sam, an’ look like a total creep, since he’s stuck at like, ten.” “Stop it, BJ.” “You stop it! Just be happy for me!” “I am.. Happy. For you.” BJ sits back, crosses his arms, and scowls. “Got a funny way of showin’ it.” His father stands, and takes to pacing. Christ. “We should lay out ground rules.” “Me an’ Adam an’ Barb did that already.” “No, I mean, house rules,” Charles says, rubbing at his beard. “Things you’re allowed to do, and not. Oh, god, first things first, I’m going to get you a box of condoms.” Betelgeuse feels himself flush, and then Lydia finally pipes up, sticking her head out from under the couch. “Gross.”

“You’re seriously blowin’ this out of proportion. We’ve barely held hands!” “I was a teenager. I remember how things escalate. The last thing we need is someone pregnant. Especially with whatever a human and a demon would make.” “Th’ anti-Christ, maybe,” he says, unhelpfully, and he sees the way his dad’s expression twists into further worry. “It was a joke! Oh my god!”

His mother, bless her, swoops in, just then. “BJ’s just told us good news,” she says, standing, and putting a hand on Charles’ arm, which stops his pacing. “I need you to reassess how you’re making him feel, right now.” Charles looks from his wife to his son. BJ rubs at his nose, embarrassed and upset, and probably purple, and he sees his father make a choice. “BJ, I’m sorry,” Charles comes over, hesitantly reaches down, and Betelgeuse responds by throwing his arms around his dad. Chuck rubs his back. “Tell me about them,” he says, “and I promise to be cool. As cool as I can be, at least.”

That’s at least something. He can tell his dad is still worried, but he does listen, as Betelgeuse describes his two partners. “We spend a lotta time together,” he tells his father. “An’ they’re both goody two shoes. Seriously, they’re borin’, nice people.” “Tell us how you met them, BJ,” Emily smiles. He regales them with the story of Barbara and the flower, and then Adam in the library, and by the time he’s done, he’s back to feeling green, all smiles and excitement and stimming hands. It feels really, really good to not be alone.

Monday comes a day too soon, and he sort of misses the atmosphere of the library, because at lunch, he’s forced to pick up trash, with Honeywell watching him intently from a bench. The only consolation prize to this is the vice principal’s time is also being wasted. He doesn’t miss how a few kids walk by and intentionally throw things at his feet for him to pick up. They don’t get away with it, though, because either they trip and find their shoelaces are mysteriously tied together, or for those unlucky ones without laces, they’ll find a snake in their lockers. The miserable part is, Adam and Barbara aren’t allowed to hang out with him while he’s working. They’d tried, and were told in no uncertain terms to leave him alone, leave him to his task, or they’d be sent to the other side of the campus to do the same thing. A little bit of punishment, he understands. But he draws the line at threatening Sexy and Babs. He’s absolutely plotting exactly how he’s going to ruin the overbearing adult’s day when he feels a strange sensation in his chest, like a slight tug. He pauses. It’s not a pain, not really, more like a pull away from himself, which doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what it is. He has to assume it’s another demon thing.

He glances at his watcher, who seems engrossed in paperwork.

Man, if only this guy would fuck off, he could be enjoying lunch with his friends- The pull away from himself is stronger, this time. He concentrates on it, and then remembers how physical the summoning of clones is, requiring a motion like he’s tossing something, and he gives that a try, this time, gently lobbing nothing at a student passing by. The kid looks surprised, and then goes rigid, and he thinks maybe he’s killed someone for the first time, but then the teen straightens up, and stands, stiff, facing him, and BJ feels mentally split, between two bodies. He raises his right hand. The student mirrors the action, eyes wide, confused. He lowers it, then kicks his leg out to the side, and again, he’s copied. Not copied.. Followed? The other student is like a marionette, and his mind is the strings, or something close to that. “Possession,” he grins, wickedly, and then he pulls himself back all to one body, and the kid falls on his ass, confused, and scrambles away.

Oh, he is so going to use this new power for evil.

“BJ Deetz! I don’t see this quad getting any cleaner!” Honeywell has looked up from his paperwork to find Betelgeuse standing there, grinning to himself, and the teen responds by spinning around, and throwing nothing at the overbearing authority figure. Honeywell also goes rigid, and BJ lifts his hands, directing the VP to stand, and the hapless adult does so. “Looks clean enough to me,” he mouths, and hears that sentence come out of Honeywell’s lips. “Clean enough to eat offa!” With a swiping motion, he forces the man to knock his own hardly touched lunch to the ground, and then BJ crouches low, and the adult follows, shoving his face into what was clearly leftovers from some night’s dinner, and coming back up with a mouthful of noodles and dirt. The big man’s eyes are wide. He’s scared, confused. It’s thrilling. With a hand motion, BJ forces the breather’s face back into the mess of food and dirt, and doesn’t let him up until the muffled cries become truly panicked. Possession out in public might be a bit too noticeable, though, because there’s a gathering group of kids watching what the teacher is doing, their phones out, taking video, and he doesn’t need them connecting his own strange movements back to Honeywell’s. He makes a final hand motion, releasing the adult, and shoves his hands in his pockets, just in time for Adam and Barbara to appear as faces in the crowd. Honeywell, freed, sits up, coughing and sputtering, and looking horrified. “What the heck happened?” Adam asks, and BJ shrugs. “He started throwin’ a fit, outta no where,” he lies, but he feels the vice principal watching him, staring up from the dirt, where he’s still sat, dazed. He gives the adult a grin. “Totally fuckin’ weird.”

The rest of his lunch period is freed up, suddenly, as Honeywell goes to clean himself off in the men’s room.

This fun new ability requires further testing, but not right now, now when Adam and Barbara are around. Soon, though. Very soon. “I’m really bummed we can’t be in the library anymore. I tried to pop in to grab something this morning and the librarian chased me out.” Adam looks genuinely sad, at that, which startles BJ out of his downright vicious thoughts. “By the way,” Adam adds, “They put up the casting sheet today. Want to guess who got that dentist part?” Barbara is grinning wide. “Me?” he croaks. A few other kids tried for it.. He didn’t think he’d get picked, honestly, thought that maybe someone more likable, or more friendly, would be chosen over him, but Barbara squishes his cheeks in her hands. “You!” she cheers, and he blushes. “You’re going to be amazing! But that means,” she tells him, suddenly serious, “-that you have to actually try.” He nods, as much as he can, her hands still on either side of his face. “Effort,” he grunts. “Got it.” She leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose. He scrambles to throw his hood over his head, and cinches it closed, knowing for a fact he’s gone pink from the tips of his hair down to the roots. “BJ?” Barbara giggles, as he peers out at her from his hood. “Should I not do that?” “NO! No, no, I, uh, just.. Warn a guy, next time.”

He hadn’t thought through the logistics of this, clearly, because he can’t be scrambling away from them every time one of them kisses him, just because his stupid hair won’t behave itself. God, he’s going to have to start wearing a beanie, or something, until he can get this color thing under control. Annoyingly, his dad was right. He really hadn’t given this much thought, beyond, Adam and Barbara pretty, wanna kiss them. Now he’s got to work out the logistics of how he’s going to actually achieve that goal, without basically, for lack of a better word, outing himself. He doesn’t want to think that something like what happened with Kevin could happen again, but he hadn’t really seen that situation coming, and it had ended about as poorly as a budding romance can, with parental murder. So yeah, he’s not exactly confident he can trust them with this secret. Better to keep it to himself, play his cards close to the chest, not let them all the way in. That’s safest for all of them. Good plan, BJ, he thinks to himself, watching Barbara dust wood shavings out of Adam’s hair, a leftover byproduct of his shop class. No one gets hurt. No one has to know anything. He can keep playing human with his cute new partners for as long as they’ll let him.

Stretching before him, suddenly, he foresees a lifetime, several lifetimes actually, given the span of existence for a demon, lifetimes full of deceit and lies and partners who age without him, and it all makes him very tired, and sad. This is going to be how it is, he realizes. He’s going to pretend and mimic and do his best to fit himself into a template that he wasn’t made for, and he’s presumably going to be doing it forever, maybe until the minute the last human takes their last breath, because playing human is as close as he can get. It's easier to play pretend, throw a glamour on and act along, than to be himself and risk the pain and rejection, or the truth that maybe his worth is tied into what he can do, not who he is. It all leaves him dizzy, this sudden moment of unwanted clarity. He pushes it down, far down at it can go, to somewhere deep in his chest, and tries to come back to this moment, right now, because his boyfriend is looking at him. “You going to stay in that hood all day, shy guy?” Adam smiles, and BJ peels the hood back, and runs a hand through the mop of green mess that passes for his hair, and smiles, like he didn’t just have a mini existential crisis in the middle of a Monday afternoon. “What do you guys do for lunch when you’re not being wooed by an errant library assistant?” Betelgeuse forces an extra bit of pep that he doesn’t feel into his voice, and Barbara brightens. “You can come meet my friends!” She says, and he lets her lead him by the hand, across the quad, a corpse playing pretend at being alive, holding hands with the living.

They find Barbara’s friends at the lunch tables. He’s never sat over here, never really had reason to be over here at all, actually, because each table is always claimed by a friend group, and he’s never felt welcome enough to try and squeeze in with any of them. But he sort of has a group now, he supposes. If three can be a crowd, it can be a group. He does feel eyes on him as he’s directed on where to sit by Barbara, other kids at other tables watching him, maybe confused on how he’s ingratiated himself enough to actually have a place to sit. Barbara arranges where they sit, seemingly very intentionally, with herself between Betelgeuse and Adam, and Allison and Blair on the other side of the table, and they begin eating. The air is a little tense. He picks at his lunch, leftovers Charles packed for him. It smells amazing, but he doesn’t want to scarf it all down, not when he’s feeling watched, the way he is. And he is being watched, very intently so, by Barbara’s friends, who are apparently also Adam’s friends. Everyone but him seems to know so many other people. It’s almost insane, like, how do they keep them all straight? He’s only vaguely aware of which one of these similar white girls is Blair, because he’s spoken to her, at least once. Allison might as well be a balloon with a face painted on it. “So,” Blair puts down her fork. She’s eating a dry salad with little chunks of chicken in it, low carb, low cal. He’d be worried for her health if he gave a shit. “So,” he copies her instinctively, tilting her head the same way she does, holding his hands in front of himself in a mirror of her own movements. Barbara catches what he’s doing, and gives his arm a gentle pinch. “Is this for real?” Blair isn’t asking him, she’s looking between Adam and Barbara, who are both looking a little surprised at the sudden question. “What do you mean?” Adam asks, unsure, and Blair gestures between the three of them. “This whole.. This! When Barbara said she suddenly had two boyfriends, I had to check my calendar, make sure it wasn’t April Fool’s. And then it turns out to be you and..” Her eyes fall back on Betelgeuse. “Him. You, Adam, I get. You and Barbara together, that makes sense. But, like, BJ?” “Sure, if you’re offerin’,” he says, and Blair makes a face. Go on over to Ao3 to read the rest!! There's more waiting for your hungry eyes over there

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

3: Well, they’re not sad all the time, are they?

I posted this on AO3!  Diversify ur platforms kids.  Read the first two chaps Here, it’s kind of integral for ur understanding

@asilcorner sent me some ideas for this fic.  Give them love!  They have a great webcomic @ghostboyscomic that I love, and their art is so friggin cute.  ANYWAY TO THE FIC

(also the Dot section lowkey has a song and im v nervous about so pls b gentle I’m fragile)

They’ve started drawing up plans.  

For the Tower.  Why not put it together better, why not make the space a home now that it has to be?  Yakko refuses to let his siblings live in squalor, not when they have the ability to make it better.

Yakko is surprisingly adept at architecture, though Wakko can’t make heads nor tails of it.

“It’s just art with a little math,” Yakko shrugs off Wakko’s incredulous look with a smile, and Wakko frowns.

“I hate math,” He’s never had to do it in a classroom setting, but at this point he’s certain.  He lets Yakko continue to try and figure that mess out, idly chewing on his mallet as he glances up at the tall expanse of the tower.  

Yakko’s been thinking about expanding the kitchen and bathroom.  Dot says she wants a space for herself, but there doesn’t seem to be room for it between everything else.  Yakko tells her this kindly, though they can tell he’s not at all pleased with having to do so, and while she isn’t mad at him, she is upset at the situation.

“A proper lady is supposed to have a place to beautify herself,” She almost whines, but beneath the simple complaint is something closer to hurt, like this is another reminder that they’re trapped and they don’t have the luxury of comfortable space.

The frown lasts on her face longer than Wakko is comfortable with.  She’s his baby sister, she’s not going to be upset on his watch, unless it’s funny and not from a place of real hurt.  He glances up at the tall, tall ceiling.

Hmm....

Wakko grabs the lightbulb that appears above his head and tosses it into his mouth, crunching on it.  

“Careful, if it isn’t funny you’ll cut your tongue on the glass,” Yakko calls over his shoulder.  Wakko shrugs, and starts rifling through his gag bag.  It looks like he’s got plenty of material, and while Yakko keeps writing up plans Wakko gets to work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s a couple of hours later that Dot looks up from her book and she sees an entire second floor being built-scratch that, being finished.  By Wakko.  Alone.

“Holy Cow!” She can’t help herself from exclaiming, and Yakko jumps out of the intense scene of concentration he was in and looks where Dot’s pointing.

His jaw hits the floor.

The first floor, now.

“Hi guys!” Wakko waves from the entrance to the second floor, nailing down the last spiraling stair to it.  “I got bored so I figured we could use a second floor!”

He skips down the steps and despite his rather hard stomping on them they stand firm.  The craftsmanship is impeccable; Yakko and Dot meet in the middle of the first floor and glance at each other in shock.

“What have you guys been up to?” Wakko asks, completely innocent, as if he hadn’t just made an entire second floor on his own in the span of a few hours.

“How did you do that?” Dot asks, incredulous.  Wakko looks confused, for a moment, and so she gestures wildly to the second floor.  He shrugs.

“Just thought we had a lot of ceiling space, so we could use another floor.  I think we have enough room for a third, but I thought I should take a break,” Wakko looks up at the new ceiling proudly.

“What measurements did you use?” Yakko asks, and Wakko stares at him blankly.

“Uhhhh...I kind of just started making stuff.  I’m not good with numbers,” he responds.

“But how did you even get the materials for this?” Dot rebukes, and Wakko pulls out a burlap sack.

“It’s all in my gag bag, see?” He reaches in and pulls out a long wooden board, showing it off before shoving it back into the bag.  “Easy peasy.  And look, Dot, now we have room for your girly stuff!”

“I protest to the fact that looking good must be described as girly, but regardless-I’m so excited!” She rushes forward and wraps Wakko in a tight hug, spinning him around.  When he’s set down he stumbles a bit, dizzy.

“Glad you...like it,” he mumbles, accent a little stronger, before shaking his head and coming back to himself.  “Do you guys wanna see the upstairs?”

Yakko, who has been previously speechless, jumps into action.

“Heck yeah I do!  C’mon!” He lets Wakko lead them up to the second floor, and they marvel at the open space.  Dot keeps pointing at places where she wants her stuff to be, and Wakko rolls his eyes, but it seems her joy brightens his day more than he though it would.  She was the reason he started building this, after all.  Yakko is already dreaming up new plans, thinking of how to best utilize the space they now have.  The kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom can stay downstairs, but they can make the living room smaller and put extra entertainment space up here.

“But, uh, yeah, that’s all,” Wakko has the audacity to look sheepish, and Yakko won’t stand for it.

“Wakko, this is beyond words,” He kneels down to his level.  “This is a great help.  Now, I think I should make something for us to eat, cause building this had got to have burnt up some calories, but do you think you might want to teach me how to build something later?” He smiles, and Wakko’s eyes go wide.  Teaching his big brother something for a change?  It’s a dream come true.

“Would I!” He tackles Yakko in a hug, and when Yakko catches him, just for a moment, he forgets the situation they’re in, and focuses on Dot’s giggles and the excited pattering of her feet on the new wooden floor, and on Wakko’s prideful expression and smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yakko has never had an issue with food before.  He’s learned to make it, because Wakko needs it and Yakko would never not be able to do something for his family’s needs, that’s ridiculous.

But right now he’s certainly regretting ever ingesting anything, because they’d had a sundae party to celebrate the third floor being made-a celebration type picked by Wakko, who had headed the third floor expansion-and now he can’t sleep, because he feels like he’s going to vomit.

His stomach feels like he just ate a bomb, and not for fun like Wakko sometimes does.  He curls in on himself, trying not to make a fuss, but he opens his eyes and both Wakko and Dot are leaning over either side of him, mirrored looks of concern on their faces.

“Yakko, you look terrible,” Dot deadpans, but he can hear the slight tremor in her voice.  She still occasionally hovers over Wakko, though has relaxed as he’s gone from eating like a normal person to his more “typical” unusually voracious appetite.

“It’s just some...,” he winces.  “Some stomach pain.  It’s nothing,” He smiles, even though he feels awfully sweaty and nauseous.

“I thought my problem was just stomach pain too,” Wakko rebukes, and, well, Yakko can’t really argue there.

“But we’ve been eating with you, Wakko, it can’t be that.  And it couldn’t be bad ice cream, or we’d be sick too,” Dot puts a finger to her chin and thinks, but can’t come up with anything.

“Don’t humans have that thing where they can’t drink milk?” Wakko suggests, and, well, doesn’t that make too much sense.

“Thanks for the plot mover, Wakko,” Yakko groans from his place on the bed.

“I’ll go get you some water.  Maybe if we flush it out with other stuff, it’ll go away quicker,” Dot hops off of the bed and off to the kitchen.  Yakko’s stomach groans in displeasure, and Yakko curls up tighter.

“Guess this means no more milk, huh?  Oh well,” Wakko shrugs, and Yakko half glares at him.

“I’m not banning milk from the house just cause I can’t have it,” He says, a growl in his voice.  Wakko shrugs again.

“Who said you were banning it?  I just don’t think we need it anymore,” He smiles, almost Cheshire.  “Don’t have the craving for it anymore, right, Dot?”

“Right!”

Yakko almost jumps when he feels the bed dip down with Dot’s weight, surprised by her return, but he shifts to face her and takes the glass of water offered with a smile.

“Thanks, sis,” he takes a few sips, and while it doesn’t change much, he gives her a thumbs up anyway, so she’ll feel like she helped.

“Wakko, you need calcium in your diet,” he goes back to arguing, and Wakko leans back on his hands.

“Pretty sure toons don’t have certain diet they need.”

“Pretty sure toons don’t need to eat at all, but,” Yakko raises a brow and lets the sentence hang.

“Touche,” Wakko admits.  “And hey, we’re broken body buddies!” He raises his hands up and grins, and Yakko tries for a smile, too, chuckling to himself.

“But I’m pretty sure we can get calcium in other foods.  Just saying,” Wakko finishes, and Yakko gets it, but he isn’t going to deprive his siblings of pizza and ice cream just because his body can’t handle it. 

But it’s an argument for another day, because Yakko’s stomach makes another very unpleasant noise, and he slowly sits up and starts crawling his way to the end of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Dot asks.

“The bathroom,” Yakko says, and his voice sounds weak even to his ears.  “Don’t wait up.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour and a half later, Yakko stumbles out of the bathroom, drained, and he slumps in on himself as he shuffles back to bed, only to stop when he sees the bed itself.

In the middle, where he typically rests, is a fort of sorts.  Rather, it’s a perfectly shaped resting spot for him, lined with the softest pillows and with a blanket his favorite color, all as comfy as can be.

“Take a rest, brother,” Wakko gestures to the bed nirvana, though Yakko can’t help but notice him wince when he looks at Yakko.  Makes sense.

“Yeah, we set it all up nice for you!  See how it feels!” Dot adds, and Yakko smiles and makes his way to the bed, worming into the spot made to perfectly fit him.

He sinks into the softness and sighs.  At the very least, while his stomach is a mess, he doesn’t have to worry about any other part of him being uncomfortable.

“Thanks guys,” He mutters, spent.  He’s never going to even try and eat something with milk in it ever again, if this is the result.

“No prob,” Wakko waves off his thanks.

“You take care of us all the time.  Turnabout’s fair play,” Dot quips, and Yakko chuckles, sighing and closing his eyes.

He’s asleep faster than expected, but he stays awake long enough to feel Wakko and Dot cuddle up on either side of him, like usual.

Despite his intestinal discomfort, he smiles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot stares in the mirror.

Her new vanity is rather spectacular, and she’s been living on cloud nine since Yakko and Wakko finished it.  They’d nearly gotten into an argument while making it-evidently, Yakko couldn’t understand how Wakko could see all the pieces and put them together without numbers or instructions, and Wakko couldn’t understand how Yakko couldn’t understand how the pieces fit together when looking at them as a whole.

Boys.  She shakes her head and sighs, looking back at herself in the mirror.

She can see her brothers behind her.  They match, of course, they’re the Warner Brothers.  

The Warner Sister is alone.  

She’s not unaware of why she was made.  A token female character, eye candy, take your pick.  She’s both.  Made to fill in the tiny gap Hollywood makes for female representation while continuing the legacy that women are supposed to look and act pretty, and that’s it.

It makes her blood boil.  And yet, isn’t she falling into it?  She wants to be pretty, she likes being cute, but is that just because she’s supposed to?

She’s not even just cute, anyway!  She can nearly go toe to toe with Yakko when it comes to word play, and Wakko barely has her beat when it comes to strength.  So what if she’s cute?  She was drawn that way!

So why does it still feel so weird?

Her brow furrows.  It’s not like she can even prove to anyone that she’s better, anyway, because Yakko and Wakko likely wouldn’t care or know, and they’re stuck in this tower for forever.

“My name is Dot Warner,” She starts, a soft tune, “And I always get the final word.”

She misses musical numbers.  She misses having fun outside of this place.  She misses messing with people.  Yakko and Wakko seem so similar-their names rhyme, for Pete’s sake-and she feels out of place here.  But they were out of place together out there.

“I though your name was Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third,” Yakko interjects, leaning a hand on her vanity.  “Surprised you forgot, sis,” It’s all gentle ribbing, but now is not the time.

“Oh, put a sock in it, Yakko,” She responds.

“Which one?” Wakko comes up on her other side, holding out two similarly disgusting socks for her to pick from.  She pushes him away.

“Leave me alone!” It comes out louder and harsher than she wants it to, and as a result Wakko looks bewildered, and Yakko lifts his hand from the vanity to move it to his hip.  “Go be-be gross boys somewhere else,” She tries to cover up the actual frustration with a weak excuse, but Yakko just crosses his arms and raises a brow, and Wakko walks back over, sans socks.

“What’s the matter, Sis?  Something’s bothering you,” She sighs at the question.

“You guys match better than me,” She grumbles.  “I’m the cute one, and that’s it?  You two get to be witty and strong and creative and funny and I’m just...,” She growls out the final word.  “Cute.”

She sees Yakko and Wakko share a look over her head, and rolls her eyes.

“You seriously think that’s all you are?” Yakko sounds...confused.  Bewildered.  Like her worry is so unfounded it’s surprising she even is worrying at all.

“You’re way cooler than that,” Wakko agrees.  “You’re smarter than me.”

“And you’re better at the physical jokes than me,” Yakko adds.

“I know,” She says, almost cheeky, but her mood refuses to lighten.  “But-I don’t know.  Iit’s not just that-I-I guess I miss doing stuff outside. Like songs.”

There’s a beat, and when she looks up, Yakko has a smile on his face that is nothing short of sly.

“Songs, you say?” He rubs in chin in thought.  “Wakko?”

“On it,” She watches as he pulls out instrument after instrument from his gag bag, until they practically have an orchestra.  Wakko also pulls out a conductor’s wand.

“Shall we, m’lady?” Yakko holds out his hand, and when she takes it, he pulls her to the middle of the room.  A spotlight lands on them, and the music starts.

“Her name is Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third,” He begins with a wink, “and no matter the situation or confrontation, she always gets the final word,” Yakko’s tenor is sugary sweet as he dances her around the room, and he passes her off to Wakko, who leaves the self playing instruments to their own devices.

“If you think you can beat her, just wait till ya meet her, cause you’ll realize that thought is absurd,” Wakko’s voice has a grovel from the accent, and he makes silly faces as they waltz, to make her giggle.

“Sure she’s cute,” Yakko starts.

“Quite the beaut,”

“But she’s got the strength of a brute!” They harmonize, and she pulls out her mallet.  She watches as they cringe away in fake terror, and she does a fake swing before tossing the mallet away.  “So watch out, because if you make yourself a target she’ll shoot!”

She watches them laugh at the end of the line, and they do fit each other, don’t they?  But they’re going out of their way to do this for her, and so what does it matter?  Being different and being special are the same, depending on how you phrase it, and they don’t mind her being different at all.

The music keeps going, the piano leading into verse two.

“Don’t make her mad, don’t make her sad, if you want to keep your limbs intact,” Yakko twirls her, and she imagines being at a fancy Ball or Gala, surrounded by admirers. 

“She’s got all modes of attraction, and kneejerk reactions, it’s all just simple fact,” Wakko takes her for a spin himself, his movements more wild and less controlled than Yakko’s more straightforward dancing, but she loves it anyway, and is almost remiss when he passes her back to Yakko.

“She always tries her best,” Yakko dips her, low enough that her ears nearly touch the floor, and her tail presses close to her back.

“To be better from the rest,” Wakko continues.

“Because we all want to reach for the stars!” Yakko throws her up and she poses mid air before he catches her with his shoulders, letting her sit there.  She can’t help but laugh at the whole thing.

“She’s Dot Warner,” Every time they go into unison, it’s perfect harmony, and she loves it.  Them.

“Our giggling sister,”

“Does she know how much we’d miss her?”

The music pauses, and they look to her patiently, to join the song, and for a moment she hesitates.  Because she’s never had such a ballad before.  What if her voice doesn’t sound right?  What if she messes it up?

But Yakko and Wakko are smiling at her, as if they know she’ll do it right, and you know what.  Screw it.

“I’m Dot Warner!” She shouts, and the belting note rings as she jumps up. “I’m no one’s former!” The music swells, and she stands on Yakko’s shoulders, triumphant.  “I’m sweet and I’m tough!”

“Always more than good enough!” Wakko and Yakko crow as back up.

“And I’m better than why I was drawn!” It’s like a warrior cry, like she’s daring the world to tell her different.

“She’s charming,” Yakko.

“And alarming,” Wakko.

“In every role I’m starring, no longer just the token girl!” She hops down from Yakko’s shoulder, taking center stage.  This is what she is.  The breaking of her own role, just as loud and proud and wild as her siblings, with a touch of cuteness that she loves.  Because hey, what’s wrong with being cute?

“With wit and sass,” Yakko and Wakko start to finish.

“I’m the highest of class,” She interjects, giggling.

“She’s the best of our two worlds!” They all come together, Dot in the middle, the boys kicking out their outside legs and gesturing outwards with one arm as the music plays them out, and when the music number is over all Dot can do is drag her brothers together into a hug.

“Thank you,” because she needed this.  A sense of normalcy, the constant reminder that she’s more.  She knows why she was drawn, but who cares?  She’s better than that.

She’s Dot Warner,  Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third, and she’s got her brothers behind her.  

And when she has them, nothing can stop her.

[lluvguts]

Cool Blue ; Chapter Ten

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waiting for stars to intertwine

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☽ a/n: totally forgot to add this to the masterpost. if you've read ch ten on ao3 already than ignore this update!! there's gonna be a wip coming yall's way soon too, so be on the look out for that!! <3 love you guys

☽ warnings: blood, self-harm mention, angst

☽ fic masterlist

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Luca's heart hammered in his chest, the pain resurfacing, and no matter how hard he hugged his sides, trying to squeeze the heat  from inside of him like slippery seaweed, nothing worked. He swam past the island, to cooler, harsher waters, to his home--his actual home. Not whatever he was feeling when he was around Alberto; whatever sort of home that was.

He told Alberto. A monster. That was what he was. He wasn't human, and Alberto made quick use of that information by shoving him off his knees in one swift motion, and leaving his dried-out beach towel as a reminder of it. He told him. So why did he...let it get the best of him?

His head swam, a thick heat-haze clouding his thoughts as he neared the mossy structure, blinking in the darkening waters. Luca touched the edge of the cave entrance, and winced hearing his mother's sharp intake of breath at his presence outside the house. She appeared, followed by Lorenzo, glaring down at him.

"Uh..." Luca mumbled, his words slurred. The throbbing in his gut hadn't dissipated yet, and neither had the phantom-like trembling between his shorts. "...Hey mom? Can - Can I come in?"

Daniela assessed her son before her, the shine, the sweat from Alberto's dark skin had crept beneath his scales and made a home there in the crevices, like old sand. He breathed, and the older boy's (the human's, he corrected himself) smell came rushing back with full force. Immediate. Filling his lungs sweetly but enough that he spluttered on the bubbles slipping under his tongue.

"I told you," Daniela said sternly to Luca's father. "When am I ever wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" Luca's mind began to wander without any direction, aggressively going back to the one time when he was younger and would often forget his curfew at sunset, and Daniela had joked (or had she?) she'd send Luca to The Deep with his uncle if he didn't come home at a reasonable hour. "I know it's late, I'm sorry! I just caught up in something, I swear it won't happen again Mom!"

Lorenzo frowned from behind his wife and placed his webbed hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. It was an unspoken discussion translated between the tense water.

"No, 'Renzo! Don't start with this now! You smell it too!" Daniela growled, taking her son's arm and lifting him up in the water, sniffing his crown of blue fins. "So strong, it's a damned sailor's lighthouse beam!"

"And it's land monster too..." Lorenzo commented softly, scenting the air. Daniela's eyes widened in her anger and her grip on Luca tightened.

Her tone was dangerous, venom. "You went to the land monster town? Where there's humans? In your heat??"

"Mom, no--" Luca protested, her claws beginning to hurt from where they were grasping his shoulder.

"Don't interrupt!" She snapped back. Her tail thrashed in the water, making Luca tense even though his body was already on-edge. "You...You're gonna have to wait this out someplace else! We'll send for Ugo. I can't know that my baby was out there...doing things...with some filthy land monster girl."

"Boy."

Luca and Daniela turned to see Lorenzo, who flushed in embarrassment at getting noticed.

"What?"

"It's clearly a boy, Daniela," Lorenza swam closer and examined the fevered pink scales on Luca's waist and chest. "Smell it. It's...I don't know, hun. It's stronger, I guess. I know when there's a man on those land monster boats, and that," He pointed to Luca. "Is definitely a boy. Land monster. A boy-human, whatever."

Monster. A monster. That was what he was. Luca hovered above the long sea grass of their home, in awe. He could get all of that, just by smelling him?

Daniela's flashing yellow eyes brightened and she clamped her mouth shut, words coming out quick and held back. "That...That. Doesn't. Help."

She released Luca's arm and went to Lorenzo. Luca's tail curled protectively around his leg, trying to soothe himself.

"W-Wait! You can't just leave me out here!"

"We're not leaving you," Lorenzo replied simply. "But until your heat is over, you can't be around the other kids, Lu. It's better if you stay with your uncle Ugo until the Summer season is over."

They had gone. Luca watched, but didn't truly see his parents' figures fade into the darkness of the house, where they slept, and he remained awake.

"Stupid heat! I - I hate being like this!" Luca curled in on himself, claws raking his belly, long rutted cuts chasing his fingertips. The pain burned, deeper now with the thin streams of blood billowing up above his line of vision in watery red ribbons. He averted his wavering gaze, but the blood was everywhere, seeping into his very scales. Everything simmered, a constant feeling of dread and want that was unreachable, had no low point but only one shattering crescendo all throughout his body. Constantly. Searching for relief Luca  dug his claws into the pink scales deeper, stronger...

"Luca!"

"...Alberto?"

It was just a dream--or a memory. The clean tile walls of Alberto's bathroom came into focus, half-blurred from where he was lying, curled in a ball along the water in the bathtub. Alberto rose sleepily from the floor, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. At some point in the night bath towels were placed in the water for Luca, and though he didn't remember when it had happened, sifting through the weird reoccurrences of the day before, Luca knew Alberto had done it. He looked around in the stagnant bath water, to his abdomen, and the flakes of dry blood that floated across the shiny film of the surface like autumn leaves. He shivered.

The memories were short, hardly a scratch on Luca's conscious mind. Alberto had carried him all this way, from the boat into the house. A tiny serving dish once had peaches on it, but only smelled faintly of them now. Giulia's voice (what he could recall of it, trying to think back made his head hurt, everything hurt, really. He hardly remembered much of Giulia, except for her wild eyes and equally brazen red hair) was tender behind the door the night before, whispering and giggling to Alberto. She left to sleep, and Alberto stayed. He really, truly stayed. And the pain. The pain, the stupid sea-folk problems he couldn't just wait out or buddy up for--

"Are you okay?" Alberto put one cautious hand on the lip of the bathtub, eyeing him. Luca shook his head, as if to chase away the feeling, then realizing it actually translated as a no, Alberto I am anything but okay right now, he nodded his head with more urgency. He shifted in the water, the bath towels huddled around his body made a sort of nest, Luca noticed, even if he had been the one to do this. A nest, making a home for a mate, for love...even out of instinct. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did he even--

"If you say so," Alberto yawned and fell back onto the pillow he'd brought from his room, and tugged the blanket closer around his chest.

"You..." Luca tried, scanning the faded paint on the bathroom walls, the chipped mirror, the little smudge in ink over the medicine cabinet. He avoided looking at the crumpled blue tarp cast over by the toilet. "You stayed here? With me?"

"W-Well," Alberto spluttered, laughing a bit, not glancing at him. "I kinda had to. Cause, you know, no one knows you're here. And - and, my Papa had work today. Well he doesn't, not really. It's too early in the day for anyone to be open after yesterday, but he likes to be in the town with his buddies sometimes, when everyone else is asleep."

I kinda had to. Like he was...liable. He was just a...what was the word Giulia used? A little pet.

"Oh. Right, okay," Luca said absently, tracing his claw on the edge of the tub. Monster. Stupid monster. Dumb heat. Animal. Stupid, horrible, disgusting--

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Where's Giulia?" Luca asked finally, maybe a little too quickly.

"Oh! She's uh...probably still sleeping."

"I'm sorry, Alberto."

"Do you maybe want to, um...talk about it?"

Luca put his chin on the edge of the bathtub. "About what?"

"The uh...back at the island--" Alberto wrinkled his nose and stared at his knees.

"Not yet." He felt Alberto's green eyes on his scales, whispering, prodding ever so softly. But he just wasn't ready.

"Hey, it's okay," Alberto leaned down and put his head at eye-level with Luca. "It's a sea monster thing, right?"

Luca nodded, wiping his flushed face. He couldn't cry, sea-folk weren't designed for something like that, but the burning in his eyes sure felt like he was.

"We have things like that, too. For humans, I mean." Luca hated that Alberto used that word, it was...a barrier. Human. Alberto blushed and looked away. "It's pretty embarrassing, actually. But, we go through it too, you don't have to feel so alone...It's normal."

"But..." Luca mumbled, his hands clenched beneath the water. But what I did...It was gross. Why haven't you left yet? Why aren't you turning me in? I'd be worth a lot of money above the water, I'm sure. Alberto? Are you even listening? Take me away! Send me to The Deep--

"Don't be sad."

"I'm not." He muttered.

"We can do something else," Alberto said back, sitting up now to straighten out his blankets. "And if you want to talk about it later, then you can. Since you're...uh...sounding a bit more present now.

"Okay...What is it?"

He watched him rise off the floor and gather the blanket and pillow to his chest, and head for the door. Alberto looked back over his shoulder, smiling now.

"As long as you don't eat it...We can paint?"

[khrysopoeia]

This is in super rough shape, but I've been wanting to share something from this AU for ages, so I'm going to go ahead and put out a preview. Still working on the larger plot, but it's stock fantasy/D&D-inspired FMA AU and I'm having far too much fun with it.

The Goblin’s Jig was an adventurers’ tavern, which meant the ale was strong, the barkeep was stronger, and the barmaids were less ‘feisty’ or ‘spirited’ than they were ‘trained combatants.’ The need for that skillset rarely arose, though. Teagan, the Jig’s owner, didn’t stand for the kind of adventurer who thought their line of work entitled them to special favors. He was a jovial older man -- and an adventurer himself before an infected wound had forced the amputation of half of his left leg -- who generally knew the type when he saw them.

A quarter hour ago, Roy Mustang had known none of this. Fortunately, one of his companions was a chatty drunk.

“I don’t think he wants to hear Teagan’s life story, Brosh,” said the less chatty of the two. Her name was Maria something -- Roy thought the surname started with an ‘R,’ but he wasn’t sure. She and her friend were members of the Pendleton city guard who Roy had helped out of a tight spot involving a cutpurse with a couple more friends than they’d expected. They’d offered to buy him a hot meal and a round or two as thanks. The meal had been more of an enticement than the drinks.

“He sounds like a man with some interesting stories,” Roy said. And some interesting contacts, he didn’t add.

“Adventurers get all the good stories,” Denny Brosh said. “I bet you have some, right?”

“I suppose I do,” said Roy, and launched into a well-practiced yarn about a goblin tribe and an enchanted helmet. As usual, he made sure to grin just a little slyly during the most improbable bits. You’re in on the joke, that grin said. I’m exaggerating, but not making things up, exactly. If you fit the mold people expected too perfectly, they got suspicious. Roy was careful to give his stories an edge of braggadocio. It kept people’s questions focused where he wanted them, which kept them from realizing that every one of the stories was a complete fabrication.

“Is that when your hand got messed up?” Denny said, and Roy stopped mid-sentence.

“Brosh,” Maria growled, “you don’t just ask people about missing fingers! Sorry about him.”

It was his thumb, actually, on his left hand. And Roy had gotten enough practice with that question over the last year and a half that he no longer actually flinched when someone asked it. It still threw him, though, and it was a relief when the door to the tavern swung open with a bang and a gust of cold spring air.

Three figures in patched leather armor entered. Two of them, both humans, were straining under the weight of a large chest.

“Teagan, pour a round for the tavern on me!” the third figure bellowed. He was a black-haired dwarf with no beard, but an impressive mustache. It was braided and everything. “The Company of the Golden Oak just raided a dragon’s hoard!”

The entire room heard that. Every soul in the tavern other than Roy broke into some form of laughter, be it loud guffaws, hearty chuckles or, in the case of one gnome who should probably have stopped drinking two tankards ago, manic giggles.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. One other person wasn’t laughing. A human woman, seated at the bar with her back to Roy, glanced at the three men and shook her head ruefully. Roy had noted her when she came in, more for the hand-and-a-half sword strapped to her back and the high quality of her wool cloak -- it looked about five times as warm as anything he owned -- than for anything else.

“Laugh all you like,” the leader of the 'Company' said. “We’ve got a chest full of dragon gold that says it’s true!”

Because dragons always kept their valuables in flammable wooden chests with locks sized for human hands. Right. Roy dismissed the trio and went back to his meal. The roast chicken was good, and the overcooked carrots were food. He appreciated both.

“Bullshit,” called a voice from a shadowy corner of the tavern. There was a large man, larger even than the three with the chest, seated there in full plate mail. Roy had given up trying to figure out how his chair hadn’t collapsed a while back, but he hadn’t stopped glancing over periodically. Anyone with that much steel on them in a room full of people in normal clothing was automatically dangerous.

It wasn’t the armored man who had spoken, though. A shorter figure, one Roy hadn’t spotted through the crowd, stood up, gesturing to the chest.

“That thing has to be three feet long and, what, a foot and a half wide? An inch deep in gold and you’d already have more than three hundred pounds on your hands.” The speaker picked up his tankard and made for the bar. “Hey, Teagan, you gave me watered-down ale again.”

“You’re a kid, Ed,” the tavern keeper grumbled into the silence that followed. “And you already get a discount.” People began turning back to their drinks. Maria shook her head with a rueful smile and took an enthusiastic bite of chicken. The two human men with the chest put it down, one looking mournful and the other downright enraged.

“Dammit, [dwarf], you swore this was the real thing!” the angrier of the armored humans said.

“Of course it’s the real thing!”

“But how do we know it’s actually gold?” asked the mournful man. “It better be. I’ve got a tab going at the smithy on [street name] now.” Judging by his hat, which would have been gaudy even without the full rooster’s worth of plumage and was probably worth as much as his well-used armor, he also had one going at a haberdasher.

“I’m telling you, it’s gold!” the leader insisted. “Dragons hoard gold. Everyone knows that!” He turned to the tavern at large. “Any of you heard of a dragon hoarding anything other than gold?”

A couple of people nodded thoughtfully, though more rolled their eyes, and most just ignored the dwarf. There hadn’t been a dragon seen in Amestris in decades, let alone this far west. They were rare even in the desert to the east these days.

“You could just open it,” the tavern keeper suggested as he poured a drink for Ed. “If it’s full of anything valuable, you can replace the lock easily enough.”

“Sounds good to me,” growled the other armored human. He pulled a set of lockpicks from his belt pouch, which just went to show that it wasn’t wise to assume things about people’s skill sets based on their body type.

Maria and Denny exchanged looks as the man knelt in front of the chest. Those picks were probably illegal to use in the city. Adventurers tended to pose dilemmas like that for municipal guards, which was one reason you rarely saw Maria and Denny’s type in establishments that catered to them. Bringing Roy to a tavern frequented by guards would have been even more awkward, though, and those were the only other places that let you keep a weapon the size of Roy’s longsword with you. He was fairly sure he hadn’t been too suspicious about mentioning that he didn’t like to be parted from his weapon. Just an adventurer here. Not quite average, but with quirks that you can easily understand.

Before the two guards could decide what to do about this particular awkward [dilemma], though, the man with the lockpicks screamed. Roy whipped around to see his hand and wrist disappearing into a hole in the chest where the lock had been -- a hole with large, gleaming teeth.

“Mimic!” shouted the man with the hat as the whole tavern came to their feet and dozens of weapons were drawn.

[to be continued]

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Where Do We Go From Here?

Chapter Ten, George’s miscalculation 

 read on AO3 here

I do realise this is is the third thing I have put out in as many days and that kind of production level is unheard of for me haha.

This has a little bit of NSFW stuff right at the beginning of the chapter so I’m going to put it all under the read more line.

Warnings, NSFW and Overdose.

Bill slid a hand through his wife’s long silky hair as she continued to use her mouth to pleasure him. They had always enjoyed making love in the mornings, but lately Fleur had been unhappy with him and not been so receptive. But this morning she had chosen to take the initiative, and Bill was in no position to stop her, not that he ever wanted to stop his incredible witch.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, concentrating hard, it was almost a relief when she sat up gracefully and mounted him, sliding down his girth and gasping at the sensation, massaging him from the inside, he raised his hands to her breasts her ivory skin almost luminous in the pre-dawn light, sliding his roughened hands down her body to stimulate her more. She swore elegantly in French as his fingers swirled around her sweet spot, riding him a little harder. He could always tell when she was completely lost in the moment when she reverted back to her native language. He wanted control and went to flip them over but she shook her head pushing him back down stopping him. He growled a little and she laughed deeply and throatily, then gasped and swore again as he twisted his hips slightly increasing the pressure on her body. When she wanted to take charge he just had to lie back and take it and do his best to control himself so her pleasure did not end too quickly. He was having more trouble than he normally did keeping his body calm, her soft moans were getting stronger, he could feel his body winding up despite his efforts to keep control. 

“Fleur.” He gasped, letting her know he would not be able to last much longer.

“J’suis proche.” She breathed back to him, he grabbed one of her breasts roughly tweaking the nipple and he knew she was there as her hips moved with less control. “Mon amour, oh mon dieu!” The feel of her climax tipped him over the edge and he could no longer hold on, he gripped her hips in his hands as he emptied himself. She collapsed onto his chest breathing heavily.

Bill kissed the top of her head as they later rested together, her head in the crook of his shoulder, one leg lying over his.

“Not that I am complaining,” he started gently rubbing a hand along her back. “But what did I do to stop you from being cross with me?” She moved slightly so she could look up at him, her deep blue eyes sparkling.

“I have been thinking about family, about why you want to have children now. I am happy you did not tell your mother the truth about why we were having the argument”

“It’s none of their business.” He replied simply running a hand through her silvery tresses, her hair felt like liquid as it slipped quickly through his fingers.

“As you say,” She agreed. “perhaps I have been selfish to think that a baby would spoil what we have. I love our house. The life we have together. I do not want to stop being me, just yet.”

“You made that clear to me my love, and I understand. I was being unreasonable to expect you to stop working and start a family straight away. If you want to wait I am okay with that.”

“Merci my love, but I am not sure that I do want to wait for much longer. When I saw Teddy my heart just melted for that sweet child.”

“You really want us to start trying?” His heart leapt at the thought but he tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Her reasons to wait had been perfectly valid, and his assumptions had been more than a little behind the times. When she had stormed off to Hogwarts to see her friend, leaving him angry and confused, and more than a little bit jealous. It had been a bit of a wake-up call for him. He remembered his siblings as children, had helped his mother with looking after them, and he had always assumed that all witches wanted to have children as soon as they were married. Of course, they had not wanted to while there was such darkness in the world, but when they were finally free to live again it had been top on his list of priorities. It had been until he told his wife this.

“Perhaps not trying. Perhaps no longer preventing?” He understood her meaning and felt it was something he definitely could be on board with. He loved the time he had to spend just the two of them, but he also missed the joy and madness of a house full of children. He kissed her deeply letting her know how happy he was that she had changed her mind. 

 *

  Harry and Ron had been so busy the last few months leading up to christmas, actually being told to stop and take a break had been quite a shock for them. Keeping busy had been something they could both focus on, but it was nice to have Hermione and Ginny home for a while.

They all knew how difficult Christmas was going to be this year, difficult in completely different ways for each of them. Harry and Hermione hadn’t even had a Christmas last year, they had both been rather shaken up from their visit to Godric’s Hollow to even care what day it was. Ron himself had been too filled with guilt and remorse that day to think about anything past his missing friends, until he had heard his name from the deluminator and found another level of determination and purpose. He wanted to make this one a bit more special for all of them. 

He was planning to leave Hermione’s house early on the Monday before Christmas, they had got up and had breakfast together but he insisted he needed to go to Diagon Alley alone. There had been no point pretending he was doing anything other than Christmas shopping, it wouldn’t have taken Hermione’s brains to figure that out. 

“So do I get any clues as to what you are buying me this year?” Hermione asked as they sat at the kitchen table at her parent’s house, she was wearing casual muggle trousers she had called leggings with a giant jumper that was almost as long as a dress, and thick fluffy knitted socks. One foot was resting on the seat of her chair and she was half hugging her leg as she read the profit. He had glanced at the headline when the owl had delivered it, but knew if there was anything significant he needed to know, his girlfriend would tell him. He was already wrapped up against the cold December air, his Gryffindor scarf wound tightly around his neck and party obscuring his face. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head fondly. 

“And spoil the surprise?” He chuckled. “Let me know something my girlfriend doesn’t for a little while longer.” She pulled his head down to give him a proper kiss, moving his scarf out of the way. 

“Don’t be all day, I will miss you.” He cleared his throat at her suggestive tone, and considered shopping another day, but he had made arrangements with and he couldn't change them now. 

What she didn’t know was that his Christmas shopping was already done and he was planning on spending the day organising something special for the family with George. He had been trying his best to spend more time with his closest brother. George was working too hard, and drinking too much, especially now that Angelina had started her new job and was spending a lot of her time away from him. George kept trying to play down his relationship but Ron knew how much he missed her when she was not around. Ron had been helping in the shop when his Auror training would allow it, he could now create many of the products that sat on the shelves without any trouble at all. George had actually been impressed with how quickly he had picked up the somewhat tricky recipes. He had told him without any hint of sarcasm.

The air was crisp and cold as Ron made his way towards the joke shop from the leaky caldron, frost still clung to the fabric awnings and shaded corners of the cobbled street, his breath fogging the air. It had taken him longer to leave Hermione’s house than he had originally planned. They had showered together for an exquisitely long time that morning. 

As he walked along the colourfully decorated streets still thinking about how wonderful his girlfriend was, he stopped at a little bakery and bought a couple of bacon rolls for himself and his brother, who no doubt was still asleep and would have nothing in his kitchen apart from coffee and fire whiskey. Biting into his own snack he continued on his short journey.

The brightly painted shop caught the eye from a distance and Father Christmas in his reindeer pulled sleigh was still whizzing around the shop window. Snow was falling from the roof of the building and disappearing as soon as it landed on the pavement. The effect of the whole thing was brilliant. Portable snow was another new product that George had perfected. Ron suppressed a slight agitation as the lock did not open as he placed his hand on the doorknob. George had said he would add him to the building security, but not yet it seemed. Taking his wand he muttered the password at the lock and heard it click. The door chimed Ho Ho Ho as he entered but apart from that the shop was eerily quiet without the noise of customers. Snow fell inside too but only on the large Christmas tree that dominated the centre of the shop it’s branches decorated with an array of products. Remembering to lock the door behind him he took the stairs two at a time. 

“George!” He yelled opening the flat’s front door. “Hey, George get up you lazy arse I’ve got you some breakfast.” The paper bag dropped to the floor as he saw the body of his brother lying face down behind the sofa. 

  *

                   Harry was enjoying himself this morning, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks, due to the positive influence of Ginny. He was sitting on his new broom wrapped up against the cold watching her fly. It had been so long since he had flown, the long summer they had spent together seemed ages ago. Of course then they had been able to fly in just shorts and t-shirt but now it was definitely warm jumpers hats and scarves weather and the bulky clothing was restricting his movement. He had been tempted to take off his coat more than once but he was not working hard enough to stay warm without it, and a warming charm would more than likely overheat him the way he was feeling right now. He had only stopped to grab a drink, but he couldn’t take his eyes from watching Ginny. She always looked amazing on a broomstick, she was fast, confident, and graceful. He knew he had flying skills of his own but he had not been practicing like she had. She was flying rings around him today, literally. She was laughing as she pulled her broomstick up beside him and deftly caught the water bottle he threw at her. They were hovering over the paddock at the back of the Burrow. The air was crisp but still, a hard frost still covered the ground, the winter sun was barely above the horizon. He manoeuvred his broom a little closer so he could wrap his arm around her. 

“You are flying brilliantly,” He told her honestly, kissing her temple. “I was struggling to keep up with you. I am so out of practice.”

“And here I was thinking you were going easy on me.” She laughed. “Hopefully we can convince everyone else to play when they are all here later.” He nodded his agreement, then before she was ready shot off towards the other side of the paddock. Before he was even half way there she had caught up, her hair streaming behind her as she beamed at him. He considered his options for a split second before Ginny decided for him and turned her broom sharply cutting his path, he barely managed to change his direction in time. He was about to give chase again when a silver flash and Ron’s jack Russell was running around his head. 

“George is at St Mungo’s please come, bring mum, tell everyone!” Ron’s voice had sounded calm but his agitation was evident by the behaviour of his patronus before it vanished. They wasted no time in discussing with each other what could have happened, they both dived for the ground, Ginny running into the house while Harry put their brooms away quickly. He rushed inside when he heard Mrs Weasley cry out in shock. Ginny had an arm around her mother’s shoulders and was leading them to the fireplace. 

“Can you go get Dad from work? I will call everyone else from the hospital.” He nodded at her and watched them walk into the green flames before running back outside and apparating to the ministry. 

  *

  Angelina stumbled out of the floo at St Mungo’s and would have fallen on the floor if not for a strong hand grabbing her elbow until she could catch her balance. 

“Thanks.” she said politely then recognised the green eyes staring back at her and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back a little awkward with this rather tactile greeting. She usually enjoyed putting her old teammate off balance but this was not the time, she just needed a hug. “I came as soon as I could. I've been worried sick. What happened? Can I see him?” Harry opened his mouth to answer but stepped aside as he spotted someone else approaching.

“Angelina!” Ginny yelled and barrelled into her hugging her fiercely. “Come on he was asking for you.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her towards one of the wards walking quickly. Harry took her bag and followed without a word. “The bloody idiot’s been taking the draft of peace to help him sleep, he mixed it with fire whiskey last night. If Ron hadn’t been going to see him I don’t know what would have happened.” She explained then started grumbling under her breath muttering more insults to her brother’s intelligence, anger flushing her cheeks. If Ginny was this angry with her brother it was doubtful he was still seriously hurt. “They revived him and pumped his stomach. The healers say he will have to stay in for a few days until his levels are properly balanced, whatever that means.” She stopped for a moment and turned her attention on Angelina. “Did you know he was self medicating? He brewed his own potion, it’s supposed to be taken under medical advice. He made it far too strong.” She closed her eyes for a moment, the fear for her brother coming to the surface. “Why could I not see? I should have helped him more.” 

 “I didn’t know he was taking it, I promise. We enjoy a few drinks when we spend evenings together but it is never to the point of passing out, nothing stronger than beer.” She looked at her friends kindly. Harry was now holding Ginny as if she would fall if he didn’t, she accepted his embrace without comment resting her head on his chest. Angelina suppressed a pang of jealousy for their relationship, they were so openly in love it was sweet. However it was hard to watch when you were desperately in love yourself and having to hold it back for fear of rejection. “You didn’t see it, because he didn’t want you to. He is stubborn with his grief.” She didn’t add that every Weasley she knew was equally stubborn but catching Harry’s eye she knew he had caught the unsaid sentiment.

Angelina saw the crowd of redheads up ahead and knew that George would be behind the one door on this stretch of corridor. They were all looking towards it in concern as they huddled together. Ron was sitting on a flimsy hospital chair, his hands laced behind his bowed head. Hermione sat beside him rubbing his back in a way that said she had been trying to comfort him for a while with little success. Everyone else was standing around, Fleur was comforting Molly in a very role reversal way holding her close and rubbing her back. Arthur was off to one side speaking with a tall wizard dressed in the unmistakable robes of a healer, Percy stood by his father's side paying close attention to what was being said. Bill stood as if on guard by the door his arms crossed his wand in his hand. Ginny walked her past them all. 

“He kicked us all out.” Bill stated going to stop their progress, Ginny just glared up at her oldest brother who actually shyed back slightly at her look. Angelina was always amazed at how easily the tiny form of Ginny could overpower her brothers with nothing more than her presence and a glare. Bill seemed to be weighing his options before he shrugged and stood aside, “Well don’t blame me if he throws things at you, I gave you fair warning.” 

“He won’t kick me out.” Angelina said confidently. “If he tries I will kill him myself.” Ginny gave her another hug and opened the door, letting her go on alone.

The room she entered was quiet, George’s was the only occupied bed, the other was stripped to the bare mattress. He was propped up on pillows with a tube running from his arm up to a bag containing clear liquid. His eyes were closed but she knew he was awake, his right hand would occasionally move or twitch with his constant nervous energy. The only time she knew he was ever completely still was when he was sleeping. She moved to stand at the foot of his bed. He looked pale under his freckles, his cheekbones were more prominent than she remembered the last time she had seen him. His hair was getting long and it looked unwashed, she wondered if he had eaten a proper meal since she had left.

“You know there are less dangerous ways to get my attention. If you wanted to see me you should have just Owled.” She told him firmly placing hands on hips. 

“Angie?” He croaked, his voice a bare whisper, his eyes staying closed. “Are you really there? I have been dreaming of you. You can’t be here, you should be in Montrose. I am not worth losing your new job. This is nothing, just a little miscalculation.”

“I always knew you were a fool but I did not think you were a bloody idiot too.” She had not taken a step closer to the bed, her feet felt like lead. She disliked hospitals greatly, unfortunately it was an inevitable part of Quidditch, and hospitals always reminded her of her mother’s battle and its eventual inevitable end. She had been only thirteen when she lost her mum, a difficult time for her and her dad, especially trying to cope with a confused girl going through puberty. Fred and George had cheered her up without ever knowing they were doing it, their friendship had been so important to her growing up. It had meant the most that first September after her mother’s passing.

Fred had always been the more confident twin, although few had ever bothered to notice, he had asked her out for the Yule ball. They’d had a great time together and had shared a few kisses, but the rest of the time he spent it telling her how great George would be for her, and she had silently agreed with him. George had never asked her out, he had just watched her with his big puppy dog eyes when he thought she was not paying attention. Any time she thought he would finally ask her, Fred would start to flirt outrageously, making her laugh, and his brother would back off with a sigh. It had been like that the whole time they were at school. Then one day last April, when everything was getting really frightening he had turned up at her door and they had connected in a way they never had before and started snogging right there without the need for words. Perhaps it was the fear of possibly dying tomorrow that they had ended up in bed perhaps that had just been an excuse, either way she would never regret it. “I thought we were just casual anyway, just a bit of fun you said.” She didn’t want him to know how deeply her feelings truly ran. She was terrified he would back off and shut her out. She alone fully knew how much he was hurting, how much he was refusing to admit to even himself that he was. She hoped that this would be a wakeup call for him to accept the help of his amazing family, to admit to himself he was not okay. 

“Oh Angie, if only you knew how much you mean to me. I’ve liked you for so long. Fred said I should not waste a day, if I liked you I should tell you. Why can’t I do that?” She went to answer him and convince him she really was standing right there but he continued to speak. “It’s not me you want, not really. Fred’s gone so I am the runner up prize.” The bitterness in that statement was unquestionable. 

“Blind as well as stupid.” She murmured, finally moving to his bedside. “I like you, I have always liked you. I miss Fred too, but he was my friend. It’s you I want to be with.” She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered open as she did so, the arm without a tube in it tried to hug her.

“You really are here?” He breathed. “I love you.” She could not stop the grin that spread over her face at his words. 

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She scolded mildly before kissing him again. “I love you too and if you ever try to kill your self again I will kill you.” 

“It was a mistake, I don’t want to kill myself.” He slid the back of his hand against her cheek. “Why is it so difficult to be taken seriously? I try so hard to be okay, it’s exhausting. When I go to bed I don’t sleep, not without a little help, I thought it couldn’t hurt. Instead I have hurt everyone, including myself.” 

“You had me worried sick you bastard.”

“The healer who treated me wants me to come in regularly. I am going to do it. Fred would be very upset if I worked myself to death, even if it was to keep our dream alive.”

“Fred would want you to be happy.”

“I know, but I never thought I would have to be happy without him.” She kissed him again more gentle this time, and pressed her forehead to his. 

“When my mum died so many people would say to me. She’s not really gone as long as you continue to love and remember her. I tried to believe it but most of the time I thought it was bullshit. But then when we won the house cup in fifth year and everyone was so happy. I thought I felt her there with me, for just a moment. It will never go away, but it gets easier to carry, and sometimes you have to let others help you too.”

“I will, I promise.” His eyes were a little bloodshot but they looked at her with such sincerity she knew it was true. They were going to be better together, there was a long way to go but he was definitely headed down a better path. 

 *

  Charlie floo’d home from the international port key department to find an empty house. 

“Mum? Dad?” He called to no reply. His concerns started to grow as he saw the abandoned mugs of tea still sitting on the kitchen table. His mother would never leave dishes unwashed. He walked to his mother’s clock, every hand apart from his own was pointing at St Mungo’s. “Fuck.”

Dropping his bag in the middle of the kitchen he Apparated right there. He rushed over to the welcome witch who gave him a practiced smile. “My family is here. Where are they?”

“Do you know the patient's name sir?”

“Weasley.” He yelled

“Charlie?” Bill strode over to his brother and pulled him into a hug. “Sorry, with all the commotion, I forgot you were getting in today.”

                  “Who is it? What’s happened?” Charlie asked, still panicked despite how calm Bill appeared to be. Bill always appeared calm.

“It’s George but he’s okay, more embarrassed about it all if I’m honest” the taller brother laid his arm across the shorter’s broad shoulders and led him to a set of chairs. “We have all been busy with our own shit we didn’t notice how much he’s been struggling to cope. He overdosed on a very potent brewing of the draft of peace. Ron found him, he’s been keeping a closer eye on George and helping him out in the shop as much as he can. It could’ve been worse, he was only comatose for a few hours.”

“At least one of us is looking out for the rest.” Charlie stated glumly. Bill looked at him sharply.

“Hey! That’s not fair. He has been very good at pretending to be okay, and it’s not like any of us are coping much better. Losing Fred, I still can’t believe he is actually gone, I half expect him to appear one day claiming it was all an elaborate prank.” Charlie snorted at that. 

“Pretty poor taste.” Was all he said and Bill nodded his agreement. They sat in silence for a moment. Charlie wanted to go see George and the rest of the family but something about Bill’s body language made him stay and wait. Bill and Charlie had always kept in close communication, the only person he perhaps conversed with more with was Ginny because she always had all the news from everybody else, and she never criticised his life choices like he knew their mother would. Bill had always been his confidant, his adviser, the first time he’d ever got drunk it had been with his big brother, true it had been Bill's fault. Likewise it had been him who had first heard about Fleur and his nerves about introducing her to the family.

“It’s so good to see you, I miss you.” Bill spoke up eventually, Charlie just nodded. They were not the type to delve into deep and emotional conversations, for them this was the equivalent of holding on each other and weeping.

“It is not easy to be so far away from you all, especially right now, but I love my work, and I know I would not be any help if I hung around at home. I just don’t feel like I fit there anymore.”

“I admit I found it difficult living there when I came back from Egypt. Even more so when Fleur moved in too. Having our own space has really helped. Don’t guilt yourself into coming back. George is as fine as he can be considering. We are all going to take better care in looking out for him, and he has promised to get professional help. Your heart is in Romania, with your dragons, even mum and dad know that. Come on, I will take you to see everyone else, I have been hogging your company for too long.”

Everyone was pleased to see Charlie. They crowded around him like the long lost relative he was, even George managed to brighten up at his brother’s arrival. Everyone apart from Ron who was still sitting with his head in his hands when Charlie sat beside him. 

“Cheer up Ronnie, you didn’t put him here.” Charlie said as brightly as he could muster.

“Didn’t I?” Ron stated glumly. “If I hadn’t been selfish last night and stayed over at George’s instead of my…” He paused looking around for their mother, seeing she was out of earshot he continued but still kept his voice low. “My girlfriend’s. He wouldn't be here now.”

“True he wouldn't be now. But who’s to say what would have happened another day? Unfortunately this was bound to happen eventually and what if it was a day nobody visited? You were there to save him Ron, he’s going to get the help he needs.”

“I suppose you are right.” He agreed glumly.

“Of course I am. Now go and see Georgie so he can say thank you for saving his life.” Ron managed a weak smile at that and got up to speak to George.                  

[harrywritingsbyme]

Sunday Smut Concept #26

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: it’s short and filthyyy...enjoy🙃

Okay so this is so Harry and Y/n that it’s crazy.

There was something about these frilly white socks that Harry just loved. When you wore them, they made Harry’s mind go straight to the time when your once glistening halo graced your head. They brought some innocence to your newfound (thanks to him of course) persona of being a tantalizing minx. Now this didn’t mean that there wasn’t a bit of innocence left inside of you. You were still soft and sweet. You were still adorably clumsy when you were in your knees. And you still blush when he inappropriately touches you in public or compliments on how pretty you look when stuffed with his cock. The frilly little socks that continuously grace your feet add a little sparkle to the now tarnished halo that still managed to grace your head. When you first began wearing them, Harry thought that they were absolutely adorable and were a perfect accessory to you. Your innocence that had been tainted by him was revived and they made Harry’s constant hunger for you that much stronger.

It was the perfect storm.

Any day you wore those socks, the already explosive sex between the two of you became even more explosive. Harry’d be quick to smear his lips against yours as he scoops you up off of your feet and his hands would be all over you while he carried you both over to the nearest surface. One morning, the two of you didn’t even make it out of the bedroom. When he saw you, he made a b-line over to you, yanked your body up into his arms, and carried you both to the bed where he threw you down onto the bed and began executing his plan to completely ravish you. He immediately began stripping you of all your clothes along with his. When he gets to the socks though, he makes sure to keep you in those. He then takes one good look at your needy figure lying on the bed, soaking up every ounce of you. He takes in the way you’re longingly looking up at him along with the way you’re anxiously awaiting his next move. He also takes in the pitiful look in your eyes. He could sense your submission to him spreading across your entire being. In that moment, Harry was excited. He was so excited to do the  filthiest things to you and fuck his cock into your quivering walls while you looked completely innocent in the process. That’s exactly what he did.

And it was pretty explosive.

At first, he had you on your back as he towered over your body and plowed into you. He watched as your mouth hung open, as you drooled at how good it felt, and as your eyes filled with tears from the pleasure. He continued like this for a while, repeatedly telling you how pretty you looked while being stuffed with his cock. Before flipping you over into his front to which he would then proceed to pound you both to your releases, Harry lifts himself from between your legs. He doesn’t pull out of you, he continues to slam his cock into you over and over again. But as he does, Harry lifts your legs quaking legs up and back towards his chest. He tightly hugs your legs against his chest as he fucks into you. This position allows Harry to take all of you in.

“Y’so pretty when you’re being stuffed. Love how innocent they make you look.” Harry grunts, bringing a hand up to your ankle to tug at the frills. “Y’like looking like an innocent little angel while I fuck you like a little whore?!” Harry growls, continuing to push into you. You were too far into your fucked out and very loopy daze that you couldn’t even answer his question. “Answer me!” Harry demands, abruptly stopping his thrusts to force an answer out of you.

“Yes!” You whine out to him as you try to push your hips up to move his cock inside of you.

“Yes what?” Harry pants, quickly bucking his hips into yours to stop your movements.

“Yes daddy.” Your pant pitifully.

“Now what do you like sweet girl?” Harry asks once more.

“I like looking like an innocent little angel while you fuck me like a little whore.” You slur.

“That’s what I like to hear. Good girl.” Harry praises before pulling his cock out of you and flipping you onto your front, pulling your hips up into the air.

He then wastes no time lifting himself up to sink his cock down into you. From this angle, Harry was able to look down at you as he made you an even bigger mess. Once your walls are trembling more than ever, and the pit of Harry’s stomach became so tight that he couldn’t hold back anymore. He allowed you to completely let go around his cock and he allowed himself to let go and flood his princesses walls with every last drop of his milky white cum. 

Let’s just say that Harry was going to make sure that you were fully stocked up on frilly white socks.

Masterlist

[savedbybangtan]

Not Delulu (1)

Summary: You always hated women who dated kpop idols and are so glad that your ultimate bias, Kim Namjoon, has never disappointed you by being involved in such a scandal. You swear you’re not a delusional fan who doesn’t want him to be happy. You truly just want what’s best for him.

                 Apparently, He just wants whats best for you, too <3.

3,197 words

Chapter warning tags: mild invasion of privacy?

 Part One

Fingering through wistful fabrications of reality is my favourite hobby. Who knew time travelling was so easy? With a simple turn of a page, - something that takes mere nanoseconds - I can transcend dimensions and look into the past while reading the lines of a page. The only problem with reading books is that when you travel through time and space, your body is still in the present, operating on some badly programmed autopilot mode. As your eyes scan the books, other body parts mindless wander if you do not pay attention. Hence, you shouldn’t read as you walk.

However, as you walk through the aisle in this nook of your local bookstore, busily scanning the shelves for a particular new stock, you realise that not everyone had gotten this memo of the faulty autopilot mode.

A hard, large object seemed to be hurled at you, making you stumble to the floor. Your shoulder took most of the impact of the collision, but there was no other damage done. Your fall was broken by the shelves you grabbed onto during your descent.

“Wh-What,” a raspy voice from above turns about confused. He must have been the hard, large object. His oversized, grey hoodie is low on his head. His white hair conceals his face even more.

A book is opened in his hand. The same exact book that you were dying to get your ,hands on. You try to grab onto the floor to get up and that is when this tall figure looming over you finally notices your presence. “Oh!…” He grabs onto your forearm to help you up and you allow him to.

Somehow, he lost his footing, so when you brace yourself on him, he ends up falling too. The book he already had, the few in his other hand, and an entire row on the shelf he bumped into are now on the ground.

“Shit!,” you exclaim. “I’m so sorry.” You frantically begin picking up the books. You really didn’t have time for this. Your shift will soon start. You were only supposed to be in here for a few minutes, but not only did you spend about 10 minutes looking into the tiny store for the title, but now you’ve made a mess.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I lost my footing,” he admits shyly, but obviously upset.

His voice…It can’t be…

“I was the reason you fell in the first place.” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as he picks up the books quickly, not even bothering to organise them. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” You both simultaneously reach for the final book on the floor, another psychology book. You only knew it was a psychology book because you had that exact title sitting on your desk home. He adds it to the little pile of books he wanted to buy. “I apologise.”

You were sure now. You realise he is the love of your life, your idol, your ultimate bias – Kim Namjoon, RM of BTS. You recognise that low, deep, sultry, raspy, sexy voice from anywhere.

Don’t scream. Don’t get weird. Don’t scream. Don’t get weird.

It must be annoying when people get weird so DON’T get weird.

“I-It’s okay! I don’t blame you… Youuu… were reading Into the Spine by Montgomery.” Shit, why were you stumbling on your words so much? Be normal. “I understand. I’m actually looking for that same book. Just tell me where you got it and its all forgiven.” While you spoke softly, you straightened your work uniform.

“Sure,” he smiles politely. “They’re by the entrance since they’re new.”

“T-T-T-T-T-They are?” Shit, why are you stuttering after realising it was Joonie- Namjoon. It might be weird to be called a nickname by people you don’t know. He’s a celebrity so he might be used to it though… You realise, even with his black face mask on, he was smiling awkwardly at you.

“Yeah. You must have missed them when you came in.” He grabs your arm and it feels as if a lightning bolt hit your body. If you moved or jerked, he hadn’t noticed because he continues to lead you to the table near the entrance where the stacks of copies were.

You blush profusely, but he takes this as you being embarrassed for missing something so obvious. Act normal. “I must have been so excited to just get this book I made a beeline straight to the nonfiction section.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t blame you,” he mimics the first words you say to him. “Montgomery? Great author. I can’t wait to see what he has to say now about ‘brain power’,” Namjoon laughs. “He might go a bit overboard with his imagination, but he sure knows how to put things into perspective.”

“Yes! Everyone I talk to tell me that he’s a quack and says they don’t understand why I read this word vomit, but this guy is a genius!” You laugh, getting comfortable.

Namjoon just stares at you for a while. He nods. You can feel the conversation ending but didn’t want to let it go.

“Uhh… That book,” you point at the other book in his hand that you recognised earlier. “It’s good. Be prepared for some of the remarks in that one!”

Namjoon follows your eyes to see what you were talking about and throws his head back in laughter when he realizes. “Yes! It was a wild ride from cover to cover. I have my own copy at home, but I am getting this one for a friend.”

“Oh my God! Then, have you read Going into the Lamp? Oh my God, when she drowns her sister! I don’t know why she thought it was a good idea to include that in the book!”

Namjoon just looks at you with his eyes slightly widened. “I… I’m actually reading it now… I didn’t reach that part, yet.”

You accidently spoiled the book for him. “I’m SO sorry. First, I bump into you, and now I’m giving out spoilers you didn’t ask for. Please, forgive me,” you drawl with your head down.

He tuts and you want to crawl into a hole and hide. “What am I going to do with you? You’re so bad… Tell you what, have lunch with me and I’ll forgive you…”

What?!

You snap your head to look at his face and see mischief in his eyes. You decide to play along. “Sigh, I guess that’s the least I can do.” Fuck work. You are not passing up the opportunity to eat with your earthly god.

You pay for your book quickly and meet him by the door.

“Where do you want to eat?” You ask.

“I’m actually not familiar with this area. You tell me what’s good.”

He likes Korean food, meat to be particular. You should know this after watching every interview that includes in about twenty times over. There’s a little restaurant just a few blocks from there that you know he would love. You often had lunch there thinking about how much he would love it.

You spoke about books and theories about them on your way to the restaurant, feet falling into step together, but getting out of sync once in a while due to his long legs.

It was so natural. Sometimes, you forget that he was a normal human being.

The scent as you approach the building has your stomach growling and you do not miss the way his pupils dilate when he smells it too. In there was quiet and not crowded, as usual. It sucks for the owners, but that’s why you love this place. It was often empty. Honestly, if not for their deliveries, they would be out of business. You both go to the counter and order. It takes a while since this was his first time there. Your card is in your hand the entire time he speaks, but when he finishes, he gives them his card.

“Wait! I thought this was me apologizing, that I was buying you lunch.” You hold onto his card to stop the server from taking it. Three people were now grabbing onto it and looking at each other in confusion. You offer your card that was in your next hand and the server looks at Namjoon for permission, as if she wasn’t listening to you. He shakes his head.

“I only wanted company. I planned on eating alone,” you further your argument. “At least let me pay half.”

Someone coughs behind you. There are about two other people waiting their turn, looking angrily at the two of you. He takes the opportunity of you being distracted to give his card to the cashier again.

Because you were holding up the line, you just let him win.

Namjoon grabs a seat in the corner, facing away from the windows and door. He makes sure his hoodie is secure over his head as he huddles into himself. You realise he is doing this to avoid being caught.

Caught!

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He can get in trouble for this! It finally dawns on you that it looks like you’re on a date. Who do you think you are to even sit across his excellence? It would not be fair to the rest of his stans.

But, its not like you’re like other girls. You don’t want him just because he’s cute. No, your bond is much stronger than any other. You would take care of him. Heal him.

You don’t deserve a Namjoon, but he deserves a you.

You worship him.

Imagine the headlines if Dispatch sees this. Finally, everyone will know for good that Namjoon is yours. You wouldn’t mind if the world found out and misinterpreted the scene.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by food being placed in front of you. Namjoon pulls down his mask to his chin, but his face was still obscured by his bangs.

How long were you sitting across from him imagining these crazy things? You say an expletive in your heart and play it off. “Uwaah, no matter how many times I come here, I’m still amazed by the food. I promise you will love it. I’ve been eating here ever since I started working in this area.”

“It looks great.” He takes a tentative bite into the beef. His eyes light up and a sense of pride washes over you. You knew your man. His shoulders move into a little dance absentmindedly.

You’re endeared by his actions so you sit and admire him eating. Namjoon stops when he realizes how quiet you’re being. He coughs to clear his throat. “So…” he ventures embarrassed. “What made you get into Psychological fiction?”

“I always loved reading. I guess I just realized I liked reading these books more. I think Kafka was the pivot that made me go deeper.”

“It’s the same for me actually.” Namjoon went on to explain how he started reading about psychology, which led to a conversation about both of your favourite authors, reads, stores, forums, clubs, etc. The food was long gone but the refill of their beers are full.

You practically scream at the story he tells where a friend of his thought he was reading erotic novellas the entire time. “It was really so embarrassing. We were in public and really said, ‘don’t you read about romance and sex all the time. Tell me what I should do to be more sensitive.’ I wanted to die on the spot.” He slumps further into his seat to express this, but he is smiling brightly looking at you laugh so hard it looked painful.

“Hey, I never got your name,” he points out mid-chuckle. “I don’t think I asked before, but I’m K-“

“Kim Namjoon,” you finish his introduction for him for him. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit here and act like I didn’t recognize you. I’m army and I know my bias from his voice. Also, I’m ____.” You look up at him worriedly. Its true. You didn’t have it in you to lie by letting him introduce himself.

Namjoon is caught off guard and goes red. “You’re lying about me being your bias I’m sure. You don’t have to do that,” he flusters.

You open a compartment of your phone case revealing his photocard, “I keep it there to look at whenever I feel unmotivated or insignificant. Your words during lives really helped me with my anxiety. I even watch videos of you at the end of concerts to hear what you have to say. It really pumps me up,” you express with your body.

This shocks him visibly. “Don’t look at me like I’m lying. You really helped me a lot when I was trying to study for college entrance exams, and when I failed and found that I didn’t make it to my top, and only, choice. I didn’t apply anywhere else and decided to work part time and follow my dreams, like you sort of did.”

“Either way, I’m glad BTS could have done that for you.”

“Me too. My parents were hella mad, especially since they thought I should have been a doctor or lawyer just because I got good grades in high school. I don’t care too much about what they think, though. Most great people’s parents didn’t approve what they did. I mean, look at Pip from Great Expectations.”

“I don’t think there is one single happy person out there who does what their parents wanted them to,” Namjoon agrees.

“Like in the great words of Aristo-“ you begin, but get cut off by a loud ringing in your pocket. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you whisper as you scramble to answer it.

Embarrassingly enough, it was your boss and you were sure that Namjoon could hear what is being screamed at you even though your phone was not on speaker. He looks at you in wonder as you try to explain to her that you will be coming soon and how you were running late. A particular jab concerning your coworker’s incompetence to handle yours and her own work, especially when you couldn’t handle your own station, has Namjoon railing over in laughter.

“Yes, ma’am. I will be there in a few minutes! I’m sorry ag-“ the dial tone sounds before you can even finish your sentence. Dejected, you could not help the pout as you lift your eyes to take your one last good look at your obsession. “I’m sorry, Joon, I was only supposed to stop to the bookstore for five minutes. I had work after.”

“Do what you have to do.” He looks at you sympathetically. “You’re such a bad girl. This would make you,” he checks his watch beneath his hoodie, “an entire hour late.”

You both get up to clear the table. “Thank you for lunch again.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” he retorts.

You walk outside the store together, but had to walk opposite directions. This is when Namjoon realises that he wont ever see her again. Unless…

He spins around and grabs you wrist. “Um…” He can’t speak with her looking at him like that. “Can I… have your number?”

He spoke so quietly, you wonder if you have heard correctly, or if it was the wind playing tricks on you. His hand is surely on yours, and he is certainly looking at you, but you still are in a rush.

Grabbing a napkin and pen from your pocket, you quickly jot your name and number down. “Hey, you can just put it in my phone.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, I’m in a rush and I do not want to mess this up.” You always make such terrible typos on the regular. You don’t trust yourself to input the correct the number when youre filled with adrenaline. You shove the napkin to his chest which he grabs for. “I’ll talk to you later,” you ask, unsure. Not waiting for his response, you begin to sprint into the direction of your job.

Namjoon stood there staring after you for a few heavy heart beats. You were perfect. From the arch of your brow as you hung onto every word he enunciated to the sloppily tied tennis on your feet that did not shaking once during your conversation.

He holds the number out to admire your handwriting. It was so neat, cute even. He brings the napkin up to his nose to see if he can smell even a little of you on it. Of course, with his mask on, he was not able to smell much of everything. As he pulls it down to appreciate the napkin more, a white van that had passed him rather quickly slammed brakes and was now reversing towards him.

He scanned the area and notices someone just across the street from him filing him with a smartphone.

His identity is well hidden today. So he does not feel threatened by the filming. He is afraid of the man coming out of the van with a huge, high tech camera.

He shoves the napkin he cherished so ardently before in his back pocket and makes a run for it.

Or so he thinks.

The napkin flutters to the ground slowly, heavily contrasting the speed that Namjoon ran away.

Later that evening, he rummages through his clothes. He strips to his boxers, standing in the middle of his apartment with a blank stare. Your number is nowhere to be found. He had no way to speak to you. His last interaction with you will have been his last interaction with you.

Tears fall down his cheeks proudly when he realizes this.

He takes a few deep breaths. This is not over.

You mentioned that you worked in the area. He will just have to go back there and look for you.

You wore a black golf shirt, leggings, vans, a black sports bra (from what he can tell by the print through your top), probably a thong (since there were no pantylines shown as you walked), and…

And…

His erection stood proudly looking up at him.

He let his mind get carried away thinking about you. Trying to focus again, he fights through his memories to figure out which store’s workers wore black shirts with no logos or crests.

Nowhere.

That’s it – nowhere he’s been. Meaning it’s a store he had no purpose for, and judging the direction in which you ran, it had to have been that local shop. Namjoon searched Google maps street view for a few minutes before he finds the only place that can be where you worked.

He smiles proudly. All was not lost.

Fucking creep! Stop following me! Namjoon’s ex’s voice rang through his head.

“Will it be creepy if I show up on her job? She never told me where she worked…” he thinks aloud to himself.

Namjoon opens his phone again, but this time to find your work phone number. He calls the number provided, but since it was 10:34pm, he can assume that the small tailor shop was closed.

Tomorrow.

A/n:

I hope there weren’t too many mistakes! I originally made an outline for this months ago as a joke, but as I wrote it, I realised that it was kinda deep lol. satirical even.

Also, fics are so hard to find on tumblr, but I feel like theyre so good here! I use ao3 to search for authors and follow their tumblr if they have one. I think I’m gonna start cross publishing.