#comrade shark

[lillybean730]

i barely got to enjoy the aquarium yesterday bc i forgot it was spring break 😔 people fucking everywhere yelling and upsetting the animals

[sushirrrry]

EXECUTIVE a harry styles one-shot smut blurb; 19.3k words cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dom/sub, breath play, dirty talk.

"If they want the fucking numbers, they've got to stop being pussies and give us the fucking reins. I'm not sitting around and waiting for their stock to crash and for their stupid, fucking minions to come back on me to tell me what I already knew and told them from the start—I'm not painted out to be the biggest fucking moron, that's for certain. It's either a deal or it isn't, plain and simple. If they don't want to have that fucking conversation, it's done. Fuck them and their stupid fucking counteroffer. It's a fucking slap in the face, and I'm not even entertaining the idea."

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear, clicking on End Call before he threw his phone over and onto the wooden desk that sat perpendicular to the vicious New York skyline. His heart raced as he shook his head.

An adrenaline junkie like him fed off of the conversations like these.

His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his eyes navigated towards the contractual wreckage of paperwork that had seemed to be forgone on his desk as he pushed some of it to the side. His elbows leaned on the desk; his hands tied together as he rested his lips again them in a precocious thought.

Running the company came with a sharp tongue and a knack for knowing when it was time to push back. Harry was a mogul in all of the sense of the word—his company had grown to a gargantuan size, which allowed his position within the business to skyrocket to a level that was so without fail that he couldn't believe it sometimes.

His mouth got the better of him; in some ways, it created the effervescence of attack. It was all that he could do to keep himself from picking the phone back up and telling them to shove it all back up their ass—he refrained for the time being, until he was pushed again.

But no one usually poked the bear unless they truly believed they had a chance in slaughtering them. Mr. Styles was far too confident in his work and his business to ever let that happen.

The bear's claws reacted too quickly for the barrel of the rifle to even face him.

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Styles?"

His eyes raised to the door that he hadn't seen opening before his lips parted just a bit to answer the woman questioning him. She wore a black skirt with tall, black boots that suited the length of her legs. Her top arranged in a bit of a messy manor, but it was almost as if she had styled it that way to add a bit of flare.

Her blazer hung a bit low—practically to the mid-length of the skirt that rode up her thighs, but he wouldn't have been caught dead staring. In public, anyway.

His eyes made their assessment of her quickly before returning to her naturally, raspberry lips that took up much of her lower face. The natural length of her smile was perfectly proportioned, not that he had spent much time thinking of it, of course.

Felicity—his assistant. The one with eyes the color of the ocean that he would vacation on in the Maldives; the most piercing, stunning blue. The quiet one, a bit shy in her reservations, almost like she was the smallest fish in the ocean made entirely of sharks. Her reservations to others seemed to aid in bulldozing over her confidence, but to Harry, it was an enticing spectacle of fantasy.

A fantasy he'd promise to never share with even his closest comrades, if an NDA wasn't in place, that is.

The dark brown locks settled against her back in heaps of loose, voluminous curls as she held tightly to the phone behind her fingers.

"Am I interrupting?" She asked, her question a bit hesitant as she didn't seem to move any further forward into the large space of his office.

"No—no, you're not," He told her, "Come in, Felicity, I need to use your brain for a moment."

"My brain?" She asked him, cocking her head a bit.

That was the thing about Felicity that almost made him foam at the mouth– her way of innocence and contemplation that allowed him to see his viewpoints from her standpoint.

Harry's company was outsourcing most of the global news which meant that he oversaw several departments within. His leadership was only as good as the recommendations and guidance that Felicity was able to provide him; her devil's advocacy, her interpretation of empathy, and being able to see how interactions happened without Harry present versus the other sense.

Felicity was a practical need in his company for various reasons, not one to just make his blood boil and frantically move around his veins every time he caught a whiff of the coconut lime scent that his mind had become familiar with.

She was a calmness to him in many ways, so her presence now settled his heartbeat from the previous conversation.

"That deal we're making this afternoon, I just got off the phone with Sadler and they're folding– they're becoming weak. And it's pissing my off. They're coming to me to help solve their issues, because they know I can do it. They're , but they know we'll do it. Which pisses me off because it makes us look weak if we just say yes."

Felicity blinked a few times as she watched Harry's reaction, her legs crossed at the feeling before she held her hands in front of her and nodded.

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth before he shook his head, a few of loose curls settled on his forehead as he pushed them back and Felicity wished that he hadn't.

"I think you're going to push them to do it without the counter," Felicity nodded. "From what I'm hearing, they're folding, and they can see that what we can provide is significant. Especially in terms of the election. We can do it– you can do it."

His eyes flew to her word change, noticing that her eyes had moved away from him. The subtle blush of pink ate away at her cheeks before Harry nodded in his own satisfaction.

"Enough about me," He shook his head, "What did you need, Felicity?"

Her eyes raised as it seemed she came back to conclusion about what she had been there for to begin with.

"Oh, I just talked with Nava at PLI and they wanted to express their gratitude towards you, because they said that you helped them with understanding the fundamentals of their offer and I thought it sounded like a for-sure deal– I just wanted you to know that Nava is a yes," She nodded and raised her brows again in remembrance, "Oh! And I'm also running to pick up some coffee and snacks before the board meeting. Flat white?"

Harry smirked at the praise from her, watching it leave her lips effortlessly. He nodded a few times at her question before he rose from his chair and grabbed the tie around his neck to loosen just a bit.

Harry grabbed the paperwork off of his desk before he moved towards the door and guided Felicity to follow. "Yes, please. A flat white with cinnamon, maybe a pump of caramel? What do you think?"

The words were like a question as Felicity walked next to him through the natural, brightly lit office. Her fingers tapped away at the device before she noticed the slight edge of the spicy cologne that wafted from his demeanor as he turned his head toward her.

"I'm not a huge fan of caramel," She stated a bit hesitantly as they stopped in front of one of the offices where Harry was about to go into a meeting.

He looked at Felicity as they stopped, his eyes moving up and down as he went from her lips to her eyes as if involved in a game of ping-pong.

"What do you like, then?" His words were soft, fluid.

Felicity swallowed as she shook her head a few times and nibbled on her lip. She hummed for a moment, "Um, I prefer vanilla."

The corner of Harry's lip moved upwards. "Make it a hot flat white with an extra shot of espresso, cinnamon, and a pump of vanilla, please."

Felicity wrote it down in her notes, but her fingers almost shook with adrenaline as she felt his gaze linger on her without her noticing before she nodded. "Great. I'll– uh, I'll leave now so I can be back in time to make sure you have what you need."

Her feet started to move away before she heard the booming sensation of her name. The way that her eyes fluttered back at him made Harry almost take a step backward.

"Uh," He felt speechless at the sudden look of her, "Please get whatever you need, too." He felt the professionalism start to creep its way back in. "Can't have you falling asleep on the job, you have notes to write."

Felicity bit the inside of her cheek before she nodded. "Yes, sir."

With that, Felicity turned her back and started to head down towards the elevators. Harry turned to make his way into the boardroom where he saw the table sitting and waiting for his arrival.

The hush that fell over the crowd made him shutter every time– the power he held echoed through his conscious at every moment it could.

He only smirked as he sat at the head of the table, pulling himself to sit up and lean on the table before he looked up to see the many eyes staring back at him.

"Shall we get to work then?"

__________________

"This coffee is fucking cold."

One of the board members pushed it away after taking a small sip, as Felicity had just sat it down in front of him.

It was an older gentleman– Hank– who had worked with the Styles family for many years and been able to help SCO with their major launches with other shareholders. His entitlement was present in the room, which pressed on her ego just a bit. Her head turned towards him as she shook hers.

A woman at the end of the time made a face as she looked at the side of the cup, "Ordered a fucking latte—they even messed it up and it's cold. The coffee shop is just down the block."

Felicity tucked some hair behind her ears as she shook her head in a bit of disbelief as she tried to find the receipt that the coffeehouse had given her. There wasn't any way that they gave her the wrong order, but she didn't know if there may have been a mix-up in who she gave the coffees to.

"T-That's impossible—I just order—" But she was cut off by the man who licked over his lips and held his hand up to stop her words from even echoing in the room at all.

"Just go get some hot coffee, would you?"

Felicity's eyes blazed around the room as she noticed that the others had practically ignored her efforts of the two full cardboard contents of coffee cups that she had practically run the streets of New York to pick up. Not only were they not even acknowledging her, but they were condescending in her efforts. Yes, she was an assistant—she wasn't their assistant. It wasn't her fault that she was one person, but she knew that she had to try harder to make the best impression that she could.

"Everyone just shut the fuck up and drink your coffees, would you? Our deadline is in six fucking hours. If you can't handle a little lukewarm coffee, get the fuck out of my office. I pay too much of your goddamn salaries for you to cry like a fucking baby."

Harry's eyes moved to the nervous-looking girl who stood by the door, along the edge of the buffet that held the rest of the coffee, donuts, and bagels that had practically been falling out of her arms when she arrived.

He couldn't tell—it may have been the lighting, but her eyes looked glassy as she tried to stand with her shoulders back. Harry caught her attention before she threw herself back together and walked over towards him, leaning down to where he sat at the table.

"I can run to go get something else, I don't think it would take too long, you know. Or I could order it to be delivered?" Felicity asked, a bit cautious, he could tell. But her piercing blue eyes were practically a shade of gray as he looked at them through her thick, tortoiseshell glasses that complimented the brightness of her eyes.

His eyes fell to the way that the chapstick she always applied gave her lips the most subtle peony color—so pink, but so natural. He thought that may be a better place for his eyes to land instead of directly into her eyes, but then he panicked for a moment and turned them back to her eyes.

"That's not necessary." Harry shook his head, answering for the individuals in the room. Even if they pushed their coffee aside, Harry would have never blamed it on Felicity for any failure—it wasn't her fault. He took a sip of his own; to his dismay, it was a bit cold, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

The stature of Felicity at the door made him take in a deep breath before he caught her attention, asking her to come towards him with just a look before she was practically on top of him. Her willingness to do as he said gave him a feeling of endorphins that were unlike any he had before.

Harry looked up at her from his seat, licking over his lips softly.

"Please make a reservation for two at The Malbec tonight at nine—whether or not these jackasses are going to be done working, I sure am, and I'm going to celebrate it. Add that I would like the executive seating and the Pauillac on the table, not chilled."

She nodded a few times at his requests, adding it into her notes on her phone before she looked back at him cautiously.

"Should I be arranging a car to pick someone up for you?" She asked. Her teeth scraping against her bottom lip as she waited for his response.

Harry shook his head back at her before filing through a few papers, "Not necessary today. Just make sure that you're not off the clock yet," He nods, "In case something doesn't go as planned."

Felicity nodded at the feeling of his eyes on hers before he turned to face the table before him.

"Someone get John on the phone," Harry ordered, his eyes going towards, "Hank. I want their numbers for the day and the plan for the fiscal year. I want to hear it from their lips, the spreadsheets don't mean shit if they're just going to lie to my face. Mary, contact PLI to get their rates."

Felicity had started to make her way towards the door, back towards her desk that sat in the main office towards Harry's own private one, before Harry called her back, "Felicity, sit in this meeting, will you? Grab your computer."

Her eyes narrowed at him in a bit of confusion before he stood up and grabbed a chair from the side of the room and pulled it to the spot next to where he was, at the head of the table.

Felicity did as he wished, leaving to grab her laptop and notebook essentials that she used to keep track of his days, his weeks. When she arrived back, she could feel a few eyes on her as they talked through the deal with John. The silence in the room as he spoke over the speaker was deafening before she sat down at the spot next to Harry.

His focus on the conversation made her attention turn towards him.

Working at SCO was one of Felicity's highest honors—she felt that her confidence was gained just by being in the room with some of these people. But, at the same time, she wondered at what point this would all get to her. She wasn't like this—she didn't have the same cutthroat mindset of tearing another down to get herself to another place.

In some respects, that's what was the balance between what Harry was and what he knew that he needed. He needed someone like Felicity to sit next to him—a calming sensation that he didn't ever notice until he would garner a sniff of the coconut shampoo that drifted from her silky chestnut hair.

It was sickening at times—the way he felt about her. When he was sitting next to her now, he watched as she let her fingers grace over the laptop keys, focused in on whatever task she was working on. His eyes moved away when he watched as her teeth loosened on her lower lip, letting the plumpness of it a drawback to a straightened line of her mouth.

He shifted in his seat as he felt himself get a sensation of pressure below the belt.

When he spoke, it was with a confidence that she couldn't seem to place. It was as if he could break and make with just words alone, a skill that he had to have been born with.

As they discussed the offers more in-depth, Felicity found herself distracted from her own work as she let her eyes gently maneuver back to where Harry sat at the end of the table. Her fingers practically stopped typing as she listened to the conversation and watched as his brain work in overtime.

It wasn't just impressive; it was extraordinary.

The narrowing of his brows, the calculated glance at the table as if he could cut through it with just his sight, the determined clench of his jaw.

"Don't fucking low-ball this," Harry practically snarled as he tapped the point of his pen to his notepad. "I know what's best for this company and we don't want people who underestimate the work and quality of our services. Globally, we're ahead of the entire market– we beat out every major network in significance. If you truly want to hand us a shitty number like that, you'll fucking fall. Your company will fail, and we will continue to sit right at the top as you lick the dirt off our shoes. It's not a competition; we've already won. So, do you want to win with us? That's the question here."

There's a slow chuckle on the phone, a bit of silence, too. Felicity looks up from her laptop to watch as a few members whisper to one another before hearing John on the other end.

"Listen, it's– we understand this. SCO is globally leading, but this is an election year– how are we supposed to gain traction when the news sources from SCO are against the current climate? We just don't see the same vision right now and we need to make sure our values are aligning– SCO may not be leading once the election happens."

Harry's eyes don't dim– Felicity watches as he turns different, his focus staying on the notepad under his fingers as he takes a beat before he stares at the phone in the middle of the table.

Her leg crosses under the table, gently caressing his unbeknownst to her. His eyes falter for once, as she retracts her position when she watches him crack for the first time. She noticed that he faltered but only a small huff of his breath before she bit her lip.

"We're a multi-billion-dollar company that focuses on the current political climate at hand since we completely understand the market, unlike someone who needs to be bought out to ensure that they don't sink. If you're just sitting in the open water, we will look the other way when a shark comes by," Harry shrugs, "I don't quite understand your vision of understanding moral compasses when you're sitting on significant lawsuits and company fouls that don't seem to benefit you right now or the lying, cheating words that come from your mouth."

Felicity's eyes flew up from her place at the table, watching as she saw everyone else's down. It was an unmistakable feeling of vigor that suddenly oozed from the place of Harry's seat. His demeanor was powerful, it was penetrable.

The quietness over the phone doesn't seem to faze anyone else, but Harry's eyebrow arches at the seconds that go by before he pops his tongue into the side of his mouth with a cheeky grin that was questioning on mad.

"Looks like they just got eaten by that fucking shark, huh." He says quietly before leaning over to press onto the conference room phone. He ended the call before he watched the room continue in silence.

Another woman, Laura, sitting at one of the sides spoke up as she held her phone in her hands.

"It looks like they're countering again." It was a bit quiet, almost like she didn't want the entire room to hear as she read on her phone before looking up at Harry, who held the emotion of a bear.

"Tell them they can choke on their own spit." He bites before Felicity cleared her throat.

His eyes immediately softened at the way that she interrupted, mostly because he was a bit confused by it.

"Mr. Styles," She pipped, "I—I, um, if I may." She chews on her lip a bit before she takes in a breath. "It sounds like they're needing a bit more leverage. Maybe a bit more face-to-face interaction that will cut and garner the deal. You're going to need more than John's input; he needs more intel from other aspects to understand what their losses look like."

Harry's eyes simply rest on Felicity as he leans back in the office chair, his legs crossed—a pursed pout on his lips as he nods at her words. A trickle of egotistical pride lies beneath his chest as he stares at her for a moment.

"Set the scene for me." He tells her, before watching Felicity take a deep breath. He watches her chest fall and rise and something about it sets him into high gear.

"Your family started this from scratch—this company is bigger than just the cash flow, and it's completely understood that it's worth billions, but they need to understand that there's a larger purpose for the work that they've put into it. They're not on the same business level that SCO is—it's apparent by the way that they throw around their value system. Meet with John outside of the office setting, get him where he can be able to see that you're serious without the psychological barrier of the phone—"

"That's fucking bullshit." Felicity hears from down the table, another man making a comment about her complete train of thought that. "You really think business is about emotion?"

Harry narrowed his brows, Felicity a bit surprised but not completely. Her head turning back towards her computer.

"You need to be thinking internally for what's best for us, not babying them to give us what we want. You know they're going to fall right into our hands, we don't need to get soft on them." Mary, a woman that Felicity generously thought would at least have an understanding of her interests, seemed to shame her more.

Harry pursed out his lips as he stares at the notepad in front of him. He pushed his hands against the table to rise from his seat before he's raised, watching silently as he eyes Felicity quickly before he starts to make his way out of the room. Before he does so, he turns his back and holds onto the door before he looks at Felicity directly.

"Felicity, please meet me in my office."

She swallows down the lump in her throat; cursing herself for even making a peep. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Instead, she closed the laptop before she grabs the few belongings and makes her way out of the door.

Harry is steps ahead of her, not looking back, as they make their way to the office that sits in the north side of the larger office space.

When he walks in, he makes his way to his desk before leaning on it. Felicity walks in behind him, hesitating before

Harry notices that she hasn't fully made her way in yet.

"Come in," He tells her, "Take a seat."

Her words practically spilling out of her as soon as they reached the threshold of the door; there was nothing that she could say now that would make him keep her there, but she wanted to at least try.

"I-I know I overstepped my boundaries– I promise, I really do, I promise I will never do that again," She's holding the laptop against her chest, practically begging, "This is extremely unprofessional, but you need to know that I need this–"

"Do you know why you're still here, Felicity?" He asks, "Why you're still at SCO?"

His interrupted words make hers fall short as she stands at the door still. His arms are holding himself practically against the desk as he leans back against it.

Tears threaten her eyes as she tries to think of what she needs to pack from her desk quickly. This feels entirely too personal– he's firing her on the spot.

She shakes her head as she doesn't want to come up with an answer. Harry squints his eyes a bit as he notices the emotion that starts to creep on her face. All the sudden, he feels bad for what he's doing to her.

It feels a bit forward, maybe a bit out of his place. But he needs her to know exactly how he feels about her, and why the last assistants never stuck around.

He needs her to know that's she's different.

"It's because you're fucking smart," He tells her, "What you have, they lack. You have this– well, for lack of a better word, you're emotional. You can see beyond the bullshit and really down to the person." He points towards the area of the conference room that they just left.

"I'm not here to baby your ass or carry you through this job– you don't need this fucking job. You have so much more about you than being an assistant, okay? So, don't take what some fuckers in that office say about you and your ideas as gospel. They aren't getting it done, either– as you can see."

Felicity's demeanor loosens at his words; her knuckles along the laptop at her chest starts to loosen as she breathes in just a bit.

"I'm sorry–"

"Stop apologizing." He orders, "When you do that, all you're doing is making them right about you. They aren't."

There's a silence between them for a moment before Felicity nods a few times and bites at her lip. "You're right."

"Most of the time." He tells her, a smirk has replaced the seriousness of their conversation. "That's why I have this big office and a 300ft. yacht and they don't."

She follows with her own small, sided smirk, watching as he goes to move from his position.

"That sounded very cocky, I'm sorry." He laughed a little bit, lowering his head as he felt a bubble of laughter. Felicity followed behind, laughing a bit as she bit on her lower lip.

The tension had been cut; this overwhelming feeling of comfort had started to come across her, specifically when Harry looked back up at her and she could see the shining level of his green eyes and the deepening dimples crossing his face.

It wasn't an emotion she saw very often; it looked impossibly lovely on him.

"Stop saying sorry, remember?" She reminded him, a sheepish smile laying on her lips.

Harry moved his fists into his pockets as he started to walk a bit towards her.

It was then that Felicity recognized that his pure power and force was enough to knock her down to her knees. The way that he stood up, his suit tailored perfectly around his small hips and shoulders, she couldn't understand the feeling that had come over her suddenly.

Harry approached her, they were standing eye to eye as he searched between them both. He had been searching for something, surely, by the way his eyes moved between her own.

Felicity tipped her chin up a little bit; it was slight enough that they both noticed, but a sudden embarrassment crossed her thought at the way she had possibly invited a completely inappropriate behavior.

"Let's get back in there, yeah?" She clears her throat as she turned her head and body, moving back out towards the conference room.

Harry's fists tightened next to him at the way she moved away, and he couldn't help but shutter at what could have possibly happened moments ago.

He lowered his head before he shook it a few times, "Yes, of course," He confirmed, nodding at her, "I'll follow you back, I'm just going to," He felt himself getting hot which made him feel vulnerable to her stares. "I'll be in there in a moment."

Felicity turned, her hair falling over her shoulders before she nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

Before she was able to move out of the room, Harry caught her attention once again before he narrowed his eyes to her. "Can I—that reservation I asked you to schedule. Please move it to Friday night. Something's come up, actually."

Felicity made a motion to speak, but she didn't end up with any words. Instead, just nodding a few times, her eyes smiling back at him as she agreed to his request. "Sure, no problem."

Her smile had vanished from his view as she turned to walk back to the conference room.

When she noticed that she was out of sight, his eyes had widened just at the breath that he had been holding in. It didn't matter how big or important a meeting could be, Harry never got nervous. He was never worried about anything—he knew what he was getting himself into, and nothing scared him. There wasn't a reason to be.

Standing in front of Felicity was a feeling he had never imagined would give him a doubt; he never felt like he would be pushed away or turned away, and the feeling of dismissal was encapsulating, to say the least.

He pushed his hand into his hair as he went to sit in the chair that was pushed in behind his desk, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shook his head.

Never in a million years did he think that he would feel such a way—never like this.

"Let's get back to work, then."

_______________

It had been a few days since the encounter in his office. Harry had noticed that even the next morning, Felicity seemed to be in much better spirits. Her head was held high; her shoulders were sitting back, like she was prepared to keep her chin up for the day.

He could catch glimpses from his office, watching as she typed away or smiled down at her phone. A piece of him felt only the slightest bit of—he didn't know the feeling very well—jealous. He wanted to know more, wanted to understand what she could have been smiling at.

He knew that his job had been done a few days ago as he watched her spirits rise just at his words. Something about that feeling was missing now—he didn't understand what it was, but his ego may have been getting in the way just a bit.

Harry sat his pen down that he had been using to write out some tasks before he grabbed the pad of paper and started to make his way out of his office. The small desk that sat outside of his was taken by Felicity; a few photos and memorabilia sat to give her space a bit of light and personalization.

It didn't mimic Harry's own office very well, as his was kept more straightforward and narrower. There wasn't any photos or personalized mementos—just plain, really. But the photo of Felicity and another man caught his eye, something he had never really seen before. Something he never felt that he would have had to pay attention to, that is.

"That your boyfriend?" He felt himself saying, but an ultimate feeling of embarrassment rose as he watched Felicity look up at him quickly. It was clear that she hadn't really noticed him sneak up on her, and her hands flew to the phone on the desk before closing the screen promptly.

"Uh," She shook her head, "I—I mean, we've been talking a few months," She referenced to the phone before she looked back at Harry and noticed that there may have been a bit of miscommunication.

"Oh—uh, no, sorry," He shook his head, pointing to the photo that sat on her desk. "I was—that photo, I'd never seen that before."

Felicity turned her eyes towards the photo that sat on her desk in the black frame before letting out a breath of relief. "Oh! No, that's my brother." She laughed a little bit before she watched Harry reach out to grab the picture frame off her desk.

He studied it for a few seconds, letting his smile move up a bit before he sat it back down. "Yeah, you guys look alike. I just—it was new, so I didn't know."

Felicity bit on her lip before tucking her hair behind her ears, "No—yeah, I would make that assumption, too. It's fine, but yeah." She didn't know that he would notice that she set up the photo or not. She knew now that he paid attention; he had an attention to detail, it seemed.

The small moment gave Harry a bit of concern as he felt that there was some unresolved feeling between the two of them. He cleared his throat, holding the paper out before her as she piqued at the small task guide that Harry had been feverishly writing down.

"I have a few things that I need to get done today, if you don't mind." He had handed her the paper before her eyes ran over it a few times. "It's just a few little things, but I need to have a few suits dry-cleaned for our business summit on Monday in England—I'm flying out tomorrow morning on the jet, but we'll need to make sure that everything is taken care of for that. I believe you, myself, Laura, Hank, Daniel, and probably William will be there, so we'll need to make—"

"Excuse me, but," Felicity chuckled before shaking her head a few times. "Did you say me?"

Harry blinks a few times in confusion before he bites the inside of his cheek. Surely, she knew that she would be leaving in the morning– she had to have known that as his assistant, she would be most responsible for being on the trip.

"Uh, well," Harry blinked, "Yes, I mean. of course. You're the most vital person for the trip, really."

Felicity bit into her lip before she turned towards her notes, her eyes flickering over them as she realized she wouldn't need to send him a detailed email of their agenda– she'd be there to tell him in person. So, all this work—it didn't matter now.

"Right– yeah, of course. I'm stupid for not putting that together." She shook her head as she took in a sigh, crossing out a few notes on her pad. She turned her attention back to him before she cleared her throat. "What time should I be at the airport tomorrow, then?"

Harry bit his lip, shrugging as he felt the smile crossing his lips, "I don't know—you tell me. You're my assistant."

Felicity blinked at him a few times before laughing out a little bit, letting her head rest in her hands as she felt a bit ridiculous for feeling so caught off guard. "Right—right. I—yeah."

In the back of his head, there was a delicate feeling of intrigue that bit at the back of him. He squinted his eyes a bit as he settled against the edge of her desk. As he crossed his arms over his chest, he narrowed his attention down to Felicity until she looked up at him and felt the wandering look. All Felicity knew is that she didn't want to look at the way that his forearms protruded against the fabric of his pressed white button-down.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her, the smile on his lips tug briefly before he was letting it fully on display. "You seem a bit... caught up."

She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she looked at her computer screen. "I'm fine—yeah. I'm just—I was a bit caught up, I guess," She chewed on her lip as she realized that getting personal was just that. It was personal. She didn't want to bore him or let know too far in. Their relationship was strictly business; it seemed that she endeared him though.

Her eyes traveled back to him when he didn't seem to leave her alone and she noticed that she'd had another message.

"I'm just... the guy I've been seeing, well, on and off—he just asked me to dinner and he's picking me up from here tonight around five. We haven't seen each other in a while, he's a bit..." She bites her lip again as she tried to find the right word, "I don't hear from him often. But when we're together, everything is fine. So, I guess I just got a bit overwhelmed with it."

Harry pinches the inside of his bicep when she speaks, his smile fading just a bit. He didn't want her to notice that, though. He didn't know why, but it left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had been excited for someone who was making her wait. Instead, he shifted a bit on the desk as he cleared his own throat before speaking.

"That's—that's great," He tells her, watching as she smiles at his appreciation and acceptance, "Where is he taking you?"

"We're just going to this place off from fifth avenue, some place he said is nice. We're really just meeting for a beer or something." Felicity's eyes light up at the realization before she turns to face him a bit head on now, her chair swiveling around before she crosses her legs and faces him. "What about you, though? That reservation I made for you tonight—who are you meeting with?"

Harry's lip parted as he remembered the reservation.

He remembered the reservation he had moved to tonight, simply so that he could flesh out a few details with Felicity over a dinner with just the two of them. Of course, he hadn't mentioned it to her. It was stupid of him to think that she wouldn't be busy on a Friday evening, of course. He had wanted to talk to her about the upcoming week; maybe get a little more out of her if everything was off the record at a dinner that wasn't going on the company credit card, but his own personal dollar.

Harry shakes his head a bit before he scratches at the back of his head, "Uh, right. I—I might need to cancel that. I don't think that's going to happen anymore."

Felicity watches his expression before she seems to mimic with a bit of somber. "Oh. Sorry. Tough subject?"

When he pushed himself from her desk, he placed his hands in his pockets before he hung his head a little bit. It hadn't occurred to him that the disappointment had been a bit stronger than anticipated-- and it wasn't just because he always got what he wanted.

"Hm, something like that," He tried to explain before he changed the subject to get it off his mind, "But yeah. So, dry-cleaning and all that can be finished before the morning, yeah? If you have any questions about any of that, I'll be in my office. Meeting at one and then I'm going to leave here around five."

Giving him a warm smile, Felicity nodded her head at him, watching as he turned to his office.

Her attention fell back to her phone; falling back to the smile and giddiness that had been so rudely interrupted by a different kind of feeling—one that she wasn't so sure she was supposed to enjoy, in that way, anyways.

_______________

The black Suburban pulled up against the curb; Harry's phone against his ear as he moved towards the vehicle in a fluid motion.

A driver had opened the door before he crawled in the back seat. The call on the other end had been a business call that he was supposed to listen in on; he wasn't going to speak, just listen to the meeting of what was said. He decided it had been enough and clicked it to end before he looked up and out of the window.

His head turned towards the door before he watched Felicity standing at the curb. She looked uncomfortable as she stood and had her eyes searching for whatever it was that she was looking for.

It was a little bit past six then; the rest of the day was filled with a meeting or two before he really started to get more work, letting his head get wrapped up in taking calls and finishing off emails before he would be away from the office for a bit.

This was how they left each other on most days; his car pulled up, and he usually drove away before he could notice if she caught another ride or if she headed towards the subway. Her eyes were searching— almost like she had been waiting for something or someone but didn't want to seem disappointed. Harry could feel it in his chest—he could feel the way that she stood with her arms crossed over her chest in a bit of distress.

It had occurred to him then that Felicity had mentioned that she was supposed to be picked up around five—a full hour ago.

The rain had started just a bit, enough that she quickly looked to the sky for a moment as if to curse it.

He watched as her phone fumbled in her hands. A discerned look on her face made him halt the driver before they could start pulling away. Harry watched her, the knowing look on his face as he rolled down the window to call out towards her.

"Felicity," He stated, opening the door before he stepped out. "Come on, get in."

Her eyes looked to him, practically mortified. Her head started to shake a bit before he moved out of the car just enough that she noticed his offer was serious and that he wasn't moving. The door was open now as he stood outside of it and held it open for her.

"Let's go– it's raining." He said, squinting a bit as the rain started coming down a bit more.

It seriously took Harry a moment before he realized that it may take a bit more for Felicity to listen to him; her contemplation didn't last long as the rain started to hit the cement loudly—her papers and bag held over her head as she made her way towards the open door of the large vehicle.

Felicity's heels clicked against the sidewalk as she hurried into the back of the van, crawling across to the other side and trying to keep her skirt down as she realized he would be coming right behind her.

There was a brief pause of silence when the door shut behind Harry.

Once they were situated in the backseat, Harry looked at her for a moment as she seemed a bit out of sorts. Her eyes were on her phone as she cleared her throat.

Her eyes were narrowed down as she searched through some texts, a bit all over the place it seemed. Harry knew Felicity better than this, and her nerves were starting to overwhelm her hand, almost like she was completely unsure of what was happening right now.

"Do you just—do you mind dropping me off at fifth ave—" She had started, but he was already shaking his head.

"He's not showing up, so no. Peter, drop us at The Malbec."

Her head turned towards him at the bluntness of his tone and the way that he resisted her need. The way that he answered her was unlike he had ever spoken to her; that caught her off guard the most.

Felicity flipped through her texts once again before she scoffed out, "Harry, I have a date tonight. I'll just get a car from there—"

"No, you won't." He told her, before situating himself in the back. The way that her hair had a bit of windswept to it, the length of her lashes, the complete blush of her cheeks—it was all enough for him to generally bust at the seams.

Seeing her like that was a wake-up call as he looked away and tried his best to be a gentleman.

"I'm off the clock, so my duties are relinquished for the night." She told him sharply, giving herself a bit more voice before Harry really glared at her this time. He had never heard her speak to him in such a way, but something about it gave him a mouthful to bite from.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, I'm your boss." He told her; his eyes seemingly turning a darker color the more she stared at him. It was enough for her to scoff and turn her head out of the window as they had started to drive up towards the restaurant that she refused to go to.

Harry spoke again, this time a bit softer. "It's just dinner. No work."

It takes a moment before Felicity leans into the window and lets her head rest against the glass. The feeling of the coolness takes over before she shuts her eyes for a moment. It doesn't feel like she wants to cry, but maybe there's a bit of emotion that she can't seem to let go of.

The disappointment aspect was never good to her; that was how this always worked. Something always disappointed her. There hadn't been a moment when she felt comfortable or safe—no, really, she just wandered around in this life with so much hope. So much hope and very little pride, now.

She lived for the hope of it all.

When they made their way to the restaurant, it had started to rain a little less. It was merely a sprinkle before Peter pulled off to the curb closest and the two of them were able to get out.

Felicity was instructed that she could leave her work items in the car, bringing only her purse as Harry followed behind her. When they walked into the restaurant, her eyes widened at how fancy it was—the dim lit lights were much brighter than the sky had been at this time of day, especially when the clouds rolled in.

The host was able to take them directly to their seats—the ones that Felicity had made the reservation for. It was an intimate seat; two chair and a small table that were seated close to the window, but enough away from everyone else.

The Paulliac was on the table as instructed; the host pulled the chair out for Felicity before she was able to take a seat. The only reason she would have ever been to a restaurant like this is for a work event. The host sat menus in front of them before giving them some space.

Harry pushed his sleeves up on his forearm; the littering of tattoos on him was endearing to Felicity's eye before she looked away at the attention she was drawing to them.

"Wine?" He asked her softly, taking the bottle from the table and holding it out in a means to offer her some. She had agreed, nodding a few times before looking at the menu and the items on it. Surely, she couldn't pronounce half of them before she looked up to see that Harry had been looking at her already and her cheeks grew rosier.

Felicity felt that there was a tenseness now, like she didn't have too much to say. She didn't want to say too much and bore him, she didn't want to not say a word and feel the awkwardness that seemed to linger as they sat longer.

"I mean, since we're here," Felicity grabbed the phone from her purse as she scrolled through it, pushing her hair out of her face to tame it a bit from the frizz that the rain caused, "So, just to recap some new additions to the calendar, you have a dental appointment next Monday, a meeting with PLI at 10—"

"You said you grew up in DC, didn't you?" Harry cuts her off, his question making her turn to look at him with a solid glance before she starts to nod a few times. It was a bit unwarranted, but she decided that she would settle into it.

Felicity doesn't know why his soft voice seems so foreign from the bitter sound of his usual bite.

"Y-Yes, yeah, I grew up in Northern Virginia, actually." She gives him a solid answer before she licks her lips. Her hand moves to grab the wine glass, taking a solid sip before she places it back into its spot on the white knit tablecloth.

Harry nods at her simple answer, not necessarily looking for anything else. His head was filled with the worked he had been processing through the week, and something about this felt... warranted. He wanted this to be normal; to feel like she could see him from a different perspective, maybe, without less fear in her eyes.

Something about her makes his blood boil with a derailment—it's almost like he can't seem to read her, which makes him angry and animalistic, almost. He doesn't know why but he feels a bit shy in her presence.

Her eyes read over the menu before she clicks her tongue, "Anything on here that you would recommend?"

"You have any food aversions?" He asks, pretending to look over the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order.

She shook her head, not really thinking of anything. She knew that there were foods she didn't particularly enjoy, but she knew that if something was going to be expensive, she would put that aside to at least try.

When the waiter came by, Harry took initiate to order for the table– the two of them. He ordered an entrée, three appetizers, and a spring salad. Felicity listened as he did so, knowing that he knew what he wanted and when he wanted it.

She couldn't relate to that; not these days, at least. She didn't know what she wanted, so she pretended not to think about it most days. Instead, she recognized that not putting the pressure on it made it feel like it was enough; she had to understand that she was okay to be a bit unsure at times.

The restaurant has a crowded chatter amongst the guests, but Harry can't help but pay attention to the silence of the table instead.

"So," He pulls at the tie around his neck just a bit as he leans towards her at the table. "I'm thinking of possible meeting with PLI, in person. Like you mentioned this week, at that meeting. Something about looking someone in the eye might be the best approach and making sure everything is clean."

His eyes lifted to meet hers, watching as she took another sip of the wine. Her eyes were placed now on her hands that laid in her lap.

"Thought this wasn't a work dinner." She mumbled out, but suddenly caught herself, "But yeah– yeah, I think that would be good."

Harry pressed his tongue into his cheek, tilting his head a little bit as he heard her questioned statement. His frustration at not being able to read her was posing a threat to his mood before he shrugged a little bit, "It doesn't have to be, but you are kind of quiet, and I feel like I made you uncomfortable in the car. Or something."

"I'm not uncomfortable," She lied, "I'm– I don't know. I'm just a bit thrown by the events of the evening, and I think men are kind of preposterous right now. Please don't take that personally, and really, no offense or anything."

Harry shrugged, his lips turning downwards as he contemplated the truth in her statement, "None taken. I may agree with you, but," He licked his lips, "Can we agree that women are sometimes a bit..."

As he hesitated for a moment, Felicity spoke instead. "I would suggest that you not finish that sentence, probably. It sounds like the beginning of an HR concern."

Harry lifts a brow in curiosity from her argument that seemingly pushed her a bit out of the boundaries, "You can speak, but I can't? Don't believe that's a fair view of how you think women should live in society, is it? You want fair treatment, so I'm going to be honest with you."

"I didn't limit you from speaking, I just suggested that you should not. You can definitely say whatever it is that you'd like to say to me, Mr. Styles." Felicity shook her head a bit, tucking her hair behind her ear. The way that she said his name always made him a bit woozy.

There was a moment when Harry wasn't completely sure that he didn't see the glimmer in her eye—that he didn't see a sparkle that may have been a fleeting moment, just a quick nod to him before it was gone forever, making him look mad for even thinking it in the first place.

"I will say it, then, if you're willing to listen," Harry told her, "I think that men and women aren't usually equal—nor should they be," He paused for a moment before he watched as her facial expression started to contour with a confusion so loud that he was certain the chefs in the back could hear. "I think that we live in a balancing act. For instance, the guy that you were looking to see—sure, he's probably an asshole, but you continued to want to see him. The pendulum works both ways. Maybe you shouldn't have wanted to meet up with him."

Felicity scoffed out a breath before she took a sip of the wine again—she could feel that there was a growing fuzziness that she wasn't able to keep up with. "Oh, you're giving me relationship advice now?"

The way that she bit when she had a bit of alcohol in her made Harry's eyes turn a darker shade of green that was unable to be noticed by the dimness of the restaurant that sat in. It was much more direct than she ever had been with him before; he wondered if this was how she was normally.

"I like to think I have your best interest in mind." He tells her with full honesty, feeling a bit bare with the truth laying flat on the table.

There is a moment that Felicity feels her heartstring tug, wondering if he meant it to hit her as specifically as it did. But she clears her throat when she watches the way that Harry refills the glass of red wi the out her asking for it, noticing that he fingers tremble when he grabs the bottle.

"I— I really do appreciate it, like, what you– I mean, you probably don't remember, but just this week with the whole coffee incident–"

Felicity is cut-off, by him, but she can see that the anger peculates off of him as he recalls the incident, "I hate that they think people are below them like that. It bothers the shit out of me," She can tell that the thought bothers him; his eyes narrow down as he takes a sip of his own wine, "Yes, it's your fucking job, but it's also not worth their time to be shitty to you for something you can't control. And you couldn't be nicer, grateful, kind—"

Harry's cut off by the food coming to the table. He shakes his head at the possible embarrassment he may encounter from the softness of rambling he had started to portray about some of her highest qualities.

The dinner that came out was exceptional— nothing less of what Felicity could have imagined. It was top-tier; the wine that was paired with it made her giggle a few times when Harry would go on rants about the way that he thought some of the companies ran. He would start the conversation with, 'off the record' and she would smile about how he could keep their conversations low.

It wasn't until she had told a soft-spoken jab about how she believed that he needed to stop hiring old, white men that she noticed that his dimples were parallel on either side of his face. They lit up his features, turning his eyes the color of a southern sky.

When they had finished, Harry took the check with ease and signed his name in capital letters, as if he wanted everyone to know that he had spent the amount of money at dinner that she spent in a month of rent.

Harry placed his hand on the small of her back as they maneuvered out to the car. The street was starting to become a bit crowded, especially at the door for the wait. Harry had texted his driver to make sure they could be picked up, which again, he made sure to open the door for her as they flew into the backseat.

Felicity told the driver where she needed to go; back to her apartment that sat on the upper West side of the city. It was close to Central Park; a few blocks away, she'd say.

There's a moment when Harry feels that he doesn't want the night to end. He surely doesn't want to watch her leave— that's for sure. The car ride is spent with him catching her glances as they watch the lights in the city pass by; the honking of the cars and the putter of rain starts to encapsulate the backseat.

"Is this good for drop off?" The driver asks, looking in the rearview mirror at Felicity before she nods, agreeing with a soft yes, and starts to collect her things. The items she had brought from work were still in their place.

Harry watched as she goes to speak, knowing that it was going to be a goodbye. He would surely see her in the morning, but he couldn't bare the idea of flying across the ocean, staring at her across the seat from himself, without any words left unspoken.

"Uh," He shifted a bit in the back of the car, Felicity could see that he was looking up towards the building that she called her own. "Do you actually mind if—uh, I really have to piss."

Her eyes widened a bit before she let her own lips widen into a smirk. "Oh— yeah, please."

It hadn't occurred to her until they were walking up the steps and into the building that she may have had some underwear on the floor and could potentially have a sink filled with dirty dishes— she couldn't quite remember.

But what she did know was that Harry was following in her steps as they climbed a few flights until they reached the third floor.

"Quite a workout, huh?" Harry puffed as they reached the front door to her specific apartment.

"Hm," She hummed, "Imagine having to move all of my furniture up here. I had to ask random men on the street to help me."

Felicity digs into her purse before she's able to find the keys to the front door.

"I don't want to be super nosy," He looked around the small vestibule that they were standing in while Felicity tried to find her keys—even though the purse she held was naturally quite small. "But is there any reason you live in a place that resembles a prison?"

Felicity chuckled out a laugh before she found the small keyring and tried to put it into the lock. Her hands were a bit unsteady—the wine was holding the buzz over her as she steadied her hands to unlock the small door.

"This is what livable looks like in New York," The door swung open; Felicity moved into the tiny apartment before placing her bag on the kitchen counter. "Maybe I need to have a discussion with my boss about a raise."

It wasn't the smallest apartment, but it was exactly what she needed. There was no storage space, but there was a separate room for each need—living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. She had a small working office in the corner by the balcony that she had been lucky enough to score from this specific unit.

Harry looked around the place, his eyes feasting on every detail. "That can probably be arranged if I can be certain that you won't get mugged getting into your front door."

He noticed how lived in it felt—the opposite of the cool, modern, high-end penthouse he would resort to later that evening. Everything was painted a different color of beige, keeping the lightness of the empty place very noticeable.

There were photos on the walls, painting and portraits, there were words that resembled some of her favorite music and books. It was colorful and there were plants that were seemingly a bit out of control.

"The bathroom is right there, by the way." Felicity pointed, before Harry turned towards the small room to his left.

"Thanks." He stated before he moved into it and shut the door behind him.

It was the same reaction he had to the living room and kitchen; his eyes narrowed in on the details of the shower curtain and the small bottles of serum that sat along her sink. The way that her toothbrush was bright pink, matching the towels that hung on the wall.

There were delicate parts of her that he was certain she wouldn't have told him about because she didn't think that it mattered. But in the long run, he liked the bits of color and the pieces of art that hung next to her sink.

It was a detail he hadn't really thought about of her before.

When he had come back, he stared at her position in front of the sink. Her sleeves were rolled up as she washed a few dishes that had been sitting there. Her heels has been removed, but the jacket and the short skirt still hung from her delicate frame as he watched the way that she focused on a task.

She noticed that he was looking at her now before she gave a small smile and felt that he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

"I would offer you something to drink—I mean, I would offer you anything, but I'm not really," She looked around the kitchen. "I have coffee and vodka. And not like," She scrunched her brows together as she looked in her fridge. "Not good vodka. You would look down on me if I served you this, kind of vodka."

Harry let his smile tilt up a bit as he meandered into the small space of the kitchen. If she was offering him anything—

"You really think I'm that much of a snob?" He smirked.

Felicity huffed a little bit as she turned her head towards him, "The wine we drank tonight was $600 a bottle."

He doesn't say anything for a moment before he tilts his head a bit and shrugs off the comment. He wonders if she thinks of him differently—not for being her boss, but for having a high taste. Possibly the earlier of the two, too.

"I grew up that way, I guess. It's hard to decipher what's normal." He tries to explain to her, which makes her look at him with a mockery of a face. Her eyes roll with a smile, and he gives her a look of disdain.

She goes to respond to him, but instead he moves his body practically over top of her back to grab the vodka that sits on the second shelf of the fridge. It's a bottle that cost Felicity about $12.75 just the other week, and it has a good amount still left in it. Harry holds the neck of it in his hands before he looks at it and sets it down on the counter.

"Lemons? Juice? Anything?" He asks; taking the liberty himself to look through one of the cabinets to try and find himself a glass. Felicity stays still for a moment before she's able to grasp the magnitude of the situation.

Her boss—Harry Styles, CEO, is standing in her kitchen and trying to make himself a cocktail with her $12.75 vodka that she had bought at the bodega just a few days prior. He's perusing through the cabinets—the few that she had—before he turns to her.

"Uh, I have a bar cart." She tells him solidly, before she moves her way into the living room where the car sat. Her head is feeling fuzzy, and she wonders if adding the vodka to it will make her completely lose all faith in herself. She has a feeling it will make her say something absolutely ridiculous, to him of all people.

Felicity grabs the shaker, two glasses, a lemon from one of the small bowls that she uses for décor but also for moments like this and makes her way to the kitchen where Harry has already taken the ice trays out. When he looks back up at her, he nods back to where she came from, her eyes following his gaze.

"Go sit on the couch, let me make you a drink." He tells her, "You had a long week."

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," She folds her hands together before he looks at her with a bit of a concerned look, "I don't know if I like the roles reversed like this."

He gives her a smug smile before he turns back to what he had been doing previously; now filling up the shaker with ice before he poured a few seconds worth of vodka into it.

"You think I'm a stuck-up prick," He tells her, "Let me show you that I'm not, will you?"

The statement that he left on his lips settled in the air between them; Felicity blew it away as she breathed outwards and just nodded in place. She suddenly became a bit meek before she made her way back to the sofa where she settled into the cloudy cushions, sitting with her legs underneath of her as she tried not to flash anything from her skirt. She heard Harry mixing the cocktails in the glass shaker, shortly before coming out with two glasses in his hands.

He hands over a glass that looks solemnly... clear. Maybe a bit too clear, but she felt satisfied to know that he was trying his best to make a spot in her world. She didn't have to climb to his level, he was trying to stay at hers.

"To..." He trailed off as he held his glass up to her. The small loveseat that they sat on felt incredibly intimate all the sudden.

"To... London?" Felicity stated, "To having to be up tomorrow at five, but continuing to drink even though we can get to London."

Harry laughed at her words before he clinked his glass against hers, "To London."

The way that his accent wrapped itself around certain words held her attention briefly before she was able to take a sip of the cocktail he prepared. Strong wasn't the word; overkill may have been more like it.

"Holy fuck," She coughed softly before she felt a sting in her eyes, "That's—please never go into bartending."

A subtle look of offense took over his face as he went to take a sip of his own before he widened his eyes at the flavor of it. "Oh, shit. Yeah, wow. That—that'll do some damage."

Felicity started to laugh at his own reaction before she sat the drink down on the coffee table and watched Harry do the same.

"So, to brief then," She stated, "I believe that it's still true that you're just a stuck-up snob who can't do anything on his own, including making a cocktail."

Harry stood up for a moment but took offense to her comment. He started to remove his jacket, which only intrigued her—it meant he was staying a while longer. "Hey, to my defense, your fridge is very, very sad. There was not much I could have done to make this better. If you're going to drink vodka, at least buy a decent brand."

Felicity tucked the hair behind her ear, "I'm here to make vodka Sprite's, okay? Not martinis," She leaned against the back of the sofa, "And there you go again with being the rich snob."

It was annoying to her that he had decided to roll up his sleeve, just enough on his forearm that she was able to see the tattoos that weren't seen very often. Seldom, really. In the office, she would notice that he would be focusing on something in his office, his sleeve rolled up a bit, but that was the extent of it.

It seemed there were many more up his arm than she had initially thought, but she knew that she would never see them all.

When he went to sit down, he went to move the throw pillow behind his arm, but as he did so, he noticed something black against the white couch cushion.

Immediately, his fingers flew to the item before he lifted the lace that held his attention quite mesmerizingly. Felicity gasped at the realization before she grabbed them from his hands, absolutely mortified didn't even cut it.

"I'm so embarrassed," She finally spoke, almost trying to blame the redness of her cheeks on the strong beverage he gave her. She knew that it was the inflammation of her dignity, not the vodka.

There wasn't a word spoken before she watched that his expression changed surprisingly. He took a long sip of the vodka drink before setting it back down.

But the smile that follows from the cocktail is all she needs to see before she can smile back.

"You continue to surprise me," His words were placed with a package of slurring vocab before he swallows back anything else he'd say out of pocket, "I'm going to be very honest that I didn't imagine you as— I mean, I never imagined you in lace."

"You say that like you imagined me in something else." The words that came from Felicity weren't her own—she didn't know why she said them, but his quick rebuttal shut her up completely.

"Silk, probably," He uses his finger to touch the rim of the rocks glass that he's holding, where the condensation made a drip over the dress pants that situation themselves over his thighs, so lucky. "Or—I mean, you could surprise me even more," He went quick after a moment.

Silence. Protruding silence that is viciously capturing them in this haze of only breath that either of them can hear. It's uninterrupted until Harry leans his head back and the creaking on the sofa fills Felicity's head, rather than the idea of what's to come.

She had felt it before; the warranted tension that Harry seemed to have over her. Maybe it was her fault for leaning into it, but sometimes, she just couldn't help it. The way that he found himself taken by her was just unspoken most of the time. She was surprised that he wouldn't have pulled anything at dinner, but she could fill in the blanks as she invited him up to her apartment.

It was inevitable, she thought.

She shouldn't have done that, but should not's were not what she was thinking about as she drowned herself in the alcoholic state of the sour vodka that wafted of lemon juice and baited words.

Instead, Felicity blinked a few times, watching as he stared at the ceiling. The blankness of the pure white ceiling seemed to keep him grounded before she watched his jaw tighten.

"You're full of surprises, a lot of mystery, you know?" Harry breathed out. The tie around his neck was getting tight, but he couldn't loosen it now—if he was being honest, it was adding to the pleasure of the moment. He wouldn't speak that out, but while the tightness caused a bit of discomfort, he thought of it in other instances. "I'm not sure I can keep up with it."

There was an unresolved tension in the words he spoke, maybe even a bit of slur in them before Felicity followed suit; her head resting practically next to his as she stared at the blank white ceiling that had very little to memorize or stare at.

"What fun is a mystery if it's solved?"

He wasn't sure if she saw—he wasn't sure if she saw the way that his eyes fluttered at the thought of uncovering every instance of mystery that she kept hidden away, in this small apartment. The air was starting to become lost on them, feeling like the oxygen was being pulled as he breathed. The shakiness of his breath was caught by her when she turned her head—she wished that she hadn't.

All she could process was the way that his eyes stared upwards, lips parted in an unsure manner before she watched his eyebrows knit in a deep thought that she couldn't seem to interpret. But this pique of interest held her as she kept her eyes on him—he could feel every deep breath that she tried to mask.

"I don't know if you knew this about me," He quietly stated, "But I really can't handle the unknown."

It was then that his head turned towards her; the distance between them was much shorter than he could have thought. He didn't notice until his eyes directly moved towards the way that her lips curved in the small bow, the one that he had known so well from the number of times that he couldn't keep his eyes from her. But this was different; this held much more tension that he couldn't believe.

This time he could smell the liquor that lingered on her lips that mixed so well with the cherry of the chapstick that he knew she applied generously. He would watch the way that it slid over the lips as he sat at his desk and wondered what was on her mind.

"You're very good at getting what you want," Felicity breathed, watching as he shut his eyes for a moment. It was as if with every word she spoke, he was closer and closer to the edge of something great.

Her eyes traveled to the way that his legs sat just open—they were just waiting for someone to notice. Felicity swallowed at the idea of sitting between them, on her knees. Sitting there with her eyes laying on him; he took notice of her tense shoulders and her harbored through before he sat up just a bit. He scooted himself back on the sofa—Felicity blinked at the way that he invited her with just the flicker of his eyes.

No words needed to be spoken when the look could speak for itself, but the way that he speaks breaks the barrier of silence.

"How good am I at getting what I want?"

The heavy eyes that she held were only staring at his lips and the way that he spoke—the flicker of his tongue over the satin maroon of his lips. She couldn't contain herself, because she knew that his aura was a force to be reckoned with. She had seen it up close and personal; she knew that everything that he did was because he was in it one hundred percent.

He didn't half-ass anything—not a report, not a phone call, not a meeting, not a thought.

Everything Harry did was with the full intensive purpose of being the only thing on someone's mind, body, and soul.

Felicity trembled in the spot next to him, but her legs urged to move themselves. Her brain wasn't moving as fast as her decisions; and in an instant, her knees lowered to the spot in front of him. Her hands settling on the thick of his thigh as she allowed her eyes to hold his. For a moment, hesitation crossed his face, but she could have mistaken it for vulnerability.

The way that he breathed outwards was enough to make her gain the strength of a thousand horses—the talk that he talked wasn't as strong now, she felt a sensibility of pure radiance from her actions.

"I'd say you're the best at it, really." She let her hands settle on his thighs, but she took them away so she could drop the blazer down her arms. The tight white t-shirt settled against her frame as he watched the way that she pushed her brunette locks from her shoulders.

But his being felt incredibly taken by the way that she slowly moved—she wanted to savor every moment of this, he could tell that she was being critical, slow, and putting together each piece of herself in front of him.

That's what he thought at least, until he recognized that there was a tremble in her hand when she went to grab at the belt buckle, he barred. His hand flew to hers when she touched it; almost annoyed at himself by the look of terror that he was faced with as he knew that she had felt pushed away at that.

Instead, he pulled at her to stand up in front of him, between his legs. She did so with ease but a bit of confusion laid on her face as she stood with her hands by her side, Harry's eyes dancing along the figure—the divots in her thighs, the way the skirt just held to her so beautifully.

He let out a whimpering sound before he let his hand fall to the tightness of the front of his pants. Instantly, the pleasure trigger was pulled, and he knew what he had gotten himself into now had to be completed. It had to—he never did anything half-assed.

"Go put your heels on," He instructed her, watching as she stared at him willingly.

"A please would be nice." She tutted back, letting her lip fall into the curve of a smile.

Instantly, she knew that this wasn't a game anymore—this wasn't a fun, hushed little game of pleasure with nobody watching. She knew that the way that his eyes changed at the blink of an eye, the way that his jaw tightened at the statement: and the clear smirk on her lips faded.

"I'm not asking you," He sat up a bit, "I'm telling you."

Felicity had been used to being spoken as such; her memory fading into a moment, but her barriers kept up as she understood that her body was reacting only to the way that the words flowed from his mouth. She knew there was safety in his tone, she could see it by the way that he had stared at her with these stolen glances all night.

Instead, she followed his direction, moving back towards the door until she placed the black heels onto her feet again. They hurt just a bit from wearing them all day, she had to admit. But they made her stand taller, firmer against the fake wood flooring of her apartment. She wondered why the downstairs neighbors would think, as it became later at night.

"Come here," He told her, holding her wrist when she got close enough. He pulled her back to the place in front of him. She stood taller now, his nose practically at her bellybutton as she watched the way that he pulled her close.

Now, his hands lay on the outside of her hips, the sides of her thighs. She shuddered at the feeling, knowing that this was the first time she had been touched by him in such a manner. The musky scent of teakwood and spice drifted from the curls that settled against his forehead, she was sure of it. She could feel the heat of his breath just above where she needed him most as she stood close to him, right between his legs as he sat on the sofa.

"Do you know how many times I've thought of you like this?" He practically choked on his words, quiet, "So fucking beautiful."

She breathed out a shaky breath, holding onto every ounce of madness that she had collected over the past few moments.

"How many?" She asked him. Harry stood up, letting her take a step back as she felt the prominence of him now-- how he was a bit taller, even with her heels on. Every part of her ached—so unfamiliar to her, this feeling of need and want. It was a sensation of desperation that she hadn't known before; her inner monologue was flooded with dangerous prose as she felt his fingers cradled onto her jaw.

"More times than I'd ever be able to count." He told her, his voice deep and sharp as he pushed his hips forward. She walked backward a few steps, he followed in her lead like a waltz before he pushed her pelvis into the wall, holding it there with his own.

"You're going to be my good girl tonight, aren't you, Felicity?" His words were practically a whimper as he let his lips slide along her own; the tremble of her quivering lips made him shake in his own anticipation. "You love to listen, hm? That's why you're always taking my orders and assisting me? Getting paid to do what I say?"

It was always obvious by the pink of her cheeks and the timid ways of her soul that Harry could see right through her. From the moment she arrived on the job to the way that she completed everything task with ease; every job, every plan he needed executed, she followed in righteous order.

It made him proud, to say the least. She ran the company better than he did most days, but she didn't get half the recognition.

Until now, surely.

Her eyes nearly roll back into her head at the foul play of his words; the way that his eyes follow down the path of her lips, his thumb mapping the path down her chin before he grabbed it between his thumb and index finger.

The villainous smirk on his lips can't be seen by how close they are now.

"Does saying 'Yes, Mr. Styles' make you wet, Miss Carter?"

The question rolled off his tongue as he watched her minuscule behaviors; the way that she practically shivered against the wall made his eyes move to the way that her knees bent in just a bit.

His mouth turned up to the side as he realized that his was right yet again.

Felicity groaned in the back of her throat as she let it tip against the wall. He was practically on top of her by the way that he stood, his knee was pushing her knees apart before she was able to protest any of it. Not that she would've; she knew that it was about to turn into an evening that she couldn't have truly imagined if you had asked her just hours before.

"You're getting shy on me, again?" He remarked, but this time, it was paired with some loose kisses along her neck as he used his hand to cradle her jaw enough that she was pressing into it with ease. "What happened to that smart mouth, hm?"

Felicity ached as she breathed—her body pressured against the wall was her own doing, practically to keep herself from overwhelming herself. If she leaned into him too much, she wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." She bit her lip at the words coming off her tongue.

She could feel that the instant gratification that came from him was filtered through the stare that he barred towards her; the way that his nose brushed against the lobe of her ear as he practically fell into her graces with three simple words.

Harry groaned at the feeling of her pressed against him then; her brain sparked a few times, trying to remember how it felt before this. How reality felt. This wasn't reality in the slightest; this was a dream.

"Tell me," He urges her, "What was his name?"

She lets her eyes wash over his face as she notices that his strength and need have put him into a trance of pleasure and further need.

"Who?" She questions.

"The guy," He lets his lip gently caress right between her chin and lip. "The guy you were supposed to see tonight."

Felicity remembered how the evening was supposed to go—her interest completely lost in that game, when this one seemed a bit more daring and fun. It felt that she was seen here; like she had been stared at for quite some time, ogled, maybe.

"Uh, S-Sam." She choked out as she felt the way that his hand pinched at the small of her waist, almost like he was trying to make sure she didn't leave.

He hummed softly before he tipped her head back, the simple press of his nose moving her head against the wall. "Fucking loser."

Her mouth instantly felt his—a righteous moment of complete satisfaction bundled beneath her. It was the first time that his lips had laid into hers, moving gently against one another as they fit perfectly in sync. It wasn't too rough—just enough to know that she was in the hands of someone who knew what she was asking just by the way that his body moved. He could read her body and react to the fact that her chest may have been pressed against the wall a bit too much, so he pulled back to give her room to breathe.

The way that they flew through her bedroom door was just as shocking to her as it was to him; it made a much larger noise than she anticipated as they practically flew over the threshold and into the creamy white sheets of her—thankfully—made bed.

He landed on top of her in the heat of the moment. Their lips stayed attached through it all, almost like they were making up for all the lost time over the years. His tongue gently caressed over her top lip, which elicited quite a whine of surprise from her.

Her hands flew to his necktie, trying to loosen it before Harry grabbed her wrist—hard enough that she barked out a whimper.

"No," He told her sharply, watching as she hesitated underneath him. Now her hair was feathered out against the bedspread, her light eyes were catching every glimpse of her. After a moment, he looked at her softly, knowing that she didn't understand the game that he was about to play.

"We are going to play by my rules tonight," He told her, watching as she pushed herself up towards the headboard. He followed her lead, letting her hands rest on the back of his head as she tried to kiss every inch down her neck. "And I have a few notes you need to take, got it?"

Felicity tried her best to stabilize her breath as she was given a moment away from their lips touching to catch it. She licked over her lips, feeling her heart pounding along her chest before she nodded against the bed and the linen comforter that laid underneath them.

Harry sat up, his hair a bit of a mess, the clothes on his body were practically ripped from the front where they had been neatly tucked. The growing need for her was obvious as he felt the tip of his cock struggling beneath the waistband of his belt. The friction made it quite hard to concentrate on what his plans had been, but he knew that he had to be firm with his requests.

"First," He instructed, "The safe word is poetry."

Felicity's eyes stared at him with quiet focus as she nodded a few times to try and understand that. She hadn't ever been with someone who needed to use a safe word in any sexual act, so she struggled to wrap her brain around what that could have possibly meant. But her actions continued to nod as she wrapped her arms around his biceps to try to bring him back to earth. The idea that he had to bring it up intrigued her.

"Second," He pulled at the necktie around his own before he loosened it enough to grab and throw off of his own neck. His hands moved to place it around her own, helping to move the hair from her neck so that it could rest comfortably around her own. "I like to use props. Are you okay with that?"

Felicity felt her heart beating steadily in her chest for a few seconds before she nodded her head. He watched the innocence completely take over her face as he smirked at the all-knowing tale of it.

"Third," He bit on his lip as he moved down to let their foreheads rest along each other, "I need to hear you—no nodding or shaking your head. Consent makes me feel good. And when I feel good," He kissed her once again, a quick one this time, before his voice quieted so that it was just between them. "You'll feel even better. Okay?"

Felicity breathed in a deep breath before she tried to use the voice that had been drifting away from her. She didn't feel in her body like an echo of a voice had started to take over instead of her words. But she let out a rasp of a word, "Okay."

Harry nodded a few times, knowing that with her eyes, he would be able to continue, but only if he was able to talk her through every part of it. He didn't know her experience level or what she was comfortable with, but he knew how to make pleasure the only thing that would be on her mind for weeks. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the last time he got the opportunity.

"This is—uh," She looked at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot for starting to speak before she shook her head, and watched Harry give her a look of confusion. "No, sorry. Nevermind."

"What is it?" He questioned, hoping that something he had said hadn't scared her away. She took in a breath as she thought about how the wording could anger him—maybe it would stop whatever was happening, which she didn't want to happen now that they were in the midst of it all.

"I—uh, I mean, like, are you okay with this?" She asked quietly before pushing up on her elbows. "I—do I have like, sign something?"

Harry raised in brows in a bit of a humorous way that only made her cheeks grow red with shame at her silly question—in all honesty, it wasn't silly, but Harry was giving her a hard time about it, anyway. He bit on his lip as he felt the smile that was threatening to overcome his entire face.

"Am I supposed to be worried that you're going to tell the Daily Mail that I have a huge cock?"

"Harry!" She covered her eyes, floating back onto the comforter, "Nevermind—maybe I'll tell them it's small, though, if you don't stop being mean. I'm just trying to protect you."

"Aw," He tutted, putting his thumb over her bottom lip, but his eyes had grown a bit darker—the way that they had been a bit earlier. It was almost an illicit reaction; the way that he spoke to her, was so filthy with each word spoken that made her melt into the bed. "Dare you to say that to my face when you're choking on it," He pressed his hips into hers then, knowing that she would react to it. Hers moved upwards into him, just as he had intended, "I'm not worried about an NDA in the slightest bit."

In a teasing manner, she scrunched her nose and playfully spat back, "What if I tried to steal all of your money?"

He pressed his hands next to her head on the bed, letting her eyes look directly into his as he spoke, hoping his voice didn't falter: "You can have it all. Take it."

Something about it should have made Felicity giggle—almost like they were joking around. But there was a way that his sincerity felt more like a proposition than a source to cut the tension of their achingly needing bodies against one another.

Her body seemed to enjoy the way that he stated the smooth words, as she let her hands fall into the brunette curls that settled on the back of his neck. It didn't take long for her to pull him closer, letting her lips graze over him in such a frustrating manner. She was completely built up, her could feel the way that her thighs trembled against him.

Pushing her legs open, Harry pushed the hem of her skirt up her hips so that he could find a home between them. In doing so, flashing the baby pink of her lace panties only let his blood flow faster and faster.

"I bet you've soaked those, hm?" He tuts, pressing his nose into her cheek ask he lets his hand knowingly move to the place he speaks of, knowing that he's right. Again. "Sam doesn't know what he's missing, does he?"

The teasing was becoming a bit too much for her—waiting for his fingers to move faster, she moved her hips a bit to try and get herself the pleasure she was trying to search so desperately for from him.

Harry notices the way that she tries to squirm, and he smirks at the reaction he's giving her; knowing that within every inch of her is building up a tension that will release. It will be like a dam that overflows—a satisfaction that will be so worthy of the cost of admission. He can't help but notice, can't help but watch her need.

He can't help but know that he's going to fuck her into an oblivion so dark, the stars will be lost in space. She doesn't know that yet.

Instead of being mean, he decides it might be better for him to give her what she needs—what she's been so kindly asking him for with her pretty hips and her pretty lips.

"On your knees," He tells her, watching as she moves underneath him. She wiggles around until she's on her stomach; the necktie gets him harder as he watches it dangle from her neck like the apple in Eden. Every part of him wants to take the bite—not yet, oh, not yet.

When she does this, her back arches upwards, and Harry's knees settle on the bed as he hovers above her and watches the way that she submits to him. Every word he says she listens—he can barely handle it anymore.

In an instant, his hands reached the bottom of her skirt, pushing it up to fully show the outline of her ass in the cheeky pink lace. It's always been known to him that she would wear something so pitifully scandalous under those black skirts, but he couldn't have imagined it would be like this.

Her pretty face has been folded into the creamy duvet, waiting for the touch of him to send her into an implosion.

All he wanted was to taste her—to make all of the thoughts he had prior feel like they were significant and they were able to be adhered to. He wanted to make her feel like she was the most special person on the planet; like she could feel every inch of him, and she would be thriving in that thought for the end of time.

This may be a one-time occurrence, and he wanted to marvel in it. He wanted her to enjoy what she didn't know could be.

Harry's hands pulled at the pink lace, wondering how lucky he was to be able to enjoy this sight—and what a sight. The wetness of her folds only made him salivate; made his hungry eye a darker shade of green before he dove his tongue directly into her, licking up the mess he had already made of her.

The soft whimpers turned into moans as she practically lurched forward—the initiation hardly bearable as she scrunched her eyes at the feeling of pleasure. The warmth and invite of his tongue pressed against her, lapping her up and into a pitiful puddle. When she felt the nudge of his finger, she gasped at the feeling of him; the duo of his tongue and finger sang together in harmony like a choir of angels.

"Oh, fuck," She quietly moaned out, holding herself on her elbows as she grabbed at her pillow for a bit of leverage. She felt him hum into her, his nose gently brushing against her as he pushed her ass up to get further towards her clit which hungered for his touch, as did his tongue.

The taste of her replenished him, making his heartbeat faster as he felt the stringent feeling of tightness along the dress pants that held him in. Without letting his tongue go without, he used his hand to swiftly throw the belt from the loops of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly and without another thought.

"Fuck, you taste like I thought you would. So fucking sweet." He stated, pushing her ass out of the way when he pulled back. He threw her down onto the bed so that she would be looking up at him. The girl was fully dressed still, just with her skirt pushed up—underwear a bit haphazardly thrown to the side. The rose-colored cheeks threw him as he used his hands to pull the skirt down her thighs.

"Get naked." He ordered, watching as Felicity's hands moved to throw the t-shirt from her body as he requested, leaving her in her panties and bra. Harry threw the white button-down of his from his chest; Felicity got a bit distracted by the way that the tattoos generously scattered over his body. She swallowed back her intimidation as she held herself up on her elbows.

In a swift motion, her panties and bra were thrown onto the ground, leaving her in just the necktie like Harry had ordered for her. She hadn't even quite noticed that he had been rid of his own clothes, her eyes wandering down but not wanting to stare as she noticed that the smirk on his face was ever present.

"Think it's still small?" He asked, with a chuckle as he pulled at her knees, moving her down towards him.

"Maybe smaller than I'm used to." She played back, biting her lip at the intrigue of how he'd react. His arms grabbed at her waist before he threw himself down onto the bed.

"Ride me, then. If you think you can take it as good as you say." His words spit out before Felicity could think too much. It had been a while she had been in this situation, with a guy in her place, at least. Her hand reached over to the nightstand to grab a condom, Harry nodding in appreciation for the gesture.

Her hunger and desire for this became a bit more active as she was now in the driver's seat, moving and manipulating her body to sit across his lap. If she would lie, she would say that it was smaller than average. But unfortunately, she was taught to always tell the truth.

It was much bigger—especially as he rubbed his hand down himself, a gasp of air baiting out of his lips before he looked up at her in a state that could only resemble pleasure.

Harry rolled the condom down his length, watching as she settled into his lap. Her legs settle on either side of him before he looks up at her. The blazing fuzziness of his mind from the liquor has started to cease and is replaced with a hunger of desire for the brunette instead.

"Pretty, pretty." He tells her, watching as she looks antsy enough to move, but he pulls her down to kiss her, anyways. It's a moment that he knows he's taking away from her, but he needs some form of interaction from her. A small detail of need that overcomes him.

His hands steady her hips above him, holding his cock up to her entrance before he watches her hips move down to encapsulate him all—her movements are slow as she throws her head back in an unsurmountable pleasure that she quite practically leans forward against him to catch herself from falling.

"Fuck," He grunts, shutting his eyes just at the way that the blood moves directly to his cock at the feeling of her wetness. She's completely drenched and open and ready which makes her so sensitive and barely capable of words at this point.

Her hands steady herself, holding onto his chest as he allows her to take the lead on what she needs. But he can tell from the look on her face that she's having quite a hard time collecting herself—almost like she's quite unsure of what to do with the power that he's given her to be on top. It's not him pitying her, but him wanting her to enjoy the experience.

So, maybe, in another life, this can happen again.

"Baby," He choked out, shaking his head at the way that he knew it was the wrong choice of words, "Felicity—let me," He grabbed the small of her waist as he sat up quickly. His arms pivoted them so that he could throw them back around on the bed. It wasn't to take anything away from her, but to give to her more than she was giving to herself.

"Let me do this, yeah?" He joked with her, letting his lips kiss along hers, biting and nipping and finding small ways of showing her that the softness of him was still there even in the darkened eyes and furious gasps.

His body readjusted, his hips pushing into her in a more fluid motion. This got her to gasp, a breathy one that he liked hearing—those were the ones that were out of pure pleasure and satisfaction; ones that he felt drunk on.

In a way, this felt a lot different than before. The overhead light of her bedroom was soft; there was a significant dimness to it. He wasn't sure if it was because the room was small, but it felt like there was a intimacy that he had been missing before. His eyes tilted upwards to the paintings and lines of movie quotes that lined along her bedroom wall. There were framed simply and held color and brightness to the space, which distracted him for only a moment before he was able to lay against her.

The necktie around her took his focus back.

"I'm going to play with you a bit, is that alright?" He asked her softly, biting at his lip before he found himself pressing into her hips. His hands grabbed at the necktie before letting them start to tighten it around her neck. " 'Member you words, hm?"

Felicity whimpered out at the coax; nodding her head, "Please—please."

Harry sat up at the request, happy that she was using her words in this sense. He readied himself; thinking of what he needed to think about to try to get himself to a different place. He didn't want to cum too quickly; his cock was barely holding on as it was. The friction of her sweet wetness was enough to make him fold again and again and again.

His fist moved to grip at the knot of the tie, pushing it upwards until it hit at her chin. She raised her head, almost to give way to the pressure that it held against her. She was only briefly capable of speaking a few words, but she was taken with pleasure at the way that her breathing was manipulated.

"Breath play," Harry practically reads her mind as his hip's diver deeper into her. The feeling of her legs at his ribs, practically around his body as he feels the back of her ankle into his back. "Your words, baby."

Felicity took a deep breath; Harry moved his hand so that she could take it in more. He wanted her to feel the wooziness, the daydream-like feeling of the high that it could bring her. He wanted this moment to be special, for her to remember that she was in the most requitting love affair. That she was taken care of, adored, seen.

At the end of the day, Harry wanted to make sure that her jaw was cradled, her lips were kissed, her eyes were stared into, and her breath was taken away.

His hips snapped further, her moan sounded like a small mew before he sat up a bit straighter, loosening his hand on the tie before he grabbed at both of her hips. His hand moved to maneuver over her clit, thumb drawing a star over top of it to which she squirmed in sensitivity. He smirked at the way that she held softly against him before he let a dribble of spit land directly on her, smearing the wetness to coat her.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He stated, the blown-out pupils of them both had them reeling—he noticed he had really neglected parts of her that he had wanted to remember, but he also knew that there was a significant need that they were both needing to fill. He knew that this was just inevitable fucking from weeks—months, really—of built-up tension that they both needed to get out of their system.

"I—I want more," She nodded, her voice quiet and barely above a mumble before their eyes made contact.

He felt that she was a bit, for lack of a better word, fucked. Her eyes were a bit droopy, she may have been trying to cover up how much she really drank, but her effervescent neediness was going to haunt him forever.

"I can give you more," He nodded, "I can give you so much fucking more." His hips snapped forward, again and again and again—her headboard hitting the wall every time he did so. Their breath heavy and their eyes connected as he did so.

"Such a pretty little fuck," He lifted her leg up from around his waist before he gave her knee a gentle kiss. "I'm so hard, fuck."

The fully natured nudity of their bodies was new for him—it was usually very quick, especially when they would come to his. But this was significantly more intimate; he wanted to spend this time with her. He liked that they decided to do it this way.

She could feel the tightening of the rubber band that was about to snap. It had been building with every swipe of his thumb, the way that his tongue had gently nudged at her clit; the way he had plunged forward with every deep thrust. She was impressed with the way that he moved her body to be able to hit at her spot every single time. He had studied her, watched what she did—how she reacted.

"I'm—fuck," He pulled himself forward, letting his head drop as he fell into her touch. This was new; her hands on his shoulders, the way that they moved into his hair and down his neck. "Poetry, okay?" He reminded her softly before he kissed her lips.

What happened after that could have been a blur—to Felicity, she wasn't entirely sure if she could remember it all. His hand gripped around the tie of her neck, pulling softly so she felt a dizzy sensation.

"Fuck—fuck, Harry, I'm cumming—fuck." Her teeth bit so sharply on her lip that she was afraid it might rupture the skin; the taste of blood would come soon afterwards, but her reality was set in the pleasure kingdom that Harry's hips created for her.

It was dizzying how he snapped his hips upwards, hitting her every single time. The pressure of his thumb over her clit sent her into an overdrive; letting her walls completely break, the dam overflowed, flooding. The orgasm over taking her sent him into a state of pure shock and adrenaline, snapping his hips a few more times before he felt the absolute relief.

Her eyes shut; Harry lurched forward as he fell into the grip of her hands. It was a feeling of falling that he genuinely believed were cloud-like.

For a moment, he wondered if they would ever slow their breathing down. He wondered if the sound of her heart beating against his was real-life or just a fantasy. It may have been an orgasmic-induced dream.

The puzzle piece form of the two of them let him settle nicely into her; his nose poked at the skin of her neck, which he may or may not have left a mark or two on.

In the solemness of the air, his breathing finally evened out.

___________

"Are we cleared for take-off, Mr. Styles?"

The noise jolts him a bit, he wouldn't lie.

Harry clears his throat as he opens his eyes which have been hidden by the sunglasses that have settled on his face. He readjusts in the seat before he looks around the small jet plane that had been chartered for their adventure.

It was early, approaching on seven in the morning. His sleep had been nonexistent until that small nap that he had gotten himself before being woken up by the pilot.

"Uh," He swallows, trying to make it seem that he was more awake than he was.

"I believe that we're all here." Laura states to the pilot before she gives him a tight smile. She returns to looking at her cellphone, lowering her hands into her lap as she continues to scroll through what's possibly an email.

Harry looks around the small jet, watching, searching... wondering.

He blinks a few times to try to imagine if there's a reality where what had occurred last night was working against him—he had hoped that she hadn't been scared off, that she hadn't run away at the idea of what this weekend could possibly hold.

Not that it was going to happen all the time, certainly not. But he wondered if there could be a next time—he wondered if she would have liked that. It turns out, with the no show to the work trip that she had been informed on that—

"I'm sorry."

The sweet tone of the voice carries through the plane before he turns his body in the single chair to look at where it had been coming from. Coming up the steps, being greeted by the stewardess, a smiling face that had her sunglasses pushed into her hair—a pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt with a cardigan sweater overtop.

He watches as she takes her bag, feeling uncomfortable by the stewardess taking it from her before she gives her a tight smile and settles into walking towards the back. The plane isn't large, but it feels incredible big when he is waiting for her to approach him.

Their eyes meet and she gives him a tight smile before greeting the others on the plane. The seat directly in front of Harry isn't taken. Go figure. Her hands are full—holding her purse, a bag that most likely has something to eat for a breakfast, a coffee, and—

"Your dry-cleaning," Felicity handed the back to him before she took her seat that sat directly across from him in the small private jet that had seemingly felt much smaller as she took in how close he was to her now, "Mr. Styles."

The flicker of her eyes to his—the way that her hair had been blown dry, bouncing with curls, the freshness of her toned-down makeup to allow the texture of her skin to show with the subtlety of the glow.

Even in the early morning hours, even though he had just left her a few hours prior, even though they had both had less than a few good hours of sleep—she still looked like she was greeting him at heaven's pearly gates.

When the bag was unzipped to check that everything had been added, his eyes fell along the purple necktie that he had unnervingly left at the edge of her bed the night prior; he must had run out of the door of her apartment without it. His eyes glanced at the way that the small item drifted over the white button-down.

It was familiar, of course, because it had been the one that he was wearing yesterday when he had entered her apartment but left without it in his hands or around his neck. He cleared his throat at the sight, knowing that it was a nod to him and only him. When he sat them down across his lap, his eyes landed on her again—the casualty of her smirk was harrowing now.

"Mr. Styles, are we waiting on anyone else?" The pilot had come back towards the rows now, to ensure that everything would have been cleared for the take-off. Harry looked back at him, and shook his head without another doubt, but a solidly aching feeling in his chest as he barred the words back at him.

"No, I—I'm not waiting for anyone else, at least." He looked up at the girl in front of him, "I'm good."

The pilot got the plane ready for departure; Felicity stared at the window as she tried to take in the experience, knowing that the exhaustion that was starting to overcome her would be able to be given a final rest when she leaned against the window.

But, for the time being, she liked being able to rest in the light of Harry's stare as he couldn't take his eyes from her.

The plane, the job, the clothes, the dinner—none of it mattered when the view in front of him was something that money would never be able to buy.

____________________

hiiiii!!

happy tortured poets department day, here's a one-shot <3

just a little fun one hehe, almost 20k words is so much for me, so thank you for reading this!

love u as always

- emily

[evil-youth-messrs]

Okay so here's the list of moments in EPIC: the musical (in order) that make me go feral. Believe it or not, I tried to keep it as short and concise as possible but the albums are just too good.

The Troy Saga 💙

*tudududu dum tum tum tum tum*

PENELOPEEEE

who was that *CAWWWW* 🦅🦅

thisisthesonofnoneotherthan ~troooy's~ veryown prince hec!tor!

but when!? does a comet become a meteor??? (both solo and ensemble versions)

six! hundred! men

and ithaca's waiting, my kindom is waiting, PENELOPE'S WAITIIIING for meeee

my second iiin commaaand

we're up, we're off and away we go (again both versions)

I'm fiiiiiiine, Polites 🙄

stay back!!! (lotus eaters: stay back~~)

you can relax my friend

*the intro and pianooo for warriors of the mind*

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE LESSONS I THAUGHT YOUUU

LET ME REMIND YOU

one day a boy came! for the thrill! a boy whose mind rivaled the boar's own wiiiiiiill

LET'S GO !!

*the entire chorus*

NAAAAAH DON'T BE MODEST, I KNOW YOU'RE A GODDESS

you are ~ATHEEENAA~ (*the growl* !!!)

if you're LOOking for a mentor, I'll make sure your time's well spent

*the chorus when they both sing*

*honestly every single line in this song*

The Cyclops Saga 👁

*the water droplets sound at the beginning*

loook at all this foood 😃

my name is nooooooobody, nooooooobody, noOoOoOoOoOobody

I'm so glad we see eye to eye

show me how. greatisyourwilltoSURVIIIIIIIVE

six hundred liiiives at stake

*how the guitar fades in in remember them*

what do we do with our fallen friends? *silence* remember them

*athena's piano and clock ticking*

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN! THE LESSONS! I THAUGHT YOU ??

he's still a threat! until he's DEEEEAAAAD

HEY, CYCLOPS!

remember them remember us REMEMBER ME

I'M THE REIGNING KING OF ITHACA I AM NEITHER MAN NOR MYTHICAAAL IIII AM YOUR DARKEST MOMENT I AM THE INFAAAMOUUUS. odysseus!

this way! you won't disappoint me, this way! you won't waste my time, thiiis waay

slefish and prideful and vain 🙄

YOU'RE NOT LOOKING FOR A MENTOR I'M NOT LOOKING FOR A FRIEND I MISTOOK YOU FOR A GENERAL WHAT A WASTE OF EFFORT SPENT

at least I know what I'm fighting for while you're fighting to be known

YOU'RE ALONE !!!

but not today for after all you're JUST A MAAAN

this day! you SEVER your own head, this day! you CUT the liiine

The Ocean Saga 🌊

*trumpetttt*

these ~waves~ and ~tides~

is it nature? or diviiiine?

COMRADES

full spead aHEAD TOWARDS THE ISLAND

an island in the sky 🤩

we're in the home of the ✨️wind god✨️ we don't know for sure how many floating islands have you seen before??

captain HOW? much longer til your luck. runs. out.

you rely on wit and people die on it

I took six hundred men to war! and not one of them died there. in case you needed a reminderr.

woooaahoookayyy? okay. thank you🙄

*ambient intro to keep your friends close*

*growly hahahas*

KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE AND YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER

if they wanna get the bag open you gotta say no sirrr.

open the bag, let's see what you got. NO! DO! NOT!

see how this bag is closed that's how it's supposed to be

I'm getting closer to youuuu (PENELOPEEE)

JUST KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN

wake up! wake up! odysseus, they're opening the bag WAKEEE UUUUP!

STOOOOfullOOOOspeedOOOOOaheadOORM

OOOOOOOOODYSSEUS OF ITHACAAAAA do you know who I am?

PO SEI DON PO SEI DON PO SEI DON poseidon 😨

I try to chill~ with the waves

*THE GROWLY VOCALS*

that's right the cyclops you made blind. is mine. NO

the pack of wolves is swimming with the shark now

RuThLeSsNeSs is MERCY upon ourselves

you 🫵 are the worst kind of good cause you're NOT. EVEN. GREAT!

a greek. who reeks. of false righteousness that's what I HATE

I mean you totally could've avoided all this had you just. killed. my. son. but nOoOu💅

it's the final crack we're 'bout to break the ice now

CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN!

when does a ripple become a tidal wave?

*somebody stop me I just wrote every line of this song*

Click here for The Circe Saga 🐷

If you read all of that, thank you and honestly WOW.

[sopiao]

could i request a human heat pack reader with our favorite 141 boys?

i’m very unusually warm. like every time i travel to russia to see family my mom and brother always use me as human heat pack.

have a great day!!

i just had this idea >:0

(great minds think alike >:)).

it would be so cute, they’d be so unconsciously touchy just to try to warm their hands during a mission in a cold area. where? Siberia. i don’t know that was just at the top of my head.

(Callsign: ‘Shark’ :3)

When they first land their all already swaddled like babies in layers of clothes. A long sleeve, whatever t-shirt, thin jacket with a thicker one over it, extra layers of socks. Whatever could spare them of the harsh winter of the country.

Their all huddled in a position to try and conserve warmth. Except for Price who insist that “It’s not that cold” and to “Get over it already”. But they can all see his subtle shake in his crossed arms pose.

“You got a heat pack or something?” Gaz asked, cupping his hands over his mouth, hoping to get some warmth from his breath. Seeing Shark’s still and relaxed figure like this weather was nothing. Gaz was hoping that they’d had an extra one and could toss one to him.

“No?” They shook their head and began to look around. Kicking snow to kill time when they hear their captain speak to a local about directions.

“Jesus, fuck. How are you not freezing you’re arse off?” Soap asks, pulling the collar of his jacket higher to cover more of his neck. Shark just shrugs. They really don’t know how. It just didn’t bother them as much. It was sorta cool since it fit their name, sharks can change their body temp to a certain range to adapt to their surroundings.

Gaz wasn’t even thinking, just desperate for warmth. Taking his chances for even a bit of comfort, he stood closer to your side, leaning on you with his cheek to your temple. Once he felt the small relief from the sudden cold, he leaned in more, covering more body surface. Relaxing, the more he did the more toasty he started to feel.

“Ahh-” Gaz sighed silently, Shark patted his back to further comfort him. Soap and Ghost looked at the two, who looked like a couple trying to keep themselves warm as an excuse to cuddle in public, then back at each other, silently questioning what to do or say, or if they should.

Soap shrugged and did the same to your other side, sighing in relief when the harsh and tight coldness of the snow felt like ice cream melting in the sun when he felt Shark’s body heat. Shark didn’t move but just shifted their eyes to see him. Couldn’t do anything but accept their fate.

Ghost is naturally a cranky and grumpy guy already and chilly, an understatement, atmosphere didn’t simmer him down a bit. He didn’t even try to fight it or reason with his thoughts and subsided. Wrapping his arms around their middle and resting his chin on the top of their head. Sighing when he felt his comrade’s warm back defrost him (hehe). Sighing for them was like the unconscious ‘ding’ to the microwave when your food finishes heating up.

Shark can’t really move even if they wanted to. Plus who wouldn’t wanna be sandwiched between three beefy guys?

“A’ight team. It shouldn’t be too far from here—” Price cut himself off, seeing his soldiers surround one like an overstuffed burrito. He crossed his arms, not registering that they were using Shark for warmth and just randomly decided to simultaneously bear hug them at the same time. Even Simon was joining in.

“Wha— Why?— What’s happening?” Price chuckled slightly, more out of confusion than amusement, crossing his arms once again with the subtle shake from the natural instinct of his body to find energy for heat.

“Warm” Only thing that Soap says, short but filling explanation. Causing Price to chuckle even more. Shark brings their hands forward, offering a fraction of their warmth to their captain, since it’s really the only thing that’s not occupied. Price holds their hands, at first to humor them, once he felt how unusually warm their hands are at this weather. He unconsciously lifted their hands up to his face, toasty palms pressed up against his cheeks.

—

“Fuckin’ hell” Price whispered under his breath before thanking the citizen for her time and cooperation, grumbling about the lead being a dead end. Price calls out for his teammates, signaling to continue on.

“Back to bloody square one” Soap grumbled, cranky from all the running around they had to do to catch one guy.

Both Price and Gaz immediately reached for your hand. At this point they didn’t even care, or notice what they were doing. It was just a natural instinct to swarm towards anything slightly warmer. Shark didn’t mind though, swinging their hands as they walked.

Two girls walking past them. Having to do a double take when they see the three. Before looking at each other wordless message of ‘How lucky!’.

—

During the cramped car ride, both Soap and Ghost had their heads resting on Shark. Soap resting his head on their shoulder, having to slump down slightly, while Ghost rested his temple on the top of their head. Both soldiers clinging onto and hugging on their arm for more cozy protection.

—

As Shark, Gaz, and Price watched and waited Soap and Ghost from across the building. They finally got a lead on the perp but if they all went in at once it would seem suspicious. They all watched intently, Gaz starting to get more bored.

Price unconsciously wrapping his arm around Shark, pressing them close to keep himself warm, resting his head on theirs as he got bored too. Shark figured out a while ago not to be too bothered with how clingy their being, figuring out that their just a human heater for them.

[yanderecrazysie]

Galeophobia (Kirishima)

Please don’t request any phobias. I just felt like making this for fun.

Be kind to me, I'm still not good at writing NSFW

Title: Galeophobia

Pairings: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, mershark Kirishima, pirate reader, marking, NSFW, NON-CON, belly bulge, excessive cum

Phobia: The fear of sharks

Normally, the setting sun is something that makes you smile, its beautiful pink-and-orange hues are a feast for the eyes. Here and now? It feels as though it is taunting you as your water sloshes over the deck of your sinking ship.

How can nature be so beautiful, yet so cruel?

The storm is completely gone- there’s no sign that it ever happened. No sign, save for one wooden ship taking on water. The jolly rogers above you wave feebly in the light wind before crumbling in on themselves as even the air falls silent. You sigh wearily.

After all the danger you’d put yourself in to get rich, sinking serenely in the middle of calm waters, all of your comrades having fled on lifeboats. Leaving the captain to go down with the ship.

It’s a dumb tradition that the pirates of your country take part in, you thought dully, so why did I bother following it? You wished you weren’t quite so honorable. 

The water ripples below your lazy perch on the ship’s front railings, now reaching past the deck and slowly inching towards you. Somewhere off in the distance, you see something shimmer in the sunset’s pink-tinged water.

You squint, confused, as something bright red begins rising in the clear water right below you, on the end of your ship and the open ocean. Water breaks at the surface as the crimson object reveals itself to be spiky hair on the head of a handsome tan-skinned man with equally-red, intense eyes.

At first, you think he must be dead. After all, how else could there be someone out here in the middle of the ocean, unless they were from a ship already sunken below? But no, the man gazes at you with a lively expression, smiling brightly at you as though he’s never been so happy to see someone else. 

The next conclusion fills you with hope: there must be land nearby! Surely he had swum from an island to your ship. But how far away was it? You look in every direction and see nothing but water.

“Where do you come from?” You ask urgently, “It’s not too far is it? I’m not a strong swimmer.”

The man laughs loudly, “Don’t worry, I got you, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose at the pet name but hold your tongue. After all, this redhead was the only thing between you and the bottom of the ocean.

He holds out his arms as though he’s ready to catch you, “Come on down, babe. I don’t bite. Much.”

He flashes you a smile and you gasp. His teeth are unnaturally sharp and triangular, nothing like a human’s. For the first time, you feel a sense of foreboding and your heart pounds in your chest. 

Your gaze falls below his bare abs under the water and you’re shocked to see that instead of bare legs, there’s gray and white smooth skin that ends in a sharp fish tail. From the shape and the earlier glance at his teeth, you surmise he’s some sort of shark merman. Not human, in any case.

“What are you?” You shriek, wrapping your arms around your legs protectively, all too aware of how close the water was to you now.

The shark-man grins, flashing those sharp teeth at you once more, “My name’s Kirishima. What’s yours, babe?”

“Stay away from me, you fish freak!” You seethe, pulling your compass from your pocket and heaving it at him as hard as you can. It bounces off his chest with a thunk but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “Wait until after I’ve drowned to eat me!”

Kirishima sighs, a soft pout to his features as he tells you, “List babe: you’re either coming down on your own or you’re going to sink.”

The reality of the situation dawns on you just as you feel water licking at your toes. You were going to be eaten by this half-shark, half-man creature. All that would be left of you would be your bones on the bottom of the ocean, alongside your trusty ship. 

Hot tears prick your eyes as you let yourself slide off the railing into the water. If my death is coming, then let it be quick, you thought sadly.

Kirishima blinks in surprise before a smile spreads across his face. This time, his lips are pulled over those vicious teeth, and you can’t help but think it’s a little cute. He reaches his hand out to brush away a few stray tears, but that just causes more to spill.

Strong arms wrap around you and you close your eyes, ready for death. It doesn’t come. Instead, Kirishima nuzzles into your neck, cooing softly into your ear as he holds you close.

He pulls you away from the sinking ship, most of which is already underwater. Your first and only ship- you feel more tears slip down your cheeks. It’s gone now, there’s no getting it back.

“Shh, it’s alright, babe.” Kirishima shushes you softly as he swims farther away, tugging you along through the water. You shiver in his grasp and he takes notice, stopping immediately to run his hands over your body, “Oh man, you’re cold all over.”

The grin that cracks across his face is mischievous and predatory at the same time, “I know how to fix that.”

Something cold and hard brushes against your butt and your heart stops all together before it starts up tenfold again. Don’t tell me he means…

Incredibly sharp teeth pierce through the skin on your neck and you let out a scream. Warm blood pools on the surface as he sucks gently before releasing with a pop. He takes a look at his handiwork- at the wound swelling on your neck- and has the audacity to look proud. 

Kirishima presses against you as he begins peeling your clothes from your skin. Something very large and very hard pokes against your thighs and, although you cannot see it, you already have an idea of what it is. Curiosity has you briefly wondering if it looks like a human’s or not.

You don’t have a chance to look down at it from the angle he’s holding you but, once he tears your pants from your body in a violent, eager motion, you quickly get to know what it feels like. It seems to be shaped the same as any human male’s dick, but it’s much larger than what you thought was possible. 

The bulbous head pushes against your unguarded pussy, pressing and pressing until pop- it forces its way inside. You expected unimaginable pain, but you’re instead overrun with pleasure.

The cock fills you out with each inch shoved deeper. It stretched your insides out and, when you look down, you see a visible bulge in your stomach. He’s crammed into you so much your little human body can barely take it.

Kirishima holds you still while he forces his shark cock deeper and deeper. The bulge in your belly is bigger than ever when he comes to a stop. Unconsciously, your hand moves and puts a hand over the bump in your stomach and you hear the man behind you moan with pleasure as you accidentally massage his cockhead.

The thrusts begin, more brutal than you could ever anticipate. Kirishima uses his arms to keep you in place while he fucks into you, tearing apart your vagina and womb easily with his monster cock. 

You writhe with pleasure, barely able to move from your positioning but trying all the same. It’s all too much- his dick is pressed up against every nerve and pleasure spot you have, each thrust hits all the right places.

Kirishima grabs your hips and bend your body a little, moving you into a position where he can fuck you even deeper and harder. It isn’t long before you come undone on his cock, twitching and spasming from the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

Your pulsating walls prove to be too much for the redhead, and he follows you shortly after. His cum floods your insides, inflating your belly a little around the bulge and filling you so completely that some escapes around his cock and into the water around you, making the water turn more milky than clear.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he rolls his hips, getting out those last few drops of cum. His giant cock finally softens and slips out, dirtying the water even more with the cum that escapes your stuffed-full womb.

“Yeah, I’m keeping you.” Kirishima says, grinning widely as he pulls you close. You don’t bother fighting it as he gives a kick of his tail and takes off swimming with you snug in his arms. 

You can feel cum still rushing out of you as he whisks you away to wherever it is he plans to keep you.

[hussyknee]

This is, bar none, the funniest fucking completely unironic shit published by a legitimate news outlet:

In recent months, orcas in the waters off the Iberian Peninsula have taken to ramming boats. The animals have already sunk three this year and damaged several more. After one of the latest incidents, in which a catamaran lost both of its rudders, the boat’s captain suggested that the assailants have grown stealthier and more efficient: “Looks like they knew exactly what they are doing,” he said. Scientists have documented hundreds of orca-boat incidents off the Spanish-Portuguese coast since 2020, but news coverage of these attacks is blowing up right now, thanks in part to a creative new theory about why they’re happening: cetacean vengeance. Now that’s a story! “The orcas are doing this on purpose,” Alfredo López Fernandez, a biologist at the University of Aveiro in Portugal, told LiveScience last month. “Of course, we don’t know the origin or the motivation, but defensive behavior based on trauma, as the origin of all this, gains more strength for us every day.” López Fernandez, who co-authored a 2022 paper on human-orca interactions in the Strait of Gibraltar, speculates that a specific female, known to scientists as White Gladis, may have suffered a “critical moment of agony” at the hands of humans, attacked a boat in retaliation, and then taught other whales to do the same. Whatever the truth of this assertion, White Gladis and her kin have quickly ascended to folk-heroic status on the internet. “What the marine biologists are framing as revenge based on one traumatic experience may be a piece of a larger mobilization towards balance,” the poet Alexis Pauline Gumbs tweeted before referring to the killer whales as “revolutionary mother teachers.” Media figures and academics are expressing solidarity with their “orca comrades” and support for “orca saboteurs.” One widely circulating graphic shows a pod smashing a boat from below, above the words “JOIN THE ORCA UPRISING.” (You can even purchase it in sparkly sticker form.) Yet all of this fandom and projection tends to overlook important facts: First, these orcas are likely to be playing with the boats rather than attacking them, and second, if one insists on judging killer whales in human terms, it’s plain to see they aren’t heroes but sadistic jerks.

A shark wrote this.

The recent incidents, none of which has resulted in any injuries to humans, are simply the result of curiosity, Monika Wieland Shields, the co-director of the Orca Behavior Institute in Washington, told me. A juvenile may have started interacting in this way with boats, she said, and then its habit spread through the local community of killer whales. Such cultural trends have been observed before: In the Pacific Northwest, orcas have been playing with buoys and crab pots for years; in the late 1980s, one group of orcas there famously took to wearing salmon hats. Is ramming boats the new donning fish? Shields believes that theory makes more sense than López Fernandez’s appeal to orca trauma. White Gladis shows no physical evidence of injury or trauma, Shields told me, so any “critical moment of agony” is purely speculative. Also, humans have given orcas ample reason to retaliate for hundreds of years. We’ve invaded their waters, kidnapped their young, and murdered them in droves. And yet, there is not a single documented instance of orcas killing humans in the wild. Why would they react only now? And though recent events may fit the story of these orcas’ being anti-colonial warriors, you can’t just anthropomorphize animals selectively. What about all the other “evidence” we have of orcas’ cruelty, or even wickedness? Scientists say they hunt and slaughter sharks by the dozen, picking out the liver from each one and leaving the rest of the carcasses to rot uneaten. Orcas kill for sport. They push, drag, and spin around live prey, including sea turtles, seabirds, and sea lions. Some go so far as to risk beaching themselves in order to snag a baby seal—not to consume, but simply to torture it to death. Once you start applying human ethical standards to apex predators, things turn dark fast.

Oh no, they gleefully torment other animals for sport!! Does this species deserve to have any redeeming qualities???

Perhaps #orcauprising was inevitable. Humanity does have, after all, a long history of freighting cetaceans with higher meaning. Moby Dick is, among other things, a symbol of the sublime. The biblical whale—or is it a large fish?—that swallows Jonah is an instrument of divine retribution, a means of punishing the wicked in much the same way some have framed the boat-wrecking orcas. The whale 52 Blue, known as the loneliest whale in the world because she speaks in a frequency inaudible, or at least incomprehensible, to her brethren, has become a canvas for all shades of human sorrow and angst. Orcas in particular have long been objects of both fear and sympathy, in some cases with an explicitly anti-capitalist tint. The 1993 classic Free Willy centers on a conniving park owner’s scheme to profit off of the bond between a child and a young killer whale. And more recently, the 2013 documentary Blackfish chronicles SeaWorld’s real-life exploitation of captive orcas. The “orca uprising” narrative fits neatly into this lineage. In our present era of environmental catastrophe, Shields told me, it’s appealing to think that nature might fight back, that the villains get their just deserts. But projection and anthropomorphization are only shortcuts to a shallow sympathy. Orcas really are capable of intense grief; they are also capable of tormenting seal pups as a hobby. They are intelligent, emotionally complex creatures. But they are not us.

Someone paid this dude actual money to conclude that Orcas aren't human.

In conclusion:

[bethagain]

I wanna talk about Ed’s apology to Izzy.

I’ve seen some consternation about it, but I thought that scene was absolute perfection. 

I love how Izzy’s opening lines show us his state of mind. He wants to be on speaking terms with Ed again, but he doesn't especially want to admit it.

He didn’t mistake Ed for Roach. That’s not even remotely believable. And although we’re clearly meant to think Izzy’s a bit drunk, if you look at the rate he’s been drinking he’s probably got a huge tolerance for alcohol. Otherwise he wouldn’t be upright. 

The script could have given Izzy some other way to insist he wasn’t trying to talk to Ed. “I didn’t see you there.” “I’m looking for sharks.” What he did say is even better, because it’s got an insult built in: “I thought you were someone I actually wanted to see.”

And Ed, who should be mortified, who should be on his knees begging forgiveness, slips right into talking to Izzy like they’re friends again. “Something’s wrong. Feels like a storm’s coming but I can’t see it.” 

It’s something you’d say to someone you’re comfortable with, someone you trust to weigh in. I think some fans wanted to see Ed open with an apology, but Blackbeard doesn’t apologize for things and Ed’s still figuring out how. Instead, the script gives us Ed avoiding the subject: If they don’t talk about it, maybe what he did can be swept under the rug. 

And Izzy’s going to let him do it. He tells Ed he thinks he’s being stupid about the storm, sure. A good first mate calls his captain on his bullshit. But he also passes over the bottle, and Ed takes it. Two comrades drinking together, drinking because life as a pirate is hard, drinking that much because they are tough men. They don’t have to talk, talking isn’t what they do. 

We’ve seen in both seasons that Izzy is used to taking Ed’s abuse. It’s been baked into the story. We’ve been told about Ed the brilliant pirate leader and Izzy the loyal first mate but what we’ve seen is twisted: Ed still brilliant but unstable, Izzy keeping him in line. Izzy trying to break away and failing, Ed taking him back every time. They are best friends and they are terrible for each other, and that is their frame.

But then! Taika and Con are both so good with the facial expressions. We can see the discomfort flickering across Ed’s face. Everything about this interaction has been set up so he could get away without apologizing. And I think that’s how the hurried “Sorry about your leg” hits as hard as it does for me, leaves me feeling something here has changed.  

And the scene confirms it: Even that small phrase is so huge that Ed’s got to run away as soon as he says it. 

And then, look at that tiny smile on Izzy’s face. That “fuck off” is almost happy. As the audience we know that wasn’t the apology Izzy deserved, not by a long shot. But in the frame of the story? It might be enough to set the two of them right again. 

[rolling-storm-writing]

-Ghost/top!M reader: “I’m right here, baby”

Reader was put into a nasty coma and ghost hasn’t been the same. Still desperately trying to make you happy even through this long slumber.

A/N: im not one to write sad or dark things and this one really is not to heavy but still beware just in case. I hope y’all enjoy!

edit: this fic includes suicidal elements so please read with caution

“To grieve deeply is to have loved fully.”

But you weren’t even gone your lungs still filled with air, eyes watching through closed lids, and ears perking when you heard his choked sobs.

“Babe, Baby, (y/n).”  The sound of his voice drowned out by the hammering of gun fire and ringing in the air.  Sulfur and smoldering flesh danced along the ground, covering the both of you in its dark loving embrace.  

You couldn’t move only watch through blurred eyes the frantic ones staring right back at you.  Simon had cold eyes, deadly sharp shark eyes.  Eyes that loved you and softened so sweetly when you were in his focus.  “I’m right here, baby,” Simon murmured the rain of his tears dotting your face as you were carried up to the light.  Safe and secured in these trembling arms of your Angel.

“He’s been like that since we got here…” Price whispered to Gaz as the rest of the team watched their crumbling comrade.  The surgery was over but the doors remained shut and the curtain drawn shut, The Ghost never prayed to God for his mercy but today he did.  Not as a monster of the 141 but as Simon Riley, still stained in his blood dried gear curled up on the floor just outside your door.  His trembling hand pressed against the wall almost trying to push through the concrete to reach you.

The next morning nothing had changed, you  wouldn't open your eyes and Simon tried to keep hope.  And as days turned to weeks he continued to stay, living off the cold hospital food and you, your liquids.  

Your muscles started to fade and your face sunk in a little bit almost like how you looked before meeting the 141.  A scrawny guy would never had the pleasure of eating  los vaqueros cooking, raiding Alex’s snack stash, or wolfing down a plate of ribs with ghost for a free meal.

“You look beautiful” he whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead brining the blanket up a bit higher.  A heavy thing Farah had made and sent over to make sure you didn’t “freeze to death”.

Weeks passed and the ghost was starting to grow weary of this room you were trapped in.  Books stacked high and puzzles glued and hung up for decoration of the room.  Plants grew with flowers blooming just for you, a heating lamp to mimic the sun on your greying skin. 

His lips pressing soft kisses to your own  and everywhere you always liked him to.  

Sometimes pacing, screaming at you when he halted his steps or begging you to just wake up when the days got particularly hard. The rage whispering, and sweltering river of tears of his begging apologies.  Curled up to you wrapping your arms around him as if you’re still truly awake to soothe him.

Seven months, long and and quiet without your laughter to bring his own.  Simon had grown smaller lost weight and shoulders no longer strong enough to carry the world.  You had grown thinner almost sinking into the bed and lost in the sheets until the nurses would roll you over, keeping the bed sores away so the long stillness wasn’t to obvious.

Even then the sores still bloomed and Simon ran another bursting dam of tears into the already overflowing river.

A year passed and when the January dreariness started he brought you crisp mangos that Rudy had grown.  Doting the slices with sweet chili lime and holding the mixture to your nose, letting the juices run down to your cracked dry lips.  

“It’s spi-“

It was a deafening sound like a bursting bubble or shattering glass.  Your weary eyes a shocked glaze as they stared at the widened ones of your lover.  The smell of gun powder filled your nose with familiar smell of iron.  The warm trickle and crimson droplets ran down your pretty face, mouth open and agape in a permanent disbelief.

Simons trembling hands steadying as he crawled into bed next to you, the barrel soft under his chin and burning with the heat of it previous discharge. The fire of it leaving a crisp edge at the new hole in his face, a perfect pair with yours…

——————————————————————-

A/N: i don’t even know why I wrote this tbh- imma go write that Price one to make myself feel better

[sharkest-sharks]

thanks for the shark posts im sending them to all my friends who have shark autism

truly honored to aid you in this crucial mission comrade

[satoru-is-the-way]

an arranged marriage between you and namor? like ur a siren or a daughter of a sea god please.

A/N: YESSSSS also not proof read yet because 😭

(Y/n) knew this day would come. She had prepared for it her entire life. The unfortunate burden of being the next to claim the thrown, arraigned marriage. Her father Poseidon decided his reign is over with this new generation dawning the old must fade. They were not the strongest nation in the sea. An older God has claimed that title, K'uk'ulkan, or as his enemies called him Namor. Today would be a monumental event. She would meet her future husband. Namora escorted Poseidon, Amphitrite, and her through Talokan. (Y/n) couldn't help but fall in love with the people. They welcomed her with open arms, gifts, and more kind gestures. Namora leads them to a throne room. The giant shark's mouth is displayed proudly, showing the power of the Imperius Rex. "K'uk'ulkan!" The Talokanil chant as their God descends to his throne. (Y/n) couldn't deny he had the body of a God plus a handsome face to match. He picked up his spear and slammed it down causing the crowd to go silent.

"Bejla'e' damos le bienvenida k yu'ulabo'ob yéetel futuros camaradas (Today we welcome our guests and future comrades)." Namor said. (Y/n) zoned in and out of his speech. Her father truly wanted their kingdoms to become one? Or did Namor have something else in mind.

Later he requested they have a meeting in private. In his caverns to display his artwork. (Y/n) emerged from the water. Namor soon after his wings flapping to dry off. She unlike most of her people appeared normal to surface dwellers. "You wanted a meeting alone with me, Namor?"

He sighed, "Please no need for that name. We are to be married K'uk'ulkan is fine."

"I shall call you Namor until I feel you have earned my trust, loyalty, and love. I am not happy about this so cut the shit. Why do want to marry me?"

"Perhaps your father asked me. A young brat who goes against all traditions. I am doing you a favor"

Her skin boils, "Asshole. Not like I have a say in this. We are to be married by the end of this week. But don't think I will obey you." She walked past Namor running into his shoulder. The God smirked turning around to see his future queen dive back into the water. He liked her spark already.

_One Year Later_

(Y/n) walked into the cavern K'uk'ulkan covering her eyes. "Is this really necessary my love?" She questioned.

"Yes, it is. I spent a long time on this one. I wanted it to be perfect." He removed his hands. (Y/n) eyes widen to see a depiction of herself on the wall. "The first queen of Talokan." He adds.

"K'uk'ulkan..." She whispered softly.

"You know last time I remember you calling me an asshole." He smirked pulling her close.

"Hmm~ You call me a brat."

He laughed, "Well that wasn't wrong. You still can be a brat~"

"Shut up!" She huffed.

"Make me, (Y/n)" He smirked. (Y/n) raised her eyebrow pushing him against the wall.

"Maybe I should." She pulled him into a deep kiss.

[ltwilliammowett]

Lucky Charms for a Sailor

Luck was something that every Sailor on board needed and held on to in order to bring him home safely. That's why there were so many items that could help. Here is a small list.

Personal items:

What brings you the most luck - when it comes from your loved ones. And then you gladly took a locket with strands of hair and you just didn't have any available then just fingernails leftovers or even teeth. But it was great if you tattooed a rooster and a pig on your feet to prevent you from drowning.

A found coin, not only to bring you luck but also to bring money into your pockets. A loadstone was also good, not only because it was magnetic and was used to charge the compass needles (which later became superfluous due to the further development of the compasses themselves), they were also regarded as magical and thus served as a lucky charm.

The caul, which remained on the child's head at birth, was the ultimate protection against drowning and was therefore highly prized.

Religious objects:

Even though religion was such a thing on board and priests were very much avoided, as they were simply associated with death, many carried a rosary or images of saints.

These were seen as protectors and some people believed they would bring them luck, even without religious belief. Hope with her anchor or an anchor alone was also a symbol of hope and was often carried around.

Parts of animals:

There were animals that you simply didn't want to have near you, but parts of them promised good luck. Like the infamous rabbit's foot, but never the whole rabbit. This was the long-eared beast and was not allowed on board because, according to legend, rabbits once sank a ship because they had nibbled on the rigging and everything else. But a paw was considered a lucky charm.

It was similar with sharks, nobody wanted them near them and so many hung a shark fin on the stern to keep them away. To make sure nothing happened to you if you accidentally went overboard, many wore a shark's tooth around their neck to protect them from attack. A custom that originated in the Caribbean and Polynesia, as the people there wore shark teeth as a symbol of masculinity, strength and protection from the gods. Europeans wore them to bring good luck and protection.

In one case, they preferred to have the whole animal with them and that was a black cat. These sweet velvet paws were reviled on land as servants of the devil, but on board a ship they were an absolute lucky charm. Not only did they catch rats and mice, but they were also said to be able to tell the weather, they were also a popular mascot that had to be looked after and if one behaved well with them one was also rewarded with cuddles if one was lucky.

People:

Children born on board were considered lucky charms for the whole crew and the ship, and if you didn't have one, the comrade with the gold earring was a popular hammock neighbor and messmate. Because his proximity alone was enough to protect you from disaster.

A naked woman at the bow was also a good idea to ward off disaster. But please don't run off now and undress the captain's or lieutenant's wife and put her up front. That would only cause unnecessary annoyance - from her and her husband. Leave that to the Figurehead, because she was enough to calm the sea.

Protection for the ship itself:

Well, not only the crew needed a bit of luck, but also the wooden lady, so they liked to nail an upturned, worn horseshoe to the mast to catch the luck and keep it inside. Otherwise, the coins that were worked in under the mast were also regarded as lucky charms and, according to my theory, also as payment for the ferryman.

What was also good was if you painted a few eyes in a small area, usually near the bow. They were supposed to foresee dangers and conjure up good fortune, just as they had once done in ancient times, where they were painted on the bow as forerunners of the Figurehead.

Hexmarks (engraved or painted circles) were also considered lucky charms and protection against dark forces, who knew where the next witch was up to mischief and therefore had to protect themselves.

[or0ch1maru]

Akatsuki Beach day HCs?(also include orochimaru if you don't mind) kisame is thriving

Anytime I think akatsuki and the beach I can only imagine absolute chaos

I’m loving all these fun and mushy scripts y’all are sending my way🖤🥺also, please don’t worry if it takes me a while to get to yours, my small business and my job(I work retail and it’s been a HOT MESS with Christmas right around the corner) tend to take up a lot of my time but I promise to get to every one you lovies send in<3

Okay, back to it..

•

🐚so for starters I could see Konan being the main planner. Food, drinks, making sure they have enough of literally everything they could need, as well as making sure everybody wakes up on time to leave.

🐠then for the majority of the time they’re at the beach she would be found relaxing under an umbrella reading or watching everybody have a good time.

🦞pain on the other hand would be trying to stop deidara from blowing up Tobi. (I’ll elaborate further down)

🪸pain would definitely be the ‘dad’ of the group, making sure things aren’t getting too out of hand, and failing terribly at it. Zetsu lost a sandal? Just go barefoot, what’s the worst that could happen? He gets a splinter or a rock scrapes his heel. Feels bad when Zetsu starts crying about his foot hurting, would buy him ice cream as an apology.

🌊I imagine Zetsu as being a big softie. Just like Tobi he wouldn’t know what to do first. I also see him having a slight fear of water? Someone tries splashing him he’d close his leaves? Pinchers? Locking himself in his own shelter

☀️he’d find a bucket, a cup, literally anything and start collecting all the pretty shells he spots, even when the bucket gets full, he’ll start stuffing them in his pockets.

🪼our gentle masked comrade Tobi would refuse to take his mask off, let alone his shirt🥺

🐙poor thing couldn’t figure out what to do when they first arrived; go swimming? Build a sandcastle? Collect shells? Stare at the fish and other sea creatures showing themselves in the water? Nope, he decided on doing what he does best, piss off Deidara

🐬doesn’t even mean to do so, deidara is as explosive as his art so of course he’s going to get mad when Tobi accidentally gets sand in his hair.

🐋would retreat far into the ocean on a floaty, avoiding Tobi as much as possible. His hair would be tied up into a bun to keep the sea water from drying it out. Would most likely be those floaties with the little cup holder in it, probably with a beer can or sake in it.

🦭Sasori my man, I can imagine him working on a sandcastle. Using his skills to make a large one with details that would be tedious to anybody but him.

🦐he would volunteer to run up to the shops to grab things his comrades may want. No matter how small or stupid that item might be. Would buy small toys and presents in the gifts shops for everyone. He really enjoys walking through the board walk, will take a break and hang out on the pier for a bit before returning to the group.

🐚the zombie combo would both be talking and trying to pick up the gorgeous women who also decided to head to the beach that day. Hidan of course would be much more outgoing and flamboyant about it. Showing off his muscles and abs.

🐠Kakuzu on the other hand, all he’s gotta do is show off that one smirk of his to have them hypnotized. Wouldn’t care if one of them felt up on his scars or touched his hair. He won’t voice it, not even to Hidan, but he enjoys the attention, even if nothing comes of it.

🦈oh boy Kisame. Do I really have to say anything? As you said, he’d be THRIVING.

🦈would be moving through the water with ease, not even a ripple would be seen as he swims. Within minutes, sharks and other large sea animals would be seen following him around. He’d be so cute about it too, feeding them random shit he’d find, knowing what they want, or giving the sharks little boops on their noses(you can’t tell me you don’t see him doing this) and would be the main one to eat like 90% of the food Konan packed. She would make him join Sasori when going to the shops so he can stock up on everything he devoured.

🦞our sweet boy Itachi would pop into the water for a little bit before wandering off to the tide pools. He would find a patch of sand to sit on, watching as the sea stars and small fish go about their business as they wait for the tide to come back in

🪸would eventually get tired of being in the sun and lay out a towel next to Konan to hang out under the umbrella. They would talk or sit in silence, depends on how either of them are feeling that day.

•snake boy orochimaru would LATHER himself in sunscreen, you see how pale he is? (No offense, i love him) and he would also wear sunglasses to protect his eyes.

🌊I could see him complaining about the sun and trying to avoid it like the plague, acting as if the sun is the worst thing imaginable. Not one to express his feelings well if at all and uses his complaints to hide the fact that he’s actually having the time of his life. Would put a fish or eel in a jar, wanting to bring it back to the compound to keep as a pet until Konan tells him release it. Promising to take him to a pet store to get one there instead.

☀️towards the end of the day, moving into the early evening the whole group would play volleyball or fuck around in the water, splashing each other until everybody’s out of breath.

[sentientcave]

You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai x OC It's October 1990, and Nikolai is a soldier, guarding the Soviet embassy in Copenhagen. It's a dull assignment, with dull comrades, the only bright spot of his station the days away from the embassy, when he can get to know this new city and her people. It's one of these nights when a woman he's been dreaming about walks into a smoky bar, and into his arms at last.

Contains: Alcohol, smoking, age-gap relationship, plain text is "translated" Russian (Since it is Nikolai's perspective), English in italics, pining, low-key hero worship, oral sex, unprotected (oops) sex. (Let me know if I missed something!)

~7.3k - MDNI!! - Intended for mature audiences

Read on AO3

Copenhagen, October 5th, 1990

Copenhagen was… Alright. 

Nikolai had gotten a cushy sort of assignment, thanks to Natalia’s connections, guarding the Soviet embassy. Mostly all he had to do was stand around and look threatening, check identification at the gate, occasionally follow the ambassador around to some function or another. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t exciting. It just… was. Days bled into each other like cheap watercolour paint, edges blurred and indistinct. The routine chafed at him. He had gotten too used to freedom, running wild between Leningrad and the farmhouse out in Kyrelia, skipping school and occasionally helping his uncle with work, which was more likely to end in real action than anything he did at the embassy. A high-speed car chase through fields of rye was good fun, and a knife-fight in a back alley was better. 

Still, there was a certain thrill to getting out of Russia— A few runs across the border into Finland hadn’t given him much idea of what life was like outside, and he was eager to taste what the West had to offer him. He spent every moment that he could off base, practising his languages, picking up pretty brunettes (English and American ones, when he could), listening to music that hadn’t been approved by any government agency, played in basement bars, laced with anger and heavy guitar, the air heavy with smoke and the smell of sweat. He would have spent too much of his meagre salary going out to bars around the city, if he didn’t so often wind up with more cash in his pockets than when he left, betting on games of pool and poker and winning more often than not. 

He had a few favourite establishments, ones with a higher turnover rate of tourists. It was harder to shark the same people twice, but cocky American tourists provided good hunting for a fresh-faced soldier who was oh so good at pretending to be a simple country boy. It was their own arrogance that lost the games before they had even begun. Nikolai had no qualms about using that American bluff and bluster to his advantage. This particular bar was near some of the embassies and plenty of hotels, and he’d already made a hundred American dollars playing pool with chain of unlucky marks (So typical of Americans to carry their own currency in another country). He sat at the bar considering his next move. He felt no particular urge to play any longer, or to return to his comrades, sitting at a table on the other side of the crowded establishment. Perhaps he would try his luck with the table of leggy blond women in the back corner of the smoky bar. One of them had been throwing smiles his way for the past half-hour. Pussy was pussy, even if he did prefer brunettes with thick, muscular thighs. 

“You should play another round of pool,” Ivan, one of his fellow embassy guards said in his ear, half crashing into him from behind, knocking Nikolai into the bar and nearly spilling his beer. “There is a beautiful woman who’s about to beat a couple of Germans, you could have next game.” 

Nikolai made a disgruntled sound. “I’m done for tonight,” he said, draining the rest of his beer. “You play her.” He had neglected to return to the table with Ivan and the others for a reason. He was tired of the usual posturing and boisterous behaviour already, and they had really only started in on their night. They often made fun of him for calling it early, or not trying to keep up with them, but it was always his turn to feel superior in the morning, when they could hardly open their eyes. 

“Ah, come on, Kolyan. I can’t speak German or English. She will look at me like I’m a fool if I try to speak to her.” Ivan relied too heavily on Nikolai when it came to women. He made no effort to learn other languages, putting him at a disadvantage talking to local and tourist alike in Copenhagen, where Danish, English, German and even French were the best bets for communication.

“Maybe she speaks Russian.” 

Ivan scoffed. “Unlikely. She looks American.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but turned to look, rewarded with the sight of a round ass wearing a pair of blue jeans bent over the table. A brunette, with shiny, slightly curling hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a leather jacket. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two blond giants across from her, she was about to clear the table. And she was just Nikolai’s type, by the shape of her. 

He ordered two shots of whiskey, and when he turned to look around again, the woman had circled to the other side of the table. Nikolai’s heart stammered to a stop for a moment, bounced against the bottom of his stomach, and lurched back into motion as it landed hard in it’s usual place. 

Helena.

She sank the eight ball, grinning like a wolf, her red-painted lips stark contrast against her white teeth. “Sorry, boys. That’s game,” she told them in that pretty English accent of hers. “Better luck next time.”

Nikolai slapped a few krone on the bar and picked up the shot glasses, sidling up to Helena, setting them on the water-stained wooden edges of the pool table. “Lena,” he said, puffing himself up a bit. He had no need to pitch his voice lower now, or pull himself ramrod straight to give him the extra height.  He was undoubtedly a man now, with a days worth of stubble on his chin and enough experience with women that he would not turn pink or stammer when she looked at him. She would have to see that. “Have a drink with me.”

Her attention snapped away from the Germans and to him, eyes devastatingly sharp on their first pass, until recognition softened her features with a smile half a heartbeat later. “Kolya?” she asked. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she seized him around the neck, pulling him into a tight hug. 

Nikolai wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her in a tight circle, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and sweet, spicy perfume. He was a lot taller than she was now, and she fit into his arms better than a dream, with weight and substance. The last time he had seen her, three years that felt like a lifetime ago, they had been the same height. 

“I’m a soldier now,” he told her as he set her back down on her feet, his hands lingering on her hips just a moment longer than necessary. He had no desire to let her go, but he did. “Stationed at the embassy. Aunt Talia pulled strings. It’s an easy assignment.”

“They made you cut your hair.” She rubbed a hand over his head, her hand sliding down the back of his neck before she let it fall back to her side. “It’s too bad. The long hair suited you.”

Nikolai nudged her gently, picking the shots up again and handing one to her. “I’ll grow it back once I’m my own man again. For you.”

He loved the way her eyes creased when she smiled. “Good.” They knocked their glasses together and downed them at the same time. “You still smoke?” she asked, inclining her head towards the door. “I was about to step outside.”

“You can smoke in here.” A bluish haze hung in the air above their heads, swirling whenever someone opened the door to admit a fresh gust of air, and many patrons of the bar had lit cigarettes in their hands, smoke drifting upwards with every exhale. 

“I know. But it’s loud. I want to catch up.” 

He would never argue against taking a moment alone with her. “As you wish.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. He could feel Ivan’s eyes on the back of his neck, so he shot a quick, gloating glance over his shoulder at his open-mouthed comrade, and then dashed ahead to open the door for Helena. 

They stepped into the cool night air, and Helena pulled a pack of smokes out of her inner jacket pocket and thumbed one up enough that she could pull it out with her mouth, and offered the pack to Nikolai while she dug her lighter out of the front pocket of her jeans. 

“You’re here on business?” Nikolai held her wrist steady as he plucked a cigarette from the pack, fingers moving fast enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice that he took one that had the slightest smudge of red lipstick on it. He might be a man, but he didn’t harbour any illusions about his chances with Helena. An indirect kiss was the best he could hope for. 

Lena tucked the pack into her pocket again, nodding. “Yes. Finished up now. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She lit her own cigarette and held up the lighter for him, her other hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the chilly breeze that rolled down the well-lit streets.

“That’s too bad. I have a few days off. It would be nice to spend some time with you.” He braced a hand on the wall behind her as he leaned in, meeting her eyes evenly. Did he just imagine that little hitch of breath? The spark of interest in her dark brown eyes?

She looked away, flicking the lighter closed. “I could maybe stick around another day.”

“Maybe another two?” he asked playfully. He was still looming over her, not touching, but close enough to share heat. She didn’t move away. 

“We’ll see.” She braced her left elbow against her hand, setting the cigarette to her lips, her eyes everywhere but on him. Perhaps her stance was protective, hesitant, but still… Something had very obviously shifted between them. 

Her wedding band was missing. 

After three years of pining and chasing any woman that reminded him even a little of Helena, it was a cold-water shock to the system to imagine that the real thing was suddenly attainable. Fate had smiled at him, led them to each other on a chilly autumn night in a city big enough that they could have easily sailed right past each other, not even knowing that the other was near. Nikolai was no longer a child, he was tall and strong like a man worthy of her ought to be, and she was as beautiful as he remembered, sloe-eyed and ageless, and she was not wearing a wedding ring. 

Still, his chances balanced like a knife tip on a finger. It would be easy to move to fast or too slow, to ask the wrong question or provide the wrong answer. Helena might still think him too young. He could stumble and show his limited experience, let the facade of confidence slip, allow the knife to tumble, sharp and glittering, to the ground.  

He resisted the urge to touch one of the escaped wisps of hair that framed her face, curling in the damp sea air. "Do you ever wear your hair down?" he asked, pivoting away from the inclination to ask about her marriage. Maybe that would be a conversation for a few drinks later. 

"Not really," she said, finally looking up at him again, tucking one of those escaped curls behind her ear. "Why?" 

"Just wondering. I think I only even saw it down once. It is always business with you. Practicality." 

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Certainly not. It is just curiosity." 

"Hm. Of course.” The look she gave him was strange, fond but slightly suspicious, like she knew that there was something unsaid underneath his casual tone, but hadn’t quite figured out what. “How is the family?” Her turn to pivot, turning the conversation away from herself and back to predictable waters. “Last time I spoke to Talia she said she was expecting another baby." 

Nikolai nodded. "Yes. Due soon. Maybe inside the month. And little Aleksei just turned three. Getting bigger every day. Talking endlessly, asking a thousand questions every day. Wants to know the whys of every little thing. How is your son? Ten now, yes?" 

"Yes. He's a smart boy. Very capable. He's an expert marksman already. Hits a dead eye on a moving target eight times out of ten." 

"Impressive." 

“He’s got no real sense for flying though. Taken him up a few times, but he doesn’t like heights. Poor kid.”

Nikolai laughed, struck, not for the first time, at the absurdity of her being a mother at all. She had patience, but little softness, more a captain training a recruit than a mother teaching her son, more concerned with toughness and survival than anything else. She was a hawk nudging her fledgling out of the nest and hoping he would fly. “He is only ten years old, Lena,” he reminded her. “You cannot expect him to be an expert in all things.”

“Well, I suppose not. He’s a pretty good driver, at least.” 

Ivan tumbled out the door, followed by Iosif and Pyotr, the three of them laughing. Like Nikolai, they had gotten their stations in Copenhagen due to connections, but unlike Nikolai, they didn’t take an ounce of it seriously. Nikolai was no nationalist, but he did respect the training. He knew he could outrun, out-lift and out-shoot all three of them. And when it came to thinking, he was many miles ahead as well. 

“Kolyan! We thought you left us behind,” Pyotr said. “But no, you are just out here with a beautiful woman.” 

“Helena,” Lena supplied, giving them a half-wave with her nearly spent cigarette. 

“Pyotr,” he replied, giving her a wide smile. He was tall as Nikolai, and blond and handsome in an annoying, self-aware way. “Ivan, and Iosif,” he added, pointing to the others in turn. “You don’t look Russian.” They were all so surprised when someone could speak more languages then they were born with, as though their own ignorant refusal to learn to communicate was the norm.

“I’m English,” she said. “A friend of Kolya’s family.”

Iosif gave Helena a look that lingered too long everywhere but her face. It made Nikolai want to punch him repeatedly. “You’re very beautiful,” Iosif said bluntly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled at him, the wolfish one that was all bared teeth and thinly-veiled threat, and dropped her cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it to ensure it was fully out. “No. I buy my own drinks.”

“Kolyan bought you a drink,” Iosif protested. 

“I don’t like you as much as I like him,” Lena said, shrugging. “There are no debts between us.” 

Of course she would say so. She didn’t tally favours against friends, no concern for balanced books when the scales were tipped her way. He didn’t operate like that— Couldn’t afford to let favours accumulate interest, liked to collect sooner rather than later, keeping his own ledger clear. But it was staggering, how much he owed her. For the gifts, his flight lessons, the dust up in Leningrad where he had gotten injured, cornered and nearly killed, and she had taken down two men with her boot knife and bare hands. “Not quite,” Nikolai said softly. “My life is yours.” Perhaps it was nothing to her, just another day in a life filled with violence, but he would certainly not forget the sight of her covered in someone else’s blood, rushing to his side the moment both bodies hit the floor. 

She shook her head, looking up at him. Her dark eyes looked starry, the way they cast back the orange light of streetlamps and the pink and blue neon sign from across the street, but it was hard to fathom what she was thinking, behind all that reflected colour. “No, Kolya. You owe me nothing.”

Nikolai tossed down his own cigarette and tapped his first knuckle against the bottom of her chin, leaning in a little closer. “It is really not a matter of owing, Helena,” he purred. “It is a matter of knowing where I stand.”

Her lips parted slightly, a hint of colour creeping into her pale cheeks. 

“If there is a story there, we’d like to hear it,” Pyotr said smoothly, interrupting the moment with all the grace of a bucking bull smashing through a window. “Come, let Kolyan buy you another drink, tell us why he owes you his life.”

“It is better if I tell it,” Nikolai said. “She will discount her actions, because she is as modest as she is beautiful. But it is up to her if we join you. Tonight she is my general.” He dropped his arm to her shoulders, pulling her in close. She made no move to push him away, and her body fit right in against him like she belonged there. Like she belonged with him. 

“They’re your friends, Kolya. Up to you.”

In all truth, he didn’t want to share any of her attention with them, although he did feel a certain pull to show her off some, even though she was not really his.  “One drink,” he said. “We won’t stay long.”

They crowded back into the bar, and Helena touched Nikolai's chest lightly. "I'll be right back," she said, taking off for the back corner of the bar, weaving through clumps of other patrons. It was getting busier, and a band was tuning up their instruments on the opposite side of the establishment, the noise already sending ripples through the haze of smoke. Pyotr followed him to the bar while Ivan and Iosif laid claim to one of the few remaining tables. 

"You always have good luck with women," Pyotr complained while they waited for the bartender to take notice of them. "You should leave some beautiful girls for the rest of us, no?" 

"If you learned another tongue you could speak to some of them yourself," Nikolai said. "You and Ivan should try. Iosif has been learning English. He's fucking terrible at it, but it's worth the effort. He gets dates." 

"Your Helena speaks Russian. And German?" 

"And French. Maybe more than that. She does business in many countries."

“Business? She does not look like a business woman.”

Nikolai shrugged, burying his irritation under nonchalance. “Perhaps you have a narrow mind.” 

Once they had their drinks in hand, they found the other two soldiers, and crammed into the booth with them. With four bulky men in the space, it was hard to imagine squeezing Helena into a proper seat. Nikolai wanted to kiss Ivan and Iosif on the mouth for creating a scenario where he might be able to coax Helena to sit on his lap. They were not good for much, but at least they were good for something. 

Helena reappeared at his shoulder, and Nikolai twisted to look up at her, surprised to find that she had taken her hair down from its ponytail. She looked a little wilder that way, a little younger, dark hair loose around her shoulders, curling at the ends.

"Why don't you sit with me?" Pyotr asked, patting his knee invitingly. "Pretty thing like you ought to have a man take care of you, yes?" 

Helena gave him an unamused look and hooked her arm around Nikolai's shoulders, dropping onto his thigh without any further ceremony. Nikolai wrapped his arm around her waist happily, his big hand sitting on the junction between her hip and thigh. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers in and feel her properly. "Don't get any ideas, Kolya," she told him, an attempt to be stern, although he wasn't sure either of them really believed that she meant it. "I'm far too old." 

"Not so," Nikolai said, hoping honesty would help his case. "I've been with older women than you." He preferred women to girls his own age. 

Surprise flickered across her face. She was rarely surprised, but the expression suited her, her soft red lips parting slightly, her beautiful eyes, usually half closed, opened wide. Ivan and Iosif were laughing, Iosif jostling Pyotr with his elbow for getting rejected so definitively. 

Nikolai pressed his advantage, leaning in close, his words only for her. "Perhaps you will tell me later why you have no ring on your finger." 

She turned her head slightly. They were so close that their noses almost brushed. "Kolya..." 

"Lena," he returned, nudging the tip of his nose against hers, satisfaction pooling in his belly at the was she inhaled, like she thought he was going to try to kiss her. And then he turned away, picking up his beer and nudging hers toward the corner of the table slightly.

Yes, things had certainly shifted between them.

There was something gratifying about having her there, and not just because her warm body was pressed close to his, but to have someone to exchange a look with when Pyotr said something out of touch, or when Ivan made a terrible joke. They tended to think alike, him and his sparrowhawk, and every time they looked at each other it was confirmation of the chemistry that Nikolai had long been painfully aware of, and Lena was just beginning to realize. 

When she finished her beer, she stood up, heading outside for another cigarette. She didn’t like to smoke indoors— Nikolai suspected it was more a reason to take a step outside to gather her thoughts than it was for any type of propriety. Pyotr had offered her two as they sat around the table, and she had politely declined each time. 

“I won’t be back,” he told the others, grinning wolfishly at the sour look on Pyotr’s face. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me. You will not be able to talk your way out of it.”

He found Lena around the corner, tucked into an alley to get out of the wind. The weather had a habit of shifting without warning, and there was a smell of ozone in the air, promising rain, although the sky above them was still dark and clear. 

She looked at him, but didn’t speak, simply held out her pack of cigarettes to offer him one. He lit it with his own lighter this time, nodding his thanks rather than breaking the silence. If she had something on her mind, it would be better to wait her out. So he smoked, standing a step away, watching her. He could never get tired of looking at her anyway. 

Finally, she spoke, an accusation, but delivered lightly. “You’ve been flirting.”

He nodded. The allegations were more than true. He was only glad that she could not charge him for the thoughts he’d indulged in, not simply that evening, but for a very long time. “I have.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.” 

She dropped her spent cigarette to the ground, frowning. "Kolya, you're too young. You should be with someone your own age." 

Nikolai dropped his own cigarette and threw caution away as well, stepping forward, crowding her up against the rough brick, and cupped her face, allowing all the admiration and want that he'd tried to bury for years to rise to the surface. "I am nearly twenty. I am a soldier. Old enough to die for my country, but not old enough to want to make love to a beautiful woman I respect and adore?" 

She gripped his wrists, but didn't pull his hands away. "I--"

"No. Even before you were not happy. You deserve more, from a man who will do anything for you. Let me be that man, Lena. At least for a day or two, hm?" He pressed his lips to hers and drew back, searching her eyes for a reaction. Her grip on his wrists loosened and fell away, her palms settling against his chest instead. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, indecision writ in bold script across her face. Good sense would have her send him away, but it was not a night where good sense reigned supreme. They were alone, in a world that had shrank to fit just the two of them, everything else forgotten and distant. 

Her eyes dropped from his and settled on his mouth. "Oh fuck it," she said, and they crashed together desperately, her hands gripping his shirt.

Heat blazed in his chest, like a sputtering engine roaring to life. She opened up to him without him having to do any prodding, he could taste smoke and the clean burn of alcohol on her tongue as it moved against his. This was passion, not the clumsy, anxious pawing between two inexperienced people, like he was more used to, but the inevitable reaction of two people who knew exactly what they wanted. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, angling her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss the slightest bit more, licking eagerly into her mouth. She made a soft sound, arms twining around his neck so she could press her body closer to his. He let his own hands settle on her waist. As much as he wanted to touch every inch of her, he didn't want to come across as too excitable or get carried away by his desire. He needed to make Helena melt first. His own pleasure was a guarantee. Even if she stopped him there, he had held and touched and kissed her now, and he had come many times to paltry imaginings of less.

Lena broke them apart, breathing hard, her dark eyes bright and slightly unfocused, like she had never been kissed like that. Like his kiss had left her more unsteady than the drinks, her red lipstick smeared across her mouth. “I’m staying close by,” she told him, running her thumb across the corner of his mouth, coming away with more red pigment. “Do you want—”

He cut her off with another kiss. He didn’t give a fuck if there was lipstick staining his own mouth. It was just evidence that she really had kissed him. “If you’re asking if I want to get out of here, the answer is yes.”

“Should you tell your friends?”

“No. I make it a habit to leave without saying goodbye. Especially if a beautiful woman has been sitting in my lap all evening.” He grinned, catching her hand as he stepped back. “Where are you staying?”

They walked to her hotel slowly, Nikolai stopping to kiss her at every opportunity, a little worried that she might, at any moment, come to her senses and send him on his way. He had wanted her so badly for so long, he did not wish to stop until they had tangled up together in bed, and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he could convince her to spend more time with him. Perhaps when he had served his time in the army he would be able to follow her wherever she went. 

It would likely take some convincing, but he was up to the task. In that moment, he was up to any task. 

She unlocked the door to her hotel room, her expression turning pensive. "I'm not divorced yet, we’re just separated for now. Maybe this is--"

"Lena, I am not asking you for the rest of your life." He didn't add that he would take it, if she offered it to him-- That he would take anything she offered him, no matter how big or small. "I only want to show you what you mean to me." 

She pushed the door open to let him in. "I don't-- I don't even know if we will get divorced." 

"I don't care." He did. He cared a lot, but if he said that aloud she would halt things, tell him it was for his own good. 

"Of course not. It's just a crush you want to work out of your system, right?" She smiled wryly, shedding her leather jacket and tossing it over a chair. 

"Sure." He tossed his own jacket down on top of hers and hauled her back into his arms. "Do you want to talk about this man that never deserved you? Or do you want to forget him?" He rubbed his thumb over the jagged scar on her arm, where it cut her RAF tattoo in half, his touch following it up to where it disappeared under her rolled up t-shirt sleeve and back down again. 

She drew in a shaky breath, as unsure as Nikolai had ever seen her. "He cheated on me. Said it was because I was gone so much. Guess I can’t blame him for that. Just never was able to stay home. Too much to do. Not built for domesticity.” 

“You cannot help being what you are,” Nikolai said.

Lena laughed lightly and wound her arms around his waist, her hands slipping under his shirt and curling against his back. “Are you going to tell me what I am, Kolya?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him. 

“A sparrowhawk. A fierce little hunting bird. A warrior, perhaps, a traveller, certainly. Never the kind of woman that belongs tucked away in a kitchen somewhere. Your husband is a fool if he cannot appreciate you as you were made to be.” 

“He wants to work it out,” she warned him. “We've got so much tangled up together it might be the only thing that makes sense." 

“Perhaps. Perhaps if you must, you should allow him to chase his lesser women, so that you can spend your time with a better man.” He grinned at her and moved in for another kiss. He had said everything that needed saying, laid out what cards he thought would aid him, and kept the rest tucked away for later. She all but melted in his arms, lips parting reflexively for him. 

This time, he made no effort to restrain himself, letting his hands roam, moaning into her mouth when he finally got a handful of her backside, fingers gripping a little too tight from enthusiasm. What curves she had were incidental, from her broad-hipped build rather than much softness— Even motherhood had granted very little softness to Lena, she was packed muscle and callouses and fire, totally unlike any of the pale imitations he had found himself chasing over the past few years. Lena would always be a soldier first, it would take some effort to remind her that she was a woman too. 

Nikolai stepped forward, making Lena move backwards until her knees hit the bed, and broke the kiss so he could kiss down her neck, sucking a little too hard just below her ear, making her hiss. She gripped the collar of his shirt firmly, hauling him back a bit. “Easy,” she said, laughing. “Leave the hickies for the college girls, Kolya.”

He flushed pink, although the embarrassment from his mistake did nothing to dampen the mood, blessedly. “Sorry,” he said, knocking his forehead against hers. “You’re very hot.”

Lena grinned in response and tugged his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side. She ran her hands over his chest, eyes following hungrily. “So are you.”

Nikolai had been hard since they started kissing outside the bar, but her words, somehow all the more genuine delivered in her own tongue, coupled with the look she gave him made him twitch, blood fully abandoning his head to travel south. He pulled her shirt off too, and kissed down her chest, cheering internally that he managed to unhook her bra on the first attempt, rather than struggling with the clasp like a schoolboy. 

Her nails grazed over his head encouragingly when he reached her small breasts, lapping his tongue across one nipple and palming the other. She made a breathy sound, and then a groan when he tested his teeth against the sensitive nub. He groaned too, some primal part of him getting off on the fact that he was making her feel good, that she was letting him touch her, that she was enjoying the feeling of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth on her skin. He felt twenty feet tall. 

Lena reached for his belt, undoing the buckle before his syrupy-slow thoughts could catch up. He broke away from her breast and caught her wrists before she could do more than undo the top button of his jeans. He was fairly sure he would spill all over her fingers if she put her hands on him. “Impatient,” he chided her, pushing her onto the bed. He sank to his knees, positioning his body between her thighs. “Ladies first.”

Her laugh was always music to his ears, but it was honey sweet now, pooling somewhere in his chest as he cut her off with another kiss. He couldn’t risk her seeing the feeling in his eyes— He knew it was too close to love, that she would realize that this meant more to him than it did to her, and she would send him away to protect him. 

He ducked his head and sank back on his haunches, pulling one of her boots into his lap so he could undo the laces and pull it free. She leaned back on her elbows to watch him, her head tipped to the side thoughtfully. Her gaze burned, but he didn’t look up until he had set both boots to the side, sliding his hands up her firm thighs to the waistband of her jeans. “These need to come off now.” 

“Now who’s impatient?” she asked teasingly, but she pitched her hips up so he could peel the denim off of her legs anyway, the heat in her eyes undeniable. 

Nikolai ran his hands up her legs reverently, dropping a kiss on the inside of her knee, torn as ever between restraint and enthusiasm. He pushed her legs open a little wider, attention fixed on her cotton-clad cunt. 

Lena gave him a sly, fox-like smile. "You want to taste me?" She asked, hooking her thumbs through the waistband of her panties. 

"More than anything," he breathed. 

"Then get to it, soldier," she said, pushing them down.

"Yes ma'am." Nikolai pulled them the rest of the way off, and tried to be subtle about shoving the (wet!) cotton in his pocket. She probably saw, but she was gracious enough to not mention it. He wasted no more time, pulling her to the edge of the bed as he peppered the inside of her thighs with kisses, eyes focused on her pretty pussy, framed by slick darkened curls. His cock throbbed as he dipped his head down, licking a broad path along her slit, groaning at the heady taste of her. He threw one of her lean legs over his shoulder and fixed his mouth to her clit, lapping his tongue across it, gripping tightly to her hips when they bucked up against him. A moan fell from Helena's mouth, prompting him to repeat the movement. 

He found a rhythm quickly, spurred on by her gasped instructions, or her hand nudging his head into just the right position. He had found that the benefit sleeping with older women was that they weren’t shy about asking for what they wanted, but Helena took it a step further and simply took, grinding against his tongue, using the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, the other planted on his thigh so she could push him just slightly away, reminding him to breathe. As if that was important, when the sharp taste of her was heavy on his tongue and her moans were thick in the air. 

“Two fingers,” Lena gasped, nudging him back slightly to make sure he was listening. “Inside, please.”

Nikolai obeyed, leaning back to watch her face, replacing his tongue with his thumb. Her soaked cunt pulsed around his fingers, her hips canting toward his touch desperately. He curled his fingers just so, and she keened, fisting the sheets as if she were worried that she would levitate off the bed and away from his hands. “Will you come for me?” he purred. “You look so beautiful. Taste so sweet.”

His words made her gush, her walls clenching tight around him. “Fuck— Kolya!” Her whole body shuddered, pulling taut, tension snapping when he suctioned his mouth to her swollen clit once more, moaning against her as she came, as if her pleasure was his own. It nearly was. He was so hard, and his jeans so tight that he could imagine coming just from the pressure and the sweet sounds she made, although he tried not to think about that. 

She unhooked her leg from his shoulder and pushed herself into a seated position, cupping his jaw to pull him closer. “You’re pretty good at that,” she panted, pressing a kiss to his mouth, unphased by the slick that coated the lower half of his face. 

Nikolai got to his feet, letting his teeth graze against her bottom lip before he straightened up fully, separating reluctantly so he could kick off his boots and finally rid himself of the rest of his clothes. “I’m good at lots of things,” he promised. 

Helena moved toward the head of the mattress, watching him, face flushed pink high on her cheekbones and hair a mess already. Her dark eyes dipped down his chest, thighs pressing together when he finally freed his cock. He wanted to imprint the image of her looking at him like that on the back of his eyelids, so he could see it every time he blinked for the rest of his life. Her dark eyes were hot and hungry, for him. That morning, this was a distant, far off fantasy that lingered in the back of his mind, and now she was here, laying naked before him, every inch of her lean, muscular, scarred up body on display, and she wanted him. 

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here and show me what else you’re good at?” she asked. 

“I am just appreciating the view,” he laughed, climbing onto the bed beside her. “It’s one I’d very much like to remember.”

“Flatterer,” she accused, curling into his arms for another kiss. 

He hummed against her mouth, agreeing, pulling her on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. He was glad she was as eager to lock lips as he was— He could never get tired of the spit-slicked slide of her mouth against his, the swipe of her tongue against his own, like she was as desperate to devour him as he was her. He reached around her hips to take himself in hand, precum easing the glide of his first few rough, desperate strokes. 

“Koyla,” she whined against his mouth, angling her hips back. 

“You want me?” he asked, tapping the head of his cock against her core, grinning when she inched backward, chasing it when he pulled back again. 

“Yes,” she panted. “Please.”

Who was he to deny her? He rubbed himself against her dripping folds again, and she pitched herself backward, taking him to the hilt in one smooth movement. He groaned, fighting off the urge to come just like that, at the first molten clench of her cunt around him, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he adjusted. 

Lena fought his grip, grinding her clit down against him, desperate for friction and movement. Nikolai lost the battle shamefully quick, an orgasm pulsing through him before he could do more than pant out her name, holding her down against him as he came inside her, eyes screwed tight. 

He pulled in a shuddering breath, wincing. “Shit. Sorry.”

Lena just laughed, not an ounce of judgment or disappointment in the sound. “You need a minute?” she asked, pushing back up onto her knees, their hips still pressed flush together. Her cunt pulsed around him, and, blessedly, his cock responded with enthusiasm, staying hard. She rocked back and forth, hands braced against his chest as she fucked herself slowly on him, drawing each movement out excruciatingly slow, a teasing smile on her lips. She squeezed around him again, and he could help but groan, rutting up into her reflexively. 

“No. No, I will keep going. Sorry.” He pulled her down against his chest and rolled them so that he was on top. Coming too early once was bad enough, he couldn’t risk it happening a second time. He folded her legs up and thrust into her slow, making sure that she felt every inch of him drag across that spongy, sensitive spot that he had found with his fingers earlier. 

Lena hooked her legs around his waist, pressing her palms against the headboard to give herself some leverage to meet his movements, encouraging him to pick up his pace. He followed her cue, pistoning into her soaked pussy harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass, coupling with the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of her and the little whimpers that left her lips with every thrust. He dropped down to his forearms, feeling tension building inside him again, trying to keep his reaction in check, and the change in angle made her cry out. She let go of the headboard and clung to his shoulders instead, burying her face against his neck. 

“Kolya,” she gasped into his ear. “I’m close.”

He knew that the best thing he could do was keep to the same rhythm, so he continued the relentless pace, shifting his wieght to one arm so he could reach between them, rubbing a tight circle around her clit. He legs squeezed tight around him, her cunt fluttering around his cock. She bit down on his shoulder, groaning against his skin, nails digging into his back.  His own release came quickly, the tension snapping as he spilled inside her for the second time. He rutted against her until her cunt relented, loosening around him. 

“Fuck,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You’re so beautiful. Next time I need to see your face, yes?”

That teasing, fox-like grin returned. “Next time?”

“Give me, five, ten minutes,” he panted. “I’m good for it.” 

She laughed, pushing him over onto the bed and curling into him, her head on his shoulder, her legs tangled up with his. She made a soft, contented noise, running her fingers through the sweaty curls of hair on his chest, her expression turning dazed and thoughtful as she relaxed in his arms. He smoothed her hair back from her face, kissing the top of her head affectionately. 

"You flown a helo yet?” she asked. “I could take you up tomorrow, if you want. There’s one on the ship." The change of subject was abrupt, but he knew her well enough to recognize her tactics when she got too close to an emotion. 

"I would like that.” 

“Good. Me too.”

Nikolai sighed, tilting Lena’s chin up for another proper kiss. He would spend every moment he could by her side, for as long as she would let him, in the air or on solid ground. “Will you be in town again soon?” he asked hopefully. 

“I haven’t even left yet,” she said, laughing. 

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

She bit her lip, cheeks turning pinker, her eyes filled with something shining and hopeful and sweet, something that settled under his ribs, curling up in his chest and purring like a contented cat. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Next time, stay longer.” 

“I will,” she promised. “And yes, soon.”

He didn’t expect more than that. Couldn’t, knowing her. But it was enough. 

Maybe Copenhagen wasn’t so bad after all. 

[crychaoss]

Ok, so everything I said about what the "we are humans, not fish." quote from Foolish is probably not right BECAUSE

I just found out that this quote is from Naruto, more specifically Itachi, a member of the akatsuki, the organisation where Foolish's current skin came from ->

The whole quote is this:

"We're both human, not fish. No matter who you are, you do not truly know what kind of a man you've become until you reach the very end. One realizes one's true nature at the moment of death. Don't you think that's what death is about?"

It's interesting that q!Foolish changed it to "we are humans" and not "we're both human". He probably meant all the other members who do not trust him at the moment. And the next line is pretty self explanatory, everyone is saying that q!Foolish betrayed them and that he's working for the Federation, but since we don't know what the Feds true intentions are with Foosh, we simply do not know if he did betray them or not.

Look at q!Cellbit as an example. Everyone trusted him, and he's the reason everything they knew about the feds and their whole investigation went to waste, even if he didn't do it intentionally. Maybe Foolish working with the Feds on purpose, might give the opposite results, and they might actually find a way to take down the Federation once and for all.

But as the quote says "No matter who you are, you do not truly know what kind of man you've become until you reach the very end". Foolish on the day he arrested Pac e Mike also said this: "Eventually it will all pay off. We just have to be very very patient, like we've always been." Whatever is the outcome of all this, we have to wait until the end, and then we'll know if Foolish did make a mistake joining the Federation or not.

The last part is a bit worrying tho, because q!Foolish might be implying that if it comes to that, his friends and family will only know what kind of a person he truly was, once he dies.

Some other cool hints from Naruto that were said before "we're both humans, not fish":

Kisame, another character from Naruto was talking about sharks and how they are killers from the moment they are born, and that's why Itachi called sharks "fish", because Kisame compared Itachi and him to sharks.

"No one who dares to raise their hand against a comrade ever dies a decent death" - I don't think Foolish even realized but this line fits him and Tazercraft so well. This was said like right before the fish quote.

So that's all the theory stuff. I just want to say big KUDOS to Foolish because holy shit. When Cellbit went to the coords, he was so disappointed by the sign Foolish left because he has no idea it has a deeper meaning. We knew Foolish was smart, and I was guessing the quote was not just some kind of joke because if you look at most of Foolish's stuff that are not supposed to be taken seriously, he most of the times puts ":D" next to it. But the sign only had the quote, nothing else. It even had a dot at the end (which means serious). So I hope Foolish and Cellbit gets to talk today before or after the elections and Foolish might imply that the quote has a deeper meaning (or Cellbit finds out about it in some other way). I just want him to know because it was such a smart move from Foolish. My streamer is good at lore :D

[fflewddur-feanorion]

***More story under the cut!**

A concept: orc Maedhros.

When Maitimo is led out of Angband’s dungeons, he can barely recognize his own reflection. His teeth are pointed like a shark’s, and two small tusks jut out of his mouth.  His skin feels thick and leathery. His eyes glow with a faint yellowish light.

Morgoth peers down at the newly formed Orc huddled at his feet. He is particularly proud of this experiment. “Join me,” he says. “You have no other choice. The Elves will never accept an Orc in their midst.”

But Maitimo’s spirit still burns like a white fire within. (In this way, at least, he is his father’s son.) He glares up at Morgoth, baring his newly formed fangs. “There is always another choice.”

And so Maitimo is chained to the mountain. 

The Orcs notice him immediately. At first, they’re wary of the stranger attached to the cliff face– but how bad could he really be? He’s not an elf or anything. 

A few Orcs begin talking to him when they pass by. Sometimes they taunt him. Sometimes they talk about the weather (it’s hot. It’s always hot) or their comrades (bastards, the lot of them) or gossip (“I got a new schmitar and she didn’t even notice.”)

Eventually, Maitimo learns some Orcish. "How terrible for you," he says when an Orc is complaining about some minor inconvenience. "I don't know how you live like this."

The mountain is horrific, of course, but it would have been worse for an Elf. Maitimo’s lungs filter toxins from the poisoned air. His clawed hands and feet cling to the mountain face, keeping him stable during storms. His thick, leathery skin shields him from debris. Weeks turn into months, which turn into years.

Then Fingon marches up to the foot of the mountain, frostbitten, scarred, exhausted, and utterly fearless. He prays to the Valar for help. Maybe the eagle appears. Or maybe it doesn’t, and Fingon climbs the mountain on his own. The outcome is the same, give or take a few bruises.

Maitimo went to Angband, but it is Maedhros who gives up the crown. “A king is he that holds his own,” he says. (The Noldor will never have an Orc as their king. Morgoth was right about this, at least.)

He moves to Himring. (It’s not officially exile, but Maedhros can’t exactly return.) Himring turns out to be a good place for an Orc. The cloudy sky keeps his skin from blistering, and the frigid air is-- oddly-- easier to breathe than the warm, clean breezes in Mithrim.

At first, the Noldor refuse to follow him. Who in their right mind would follow an Orc to a desolate fortress at the gates of hell? Then, just as Maedhros is beginning to lose hope, a thrall straggles in from Angband. When Maedhros asks his name, he doesn’t respond.

“Okay,” Maedhros growls as kindly as possible. “I’m going to call you Erestor. If you don’t like it, you can choose something else.”

More thralls arrive. They are joined by a lone Dwarf, a handful of humans, two Easterling outcasts, some Nolofinwëans fresh off the Helcaraxë, and-- yes-- a few Orcs.

Erestor discovers he has a gift for languages and quickly picks up Quenya, Sindarin, Westron, and a hint of Khuzdûl. He appoints himself Maedhros’ seneschal. This is never discussed, but both he and Maedhros are extremely pleased.

There are bad days, of course. Sometimes Maedhros can't quite accept that this scarred, clawed body belongs to him. Sometimes he's overflowing with anger-- at Morgoth, at Fëanor for bringing him to this accursed continent, at his brothers who hunt Orcs like it's a game.

Himring comforts him. Maedhros has built a sanctuary in a place where life should not exist, and that, more than anything, is a victory against Morgoth.

"Why do you surround yourself with danger?" Maglor asks once he's finally worked up the courage to visit. "Surely there have been assassination attempts, living with... you know."

(There have been. They're surprisingly rare, and Maedhros has always been a light sleeper.)

Maedhros looks out the window. It's snowing today. The Easterlings and Elves are running through the courtyard, flinging handfuls of snow at each other. Erestor watches from the sidelines, head thrown back in laughter. "I surround myself with friends," he says. "Make of that what you will."

A concept: orc Maedhros, who makes the world a little kinder than it might have been.

[islandtarochips]

Call of Duty OC: Tiala “Shark” Toa

A young female First Sergeant, who joined the U.S. Marines Corps to honor her older brother’s name. Who sadly passed away from one of the toughest missions. Working long and hard to save civilians from being captive by terrorists or any dangerous enemies. She’s the woman who would get the job done.

General:

🦈 Name: Tiala Toa 🦈 Alias(es): Shark, Tia, Ala (by her brothers), T, Alpha 5, First Sergeant T 🦈 Gender: Female 🦈 Age: Mid 20s 🦈 Birthday: November 19th 🦈 Nationality: United State National (American Samoa) 🦈 Place of Birth: American Samoa 🦈 Home: Kahaluu, Hawaii (Moved there to where the base are at) 🦈 Spoken Languages: English, Samoan, Spanish (Learning) 🦈 Sexuality: Heterosexual 🦈 Occupation: First Sergeant in the Marine Corps, Second-in-Command of the Warriors Task Force

Appearance:

🦈 Eye Color: Dark Brown 🦈 Hair Color: Black and Light Brown (Light Brown is highlighted) 🦈 Height: 5’7”/170 cm 🦈 Scars: Only have burnt scars that were traced on her tattoos that were once there on her right shoulder down to her forearm. Very recognizable, so she mostly wears long sleeve shirts to cover it up. No matter what. 🦈 Face Claim: Auli’i Cravalho

Favorites:

🦈 Color: Ocean Blue 🦈 Food: Shoyu Ahi Poke, Samoan Oka 🦈 Drink: Mostly Water (Refreshing) 🦈 Flower: Hibiscus 🦈 Hairstyle: Bun when she’s out of duty or at home, Loose Braid for missions (Usually asked Kanoa to braid it for her before going out)

Personality:

🦈 Myers Briggs Type: ISTJ Tiala is always taking her duty very seriously when she's working. Whatever job you give her; she'll take FULL responsibility to finish it. She's honest, will always open her mind to suggest or advised about the mission. Tiala has self-control when it comes to situations that will tick her off. Choosing her words carefully. She has a very good mind of planning things ahead (You can ask her to plan your wedding or birthday parties or any special occasions!). 🦈 Strict and Caring: Just like her father, who used to be in the military, she is very strict when it comes to training. Making sure that the recruits are not just lacking or sitting around. She made sure they DO things. But she is very caring for her comrades. You can say it's call "Tough Love" (learned that from her parents). 🦈 Hardworking: Tiala is young and strong so she did most of the heavy work for her team. Always help others out with some heavy lifting. Negative Traits: 🦈 Tiala is usually a stubborn gal. She doesn’t usually ask for help. It was really concerning for others to see her working by herself very hard without any assistance. 🦈 Judgmental. She has a bad habit of judging people when in first meeting. Just like when she first looks at her older brother’s, Rangi, girlfriend. She dislikes her RIGHT there. 🦈 Tiala can be reluctant sometimes. That depends on the situations that she is in. Examples: Dealing with the enemies, no sweat. But dealing with the enemies that have families. She will hesitate. 🦈 Most of her comrades say she’s a BAD driver. She’s not TECHNICALLY a bad driver. Just don’t rush her. She’s a calm driver but when you pressure or telling or even ANNOY her to hurry up then she’ll just ZOOM-

Skills and Abilities: 🦈 Fighting Style: Hand-to-Hand Combat 🦈 Weapons: Any sniping guns and any shotguns 🦈 Distinct Weapons: Ka-Bar Knife 🦈 Special Skills: Can dive down underwater about 50 meters and stay underwater for about 20 minutes with one breath. Good reflexes. Family:

Nakoa Loe Toa (Father, Alive)

Elei Toa (Mother, Alive)

Hōne Toa (1st Older Brother, Deceased)

Sami Toa (2nd Older Brother, Alive)

Serah Toa (Sister-in-Law, Samis’s Wife, Alive)

Penny Toa (Niece, Sami’s Daughter, Alive)

Dinah Toa (Niece, Sami’s Daughter, Alive)

Rangi Toa (3rd Older Brother, Alive)

Kanoa Toa (4th Older Brother, Alive)

Hemi Toa (5th Younger Brother, Alive)

Iosefa Toa (4th Younger Brother, Alive)

Tamah Toa (3rd Younger Brother, Alive)

Fetu Fetuao Toa (2nd Younger Brother, Alive)

Iona and Kiona Toa (Youngest Brothers, Twins, Alive) Trivia:

🦈 Tiala’s last name, Toa. Means ‘Warriors’ in Samoan. So you could see that these families REALLY represented their names. By joining the military. 🦈 The only time you’ll see Tiala smiling or laughing is when she’s with her brothers or family or close friends. Any strangers, she’ll just show her serious face to them. 🦈 Love Sharks and the oceans. She secretly has a shark plushie back at home and has a small shark chain hanging on vest pocket. (Kanoa got that for her) 🦈 HATES the cold. It always makes her nose runny and needs a lair of coats and scarfs to keep her warm. 🦈 Heat doesn’t bother her. Even wearing long sleeves and putting her hair down under the heated weather. 🦈 Enjoys dad jokes. Surprisingly.

Background Story:

Tiala was born and raised in the Island where most of her family lives. She was living a happy life learning about her ancestors and culture which she loves. Even spending time with her family. Her four older brothers are looking after her and six younger brothers that she will protect.

Her four older brothers are in the military while growing up. The eldest one Hōne is in the Marine Corps. Along with the other two, named Rangi and Kanoa. And the second eldest, Sami, is in the Navy. It really inspired Tiala that she wanted to join the military too.

It also pushed her to join the military after hearing the news of the death of her older brother, Hōne. Who was KIA during that one mission. And it saddens her even more that it was her 16th birthday. The day he promised to come back home. And now that promise has already been broken.

So she pushed that anger up to immediately sign up to the Marine Corps right after High School. She was 17-years-old at that time and worked long and hard to be enlisted. And after a few tries, she had finally been selected to be in the marine. Tiala had also met up with Kanoa, who was a Corporal at that time, and Rangi, who was Sergeant First Class. After 4 years of serving in the Marines. She had volunteered to pretend to be a worker for the human trafficking that is going on between Asia and the Pacific. Just to get some intel of their next locations.

Her two brothers disagreed at this when they heard about her volunteering but she convinced them and reassured them that she’ll be fine.

Oh how much she regrets saying that. The enemies had found out about her TRUE identity and captured her for interrogation. It’s been two months of torture and being used. It was traumatizing and painful. And then, Kanoa and his team that he’s leading had found her after searching for her for so long.

Seeing her being tied up on a chair in the empty room. Kanoa quickly took her back and put her in the medical bay IMMEDIATELY.

Tiala was truly scared for life. Even with the burnt scar that the enemies had given her. She was being released from the Marines until she was well again. It’s been a year for her to get her sanity back. Thankfully with her family support, she had found her confident again and went back to serving the Marine Corps.

Then later on, Kanoa had decided to create a Task Force to protect the Pacific. And Tiala was the first one he had picked. The two have been working together for 6 years in this Task Force and they have proved a LOT. Saving the hostages, stopping the human and children trafficking. They have done so well to make sure the world is safe from any creeps who dares to hurt people.

Which it got the attention of General Shepherd as he started to call Laswell to contact their General for some interesting missions. Will they take this task?