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sushirrrry · 9 days

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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

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dailydragon08 · 11 months

Text

A Crime of A Different Kind

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader Summary: Your and Luke's undercover mission to investigate imperial dealings in Tatooine's underworld doesn't go quite according to plan--especially with the pair of you undercover at Lord Halfoc's party posing as crime lord and consort. Warnings: grabby criminals, gross misogynistic comments, some non-consensual touching (but nothing too intense, because Luke would never allow that), making out, reader is in a very revealing dress (pictured above), implied/referenced drug use (not Luke or reader). A/N: "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. I made a fancy cover for the first time, so hopefully it’s not trash. Find me on AO3 under DragonHeartstring360 and see my masterlist linked in my pinned post on my blog! Stay tuned for a part 2!

***

You glanced at Luke from across the dim throne room. Crime lords, drug dealers, and con men of all races loitered with their slaves and consorts at Halfoc’s party—and so did several imperialists, which was why you and Luke were here. You’d been sent by Mon Mothma to find more information about the deal the imperialists—who supposedly had a Force-sensitive among them, which was why your presence was crucial—were striking with the Tatooine crime lord to try and resurrect the fractured empire. You’d entered with fake invitations—with Luke as a fellow criminal named Anberrie and you as his slave girl.

“Consort,” he’d corrected you earlier aboard the Redeemer. “I refuse to call you a slave.”

He seemed to sense your gaze and met your eyes across the room. His costume consisted of a thin grey, long-sleeved v-neck shirt with matching pants and boots, a waist-length asymmetrical cape slung over one shoulder hiding the lightsaber at his belt. With his hair neatly swept away to the side of his forehead and stony look Leia had taught him, he looked every bit the rich criminal. His eyes softened as they turned to you and his shoulders ticked down several notches as he sighed. He shook his head slightly and you tried to send him a reassuring smile.

Just remember to breathe. You don’t want the empire’s Force user to sense your discomfort.

He nodded before taking a deep, slow breath—only to begin hacking into his elbow as the haze of smoke went up his nose.

You struggled to hide your smile. Maybe don’t breathe too deep.

He bit his lip to hide his chuckle as he turned back to the other guests near him. You glanced at the other consorts and dancers in the corner around you. Many of them chatted with each other, but you could sense their animosity, anger, and anxiety. You did your best to join the conversation enough to blend, but still stay to yourself enough to remain unremarkable.

Although the dress might not have been helping in that regard—if you could even call it a dress. It barely covered anything. The back was open with the green fabric in front creating a deep v that barely covered your chest and showed off your hips before connecting to a gold ring by your belly button. From there, the flowy skirt continued in an upside-down v to the floor, with a slit that exposed nearly your whole leg. The large sleeves flared out and extended to your knees, partially hiding the shock cuffs around your wrists and ankles—which Luke had sworn he wouldn’t even think of activating. However, it was the only alternative to chains, and the entire ensemble was a necessary evil for the current mission. Almost more nerve-wracking than the worst of Tatooine’s underworld ogling you was the fact that Luke would, too. Although the memory of him failing to function when you came out of your room on the Redeemer almost made you laugh. He’d been mid-sentence before doing a double take, his words spluttering to a halt. He’d let out a shaky breath as he practically melted and leaned on the table behind him for support. But, ever the gentleman, he had insisted you wear his cloak and gave you an apologetic look as he’d removed it from your shoulders later to stash for the trip back to the ship.

Your eyes wandered to him again as you sighed. He really did look strikingly handsome in his outfit—which would explain why some of Halfoc’s dancers were all over him. You could feel his discomfort as a Twi’lek woman pressed herself against his chest and ran a hand up and around his neck. He reached for you through the Force before gently grabbing her shoulders and moving her several steps back.

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from flying to his side. Stretching your legs, you turned to take in the dark walls, floor, and smoky haze of the central area. Several heavy shutters were partially open to allow airflow while keeping out the heat of the suns. A stage stood near a raised dais holding an empty throne with live music. Dancers flowed from the stage to prance between the circular tables and around the bench seats pressed against the walls, running their hands along different guests’ shoulders, whether they had their own consort on their lap getting handsy or not. Guards armed with blasters and spears with Halfoc’s symbol emblazoned on their chests stood at attention at each doorway and you were sure there were more hidden in the crowd.

Did you find anything yet? Luke’s voice rang soothingly in your head.

I’ve barely had a chance to get away. We need a distraction— Before you could finish your thought, you felt large hands roughly grope your butt before sliding around the bare skin of your waist. You jumped and glanced over your shoulder to see a large Trandoshan close behind you. You grimaced before turning to face the group of slaves before you, knowing any thrown elbows or cold remarks could blow your cover. They gave you sympathetic looks before most of them scurried off, the ones who stayed forming groups for safety.

You tensed and braced yourself as the Trandoshan’s hand descended your thigh, his fingers edging closer to the inside of your leg. You screwed your eyes shut, unable to resist the urge to throw your elbow back. Before it could make contact with his chest, however, you felt his hand suddenly rip away.

You turned to see Luke had practically materialized behind you. He grabbed your waist with his other hand and pushed you behind him, still holding the Trandoshan’s hand in a death grip. His blue eyes had turned icier than you’d ever seen them and you thanked the Maker you’d never been on the receiving end of that glare. “Don’t touch her,” he growled low in his throat. Although you were sure he was putting on some sinister airs for effect, you could feel his very real rage and disgust through the Force.

“Why?” the alien leered. “We can share. There’s plenty of her to go around.”

You felt Luke’s irritation grow beside you. “Why don’t you go find someone else to pass around before I make you regret it? This one’s mine.”

You swallowed hard. As degrading as the situation was, seeing him defend you so fiercely sent shivers through you for entirely different reasons.

The Trandoshan looked like he was about to argue but turned as a few guards hovered nearby with spears at the ready. “Boss doesn’t want too much trouble here,” one said. “The last thing you should be doing is fighting over some worthless slave girl.”

Luke bristled beside you. Unsure what else to do that would keep you looking in character, you pressed yourself flush against Luke’s chest and pushed him into a dark corner of the room. Several other guests had slave girls on their laps, their hands and lips roaming. A glance over your shoulder showed the Trandoshan slinking away to bother some other poor girl as you pushed Luke into a padded chair. He landed a bit more roughly than you intended, releasing a shaky breath as he looked up at you with round doe-eyes, his hands coming up to rest against the bare skin of your waist. He quickly retracted his flesh hand, but you held his gloved hand in place as you seated yourself in his lap.

“Sorry,” you hissed in his ear, thankful the music was loud enough to drown you out from any passersby. “You really need to work on not going bright red every time I touch you. It’s not very crime lord-y of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I would stop if I could, believe me.” His eyes turned soft in the murky light. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, seeing the guards still hovering and watching the pair of you from the corner of your eye. You wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulder while grabbing his flesh hand and putting it back on your waist. “You can, um, touch to be more convincing if you need to.”

He gave you a stilted nod, his hand immediately falling to your fabric-covered leg. “I’m so sorry. You deserve so much more respect than what you’re getting in here. All these women do.” He stared at you for a moment before brushing some hair away from your face. “You know I have the utmost respect for you, right?”

You nodded before pressing your forehead to his. “I know, but I appreciate you reminding me.” He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling you closer to his chest. You sensed the guards turn and leave and finally let the tension bleed from your body, letting Luke’s sense of tranquility at your closeness wash over you. For a moment, you just sat on his lap, enjoying the feeling of him against you. Your fingers wandered from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck of their own accord. Before you could pull back and apologize, he sighed and gently bumped his nose against yours, his fingers rubbing soothing circles along the fabric of your skirt.

You nearly lost yourself as his soft voice whispered, “I’m so sorry I’ve had to be rougher and more rude than usual. Mothma said to be convincing, but I hate this.”

“I know. It’s okay, I promise. I did manage to find out a bit of information and send it to Mothma, just in case something happens.”

He held you tighter. The slit in your skirt fell open to expose most of your leg and you felt him gently pull the fabric back in place, holding it there with his hand. “I won’t let anything happen.”

“Not very crime lord-y of you just now.”

He huffed out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “I just…hate that they’re all leering at you.”

“That was sort of part of the job description.”

“I know, but I just…” he tilted his head back to meet your eyes. The smoke made his eyes water and brought out the blue even more. He opened his mouth to say something before sighing and giving you a soft shrug. “I—”

“I know. It’s okay. Hopefully, we’ll be out of here soon.” You almost forgot your next sentence as you lost yourself in his gaze. His gloved hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he held you in his eyes. “Any luck locating our Force user?”

“Not yet. I can sense someone Force-sensitive—other than you, of course—but I’m having trouble pinpointing exactly where it’s coming from.”

“Seen Halfoc yet?”

“A few times across the room, but not up close. The fight will start soon though, and there’s a prep room that connects to the arena, so I think I will soon. The intel said it’s a habit of his to wish each contestant good luck before the fight. There’s a large Rodian following him around though, who I think might be our Force user.”

You squeezed him tighter. “Please be careful…do you know what you’re fighting?”

“The guests fight each other, then the final winner fights one of Halfoc’s pets. It’s not to the death, but it’s close—I think a guard is coming towards us.”

“Probably should look a little dazed, then.”

“What?”

“Like you’ve been…you know…having a good time.”

He was silent and tense underneath you before clearing his throat again.

You laughed. “You’re setting a record for that today.”

He smiled and coughed slightly but held you closer as you sat up in his lap and pressed his face into the exposed skin of your shoulder. Your hand dove into his hair more on instinct than anything else and he let out a shuddery exhale beneath you.

It’s just his body’s instinct, you told yourself to stifle your excitement. He’s probably…touch-starved or something. Although that wasn’t entirely true. He never hesitated to be physically affectionate to anyone, you included. And if his friendly little touches set you on fire, the way he was nearly trying to meld into you and hold you close now had your whole body pulsing.

Commotion and several cries behind you caught your attention. Two of the guests were wrestling on the floor in a fistfight. Luke held you tighter and turned in his chair to shield you with his body. He turned back to you, hovering his mouth close to your ear. “Here’s your distraction—go and be careful.”

You nodded before scrambling off his lap. In the other slaves’ and guests’ haste to get out of the way, you slipped through an unguarded doorway and melted into the shadows of the hall.

***

You felt Luke’s Force signature reach for yours, anticipation and worry clouding his mind as you sensed him coming closer. You almost smacked straight into his chest as you weaved through the drunk, animated crowd in the throne room.

Luke grabbed your upper arm in his hand, the question burning in his eyes and only relaxing when you nodded. “The fight is starting soon. We’re supposed to go to the prep room now. A lot of people are taking their consorts with them, so you should probably come with me to blend.”

You sensed another reason he wanted you with him, but merely nodded and let him lead you down a short hallway. Through a small, oval door sat a large, plain room with closed bay doors on the opposite side. Several plush chairs and tables covered with drinks and food bordered the walls. Medical droids hovered in the corner as Halfoc’s guards eyed the large group of guests and slaves meandering through the two other oval doors scattered along the back wall.

Luke’s hand gripped yours tightly as the two of you made your way into an open corner. He grabbed your waist and gently turned you away from the others, putting your hand on the lightsaber at his belt. With a combination of his cape and your skirt, you transferred his weapon into the holster hidden on your thigh, pinning it next to your own saber. His fingers brushed your bare leg in the exchange and you couldn’t help the resulting goosebumps and shiver.

He grimaced. “I would offer you my cape, but they would probably think that was too gentlemanly for a crime lord and his consort.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

His blue eyes stared intently into your own and you felt his concern bleed into the Force. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, glancing behind him at the approaching redhead. He was short, portly, and dressed to the nines with a large Rodian following behind him. You couldn’t help wrinkling your nose at his slimy demeanor. “I think Halfoc’s coming to wish you luck.”

Luke’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before he closed them, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, the crime lord persona was back in place in all its unfeeling glory. It was strangely terrifying and alluring at the same time. As he turned to meet Halfoc, his hand moving to tightly grasp your waist and pull you flush against him, you couldn’t help but think if he was a true crime lord, he would’ve easily had his pick of any man or woman in this room.

“Anberrie, isn’t it?” the man asked, coming to a halt before you. The Rodian stood silently at attention behind him with two other men in imperial uniforms. You could feel the Force flowing strongly from him and Luke’s gentle squeeze to your hip told you he did, too.

“Yes,” Luke replied. “Halfoc, I take it? Quite the party.”

Halfoc laughed. “The one and only. I throw many of these bashes but have never seen you at one. You must be a newcomer. What exactly is your business?”

“Spice trade.”

Halfoc chuckled. “Ah, yes, I’m very familiar with spice.”

Their conversation became lost to you as the Rodian shifted. The intel hadn’t said whether he was protecting Halfoc or sticking close by because of the deal they’d just made in the back offices—the one they thought had been private and unrecorded. His dark eyes studied you shamelessly, flitting up and down your frame. He glanced at one of the imperial officers before subtly flicking his hand as if swatting a fly. You felt the Force flow as the slit in your skirt was wrenched open. Before it could fly too far, Luke’s hand slid further down your waist to hold the skirt in place. His hand was practically on your butt with the angle he had to take to preserve your dignity, the movement pressing you even closer against him. You could feel the muscles of his chest and arms from the proximity and took a steadying breath.

The Rodian’s eyes fell to Luke’s hand and narrowed, finally taking in your companion. You glanced up to see Luke meeting the alien’s eyes with just as much intensity.

“Now, now, let’s play nicely,” Halfoc said. “This is my newest business associate and his own personal retinue…I trust their presence won’t be a problem?”

Luke turned his attention back to the man in front of him and gave him a cold smile. “Of course not. We’re only interested in securing more business, not trouble.”

Halfoc clapped Luke on the arm. “That’s what I like to hear. The fight will begin in a few minutes. You’ll be asked to remove any capes, jackets, and weapons on your person and give them to my guards for safekeeping. They’ll be returned to you after the fight, of course.” His eyes finally fell to you. “Quite the lovely arm candy you’ve got there. Mind if I—”

Luke turned to shield you with his body as Halfoc’s hand made a grab at your chest, his gloved hand securely holding your hip while his flesh hand pressed against the bare skin of your back to hold you close. “I do mind, actually.”

Halfoc’s eyebrows rose, but he laughed. “Well, to each his own. Be a good girl and give your master a good luck kiss, then.”

Luke turned to you with soft, concerned eyes. You licked your lips and stared for a moment before pressing a light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, letting your lips linger selfishly. You felt his arousal grow through the Force and heard him take in a quiet hiss of breath as his gloved fingers tightened around your waist.

“Oh, come on,” Halfoc groaned. “A real one. You can’t be that stingy with her and then not take what you want. Don’t bother with consent from these types, boy.”

You felt Luke’s mix of disgust, concern, and anxiety through the Force.

Don’t blow our cover, you sent to him. Plus the Rodian is so close.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment. Are you sure? I won’t do it without your consent, no matter what Halfoc says…And it will have to be a bit rough to be believable.

You hesitated. Do it.

I’m so sorry.

It’s all right.

Luke’s flesh hand left your back to roughly cup both sides of your jaw. His face dove towards yours at a startling speed, but stopped just as his lips brushed against yours. You took a shaky breath in at the same time he did before he pressed a firm, but soft kiss to your lips.

You thought you heard Halfoc’s distant “there you go” before sensing him leave with his entourage, but couldn’t be sure. All you were sure of was how soft Luke’s lips were against yours. You’d pictured this moment so many times and only wished that it was real—maybe in the cockpit of the Redeemer, safely nestled in Luke’s lap in the pilot seat. The image only heightened your arousal and you couldn’t help melting into him as his hand glided down your neck and to the exposed skin at the small of your back.

You finally had to break for air and were surprised when he panted into your mouth just as hard as you. His flesh fingers gently traced shapes against your skin, finally flattening his palm out to slide up and down your spine before diving into the curls of your half-updo. You weren’t sure if he bent his head to continue the kiss first or if you did, but you wouldn’t be the one to end it. He tasted of something distinctly Luke that you couldn’t quite describe, but knew you wanted to experience every day for the rest of your life. As you sunk further into his embrace, he only pulled you closer, his gloved hand digging gently into your hip as yours slid up his chest to dive into the hair at the nape of his neck. He gasped against your lips as your fingers entwined with the soft strands. You could sense his excitement peaking through the bond you shared—and with a little embarrassment, realized you felt something else peaking against you that did not help your current predicament. A soft moan left your mouth before you could stop it, and the whole situation felt like a crime of a different kind. He didn’t seem to notice before a quiet groan left him as well.

You forced yourself to separate your lips from his, trying to keep your gasps for air to a minimum. He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, keeping a gentle, yet firm grip on you as he shuddered out his own breath. The hand on the small of your back slowly slid to your side. “Maker, you’re so soft,” he murmured. You felt his sudden humiliation bloom as his face turned an adorable shade of red. He pulled away from you and you bit back your laugh as he cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry.”

Before you could reply, the large bay doors opened behind him. Cheers and screams from the crowd assembled in the amphitheater seats poured in, as did a strong buffet of wind that blew Luke’s hair into his eyes. He blinked, letting out a stuttered whoosh as your fingers gently combed the strands back into place. He pressed his forehead to yours again for a brief moment before leaving a quick, light kiss on your forehead.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

“Only if you are,” he murmured as he hesitantly took a few steps back. You grabbed his hand and he gave you a reassuring squeeze. His eyes fell to your skirt billowing around your legs from the breeze, the slit now fully open and exposed. His eyes closed and another shuddery exhale seemed to leave him of its own accord before he turned away from you, letting your hand trail out of his as he made his way to the arena. As he removed his cape and tactical belt and handed it to a guard, you caught him licking his lips, letting his tongue linger for a moment longer than necessary.

You took your own deep breath, doing your best to stifle your concern as the announcer began to call out opponents. Each winner had to fight a new opponent and although it felt like an eternity as you wondered when Luke would be called and who he would be fighting, it gave you a good opportunity to ogle his back. His shirt was thin to account for the heat and clung to him in all the right places—and so did the pants.

As Luke waited with the other contestants, you noticed the Rodian and his guards were nowhere to be found. Just as you reached out with the Force, Halfoc sidled up next to you. He was shorter than you by several inches and you couldn’t keep the disgust from your face as he smirked and gently patted your butt. “Well, hello there, lovely. Now that your master’s occupied—”

“Anberrie, step forward,” the announcer’s voice rang throughout the arena.

Luke strode confidently forward, a standard-issue spear from the guard in his hand. He paused as the most recent winner stalked towards him, watching in confusion as he walked past Luke and back through the bay doors to sit down. A barred gate slid open with a screech on the other side of the arena and the Rodian—who stood several inches taller than Luke—made his way to the center of the stage. “Anberrie Darklighter versus Aros Tanwa.” The crowd cheered as he ignited a red lightsaber.

Luke turned to you in concern just as Halfoc began, “I couldn’t help but notice those kisses and touches were a bit…romantic for a master and his slave.” His beady eyes gleamed in the light of the suns. “Unless, of course, you’re not actually who you say you are.”

Several of Halfoc’s guards whirled around and pointed their blasters and spears at you as Aros’ imperial guards suddenly lunged out of the nearest door towards you. You yanked your lightsaber from your leg and ignited the blade, throwing Luke’s towards him and using the Force to guide it along its path to his hand.

Luke dropped his spear and activated his saber just as Aros jumped towards him, blocking a flurry of blows to the screams and boos of the audience. Halfoc’s guards yanked their master out of the way as you swung your own weapon, blocking several blaster shots and slicing the guards’ spears in half. The other guests dove for cover, joining the firefight, as their consorts fled into the throne room.

You deflected more fire, using the Force to throw objects in your pursuers’ path and fling them back several feet whenever they got too close. You carefully carved a path to Luke’s side and shielded his back while he dealt with Aros.

The recording of the meeting— Luke began.

Already sent it to Mothma. Now focus.

Aros suddenly backflipped into the stands, several spectators moving out of the way to allow him room, and disappeared into the crowd. A large roar filled the air from beyond the gate. The bay doors began to close and you and Luke glanced at each other before making a run for it. Another deep wail filled the air behind you as you blocked more blaster shots, tripping over your swirling skirts and sprawling to the ground. Luke glanced back and skidded to a halt.

“No, keep going!”

He sprinted back over to you, crouching just in time for another angry bellow to call your attention. A shadow loomed inside the gate, taking up the entire frame, before a Reek Bull emerged into the light of the desert. Its nose ring rattled as it shook its head, pawing at the ground and eyeing the two Jedi now trapped inside.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you grumbled as the bull charged toward you.

You rolled one way while Luke jumped the other as the animal approached you with surprising speed. It slowed to a halt just as the bay doors closed. From a high point in the stands, Aros flipped onto the bull’s back and used it as a launching point to dive at you. You rolled out of the way again before leaping to your feet and landing a hard kick in the center of the Rodian’s chest, using the Force to give it some extra oomph. He flew back with an oof and smacked into the bull’s side. The bull turned from where it was glaring Luke down to rocket Aros in a new direction with his front foot. You used the Force to grab the Sith’s body and fling him into a merchant’s display in the stands. Bits and bobbles went flying and the wood of the stall splintered and collapsed on top of him, buying you enough time to block more blaster fire.

Several of Halfoc’s guards jumped over the railing into the arena as the host’s voice called over the loudspeaker, “I want them alive for the moff!”

The guards weren’t much of a challenge for the Force and your lightsaber. The last few in the group fled towards the edge of the ring, raining fire at you until they were cut down by their own deflected shots. As the last of them fell, you felt a strange tingling sensation. Before you could ignore it and turn to help Luke, your entire nervous system jolted and shook under your skin. You crumpled into a heap on the ground as your muscles no longer obeyed your commands and your bones rattled inside your frame. Glancing down showed blue energy crackling around your shock cuffs and traveling up and down your arms, legs, and torso. You screwed your eyes shut and thrashed against the burning sensation, unable to contain a scream.

You thought you heard Luke call your name but couldn’t be sure over the popping in your ears. You risked a glance up to see imperial guards speeding towards you with electrostaffs before you curled into a ball again as more shockwaves rocked your body. The ground shook as the bull hurtled towards you. But instead of the feet of the beast or pointed edges of a spear greeting you, there were several screams and silence before you felt the cuffs split from your skin and fall to the sandy ground below.

You took several gulping breaths as you lay there shaking and whimpering. Luke was by your side in an instant, gently pulling you into his arms bridal style. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in your ear as he carried you towards the now docile and waiting bull. “Aros used the Force to activate the cuffs before running off.”

You looked around from the safety of Luke’s chest. The arena was in total chaos as guests ran screaming to the exits while the guards were busy fending off several more beasts that had escaped their cages and fled into the arena. A few had even scaled the railing and were running among the seats snapping up forgotten food and drink.

The bull sighed and lowered itself onto its belly as Luke approached. He gently helped you onto its back before climbing up behind you.

“Did you tame it?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“Yes,” he replied, giving it a firm smack to the butt to urge it toward the arena's gate. “And I’ll be freeing it after we get out of here—hold on!”

He wrapped an arm around your waist while tightly holding the chain attached to the bull’s nose ring. The creature sped towards the gate, gaining momentum as it went and lowering its head. The guards dove out of the way with a yelp as the bull’s front horn shattered the doors and you careened into the open desert.

The ride was jarring to say the least, which didn’t help your screaming muscles and joints. You teetered on the bull’s back as your head spun and body ached only for Luke to pull you against him. You let your head fall against his shoulder, sinking into his solid chest and closing your eyes. His thumb rubbed soothing circles against your waist and you weaved your fingers through his, giving him a gentle squeeze as he gently brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek.

It was impossible to fall asleep on the bull’s back, but you still weren’t sure how much time had passed when Luke said, “Do you think you can jump?”

You nodded before sitting up with his help and swinging your legs over the side. He did the same, staring at you in concern before grabbing your hand. You both slid down the beast’s leathery side in unison as it roared before continuing its path past the neighborhood hiding your supply stash.

A strong wind buffeted the two of you as you approached the modest stone and clay houses. People hurried to and fro to collect their laundry and children alike and ushered them inside.

“What’s happening?” you asked as you followed Luke down an alleyway.

He still gripped your hand tightly, only letting go to dig in a chest buried in a corner between two buildings. The narrow strip between houses created a wind tunnel and you watched his golden-brown hair dance in awe, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place. As it whipped away from his ear, it allowed a peek at the sharp line of his jaw, bringing back memories of the way that exact spot had tasted against your lips earlier—

“Y/N? Are you all right? Did you hear me?”

You blinked and met his worried blue eyes where he was still crouched over the open chest. “What? Sorry.”

He slung his pack over his shoulder and stood, retaking your hand. “I said a sandstorm is starting, so we need to find shelter. We won’t make it back to the ship in time without a speeder, which I doubt these people have to spare. This is a poorer neighborhood.”

You nodded, reaching for your own pack. “How long do we have?”

“Not long—here, let me carry that.”

“But I’m fine—”

“I insist.” He hauled your bag on top of his own, leading you back out into the main thoroughfare.

Before you could get far, a woman with a baby strapped to her front met your eyes. Luke reached out a hand to stop her as the wind practically knocked you over in your weakened state. You felt you’d float away if you weren’t careful. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steady you before shouting to be heard over the building gale. “Do you know a place where we can wait this out?”

“There’s a homestead that’s been abandoned for a while, about a half hour’s walk that way. It’s a bit old and decrepit, but it’s better than nothing. I would offer my place if I had room, but I’m staying with my mother and we’re full to the brim.”

“That’s all right, thank you.”

“Do you want me to see if I have some sort of wrap for your wife at home? That dress can’t be comfortable.”

You felt your cheeks warm, meeting Luke’s eyes as his own colored slightly. He squeezed your hand. “I have something for her, but thank you again.”

She nodded before scurrying off, using her sleeve to cover her child’s face.

“Here, hold on a minute.” Luke set your packs down, digging through his before pulling out his cloak. He paused, taking a shaky breath as a gust of wind parted the slit in your skirt again, sending it billowing behind you. Before you could be too embarrassed, a wave of dizziness overtook you and you grabbed his arm. Luke caught you against his chest before wrapping his cloak around you. “I’m going to fasten this by your waist so you have more coverage for your legs. Do you think you can hold it by your chest?”

You nodded, keeping a hole open to loop your arm through while holding the fabric closed in your fist. Luke took your hand and started in the direction the woman had pointed.

“Do you know where she’s sending us?”

Luke swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing your hand. “I do.”

“Where?”

“…A burned down farm.”

#luke skywalker #star wars #luke skywalker x reader #star wars x reader #luke skywalker imagine #star wars imagine #luke skywalker x fem!reader #luke skywalker x jedi!reader #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker fluff #luke skywalker angst #tw: non consensual touching #tw: misogynistic comments #star wars remnants #my writing #fake couple trope #tw: drugs

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chic-a-gigot · 3 months

Text

La Mode nationale, no. 4, 25 janvier 1902, Paris. No. 8. — Groupe de toilettes pour dames, jeunes filles et enfants. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Robe pour fillette de 12 à 13 ans, en homespun beige. Jupe en forme rayée à mi-hauteur de galons marron foncé, fixés par un large biais piqué. Chemisette en panne marron foncé. Boléro carré rayé de galons comme la jupe. Col de panne. Manche écourtée sur un bouffant de liberty blanc; revers empire en panne.

(1) Dress for girls aged 12 to 13, in beige homespun. Mid-length striped skirt with dark brown braids, attached with a wide stitched bias. Dark brown distressed shirt. Square bolero striped with braid like the skirt. Pan collar. Shortened sleeve on a white liberty bouffant; reverse empire broken down.

Matériaux: 3m,50 de lainage; 1m,75 de panne.

—

(2) Peignoir simple pour jeune femme, en cachemire prélat. Des plis pincés vont du col au bas de la jupe; le devant s'ouvre sur un dessous en velours violet très sombre et sur les deux côtés se piquent de petits boutons de velours du même ton foncé. Col et revers en velours; manche évasée.

(2) Simple peignoir for young women, in prelate cashmere. Pinch pleats run from the collar to the bottom of the skirt; the front opens onto a very dark purple velvet underside and on both sides there are small velvet buttons of the same dark tone. Velvet collar and lapels; flared sleeve.

Matériaux: 5 mètres de lainage; 1m,50 de velours.

—

(3) Manteau pour jeune femme ou jeune fille, en drap écossais de tons un peu vifs. Collet mi-long, orné de straps de drap noir dessinant des crosses; petite pèlerine très ajustée sur l'épaule par des pinces et bordée de straps.

Toquet de drap blanc garni de velours noir.

(3) Coat for young women or girls, in tartan cloth in slightly bright tones. Mid-length collar, decorated with black cloth straps forming crooks; small cape very fitted on the shoulder with darts and lined with straps.

White cloth cap trimmed with black velvet.

Matériaux: 0m,75 de drap noir; 2m,50 de drap écossais.

—

(4) Dos de la figure 2.

—

(5) Manteau pour jeune femme ou jeune fille, en homespun vieux rose, mélangé, autour, straps de drap noir. Pèlerine avec croisillons de straps; col en forme et col rabattant.

(5) Coat for young women or girls, in old pink homespun, mixed, around, black cloth straps. Pilgrim with cross straps; shaped collar and turn-down collar.

Matériaux: 5 mètres d'homespun, 0m,75 de drap noir.

—

(6) Dos de la figure 1.

—

(7) Robe de réception pour jeune femme ou dame d'âge moyen, en serge mélangée "banane". Robe princess garnie en échelle transversale irrégulière de straps de taffetas noir, grand col en forme faisant aussi revers, bordé de velours; écharpe de velours nouée devant et tombant en deux pans très longs; manche finissant au coude sous un parement Louis XV; bouffant de soie ivoire.

Chapeau de feutre beige, garni de plume de coq et de velours vieux rose.

(7) Reception dress for young or middle-aged ladies, in “banana” twill blend. Princess dress trimmed in irregular transverse scale with black taffeta straps, large shaped collar also turning up, edged with velvet; velvet scarf tied in front and falling in two very long sections; sleeve ending at the elbow under a Louis XV facing; ivory silk bouffant.

Beige felt hat, trimmed with rooster feather and old pink velvet.

Matériaux: 6 mètres se sege.

—

(8) Manteau pour jeune femme ou jeune fille, en zibeline écossaise de tons fondus. Collet ample bordé d'un large straps de drap grenat et d'une frange. Empiècement frangé et bordé d'un straps. Col roulant doublé de velours grenat.

Tricorne de feutre blanc à bords de velours grenat; nœud aigrette en velours.

(8) Coat for young women or girls, in Scottish sable in melted tones. Loose collar edged with wide garnet cloth straps and fringe. Fringed yoke edged with straps. Roll neck lined with garnet velvet.

White felt tricorn with garnet velvet edges; velvet egret bow.

Matériaux: 3m,80 de zibeline; 0m,30 de drap.

—

(9) Dos de la figure 7.

—

(10) Costume de garçonnet de 10 à 11 ans, en serge bleu marine; culotte collante; blouse rentrée dans la ceinture; manche serrée au poignet par des plis.

(10) Suit for a boy aged 10 to 11, in navy blue serge; sticky panties; blouse tucked into the waistband; sleeve tightened at the wrist with pleats.

Matériaux: 3m,75 de serge.

#La Mode nationale #20th century #1900s #1902 #on this day #January 25 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #cape #coat #collar #plaid

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kydrogendragon · 5 months

Text

Dec 6 - Family Gatherings

(Ao3 Link)

“You’re sure this outfit is okay?” Hob asks, gesturing down to the brown slacks and white button up he was wearing. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons were undone, per Morpheus’s request.

Morpheus stalks over to him, a dark glint in his eyes. He trails his hands down the length of Hob’s torso with a smirk. “Yes,” he purrs. “I think this will do rather nicely.”

Hob chuckled with a shake of his head. “Right, but is it ‘seducing my lover’ appropriate or ‘family gathering’ appropriate?”

“I do not see why it cannot be both.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob says flatly. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Morpheus’s forehead before turning back to the bedroom mirror. He supposed it was fine, enough. It was an outfit he’s worn to classes before, with less chest hair showing, mind you. But it was decent enough. It just felt way under-dressed to have dinner with the driving forces of the universe was all.

He brushes a hand through his hair, taming the unruly locks back and tucking them behind his ears. He’s freshly shaved, keeping that hint of stubble that Morpheus had become fond of and worked in some hair oils that Morpheus had picked up while they were out shopping a while back.

A pair of pale arms wrapped around his torso as Morpheus hooked his chin over Hob’s shoulder. “You look perfect, my love.” He whispered against the side of Hob’s face. “Do not fret over your appearance.”

Hob sighs and leans against the side of Morpheus’s head. “I know, duck. Just...” He shrugs. “Feeling a bit out of my element here.”

“You have not met the families of your previous lovers before?”

Hob chuckles nervously. “Not when the family in question are akin to gods, no.” Morpheus frowned at that. He still disliked being referred to as a god, even if it was a past version of him. Although he did enjoy being worshiped like one, not that he’d ever admit it. “What are you planning to wear?”

Morpheus hums. “I thought, perhaps, that I might wear that outfit I had worn to the opera last month.”

Hob inhales sharply at that image. Morpheus had looked absolutely stunning in the flowy silk black top that looked just one stiff breeze from falling off his person. That paired with the flared legged black dress pants that hugged his waist perfectly was a combo made to murder Hob, personally. It was a miracle that he’d made it through the night without making a fool of himself.

Morpheus smirks as Hob’s face reddens at the memory. “Unless you think I should wear something else?”

“No!” Hob spins around and pulls Morpheus close to him. “No, I think that outfit would do quite nicely.” Morpheus hums, melting into Hob’s embrace. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, he fiddles with the white fabric where it’s tucked into his trousers.

“I remember you being quite fond of that look.”

“Fond is a nice way of saying practically drooling over my friend and not yet boyfriend.” Hob says, smiling.

“Mm. Perhaps.” Morpheus leans up and nuzzles his cheek against Hob’s. “I expect you do follow through with the fantasies you had that night, however.”

Hob knows, objectively, that Morpheus doesn’t have the ability to see daydreams anymore, but he feels his heart skip a beat at the idea that he knew exactly what he wanted to do to him that night.

“Oh?” He squeaks out. “And what fantasies might those be?”

Morpheus looks at him, eyes dark. “You well know, Hob Gadling. I will be disappointed if you do not thoroughly ravage me once we return home.” He looks up and to the side, as if pondering something. “Or perhaps earlier, even. It would be sweet revenge against Desire should you fuck me on the table, claiming me for all to see.”

“Christ, Morpheus,” Hob moans. He grips Morpheus’s hips tightly, earning him a pleased noise. “Talk like that and we’re not even going to make it to dinner.”

“Is that a promise?”

Shaking his head, he steps back, his hands still on Morpheus’s hips, but giving them enough room between the two so Hob could breathe. He could, he thinks, bend Morpheus over the bed and take him there and only be slightly late to dinner if they’re quick about it. Which, in hindsight, might be the smart plan with how riled up Morpheus already seems to be. Hell, with how riled up Morpheus managed to get him, it’s probably a fantastic plan.

But he just pressed his clothes and he knows for a fact if they fuck now, it’s all gonna get wrinkled and then by the time he re-presses them, they’ll really be late. Or they’ll be closer to on time, just arriving blatantly with sex hair and messed up clothes. Hob doesn’t think he’d be able to power through the embarrassment of either scenario. And he does want Morpheus’s family to like him.

So no early fucking. That ship has sailed, unfortunately. Hob mentally prepares himself for the inevitable onslaught of flirtatious Morpheus over dinner with his siblings.

Right. He can do that. And stay put together and not cave to Morpheus’s apparent desire to fuck in front of everyone.

Maybe.

“You should go get changed. We should probably leave soon, after all.” Hob managed to get out, giving Morpheus a quick kiss after. He straightens down his shirt and watches and Morpheus pouts and pads over to their closet.

Hob busies himself in the kitchen, debating for far too long on if he should bring more bottles of wine than just the two and if they’d look better with a bow on them or if that would be weird when Morpheus finally steps out. Christ, he did look good. Black has always been his color. Even though his skin isn’t chalk white like it had been back when he was Endless, he was still pale and it made for a stark contrast against the fabric. His hair was artfully messy. The hair gel they’d picked up last week seemed to finally be the winner after having gone through four or five different ones. His eyeliner is winged with a hint of silver glittery eyeshadow on his lids. He’s got a pair of silver hoops in his ears and silver bracelets stacked on his wrists. Two long silver chains hang from his neck, one sitting just below his collarbone, the other reaching down to his sternum on the black silk. He was stunning.

“You look good,” Hob says, his eyes soft as he takes in the elegance of the love of his life. “Very, very good.”

Morpheus’s gaze trails down Hob’s body and back up, resting on the crook of his neck. “You are missing something important.” Hob watches as Morpheus approaches him like a wolf stalking its prey in the night.

“Oh? And what might that be?” Hob asks, his hands finding their home on Morpheus’s side as the other man’s arms wrap around his neck. He’s wearing lipstick, Hob thinks to himself. Or at least lip gloss? Makeup was still a bit of a foreign concept to him. Morpheus knows far more than him by this point in this research into forming his body to more accurately match how he wished to look. It had taken him a while to get used to the eyeliner, finding it smudged after rubbing his eyes too quickly. The lady who had helped them at MAC had been delighted to run through a variety of good brands that wouldn’t smudge or smear after daily wear and tear.

Morpheus’s eyes stayed fixated on his neck as he leaned in. Hob could feel the pant of hot air as Morpheus spoke. “You are missing my mark on you.” That was all the warning he received before he felt Morpheus’s lips wrap around the skin, biting, licking, and sucking at the tender flesh. Hob let out a gasp and gripped him tighter. He was really starting to regret not getting some of this horny energy out of the both of them earlier. Something in his mind tells him that this would have probably happened regardless though. He’d found out that Morpheus was particularly fond of “leaving his mark” on Hob. Not that he minded, of course. He’d gladly tell the world that Morpheus was his and he was Morpheus’s. He’s shout it from the mountain tops every morning and every evening if Morpheus wanted him to.

This, however, was not what he had expected.

“Morpheus,” he breathed, feeling torn between pushing his possessive boyfriend back so they could depart for his family gathering and just giving into his desires.

Morpheus answered his predicament for him by stepping back, admiring his work. Hob’s neck was warm and he had no doubt that as the night went on, a nice, deep purple mark would start to show on the aggravated skin.

“There,” Morpheus said with a smirk. “Now no one will doubt my claim on you.”

Hob couldn’t help but chuckle. “Somehow, I don’t think they would have without the giant hickey on my neck.” After wrangling a coat over his boyfriend’s shoulders (it was cold outside. Even if they were going to be teleported to Destiny’s realm soon after leaving the building, he didn’t want him to get cold.), the pair departed.

Morpheus had told Hob of Destiny’s realm very briefly. He wasn’t sure what to expect the home of the actual personification of Destiny to look like, but he supposed the maze garden made as much sense as anything. There was a lot more greenery here than he’d expected, but was happy about it. There was no snow here and the air was warm. Like a perpetual Spring. It was nice.

They weren’t the first to arrive. Destiny had been there, of course, but Death was there as well. Death didn’t hesitate to pull her younger brother into a tight bear hug. Hob watched from the side as she nuzzled her face against his hair. Morpheus scowled in her grasp which made Hob laugh.

“Good to see you, little brother,” Death said, releasing him from her grasp. Morpheus steps back, hands settling down his shirt where it was rustled. He gave her a small smile.

“Hello to you as well, my sister. How are you keeping?”

“As good as usual. Better to see that you came to join us. It’s been a while since the last family dinner.”

Morpheus hums. “I could not disappoint Delirium.” Death’s gaze softened before turning to Hob.

“And how are you doing, Hob? It’s good to see you again. Sorry for not stopping by since everything happened.” Hob waved a hand in the air dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve been doing alright, I think. Took him skating the other day.”

Death’s brows rose. “Really? And how’d that go?”

Hob smiled. “He’s a natural.” Morpheus huffed.

Death looked between the pair of them with a warm smile. “I’m glad he’s got you, Hob.”

Hob wraps his arm around Morpheus’s shoulder, pulling him close. He pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’m just glad that I have him.”

“Gag me,” an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind them. Going off of the groan from Morpheus, Hob had a hunch who had just arrived. Turning around, he saw a person dressed to the nines in a glittery and glamorous red cocktail dress. They had a small glitter Santa hat resting on their head. A headband, to keep it up, probably? Or just magic. They step closer to the trio, another person following behind them.

Her dirty blond hair was long and tangled. They wore ratty gray lounge wear and… had a rat? On their shoulder? Why a rat?

“Desire,” Morpheus grumbled, lifting his chin up in that regal pose Hob had come to know well.

The person in the red dress, Desire, smiled wickedly. “Well, hello there Morpheus~” Desire’s eyes flick up and down the length of Morpheus before turning their eyes to Hob. He gulps.

After six hundred years of life, he’s been very familiar with desire in its various forms. From the more base and carnal desires to those more abstract, for life and love, hopes and dreams. Hob has always hungered, always wanted more and more, desired to experience all the world had to offer. But standing here, in a place that was very much not Earth, in front of the physical embodiment of Desire, he felt overwhelmed.

“Well hello you. It’s nice to finally meet one of my most loyal visitors of my realm.” Desire bows at the waist, taking Hob’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back. A perfect red lipstick impression is left behind. Desire’s golden eyes stare into his with a smile. “I’m Desire. And you are Robert Gadling.”

“Desire,” Morpheus growls. Hob feels Morpheus grasp his hand, squeezing it. It helps pull him out of whatever trance-like state he was in. Hob blinks and the world seems a bit clearer than it had.

“Don’t forget, sibling, he has also spent much time in my realm,” the woman behind Desire speaks up. Her voice is haunting, in a way, but also soothing, like an old friend. The rat on her shoulder squeaks.

“He has spent much time in all of our- in your realms. He does not belong to just one.” Morpheus says. Hob’s eyes darted to him and offered him a reassuring smile.

Death pipes up behind them all. “Well, I think the others will be here soon. Why don’t we get seated?” Desire stares them down for a moment longer before sauntering over to the dining table. Well, it’s a dining table in the fact that there are plates and dishes, currently empty. The table itself is made of stone and looks more like some sort of fancy sacrificial altar than a dining table. There are seven fancy, high-backed chairs around the table with two smaller chairs nestled into the mix. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that those are his and Morpheus’s.

The group settled into their respective seats. Destiny sits at the head, Desire and, who Morpheus whispers to him, Despair sits next to one another on the right. Morpheus and Hob’s chairs are across from Destiny with Death seated next to Morpheus and two empty chairs to Hob’s right. There’s one last chair between Despair and Destiny.

As they settle in, a stirring of sand, like wind across a sand dune can be heard from out by the garden center. Moments later, a tall man, dressed in all white with a green emerald stone resting against his breast walks in. Daniel nods to Morpheus in deference before continuing his away around the table to the seat next to Hob.

Hob greets his old stranger made new with a smile. He won’t lie, it took him a good while to understand exactly how Daniel and Morpheus all worked and how they related to one another. It was all very metaphysical, but Daniel had all of Morpheus’s memories up to the Wake, so as far as Hob was concerned, he was still his friend.

What was the saying his students joked about? It’s not comparing two cakes to one another, it’s just an “oh boy! More cakes!” kind of moment.

“Hello there, old stranger,” Hob says to Daniel, elbowing his arm playfully. Daniel smiles down at him.

“Hello, my friend. How are you fairing?”

Hob’s gaze looks over to Morpheus where he’s engaged in a conversation with his sister. He knows the look on his face is an absolute sappy look, but could anyone blame him?

“I’m good. I’m really, really good.” He feels Daniel’s hand rest on his shoulder.

“I am glad to hear it.”

They talk amongst themselves for a moment, Desire and Despair keeping mostly to themselves for the time until, in a flurry of colors and bubbles, Delirium appears at the entrance. Her hair flips between colors and textures as she floats over to them with a smile on her face.

“Morpheus! hOBsIe!” She cries, stretching her arms around them, wrapping around them like a boa constrictor.

“Hello, my sister,” Morpheus says. Hob has only met Del once before when Morpheus had gotten drunk for the first time. She had popped into their living room and scared the shit out of Hob, who was also decently buzzed at the time. Apparently, her affections only made Morpheus’s state of inebriation worse. A side effect of her position as Delirium of the Endless, Morpheus explained later the next morning, after having puked his guts out.

“Hi Del,” Hob chimed in, patting the coil of arm around his chest. Her flesh alternated between skin to fish scales to glitter and back.

“iT’s chRistMAs tIme! DId yOU knOw ThAT, HoBSiE? tHE LigHTs ArE soOoOooo prETTy ANd shINey lIKe mY FIsh.” Del’s arms poofed away in a puff of smoke before turning into long strands of red and white tinsel. “wE ShoUlD deCORaTe DeStIny’s treES!”

Hob chuckled and patted the top of Del’s head. “Maybe after dinner, yeah? We’ll have to ask Destiny for permission, though.” Del pouted and looked at Destiny who, with his hood still pulled over his face, revealed nothing nor said anything. Hob saw Morpheus’s lip twitch out of the corner of his eye. Something told Hob that Destiny wouldn’t have been a big fan of Delirium’s decorating style.

Apparently content, Delirium floated over to her seat, hovering just above the cushion as her limbs flashed between different Christmas decor. Her eyes became shiny ornaments at one point, which was quite the sight.

Destiny rose and all eyes turned to face him. “Dinner is served now. We will eat.” As he sat back in his chair, the once empty table burst to life with a plethora of different dishes. It was honestly a bit jarring seeing all the different plates and types of food. The memory of his and Morpheus’s 1589 meeting flashed through his head. He really had ordered a ridiculous amount of food. It had been a proper feast, enough to feed a small army. This? This was three times the size for just the eight of them.

Hob looks over to the still empty chair between Daniel and Desire and frowns. Morpheus had told him there were seven Endless in total. Who was missing?

Daniel caught his gaze and looked to the empty seat with a sigh. “He will not join us. Do not fret over it.”

“Who is he?” Hob asked, his voice quiet over the sound of clicking dishes and the Endless siblings filling their own plates. He hears Death chatting with Morpheus about the wine they had brought and hears the tell sale sound of a bottle being uncorked.

“His name is Destruction. He left his post long ago.”

Ah.

Hob knew there was family drama, but he hadn’t anticipated a runaway brother in the mix. Morpheus had told Hob some of his arguments with Desire and of his frustrations with some of his other siblings as well. He hadn’t mentioned this, however.

Turning to look at his boyfriend, his lips pressed together in a thin line. It would explain his fear of abandoning his own spot as Dream of the Endless, even knowing Daniel was there to take up the mantle. It would explain a lot of things about him, actually, both how he acted in the world and how he reacted to others.

“So! Robbie,” Desire’s voice cut through the room. Hob turns. Desire’s head is resting on their clasped hands, their elbows resting on the table top. “I have to ask, what did my brother promise you in order to bed him?”

“Desire…”

“Desire!”

Morpheus and Daniel’s voices meld together and the pair both call out in unison.

“He just had to promise that he loved me as well. I’m a simple man.” Hob replied, easily. He reached over and slid his fingers between Morpheus’s, guiding their interlocked hands on top of the table. Morpheus may have “marked” him, but Hob could do the same.

Desire’s eyes followed the motion. Their smile tensed. “Mmmm… How quaint,” they purred. “You truly do love him for him, don’t you?”

“I do.” It wasn’t even a question. It was a fact.

“Do you love… just… him? What about our poor, sweet Daniel over here? Is he not your dark, mysterious stranger you fell for as well?”

He can feel Daniel’s aura grow sharp, the darkness in the corner of his vision growing steadily. Morpheus’s gaze stares down Desire, but flickers nervously over to Hob. They had vaguely had the conversation before, when Morpheus was explaining everything to him about him and Daniel and the whole Endless business. Hob gives Morpheus’s hand a tight squeeze, giving his boyfriend a smile before turning back to Desire.

“Daniel’s my friend. Morpheus is my boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Desire, leave them be.” Desire’s golden eyes flicker to Daniel and they smirk.

“Oh no, this is too interesting. Aren’t you curious? I know your feelings, your desires, dear brother. Don’t you want to know the answer as well?” Hob’s gaze turns to Daniel whose eyes have changed from the soft greens to the dark, starry depths he had only seen a few times before.

“You need not answer them, Hob. They simply wish to cause chaos.”

Morpheus, at his side, was unusually quiet. Hob had to answer.

“I love Morpheus. I always have and I always will. And sure, yeah, some of that love still applied to Daniel. But it was Morpheus that I truly fell in love with, not Daniel.” After Morpheus had returned to him, human and unstable and partially confused, Hob had helped guide him in his newly found humanity. No longer was his stranger the untouchable star in the night sky, but he was here, with Hob, and he was alive. He loved Dream of the Endless, and always would in some way, but in the way one loves the ocean or the sun. Hob loves Morpheus the way he always wanted to. He loves him for his grumpy morning attitude and his sleep tossed hair, he loves him for his wheezing laughter and terrible sense of humor. He loves Morpheus with all of his heart and all of his being.

Hob turns to Morpheus and smiles. Morpheus looks up at him with a curious tilt to his head. Leaning down, Hob pressed a chaste kiss to his lips (they were still around family, after all). “I love you, Morpheus. In case I haven’t said it enough.”

Morpheus melts into him, pulling him closer and back in for a not-so-chaste kiss. “And I love you, Hob Gadling,” he whispers against his lips.

Out of the corner of Hob’s eye, he can see Desire nod at him, a true smile on their face.

Dinner goes by smoothly. Destiny ends up giving in to Delirium’s desires of decorating one of his Oak trees in the garden. Daniel and Morpheus are helping her, Morpheus suggesting ideas and placing unique ornaments on the branches as Delirium and Daniel swirl them into existence. Death sits at the base of the tree, staring up into the now light wrapped branches and munches on a slice of apple pie. Hob sits on the grass a bit away, watching the siblings work. Destiny stands to his left and Despair sits off a ways to his right, feeding bits of bread to her ever growing hoard of rats.

Desire sits down, shoulder to shoulder, on Hob’s right side and rests their head on his shoulder as if they’d done it a thousand times before.

“Well, I guess you really do love my brother, don’t you? You managed to survive a family dinner with all of us. That’s more than any of his other flings.” Desire comments, raising their manicured hand in front of them, inspecting the work.

Hob shrugs with one shoulder. “You shouldn’t have doubted me. I wasn’t lying when I said I loved him.”

“I know you weren’t lying. I’ve known of your absolutely pathetic desire for him ever since he stepped into your line of sight.” Desire sighs. “Granted, that desire did change over the centuries. But you always wanted him, in some way.” They lift their head off of his shoulder and stare him down, their golden eyes looking at him approvingly. “I’m just glad that the way you desire him now is the same way he desires you.”

Hob smirks. “Is this your attempt at the shovel talk?”

Desire narrows their eyes and points a red pointed finger at him. “Well, since you so desire one, yes. If you hurt him, I’ll make you beg for our sister’s gift. Understood?”

Chuckling, Hob raises his hands in defeat. “Loud and clear.”

“Good,” Desire says, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Hob barks out a laugh, drawing the attention of Morpheus from where he’s currently holding up one end of a string of gold and silver frog garland. He narrows his eyes and holds Hob’s gaze, tilting his head down, silently asking if all is well.

He shoots his boyfriend a smile and a thumbs up. Morpheus stares him down for a moment longer, his eyes darting over to Desire who simply waggles their fingers at him. Delirium calls his name from where she’s sitting on one of the branches, her body dripping bits of glitter from her form.

“He’s more bearable as a human, just in case you get the wrong idea of me.” Hob raises a brow as he side-eyes Desire. Their lips are pursed as they watch Morpheus smile and laugh with the others. “Daniel’s better. More relaxed. Still a bit of a prick, but less than Morpheus was when he was Dream.” Hob sits, listening to Desire talk, turning his focus back to the four siblings in front of them. “Ever since he decided to live with you and your lot, he’s been… better. Happier. I don’t think I’d seen him smile like this for many millennia.”

Desire takes a deep breath and exhales it in dramatic fashion. “So, thank you, I suppose. You’ve made my ornery brother tolerable to be around.”

Hob chuckles, bumping Desire’s side with his shoulder. “You’re not so bad after all.”

Desire shoots him a glare before rolling their eyes. “Don’t expect this to mean I won’t pester the pair of you. I am still his younger brother. It’s well within my rights.”

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less.”

Desire shoots them a wicked smile. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll be sure to let Morpheus know you gave me approval.”

“Hey now, I didn’t say that!”

“HoBSie!! CoME heLP pUT the HorSie uP!” Delirium called to him from the top of the oak tree. Hob shakes his head and stands, leaving Desire and their cheeky smile and makes his way over to Morpheus. He wraps an arm around his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Are you okay?” Morpheus asked, eyeing him curiously.

“All good, duck. Desire was just saying hi.” Morpheus frowned and made a displeased noise. “They played nice, don’t fret. C’mon, let’s help Del out, yeah?”

Destiny watches his family come together, enjoying a meal together with a positive outcome. He watches Delirium guide her older siblings into a very human tradition. Under his hood, he smiles as the pages of his book shift to a brighter ending for them all.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #december writing list #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

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