#cocky competitive motherfucker who wants what he wants and gets it easily

[sturnioloho]

[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!

[woodrokiro]

Do It For the Band, Part Four

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, and Three. 

Rukia’s sure they’re not crossing any lines.

… Pretty sure.

She’s never been in a band like this before--or, well. A band, period. And from the movies she’s watched, the musician biographies she’s read and the behind-the-album documentaries she’s seen she imagines her group’s closeness is normal. Grabbing a tea and writing in a coffee shop with Chad, meeting up with Tatsuki at bars and picking out cute girls the drummer might like--these sort of things are normal. They’re her friends, after all. 

And she doesn’t do much different with Ichigo. It just… Feels different.

Especially when they start spending time together after recording sessions.  

They don’t even do anything, really. Mostly just put on a record at Ichigo’s place and talk about their favorite albums. Sometimes they’ll watch a movie together: Rukia on one far end of his tattered, second-hand couch, curled into the arm while Ichigo tries to scrounge something up for dinner in the kitchen behind her. 

And… Okay, she’s fallen asleep there. A couple times. But in a completely platonic way. She’ll wake up on his couch with a blanket over her, and Ichigo will walk in and nag at her for sinking the cushions of his couch and she’ll groggily snap back that maybe he should get a new couch then--

She’s stayed late there so often that Ichigo bought her a toothbrush to keep in the bathroom (“I can smell your morning breath all the way from the bedroom”), but it’s fine because it is! So! Platonic!!!

They’re friends. They’re friends. 

She’s (pretty) sure of it. 

It’s the end of the recording sessions when they go to her place because she had forgotten the champagne she meant to bring for celebrating their last day. The recording studio happened to be only a few blocks away, but he insisted on walking back with her to grab them. 

(“Shut up and let me be a gentleman” he had grumbled, and Rukia tries to ignore Tatsuki’s stare piercing them both). 

They had just finished climbing the six stories in her apartment building when she spies the roses at her door. 

He scoffs. “Who are those from? Yourself?” 

She rolls her eyes, picking up the flowers to read the card attached. “Good one, idiot. No. My brother.” 

“Byakuya? What the hell does he want?” 

She’s surprised he remembers his name; then again, she supposes she’s mentioned him in passing enough times. 

It’s funny: the little details they know about each other by now. 

“Don’t talk about him so crudely. I told him about the album awhile ago.”

“Yeah, and you said he never responded.” He waits respectfully in the hallway as she unlocks her door. She immediately starts shuffling through her studio in an attempt to find a vase. “I don’t get why you still talk to him. The guy kicks you out of the house, takes away your allowance you depend on--just because he doesn’t want you to do music? The thing he arranged for you to have lessons for in the first place?”

“You’re oversimplifying it.” She rummages through her cupboards. “He wanted me to go to college for a career--I told him I didn’t want to. I said I wanted to be a musician. He said that was fine, I was a young woman who could make her own decisions… And as such, I’d need to do it on my own. I agreed. I don’t want anybody’s money, and he’s helped me enough as it is.”

“... He should still support you--”

“He does. In his own way.” Her eyes light up at what she’s been looking for: the glass beaker for a French press that broke on her a couple weeks ago. She lifts it with one hand and the roses in the other, a silent question toward him. At Ichigo’s shrug/nod combo, she starts filling the beaker with tap water. “Maybe he doesn’t vocally support it. The creative life is scary. You know that. Technically you wouldn’t want your sisters as starving musicians either, right? But a couple months before I met up with you guys, I was behind on my rent. One day, right before I was sure I was going to get kicked out: my landlord says it was all paid for. Just like that. And I’ve sworn every day, up and down, that my brother’s never going to need to do that for me ever again.”

“He should want to do that for you.”

“I think he does. But I want to make my own way, and he knows that. These flowers are more than kind.” She steps back and assesses her flower arrangement in the beaker, nodding once. Good enough. 

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as she grabs the two bottles from her fridge and returns back to the hallway. She’s attempting to lock her front door with the bottles in one arm and keys in the other when he snorts, tapping her wine-carrying arm.

“Here, I’ll take ‘em.” Begrudgingly, she hands them over. “You try to do too much by yourself.” 

“Yes, because I have to.” She focuses her attention back on the lock (the door could be rather tricky) when she feels him nudge her arm again. 

“No. You really don’t.” She looks back and up at him and suddenly for the first time they feel very, very close. “Look I don’t--the fact that your brother doesn’t know what a fucking phenominal talent you have astounds me. But you have people now. You have me.”

Time completely stops as they stare at each other. Rukia feels frozen in place--but Ichigo is… Well. He looks like he’s only sort of embarrassed at own sentiment, judging from the faint blush on his cheeks--but mostly he seems sure of himself, confident and fearless and golden.

That is Ichigo, she realizes. She’s really never met anyone like him. 

She’ll never know what either of them were about to do when suddenly her neighbor’s door swings open behind him. 

The sound jolts them both, and her elderly neighbor smiles apologetically. She waves, and when she looks back at him Ichigo is looking down at his shoes, clearing his throat. 

“Hurry up ‘n lock the door. The others are waiting for us--especially Tatsuki. You know how stoked she was when you told her about the champagne.” 

Rukia nods and tries to shake the odd feeling that an opportunity was just missed. 

---

They’re getting a tour.

Tatsuki is in euphorics. They’re getting a fucking tour. 

Urahara says they���re starting small--mostly because the label wants to test the waters on them. Just four cities, fronting for a rock band called Espada. They’re all kind of douchey assholes but it doesn’t even matter. She knows her band is better, and in just a few years they’ll be begging to front for Karakura Soul Society. 

 Still, even though it’s a small tour Tatsuki manages to sweet talk Urahara into hiring her good friend as their stage manager. “We need somebody to keep us organized back there. Help us sound check and everything, you know? And frankly, Urahara… You’re a mess.”

… It becomes clear to the team within the first ten minutes of her employment that Orihime Inoue is also, as it happens, a disaster--but she’s bubbly and ambitious and works hard and Tatsuki may be not-so-secretly in love with her so of course everyone loves her immediately, too.

Once they’re on the road, the whole tour itself is kind of a blur. Their first city is… Decent. They sound great, but there’s some tech issues that Orihime apologizes profusely for. Grimmjow, the lead singer of Espada says something snide about “fucking yuppies” and Ichigo and Tatsuki both have to be held back from absolutely pulvarizing the cocky motherfucker--but yeah it’s decent.

 At least, Urahara points out, it adds a bit of a competitive edge between the two bands. 

He’s right. The next couple cities they absolutely kill it.

With Chad’s shredding it on his base and Tatsuki  feeling like a God at her drums--the two of them alone would be something to contend with. 

But combined with Ichigo and Rukia…

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on between them, and frankly: she doesn’t care anymore. She’s decided it’s none of her business whether her best friend is getting his brains screwed out or if they really are “just friends,” as Rukia insists. 

What matters is what’s going right here, right in the performance.

As usual, they are so in sync with each other it’s scary--but now, there’s emotion too. There’s an electric energy when they sing the chorus to Fullbringer, a deep melancholy when they harmonize on Masaki. The band is only able to perform about five of their songs, but they’ve arranged the order so the audience gets to go through a journey--and it all ends on Sun and Moon.

It’s easily their best crowd pleaser, and for good reason. 

It sounds cheesy, but there is such an upbeat joy to the song that even scowl-loving Ichigo grins during its entirety, and Rukia--always so poised--bounces at her keyboard, bopping her head to the beat. The bridge is absolutely wild, and the whole thing moves so fast that Tatsuki is going harder at her drums than she ever has. It was a bitch to practice, but man. Man does it it fucking end a show. 

At the end of Espada’s last show, the crowd demands an encore… From their front band. 

“Eat shit,” Grimmjow hisses as they unexpectedly make their way back to the stage, and Tatsuki knows for an asshole like him to be this pissed: it’s a compliment.

---

They’re feeling so pumped about the whole tour that at the end of that encore, even Chad agrees to go out to a nearby pub to celebrate.

The group is on Cloud 9 as they float into the semi-crowded bar, and Tatsuki feels even more of a high when some of the patrons--fresh from the show--cheer as they enter. A guy orders the band shots, and from that point on things get… Uh. Kind of blurry.

Chad does manage to escape early, but not before she challenges him to a game of who can drink a pint faster. Orihime glows next to her as she sips her own fruity cocktail, cheering Tatsuki on in a way that makes her feel powerful even when she loses. Occasionally she catches her friend glancing over at Ichigo with a soft smile that Tatsuki… Doesn’t really want to notice right now. She’s having such a good time, so for what?

 Urahara floats, chuckling behind his fan about this and that--leading to a brief debate between Ichigo and Tatsuki whether he’s high, drunk, or both. Rukia pops up out of nowhere, offering a convincing argument of: neither. Urahara is just fucking batshit. 

Ichigo and Tatsuki stare at the unexpected profanity.

“What?” Rukia’s face is flushed, and she tries (unsuccessfully) to look like she has the decency to be embarrassed. Suddenly, she grins toothily, grabbing Ichigo’s hand and dragging him to the bar corner’s jukebox. “C’mon, idiot. You’re helping me pick out a song.” 

Tatsuki doesn’t pay much more attention to the two after that--she’s too busy getting another drink, getting Orihime another drink, seeing if she can get Urahara to confess he’s committed at least one felony in his lifetime, and if so which one--but she happens to overhear their conversation at one point when they’re getting drinks.

“... Swift is a stellar songwriter, Kurosaki. I’m telling you--”

“Come oooooon--”

“No, you--you come on, Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki.” Rukia pokes her finger at Ichigo’s chest, and Tatsuki sees him failing to hide a smile. “She had a… Taylor has iffy periods, of course she does. But have you… Have you even listened to the lyrics of Blank Space?

“Whassat?” 

“You’ve heard that song, don’t you--don’t you even start--”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes and takes her leave. Listening to drunk straight people flirt is excruciating. 

Still: whether it’s from the warm buzz of alcohol or the general high of the good night or her just loving her friends… She’s happy for them. 

When she leaves, Blank Space is blaring from the jukebox. She looks back to see Rukia and Ichigo intimately close. Rukia is beaming up at him, shouting over the music that she can only imagine is the song lyrics. Ichigo’s body is curved toward her, watching and bobbing his head with a soft smile. 

Good for them, Tatsuki thinks dreamily before immediately finding a dumpster to throw up in. 

[lihikainanea]

I'm with you, Bill has an amazing body that could be a swimmer. He doesn't need to be very muscular like his older bros. I love the long torso of this fibrous bitch

Anonymous said:

you have given me the lovely mental image of bill being a swimmer. perhaps him swimming while tiger watches? and she’s fuckin drooling over him glistening and soaked when he gets out? and he was hitting it pretty hard bc it’s part of his exercise routine so he’s all breathless and pumped up and she’s just o_o over her biiiiig dude

SWIMMER. BILL.

Fuck me.

FUCK. ME.

I need a minute to process that.

Listen, I’ve always had like...a really weird kink...for dudes who can swim. I think it’s probably rooted in my summers I spent as a lifeguard, and one particular summer in Wildwood with the hottest dude I’ve ever seen in my life. He was a fellow lifeguard, a little older than me, and he was everything great in this world. He was fucking hot and he had no idea how hot he was, and it was a summer of the raunchiest sex I think I’ve ever had.

It was fucking incredible. God, I still smile about it. The dude was a water polo player too, and I can’t even explain to you how strong he was. I am strong, I am very strong, but in the same way that a ballerina is stronger than a football player--this dude was insane. His functional strength was insane. I am a really fast swimmer, a really strong swimmer, but when we did laps together--this guy was honestly a fucking torpedo. He’d clear 5 lengths in the time it took me to do 2. This motherfucker would do the butterfly stroke in the ocean and he’d fucking catapult OVER the waves, he was so strong.

But like...watching these dudes work was a fucking privilege. I WAS a lifeguard and sometimes I would just stand there at my post and drool. All of them just seemed so tall, so long, shoulders like a fucking fridge though. Watching them power through the water was such a sight--they were like dolphins man, so strong and so powerful, and they were fearless. They’d go and get your stupid ass against a rip tide and haul you back to shore like it as nothing. The way they would leap out of their lifeguard chairs and go tearing down the beach, running like fucking gazelles before diving into the wave like a torpedo, zero-ing in on you.

Again, I WAS a lifeguard and I would look at these dudes and just be like...hjnnnnnnnguh you’re so hot.

And the thing is, Bill actually has the most perfect swimmer’s body. The wingspan of a fucking pterodactyl. Huge hands. An incredibly long, hydrodynamic torso with narrow hips. The longest fucking legs known to mankind, topped off with feet like fucking flippers. Bill is made to tear through the water at incredible speeds, and it’s a fucking shame and a crime against nature if he doesn’t swim somewhat competitively.

So like, I love this thought right. What if its exactly that? Maybe Bill was a swimmer in his teenage years, of the competitive nature with school or something. And he never really mentioned it to tiger--but they start working out together, because maybe Bill has to buff up a bit for a roll and tiger needed a little extra motivation to hit the gym anyway. Bill sweating, grunting, being all strong and shit is all the motivation she needs. But tiger is a competitive little shit, and no doubt a strong one, so she just keeps trying to slaughter Bill in the gym.

But then maybe Bill remembers how much he used to love to swim--maybe he’s at a hotel one weekend for a press junket and the hotel has a pitiful gym, but a real nice lap pool. So he dives in there, gets a few lengths in, and he thinks shit...this is nice.

So when he gets back home, he tells tiger to pack a different kind of gym bag. He takes her to the local lap pool, and tiger scoffs. 

“Really?” she asks, “I thought we were going to work out.”

“We are,” he smiles, “And maybe even a little friendly competition?”

“Bill, please,” she says, setting her bag down, “I was a lifeguard. Do you really want to lose this easily?”

“How about a wager, then?”

“Name it.”

“10 lengths,” he says, “Fastest one gets morning head for a week.”

“Shhhh,” she says, the cocky little shit, “Better rest those lips, baby. It’s going to be a long week for them.”

Bill doesn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth tilts up in the faintest of smiles.

Tiger quirks a brow when Bill actually steps up onto the small podium to dive off of, because hell she was just going to cannonball in. But if he wants to be all serious about it, she’s game.

“Tell you what kid,” he says, “I’ll even give you a head start. 5 seconds. Steamboat seconds.”

But tiger doesn’t want any advantage, because when she kicks his ass--she doesn’t want him blaming something other than her sheer athletic superiority.

“Shove it, Big Bird.”

“Come on, ladies first. It’s only fair,” he waves his hand to the pool, but tiger just glares at him from her podium.

“You need it more than I do,” she snaps, “I heard that Swedes sink like icebergs.”

“Icebergs float, you idiot.”

“Hey uh,” a random stranger interrupts, because these two idiots are just standing on two podiums smack talking each other, “Do you guys want me to give you a countdown, so you can both go at the same time?”

“Yes please,” they answer simultaneously.

Bill swings his arms back and forth, and then he even crouches on the podium. Tiger just thinks it’s so cute. Using all the right ~techniques~ thinking it’ll actually help him.

“3....2.........” the dude says, “..1, go!”

And like, look. Bill could have cleared half the fucking length of the pool in just his dive, but like a good former competitor he sticks to the proper admissible length of the dive and then starts his dolphin kick.

And Bill just destroys her in the pool. Fucking destroys her. He tears through the water, his arms driving straight forth and cutting through as his legs kick. It’s a force to be seen, the speed that he glides with. He fucking destroys her. Tiger is barely done half the laps by the time Bill rolls into his final one, touching the far wall and then bobbing a little in the water to catch his breath. He gets out of the pool--just so that tiger can’t actually see where he’s at, and she really thinks she’s beating him--and then he waits.

And as she kicks forward in the final push and reaches the wall, Bill crouches down right above her, a cocky smile on his face. Tiger’s look of sheer shock when she comes up--shock that not only did he win, but he apparently won by such a large margin that he had time to exit the pool, catch his breath again, and then be hovering over her when she popped up--her look of shock is worth it all.

Bill cocks his head, water dripping from his hair down onto his broad chest, and smiles big at her. Tiger glares.

“How the fu--” she starts, but a condescending finger is smushed against her lips roughly.

“Shhhh,” he says with mock sweetness, “Better rest those lips, baby. It’s going to be a long week for them.”

[wxsuthorn]

a sort of organised analysis of The Gifted characters:

pt 2: Wave

(this analysis includes episodes 1-13 of season one and 1-7 of season two, so it probably isn’t completely accurate, but i tried my best. also please excuse my shitty grammar and spelling if I noticed it i would’ve fixed it lmao)

Characteristics and qualities in the beginning of season 1

I’m writing this while listening to love score on loop lmao so if smth I write makes no sense I blame it on nanon’s high note. RAK TER DAI REBLAOW. okay so in episode one Wave just seems like that classic draco malfoy mean dude with his whole wIpE mY fReAkInG fOoT bullshit. But wait... what’s this??? an egotistical personality that comes from past trauma??? yep, lmao. But we’ll talk more about that in the next section.

Throughout the show, Wave displays his ego very clearly, but he also show’s his intelligence. I don’t think i need to explain but in case you need examples: first discovered his potential and revealed it, solved the problem from the academic competition punn was in, almost beat all of the gifted squad when he had the plan to “leak” the gifted program info (he could’ve done it if pang didn’t use his potential, which wave didn’t know the details of, unlike the rest of his classmates), did a research project in eighth grade that was plagiarized to be used as a MASTERS(?) DEGREE THESIS. Bitch is smart as fuck, on contrary to Pang, who also has an inflated ego. (I will discuss how their egos are different in the next part). His intelligence isn’t only academic, but he’s also street smart, and he knows how to provoke people (like when he came back at ohm’s joke + when he provokes punn)

Wave doesn’t really show a lot of depth in the beginning, but to sum it up: ego, smart, kinda cocky and wants to be the best, doesn’t seem to trust anyone, very straight forward/has a level of confidence, cool/mysterious so I don’t really mind him being mean cuz im interested in his back story.

okay lets move one to where wave has a backstory and development.

Characteristics and qualities from episode 9 - 12 of season 1

Wave... was mentally/emotionally groomed when he was in eighth grade and had his work plagiarized. Yeah. On top of that, he’s an orphan with grandparents/guardians who don’t provide him enough emotional support for him to develop properly as an adolescent. These traumatic experiences affected him in so many ways.

In the flashbacks, we see Wave being shy, introverted, and he lacks the confidence he has in the present. His eighth grade self lacks self confidence, since a majority of the adults in his life have told him that he was dumb/he wasn’t good enough. On top of that, he has no emotional support (adults or peers) to seek help from and was probably very lonely for a long time. Well, if Wave is in M4 (aged 15-16) in season 1, and he was in lower secondary school in the flashbacks (probably M3, aged 14-15), which means that his personality changed/developed pretty quickly. What triggered this change you ask? MS. NARA. THE BITCH AND ONLY. FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT WHO I HATE AND WANT TO DROP KICK.

Let’s talk about Ms. Nara, shall we? To say the least, she mentally/emotionally groomed Wave into trusting her, and even having a crush on her. She encouraged him to do work that she would eventually plagiarize for her masters degree thesis. That’s the shit she did. Fucking bitch I hate her. And Wave trusted her really easily because again, he significantly lacked emotional support, so once he received it, he was very welcoming of it. This allowed for ms. bitchass to groom him more easily. She praised his talent, spent a lot of time with him, encouraged him to do more, and brought his ego up. Her effect on Wave stuck with him, since it wasn’t really that long ago, and he could even remember little words/phrases she would say. “You talk big game, huh?” is one of the things she said to Wave, and when Namtaan said the same thing to him, you could see him thinking back to those times with ms. bitchass. lmao almost everyone in this show has trauma. Now, when Wave decided to expose ms. bitchass for buying her bachelors degree and get her fired, that shows basically where he became like the wave from season 1. He wanted to win against her. He couldn’t let her get away with what she did to him. After all, isn’t he extremely talented? Despite him disposing of ms. bitchass, he still took in her words of encouragement and praise. He still believed it all. But after she “betrayed” him, he must’ve felt that perhaps she was lying... so in turn, he had to prove that he indeed was talented by getting back at ms. bitchass.

Ah yes, Wave is indeed a cocky motherfucker. But his ego can be easily tarnished by adults. The reason why I say adults, is because I don’t think he has ever felt threatened by a gifted student, other than Pang. When Punn tried to provoke him by saying he didn’t get head student, Wave didn’t give a shit cuz he knew (thought) he was better. But when Director Supot says “Wasuthorn im disappointed in you” and shit like that, Wave listens to it and gets pissed as hell. A lot of these behaviors come from his trauma with Ms. Nara. If you look at almost any internal conflict he has, it can be traced back to his self-worth and/or trust issues that stemmed from Ms. Nara. 

I don’t think I’ll need to explain this much but Wave’s need to win at everything is basically to prove to everyone (but actually just to himself) that he’s better/more talented than everyone else again because of his past trauma and how he had almost no emotional support.

Okay now I’m gonna talk about his relationship with Pang and their trust. This is the part where I’ll get the most wrong cuz episode 9 of tgg just fucking came out and im rushing cuz i wanna watch it. Again, unlike other peers, Pang reaches out to Wave as an equal, and they have an agreed ideal. Fuck the school system, it just makes kids feel bad about themselves and give them trauma. At first, I think Wave trusted Pang because of his idealistic and almost naive outlook on the world; he just seemed good, and like he genuinely wanted to do something to better people. However, in the end his ideals and beliefs to align with Pang’s exactly. No one wanted to give up their potentials for their own reasons, Wave’s being to protect his breakable ego. lmao this is getting messy im so sorry welp lets move on.

Characteristics and qualities from season 2, until episode 7

Wave trusts Pang. He says it to Time. It’s made clear in the beginning. But when Pang decides on things on his own and tries to find Korn on his own, Wave starts to see a pattern. Pang (unknowingly) only comes to Wave when he needs help with something regarding doing the right thing blah blah blah hero complex shit. and like Wave said, once he doesn’t agree with Pang, he just does everything on his own, like his view is the only correct one.

Lets take Korn for example. Or the whole “there’s an imposter among us” drama. Wave was the one with the braincell in the moment. He was the one to conclude that they could be someone within the group who betrayed them. He looked at the situation logically, while Pang was looking at it idealistically. This is what separates them and causes friction between them. Wave can separate and balance his ideals/logic/emotions, while Pang’s ideals/logic/emotion are all smushed together and combined.

Last point: his last fight with pang (episode 7) was a valid one. Wave was hurt af. and i think he started to see Pang as another Ms. Nara. The difference here is that Pang is a kid, and he’s also unstable, so they’re both affected by what he’s doing. It is possible that Punn used Pang’s potential on Wave, but it wouldn’t be out of character if the fight came up naturally.

Summary

Has an inflated, yet breakable ego

does what he can to prove that he’s talented/good enough to protect his ego from shattering

trust issues (stemming from Ms. Nara)

a smart boi

he can balance his ideals/logic/emotions most of the time

Sees Ms. Nara in everyone, compares all of his relationships to the one between him and Ms. Nara

Genuinely cares for people and is afraid to lose the emotional support he has (since he lacked so much of it in his childhood)

A smol bean that must be protected

Cocky

could probably be the villain to a superhero movie if he wanted to

[stressedkitkatttt]

My Little Quarantine

So quaratine got us all fucked up. I'm losing my mind a little so in honor of this, here's a story involving our favorite Ecuadorian and his dick.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT  think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT  think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Christopher have been in lockdown for two months. You both were experiencing some cabin fever, and Chris was beginning to get on your nerves. You love him and all, but seeing him every day with no breaks, save for going shopping and when he was on video calls with the guys, it was obvious you were beginning to reach your limit. Even with your little breaks, when you came back from the store or he finishes the video call, he's right beside you again, cuddling with you, teasing you, pulling small pranks for Tik Tok... You name it, he's probably done it to you. And since he couldn't go see his friends and cause mischief in person, he turned to you.

Finally, you manage to settle him down from his antics by offering to play Mario Kart. He agrees and you both sit on the edge of the bed, getting comfortable. You choose your characters and choose random on the race selection menu. You had fully expected him to kick your butt but when you began to win just about every race, you got a little cocky. As your character crosses the finish line for the sixth time in a row, you throw your hands up in triumph, looking at Chris with the biggest grin.

Chris sighs and rests his face in his hand. You nudge him with your shoulder, "Doesn't feel too good when you're constantly losing, does it?" He fixes a hard stare on you, but it has a lightness to it, so you know he's not actually upset that's he's been losing for the past 10 minutes. When his face lights up suddenly, that signature Christopher Vélez smirk on his plump lips has you raising a brow.

"How about we up the stakes a little bit?" He says. "If I win, I get to fuck you every which way I want and you don't have any control. If you win, you can have the control and fuck me however it pleases you. All within reason, of course."

"What's the catch?" you ask after thinking over the idea he was proposing.

"There is none. All you have to do is beat me. Best of three races. The only rule is that we randomly select the races so we can't rig our chances of winning."

You mull over the idea. On one hand, you know that you're pushing your luck. If you continue to race against him, your luck will run out eventually and he'll beat you sooner or later. If that happens, he'll win the upper hand and you'll have to give up control for the night. But on the other, there's the sweet idea of being able to tie Chris up, tease him mercilessly like he's done to you many times in the past. You look at him. "So if I win... You'll let me take full control?" Your breath hitches a little when he nods his head.

Would it be worth the risk? You feel so conflicted before you decide to take your chances. It's not often you get to have total control in the bedroom. After all, Chris is a dominant man when it comes to the bedroom. You give Chris a smile and accept his offer. He smiles back and he gets up and uses the restroom. You move from the bed and stretch your legs, feeling a little giddy at the prospect of having Chris at your mercy, begging for you to let him cum. You're quickly brought back to reality as he exits the bathroom, returning to his spot on the edge of the bed. You join him and prepare yourself.

Chris selects the random button on the race menu and it chooses an easy course; Toad's Turnpike. You breathe a small sigh of relief. A pro to this is that it's an easy track. The con is that because it is easy, Chris has a higher chance of beating you. He does play this game more than you and knows some of the courses like the back of his hand. You were decent at the game, but some of the tracks give you a hard time while Chris seems to fly through them with ease. You take a deep breath and take a glance at Chris. He has his game face on, eyes glued to the screen with every intent on winning.

Lakitu comes down and counts down from three. When the lights turn green, you and Chris both gain speed through the starting boost. Because he started in seventh place, and you in eighth(total bullshit in your opinion), he easily slid past the NPCs and into first. You were close behind him for the first two laps until you got close enough to him on the final lap, close to the finish line, where you knocked him into a car. Chris practically growls as you pass him and cross the finish line. He turns his head and glares at you. You return his sharp look with a shrug, "You said the only rule was that we needed to use the random select when choosing the tracks."

"Still a dick move..." He grumbles under his breath, turning his attention back to the menu. He selects the random button again, this time it lands on Yoshi's Circuit. Oh great. You didn't particularly like this track due to its tight turns, and you've seen the way Chris handles those turns. This isn't one of his favorite tracks but he's kind of good at it. And just as you suspected, he beat you. You cursed those the pin-hair turns like a sailor and rolled your eyes when Chris rubbed the victory in your face. Whatever. You beat him seven times before this. You'll let him have his fun and get it out of his system.

But suddenly you feel a little nervous. This meant you each had won one race and now this final track would be the tie-breaker. You silently pray that the game is on your side and picks an easy track for you. But, as fate would have it, it chooses one of your worst nightmares. Rainbow Road. You groan mentally. Great. You were decent at the game, but even the pros can have a hard time on this track. It requires one's full attention and no distractions. You were gonna be royally screwed. And possibly in the literal sense. You clear your head and zone in on the screen. You weren't going to let him win. Not this time.

Chris starts in first and you in second. You both hit the starting boost and take the first few corners just fine. With the first lap gone, and Chris still in a steady lead, you grab an item box and to your luck, it's a red shell. You're far enough behind him that you won't catch up to him but you can still see him in your sight. You make sure to time your red shell launch just right, hitting Chris as he's taking the second turn, ruining his drift and sending him over the edge, leaving you to take first place. You hear his angry huff beside you but you don't spare him a glance, too fixated on winning.

You manage to keep first place, despite the seemingly infinite amount of red shells Chris seems to throw at you, and soon you're both on the last lap. You've got an impressive lead on Chris, who was steadily closing the gap. You're so engrossed in the lap that you don't notice Chris shifting closer to you. You jump suddenly at the sound of his voice right by your ear. "I bet you're already wet for me, aren't you nena? Or maybe you're wet because you can't wait to have me begging for you to let me cum." You bite your lip and try to ignore him, but his words sink in and you can feel yourself react to his words alone. He doesn't even have to touch you to get you going.

But you were caught off-guard and your hand moved slightly in your haste to move away from his voice against your ear. This caused your thumb, which was on the thumbstick, to move slightly and cause your Kart to spin out and into space. Since Chris was already gaining on you, this gave him the perfect opportunity to throw a final red shell as you were brought back up from your fall. The red shell hit you as Chris zoomed past, along with two NPCs, leaving you to finish in fourth place. Chris crosses the finish line with the smuggest smirk on his face.

You sit there, jaw slightly agape as the reality set in on what was going to go down. You whip your head and glare at him. His response was to look at you and raise his arms, stretching and leaning back a little. Like what he did wasn't a big deal. To say you were mad was an understatement. You were fuming. "Christopher! You asshole!" you practically scream. He justs grins and looks at you, thinking about how cute you were when you mad.

"How so, amor?" He practically purred as he suddenly pushed you down into the mattress, placing both arms on either side of your head and straddling your hips. Your glare intensifies.

"Don't play dumb! You know exactly what you did!" You growl out and he leans down, his light stubble tickling your neck.

"The only rule we had was that we use the random select. Nothing was agreed upon how we could win. And you pulled the same move on me in the first race, so now we're even." If looks could kill, Christopher would be dead where he stands. But, he did have a point; you both agreed that using random select was the only rule. And you know that. It's just your competitive side gets the better of you sometimes and with the offer, he had made with you, how could you not be mad? No wonder he had looked so enlightened when he brought up the idea. He had this planned from the start, the cheeky motherfucker.

You just groan in annoyance and throw your head back. A shiver runs down your spine as he begins to place kisses along your neck, hips slowly grinding into yours. He finds your sweet spot on your neck and sucks harshly, leaving a dark mark. He makes his way to your ear and his voice tickles your ear once more, "I'm hungry, cariño." He leans in and tugs on your lobe with his teeth. You moan and bring a hand up to his soft hair, gently tugging.

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do then?" You reply, bucking your hips. His response is a low groan as he slowly makes his way down your body and stopping at the top of your shorts. Your breathing gets heavier as you feel your shirt slide up a little and his long fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts and pulling them down.

His hot breath fans over your clothed heat where he notices a wet spot forming. He looks up at you between your thighs, smirking. "How wet are you right now, cariño?" He asks, running a finger lightly over your panties. You already know he knows how wet you are. He just wants you to stroke his ego. You decide to keep your mouth shut for the time being. You were still a little upset at how he won the bet, even if it was technically within his right. When you remain silent, he raises a brow.

"Nena," he hardens his tone, "I asked you a question." You only huff and turn your head to the side, not looking at him. You don't notice his hard glare as he suddenly lands a slap on your ass. You yelp at the sudden sting and look down at him. "Good, now that I have your attention, I'm going to lay down some rules. You are not allowed to touch me. You are not allowed to cum without my permission. And when I ask you something, I expect an answer. Got it?"

You remain silent. He narrows his eyes as he lands another slap, this time you felt the sting for a few seconds more than the last one. "What are my rules?"

You reply with a sarcastic tone, "I can't touch you, I can't cum without permission, and to answer you when you ask me something. There, happy? Now hurry up." He raises a brow at your behavior. He wasn't expecting you to be such a brat. Guess he'll just have to teach you some manners. He is quick to rip your panties, to which you make a small noise of protest because those were one of your favorites. He ignores you and begins to assault your aching core with his tongue. He is also quick to use his fingers, making sure to brush your sweet spot.

He's done this so many times with you, he knows all the spots to hit. It isn't long before your on the edge. You suddenly grab his hair. You're so close to your orgasm, all you need is for him to -

"Did you think I'd let you cum so easily?" He pulls away from your core. He had a mocking tone to his voice. You look down at him, panting and eyes narrowed.

"What the fuck, Chris!?" You hiss.

"You've already broken two of my rules, nena. You'll be lucky if you cum at all tonight." You huff and throw your head back. "If you break one more rule, I'll take of myself tonight and I will leave you here throbbing and begging. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes sir..."

"Good girl." He lowers his face back to your core and begins to tease you. When he finally pulls away, you were dripping and your face was flushed. He had brought you to the edge at least twice before pulling away and letting you calm down. It only made the throbbing in your core worst. If he kept up this pace, you would cum with or without his permission. "Do you want to cum, nena?" He rubs his hands on your thighs. You nod and look at him with wide eyes.

"Please, papi, I need to cum so bad..."

"I know you do. But do you deserve to?"

You whine and reply, "No."

You weren't expecting him to suddenly thrust his fingers into your soaked core again and start a fast pace, his fingers rubbing against your sweet spot. You moan and warn him that you were gonna cum. "Dale." He grunts. That's all it takes before your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. He doesn't stop the movement of his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. He buries his fingers inside you, moving his middle finger and rubbing your sweet spot, building a second orgasm that takes the rest of your energy.

You sink into the mattress as he removes his fingers and sucks them clean. You think you have a small break to collect yourself but when you feel Chris moving up and aligning his hard cock with your entrance, you whimper. "Chris..." He knows what you're about to do and he quickly silences you with a fiery kiss as he slides in. He knows you well enough that you didn't need a break.

Not giving you time to adjust, he begins thrusting, hitting spots that were deep inside you. You forget his rule about no touching and your hands find his forearms. He stops suddenly and pins your hands above your head. "What did I say about touching me?"

"I-I'm sorry papi, I forgo-" He stops you.

"You're very lucky that I'm already buried inside you. Otherwise, I would go take of myself." He growls against your ear, picking up his pace again. From your previous two orgasms, your third one came over you so fast, you barely had any time to react. Chris grunts above you at the sudden tightness but keeps up his pace. When he suddenly pulls out, you think that's it but when he tells you to turn over onto your stomach, you open your mouth to protest. He raises a brow and you shut your mouth, turning onto your hands and knees.

He wastes no time and pushes into you again, hitting deeper at this angle. His hands are on your hips and he drags you back with every thrust. But Chris isn't satisfied with this position. He pulls out and instead lies down next to you, pulling you on top of him. He swipes his tip against your sensitive core and you shudder. He slowly sinks you down on him, taking deep breaths as he bottoms out.

You're tired but Chris barks at you to move your hips and ride him. You brace yourself against him and gather what's left of your energy and begin to move your hips. It's a slow pace but Chris doesn't seem to be in a rush anymore. He grabs your breasts and pulls on your nipples, making sure to give both equal amounts of attention. You were already close, and so was Chris. You collapse forward as Chris begins to buck his hips, meeting you with every move of your hips.

"Cum for papi. One more time, nena. I know you can cum one more time." He whispers and you feel his hand drift down and rub your clit. Your fourth orgasm washes over you and you moan weakly into Chris' as he buries himself inside you. You both collapse and you roll off of his chest. "Fuck nena," he breaths out. He turns to face you. "Are you okay?" He gently rubs your shoulder. You nod and close your eyes, tired as hell. He pulls you close to his chest and follows you into dreamland.

~~~~~~~

Taglist: @cracraforfandoms @kmsmedine @papichriscnco

[southsideshitheads]

#18 - Full Metal 3rd Grader

June 9th, 2006. A day long remembered. We didn’t lose a single soldier that day.

It was my birthday. The squad was assembled in my garage Ben, Joe, Emilio and John. We had a few new recruits that day. 

-Matt Dodge, 12, kid from the middle school, cocky Smash Bros. player, 

-Jordan, 11, my neighbor from the cul-de-sac, good athlete, Lutheran School. 

-Luke, 11, friend from church, good heart, Public School in New Lennox

-Nathan, 8, Luke’s brother, runt of the litter, Elementary School in New Lennox.

Needless to say, we were soldiers from all walks of life.

A Smash Bros. Melee tournament was a bad idea that day to keep the recruits occupied because Matt was cockier than a motherfucker. He loved to tell anyone he was fighting he was “only using 30%” of his tactics on them. A good way to psyche people out, but a bad way to make friends. One by one he knocked out the competition until it was just him and Emilio and a bunch of us losers in my driveway. We were bored. Awaiting a mission. From anyone.

I don’t remember who brought it up, but it was probably me. To save me and John a little dignity from the school year, we had the mission to march a few blocks into enemy territory - Egle’s house.  

Objective: Ding Dong Ditch her house. 

Noble.

So we headed off leaving Emilio to hold down the fort. He didn’t know we left.

It’s pretty impressive how easily you can rally troops to raise terror. I mean Jordan, Luke, and Nathan had never seen this girl, but when in Rome - ring the Sistine Chapel’s doorbell and run away.

We arrived at her house at 0200 hours. But we didn’t want to attraction any attention and give away our position, so the 7 of us migrated across the street from her house. Muuuuuuch less noticeable. 

We marked the house for our newcomers, and we did reconnaissance for anyone in the house keeping watch. All clear. We scouted out the playground one more block over and rendezvoused there.

“Alright,” Ben said. “What’s the plan?”

“We start across the street from her house,” I said. “One of us will ring the doorbell while the rest of us watch, and then once it’s rung, we’ll run over to the playground like we weren’t even there.”

We all thought that was a good plan. The 6 of us watching watching a lone man walk past enemy lines to accomplish the mission. Great plan. Award-winning. 

So we returned to Point A across the street, just staring at the house.

“So who’s going in?” Joe said. “How about Lewis?” John said.

“Me?” I asked. “You liked her too?”

“Hell if I’m not going,” John said.

“How about you Jordan?” I said.

“What?” Jordan said. “I don’t know even go to her school.”

It seems we hadn’t buffed out all the flaws in this plan yet.

And then in that moment, I saw little 8 year-old Nathan walking across the street to her house. I couldn’t bare to see Luke lose his brother.

“Nathan,” I said. “Come back here. I don’t want you to get in trouble for it.” “Me and Luke don’t even live around here,” Nathan said. “Nothing can happen to us.”

Damn. The fucking 8 year-old had his shit more straight than us veterans. So we let him go.

He walked around their bushes to their porch. He stepped up to the door.

Just then I heard John whisper to Joe:

“Top right window.”

And I looked.

And there was Egle looking out from her bedroom window at us.

“NATHAN!! GET OUT OF THERE!” I shouted.

He turned around bewildered and saw all of us booking it, not towards the playground mind you, but back to my house. He shot off her porch and joined us.

We didn’t stop running until we reached my driveway. I counted. All the recruits were present and accounted for.

We caught our breath and laughed it all off.

“Where the fuck were you?” Emilio asked putting down the controller and walking away from Matt. “Oh,” I said. “We decided to ding dong ditch Egle’s house.”

“You just left me with this cocky little shit?” Emilio pulled me off to the side.  I can’t take anymore of his ‘I’m about to use 40% of my energy on you.’ If you guys hadn’t come back, I was about to shove 100% of my foot in his ass!”

Spoken like a true soldier. 

Wisdom of Ignorance:

1. To all the ladies -  most men’s romantic ideas tend to peak at age 12. Riding bikes past your house and Ding Dong Ditching are the best ideas we’ve had. 

2. Never leave a man behind. Unless he’s a cocky little shit.

3. Never let anyone look down on you because you are young. Youth is what often changes the world.