#I am just so fed up with this entire thing it never got better and it never will

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

why do millennials so consistently think they are so old?

[sushirrrry]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Styles?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shall we get to work then?"

__________________

"This coffee is fucking cold."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn't just impressive; it was extraordinary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Felicity, please meet me in my office."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry's lip parted as he remembered the reservation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She lived for the hope of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was inevitable, she thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now, surely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?" She questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The necktie around her took his focus back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________________

hiiiii!!

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

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

love u as always

- emily

[vivwritesfics]

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

[soulessjourney]

Hello love I have a request that I would love you to write!

Cassian or Azriel I am not picky and Y/N

Y/n gets into an argument with Cassian and or Azriel about how they are not attentive, and they’re for them anymore and says that if things don’t change they’re leaving. Things do not change and it is the night that the inner circle goes into Hewn city. at the gala, Eris ask Y/N to dance. And one of the boys is really brooding just standing in a corner just watching YN and Eris dance and then is the part where Taylor goes. “I can see you staring honey like he’s just your understudy like you get your knuckles, bloody for me” I want their eyes to connect from across the dance floor. That would be great. then I am giving you full creative freedom with the undertones of exile by Taylor Swift. give me all the angst you can give the more the better.

I absolutely love this idea! I hope that I live up to your expectations and provided enough angst to feed that burning hunger of yours! Also apologies that it has taken me so long, in all honesty I kept forgetting what I was writing and I wanted it to be PERFECT.

Exile

Paring: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: Azriel starts to distance himself from you. Fed up with his disappearing acts, you confront him, only for it to end in driving you away entirely.

Warnings: Angst (and lots of it), Fighting, Language, Hurt and comfort (from Mor)

If there was one thing Azriel was known for, it was his dedication to his work and his undying loyalty to Rhysand. He was also your mate, someone who meant the entire world to you. You had met Azriel about two hundred years ago when you started your bakery. He came in after watching you struggle with carrying the large bags of flour, extending a helping hand. Since then, he started coming daily to see what new goods you were cooking up, and that's when he asked you on your first date.

The first date was a bit awkward as he shied away, speaking in such a hushed tone that you had to repeatedly ask him to repeat himself. Despite Azriel's strength, you loved his shy side. There was something so docile and soft about it, and you were the only one who truly got to see that side of him.

When the bond snapped into place, both of you were fighting over who would mix the flour, ending with both of you covered from head to toe. It was when he heard your infectious laugh that he felt it, and it was obvious when you gave him that loving gaze he was drawn to. Your eyes were so soft, and your smile was wide. So, that evening, you made him his favorite treat and offered it to him, which soon led to Azriel making sure Rhysand got it through Cassian’s head that you two were not to be bothered for a few weeks.

Those were the moments you missed more than anything. You missed curling up with Azriel as you read the same book, often sharing your reactions. You missed hiding from him to scare him, only to fail the moment his shadows shot out to greet you after a long day. You missed your mate, and your happy memories felt like a fever dream. He was starting to become a distant memory, and part of you wasn’t even sure if you wanted to put up a fight.

You couldn't recall the last time you had spent more than a few moments with him. Lately, he had been staying at the House of Wind to be closer to Rhysand, ready for any last-minute missions that might arise. Initially, you didn't mind, considering Rhysand's frequent missions, especially when Feyre was pregnant and needed his support. However, what began to trouble you was that he never invited you to join him, nor did he visit your shared home to see you.

Then you heard about the time he started spending with Elain. You weren't bothered by her, as you couldn't blame her for shutting everyone out. Her entire life had been stripped away in a matter of moments, and now she was essentially immortal, with a mate forced upon her. However, understanding also brought weariness. You could sense that she had developed feelings for your mate, and Azriel, being who he is, most likely was unaware of the affection she held towards him. Strangely, this knowledge made you want to be around him more, but you didn't know how to navigate the situation.

Azriel had been a significant presence in your life, and the sensation of him slipping away was something you loathed. At some point, he had closed off the bond, making it nearly impossible to reach out to him through it. Running your hands over your face, you attempted to dispel the exhaustion before deciding to visit the House of Wind to ensure Azriel was at least alive.

Your arrival at the House of Wind did not go unnoticed. Cassian, upon spotting you ascending to the training area, made your presence known. "Y/N! You're here. We've been wondering when you would show up. We were starting to think you didn't like us," he teased, capturing everyone's attention.

Clearing your throat, you offered him a small smile as the breeze tousled your hair. "Yeah, things have been hectic at the bakery. Have you seen Azriel? It's been hard to find him lately," you inquired, noticing Cassian's expression contorting into one of pure confusion.

"What do you mean? He said he was with you this morning," Cassian replied, scrutinizing your every move. Dread began to fill your body as the realization that Azriel had even been deceiving the others dawned on you.

Forcefully laughing, you scratched the back of your head, clearing your throat. "No, he was! By 'lately,' I meant during the day since he's usually all over because of the missions Rhys keeps assigning him," you explained, even your forced smile fading as Cassian's gaze filled with concern and pity.

"Y/N, Rhys hasn't assigned him anything for a while, not after what happened with Feyre and your injury. Rhys wanted him to be around you more because of that close call. Are you telling me you haven't seen him?" Cassian inquired, raising a brow and challenging you to lie. By now, the entire area had cleared out except for Nesta, who stood in the background watching you and Cassian, her jaw tense. She knew something, and you would extract it from her if necessary.

"No, I haven't. I mean, he comes home once in a blue moon, but then he just sleeps in the guest room, and he's gone by the time I wake up," you admitted, your shoulders sagging. "I really miss him, Cass. The nightmares are starting to return. He's not avoiding me because he blames himself for what happened, right?" Just a few months ago, Azriel had angered someone, resulting in a dagger being firmly lodged in your side. Recalling that moment, you realized Azriel wasn't present when Cassian and Feyre found you on the floor of the bakery's kitchen that morning.

You heard Nesta curse before she joined Cassian's side. "I spoke to the idiot already, and I thought I got through to him. He's with Elain in the garden. I saw them just before training started, and considering how often they spend time there, he should still be there," she divulged, her expression shifting from anger to guilt. You wanted to be furious, but part of you couldn't muster the anger towards her. Nesta had tried her best to handle the situation discreetly, but with her knowing, you wondered just how long Azriel had been sneaking around with Elain while deceiving the rest of his family.

You hadn’t heard anything else Nesta had said as your feet carried you through the house. Just as you turned the corner, you collided with a solid chest, causing you to stumble back. Looking up, you sucked in a deep breath as your eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones. "Azriel," you breathed, reaching out towards him. Your hand fell to your side when he pulled away from you. "I've missed you. You're never around anymore," your voice thick with emotion as you struggled to say anything beyond the standard 'I miss you'.

Azriel glanced over your shoulder, his expression hardening. "You're not supposed to be here. Why are you here?" His eyes eventually met yours as a scoff escaped your mouth. You hadn’t seen your mate for the past few weeks, and that’s what he had to say to you? That you weren’t supposed to be there, trying to ensure he was alive?

"You're joking, right? Azriel, I haven’t seen you for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? A hello would’ve been nice at least," you snapped, crossing your arms. Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. "No, you don’t get to walk away from me, Azriel. That’s not fair. You don’t get to pull a disappearing act without some sort of explanation. You don’t get to lie to your family and expect not to get caught," you snapped, following after him. As the two of you entered the dining area, you missed the others sitting at the table, their conversations cut short as you stomped after Azriel.

Azriel stopped and spun towards you, his wings flaring slightly. "My gods, Y/N, can’t you just get off my back? I’m not going to be there every single second of the day with you. You need to learn how to live without me for once in your life." Any sound that filled the room suddenly fell silent as you took a step back, feeling as though he had slapped you.

"Oh, shit." Looking around, you came face to face with your family, all silent as they watched you. Nesta was glaring daggers at Azriel, while Cassian and Rhysand were positioned to intervene if things went south. Mor and Feyre looked at you, their faces filled with guilt. Then there was Elain, sitting there with the audacity to appear clueless about what was happening. Your entire family was there to witness the potential downfall of your relationship with Azriel. Great.

"What's your issue, Y/N? Why are you on my case today? I haven’t done anything to deserve this nagging. Gods, it’s like after you healed, you became an overbearing mess," Nesta slammed her hands down on the table and stood, prompting Cassian to grab hold of her to prevent her from lunging at Azriel across the room.

A dry laugh escaped you as you narrowed your eyes. “Overbearing? Azriel, you haven’t been around in weeks! You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. And overbearing? Day to day, I have to deal with the people you anger, and I constantly fear for my life because of your job. I took a damn dagger to the side and almost died because of your job. I’m sorry if accepting you for who you are and your job is overbearing. I’m sorry that worrying for you is just so awful. You’ve changed, Azriel, and I don’t know if it’s because of the damn elephant in the room or if you’ve simply given up. I’m tired of dealing with the nightmares alone, and I want you back by my side when I wake up screaming because I constantly feel that dagger ripping me apart.” Tears streamed down your face as you looked around.

Rhysand had slowly made his way towards you with Mor by his side, the two members of this family, besides Cassian, whom you trusted with your life. Glaring down at the ground, you looked up at Azriel, your face void of any emotion. “If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done.” Azriel froze as a flood of fear slammed into you. He slipped, and you could tell the moment he slammed those walls back up.

“Clean up my act? You’re the one to talk. It’s like ever since you woke up, you became afraid of the world all over again. You shouldn’t need us to walk you to work and back. You shouldn’t need us hanging around the store all day just because you’re scared of someone showing up. I can’t stand to have a mate who is so fearful of the world.” You dropped your shoulders in defeat at his words. It was true; after what happened, you had been terrified of being in that shop, fearing they would come back and finish the job.

Rhysand was next to you in a second, followed by Mor, who caught you as your knees gave out. “That is no way to speak to your mate, Azriel,” Rhysand spat. “You sat around moping because you wanted one. The Mother blesses you with one, and this is how you thank her? Seriously?” Rhysand crossed his arms, the room noticeably darkening.

“Well, maybe she made a mistake. Maybe Y/N isn’t supposed to be my mate. We have nothing in common, meanwhile, Elain and I do.” The moment the words left his mouth, your head snapped in Elain’s direction as you clenched your jaw.

Looking back at Azriel, you shook your head. “I mean it, Azriel. If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done. Don’t bother looking for me until you figure out your mess. I’m done,” you spat, winnowing from your very spot into your room. Grabbing a duffel bag, you began to cram things into it just as you heard footsteps sprinting down the hall towards your door, and the echoes of voices calling out to the owner of those steps.

As Azriel threw open the door, you looked at him as he reached out for you, his mouth opening to say something. Before you could hear what he had to say, you disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of your room.

---

It had been a month since you chose to seclude yourself in Mor's guest bedroom. As the door slowly opened, light flooded into the dark room, and Mor stepped inside. Sitting on the bed, she gently rubbed your back to draw your attention. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's time to get you out of this room. Velaris has started to notice your absence now that the bakery is closed," she said softly, sensing your reluctance. "He still asks about you, but he's also spending more time with her. Rhys has tried talking sense into him, Cassian kicked his ass, and the girls have been giving him the cold shoulder. I'm sorry, my love, but perhaps attending the Gala in Hewn City would do you good," she suggested, brushing your hair away from your face gently.

You nodded and turned onto your side to look at her, a small frown forming on your lips. Mor's gaze softened as she sighed softly. "Come, I want to show you something," she said, gently pulling you out of bed. Standing up, you followed her out of the room toward another one just down the hall. Mor pushed the door open, revealing a mannequin adorned with a stunning deep purple gown featuring delicate beadwork climbing the bodice. The main skirts bore the design of a tree and leaves, with the beads on the skirt representing flowers. It was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen.

"I had it made for you to wear tonight. You deserve to look and feel beautiful. Azriel is taking you for granted. With your beauty and eyes that could bring a man to his knees, this dress is perfect for you," Mor whispered from behind you, resting her hands on your shoulders gently.

A wide smile graced your lips for the first time in a month as you turned to face Mor. "Thank you, Mor. Truly, it means a lot to me that you did this," your words were soft and heartfelt. A sense of brokenness lingered within you, the result of Azriel's neglect over the past month, compounded by the knowledge of his time spent with Elain. Mor guided you to the bathroom, where she helped you into the tub and began to wet and wash your hair.

"You know, we’re all upset with him for treating you like this. Yes, Elain needed help before, but even Nesta started to reprimand him for spending too much time with her. I remember when he first came home after meeting you. He was covered in flowers and had the biggest grin on his face. He couldn't stop talking about you, and Cassian often had to beg him to stop. But then, after one of his missions went awry and you got hurt, everything changed. He refused to see you, or even go near that part of the house. And then he kissed Elain. I thought Nesta was going to tear him to shreds. After that, he began lying to us about spending time with you, even after Rhysand practically forced him out of the garden." Mor's words pierced through you, mentioning the kiss shattered your fragile emotional state.

A wave of despair washed over you. Shoulders slumping, you gazed down at the water surrounding your bare form. "Do you think he still loves me?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Mor took a deep breath, visibly caught off guard by your question. She hummed softly as she poured water over your head, grappling for the right words.

"I'm sure he does. Azriel is complex, we all know that. For centuries, he's prayed to The Mother for a mate. I heard him whispering a prayer every night until he met you. Then it turned into begging her to ensure your safety. Azriel tends to shut down and push away those closest to him when he's struggling to cope. He avoided Rhysand when he returned from Amarantha's clutches. His treatment of you isn't fair, but I genuinely don't know how to reach him anymore." Mor cleared her throat, rising to her feet. "I'll leave you to dry off and get into a robe. When you're ready, come downstairs, and I'll help you dress and do your hair," she offered with a comforting smile, squeezing your shoulder before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It didn’t take long for you to exit the tub once the water turned cold. After drying off your body, you slipped on a black silk robe and began to towel dry your hair. As you made your way towards the stairs, you made a mental note to find a way to thank Mor for everything she had done for you. Nearing the bottom of the steps, you froze upon hearing Mor engaged in a conversation with someone. Peeking around the corner, you spotted Azriel standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room, while Mor stared at him with an intense gaze. “She thinks you don’t love her, Azriel. You’ve pushed her to the brink of giving up,” she snapped, causing him to tense at her words.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words to say. “I do, I just... I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a month, and I’m starting to go crazy, Mor. I don’t know what to do about it anymore, and it feels like everything I say comes out wrong,” he confessed. You noticed his shadows lurking in the room, beginning to slither their way towards you.

“And what about the kiss, Azriel? You kissed Elain while your own mate was at home, thinking you were off on some mission Rhysand assigned to you,” Mor jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “You gave up, and she kept pushing. This is your doing, and you need to figure it out. She was serious when she told you to clean up your act. Right now, you’re showing her you’ll never change, not after you hadn’t even bothered to come see her for a month knowing she was here. You pushed her aside for Elain. It’s time you finally accept the consequences of your actions, Azriel. If you lose her for good, that’ll be on you.” Before Azriel could respond, he tensed and turned towards you, his eyes widening.

Allowing your gaze to fall into a blank expression, you looked at Mor. “I’m ready,” your voice came out as a whisper, and Mor nodded, shoving past Azriel. You both made your way back up the stairs, leaving Azriel standing alone in the middle of the room. Once again, you were just out of his reach, and once again, he was on the verge of losing you for good.

---

The gala was breathtaking. Witnessing the courts gathering together always brought you immense joy. Tamlin made his way towards you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N! It’s good to see you again. We've been missing your baked goods dearly,” he grinned, prompting a laugh from you. Born in the Spring court, you had grown close to Tamlin, and it was there that you honed your baking skills while growing up. When the time came for you to seek a new path, Tamlin had let you go, assuring you that you would always have a home to return to.

When Azriel pulled his disappearing acts, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you often debated returning to Spring, where you knew you had a family who would welcome you with open arms. “Thank you, Tamlin. If I'm ever permitted, I’ll be sure to bring you some of my cookies that you drooled over,” you teased, brushing a curl away from your shoulder.

Tamlin looked around, a questioning look flashing across his face. “Where’s your mate? The last time you and I talked, he was glued to your side.” Your eyes dulled slightly as you shrugged. You hadn’t seen Azriel all evening, though you knew he was here as you were constantly followed by a shadow.

Before you could respond, Eris made his appearance, as fashionable as ever. “Y/N, you truly outdid yourself this time. You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress. Shall we have a dance?” Without waiting for your answer, Eris grabbed your hand and led you towards the dance floor, where bodies swirled in a mesmerizing pattern. You and Eris fell into an easy rhythm as he looked down at you. “Sorry to drag you away from Tamlin, but I couldn’t help but notice how sad you looked. Is it because of your mate?” His eyes bore into yours as you sucked in a deep breath.

“It would be a mistake to lie to you,” you grumbled, earning a laugh of agreement from him. “Azriel and I haven’t talked for a good while. He’s been busy with other things,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. As you both spun, you caught sight of him standing in the corner of the room, watching you. Your eyes hardened as they locked onto his.

Eris cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “You know, if you need a break from your home, you can stay in my court. We obviously have the room, and I can make sure you get the space you need to think. As much as Morrigan hates me, she’s worried about you to the point where she asked me for help.” Studying his gaze, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was being genuine.

Looking towards Azriel again, you studied him, your eyes narrowing as Elain walked up to him, handing him a glass. Biting back your tears, you let your walls down, throwing every ounce of anger, betrayal, sadness, and fear at him. You watched as he stumbled back slightly, his hand flying up over his chest, his eyes locking onto yours. You watched as Elain reached out to him, running her hand over his arm as she tried to check on him. Eris stopped moving as he stood next to you, watching the interaction between the both of them. “Just say the word, and I can take you away from here,” he whispered.

You waited for him to brush off Elain, but he didn’t. He let her hand rest on his cheek as he kept his eyes on yours, his eyes widening. “He doesn’t care about me anymore, Eris. Take me to your court,” you said, looking up at Eris, who only nodded. You didn’t miss how he glanced at Rhysand and the others, giving them a small nod. You didn’t miss how their shoulders sagged in defeat once they realized you were leaving. You didn’t miss how the crowd began to part as Azriel raced towards you, dropping to his knees in front of you. You watched as his body shook with sobs, how he begged you to stay, begged you to stay by his side. “Where were you when I begged The Mother to bring you back to me? Where were you when I was dying on the kitchen floor of my own bakery after taking a knife for you? Where were you when I woke up screaming for you? Go back to Elain, Azriel. You made your decision.” With that, you turned to Eris, giving him a small nod. With that, the both of you walked away, leaving Azriel on the ground sobbing into his hands before he disappeared from your sight as the crowd closed behind you.

[sukunastoy]

Heyyy babe, welcome back 💗💗 You asked for some Sukuna prompts, and maybe this could be something for you: CEO Sukuna coming home to us after a long, stressful day, and we help him de-stress. Maybe some needy kitchen-sex while he's cooking dinner? Or some sexy time in the bathtub?

Have fun!! I am sending you lots of love 💗💗

Hello baby!! <3 I've missed writing so much! I certainly hope you enjoy this!! I know I did. Thanks for the prompt @yuujispinkhair !!

Dessert~NSFW Pairings: Fem! Reader x CEO Hubby! Sukuna (non curse AU) CW/TW: Oral, both m and f receiving/giving, unprotected sex, hair pulling, vaginal penetration. WC: 1.4K+

Enjoy~!

Managing an entire company must be an adruous task. Keeping up with all the meetings, business trips and organizations is nothing you could ever fathom doing. But, your husband was good at it. In fact, he excelled in all the strenuous requirements. You've popped into his office a time or two when surprising him for lunch and caught him in action. His tone and demeanor were so different when he focused on work, you couldn't help but admire him for it. It was because of him you had a lavish little life, and you never wanted to take that for granted.

So when he came home this evening, looking completely worn out and irritated, you wanted him to know how thankful for him you were. Despite him managing all day, he still enjoyed cooking when he got home. You weren't denied cooking dinner for him, but it was something that relaxed him, so you did your best to leave it up to him. Besides you were a klutz in the kitchen who could somehow catch water on fire if you weren't paying attention. Your fame shined as his little sous chef. Handing him things and taking care of the minor tasks were your responsibility. You'd smile proudly in your little apron as you mixed things on the stove or cut up something for him to use.

After your husband changed into a different flawless outfit, he headed towards the kitchen. Normally you'd trot right along side him ready to help, only this time you lagged behind for a moment. Once Sukuna realized you weren't standing near him, he glanced back to the entrance of the kitchen, curious to where you were. Of course, you were there for him to see, but this time, with only your apron on. He cocked a brow to your lack of clothing, but had no complaints as you pranced passed him to the pantry, ready to get some ingredients for him. Oh, he will probably need the bag of rice, and that's at the bottom, better bend over to grab it. You don't even need to see Sukuna to know he's zeroed in on your shamelessly exposed cunt. Such a dangerous act. Despite your little teasing, your husband was a man of composure. As you helped him prepare to cook, he certainly let it be known that he was paying attention to how you walked and continued to purposely show off. You knew it was just riling him up inside. "Here. Taste this." He finally broke the silence, turning to you and offering a spoon with a small amount of sauce on it. You smiled to him before letting your mouth drop open and your tongue hang out, looking up to him like you were posing for a cum shot to the face. A smirk tugged at his lips as he took hold of your jaw, slightly squishing your cheeks together with his fingers. He fed the sauce into your mouth, and you closed your lips around the spoon, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor. Even if you were being promiscuous in this moment, everything he made was truly delicious. "Taste good?" You nodded while sucking the spoon clean, letting a little dribble down your lip. You cleaned it with your tongue, looking up to him again from under your lashes.  "Anything else I can taste?"

Absolutely there was. It didn't even surprise you that Sukuna could still keep so much focus on the stove and what he was cooking while you were on your knees, desperately sucking his cock. You held onto his muscled thighs through his pants while fucking your throat with his length. Ocassionally, youd catch his gaze and you'd whimper in delight, seeing the absolute pleasure and approval upon his face. He might be quiet and reserved, but you've known him long enough to decipher what he's truly feeling. Especially when you're servicing his dick like this. The aromas of dinner filled the air, but all you could really inhale was his scent. A deep groan left his throat while his cock twitched down yours. You gathered his heavy balls into one of your hands, gently giving them a squeeze. 

Another sigh of pleasure left his lips and he suddenly wrapped his fingers into your hair, tugging you back from his cock. Your sloppy mouth made a pop as you were pulled away, tongue hanging out again as you longed to continue. He looked down to your watery eyes, drinking in the sight of how you were obviously struggling to keep him down your throat just seconds prior.  "Should we have dessert now or after dinner?"

"Why not both?" you smiled innocently up to him, moving forward to nuzzle your face against the head of his throbbing cock. "You've been working so hard, I think you deserve as much dessert as you want tonight." 

Well, you didn't have to tell him twice.

You were pulled off of the ground just seconds later, spun around to be pushed up against the fridge nearby. Sukuna dropped to his knees behind you, lifting one of your legs so he could bury his face into your cunt. His other hand held onto the fat of your thigh below your ass, keeping you pinned against the appliance as he ate you out in such an animalistic way. This man loved to cook, so of course he knew how to eat, and he was so fucking good at it. You moaned against the stainless steel door, the fog of your breath fanning over it as Sukun nipped and sucked in all the right places. Before your leg could give out on you, he stood and used his body as an anchor to keep you pinned in place. Your breasts smooshed together against the surface, nearly popping out from the apron as your husband slipped his cock into your dripping pussy. 

A hiss came from between his teeth as he easily sank balls deep into your soaking cavern. You pushed your hips back, shoving them into his while holding onto the sides of the fridge and curving your back inwards so he could fill you at the best angle possible. He gripped onto your ass, his strong fingers digging into the plump mounds to keep you spread apart as he fucked himself into you. He watched where his cock disappeared into your cunt over and over, eyes fixated on your glossy slick coating him, and the stretch of pink that was suctioning around him with every thrust. 

"Fuck, you feel s'good." he groaned in approval, leaning forward to kiss the side of your neck.  "Kuna...I-I wanna..!"  "So soon already?" He teased against your skin, small pants of his breath tickling over your ear, causing you to shudder. Suddenly he paused, making you whimper out as he glanced off to the side at the oven timer. "'Bout thirty seconds left before dinner is ready, so let me fuck this orgasm out of you real quick." 

You yelped out towards the ceiling as Sukuna's fingers gripped your hair again near the roots, pulling your head back and tilting it so he could kiss the underside of your jaw. Your body melted in his strong hold as he fucked you like a doll against the fridge, every hard thrust causing a little scream to burst from your lips. The head of his dick hammered into your sweet spot, making your walls tighten around him. "That's it sweetheart, cum on your Kuna's cock like a good girl." 

Your head spun as you came, sending you into a delerious high. Your husband held you in place, keeping your shaking body upright as you writhed in ecstacy against the fridge, cunt milking his fat cock buried so deep wihin you. The timer went off and you cried out in unison, your pleasure dripping down your legs as Sukuna fucked you through your orgasm, damn near sending you into a daze of overstimulation. 

Your legs still trembled as you sat across from your husband, trying to eat with composure. You almost envied how he remained so calm and collected, casually eating dinner even though he just fucked you like an animal against the fridge not too long ago. However, his gorgeous eyes would catch your gaze, and you could feel his need to continue growing all over again. Without wasting any time, once the two of you finished your plates, you cleared the table with haste. It wasn't long before your were pinned down over the edge of it, moaning like a whore as you served your husband dessert again, and again, and again.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3

P.S. for Yuujispinkhair, I HAD to include the fridge. 🥴

Btw since its been a while since I've actually written anything, I apologize if its not up to par, AND, if you want to be added to my tag list, let me know. <3

As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[its-time-to-write]

i know now it’ll pass - ch. 6

Last chapter! Thank you all for the love!

am i better yet?

You stay inside the entire time Jamie’s visiting. You end up calling Georgie and telling her you’re sick, a side effect from poor rest. She clicks her tongue and has Simon deliver some food that he swears clears up any type of ailment. You accept it readily and wave goodbye, promising to come over as soon as you’re better. 

It’s Saturday night and Jamie leaves tomorrow evening so he can be back in Richmond for Monday morning training. Sometimes you can hear his voice through the walls and you think your heart is going to burst with all the emotions it causes. 

You’re angry at yourself, first and foremost, but there’s something about actually hearing him that makes you realize how much you love him. Then comes the sadness because you screwed it all up, and you’ve come to realize that Jamie would have loved you no matter what. He had made it through the worst of your relationship, why did you convince yourself he’d leave you?

You’re fed up with all these fucking feelings so you grab one of the muffins Simon sent over and slip out the front door. The cool air kisses your skin as you lug your weighted blanket into the perfect position. Ah. Bliss. You make sure the porch light is off before completely settling in.

The routine is familiar and adds an element of normalcy that you so desperately need.

—

You’re woken up at precisely 4am by Simon and Georgie’s door creaking open and someone slipping out. You don’t even have to look to know that it’s Jamie. You can tell by his footsteps. He’s headed out for a run and doesn’t know you’re there because it’s still dark. You think you should probably head inside so he doesn’t see you when he gets back, but the thought is barely formed before you fall back to sleep.

—

You wake up again in your bed with the oddest sense of déjà vu. You know for certain you were asleep in the front of your house, and there’s no way you got yourself here. The weighted blanket is placed with care, covering you in all the right spots. You roll out of bed, throw on your robe, and pad downstairs to find out who’s making noises in the kitchen.

You round the corner to find Georgie making breakfast. “Morning love,” she says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You hungry?”

You nod mutely and sit down as she hands you a plate.

“You need to lock your doors,” she says as she flips knobs on the stove. “You never know what sort of people could just walk into your house while you’re asleep on your porch.”

“Georgie,” you say slowly as she grabs a cup of coffee and sits across from you, “how did I get here?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, mug conveniently hiding her expression.

“I mean, I was outside. Then I woke up inside. And I know you and Simon didn’t get me there, so how did I get here?”

You don’t know why you’re even asking. The answer is obvious, isn’t it?

Georgie must think so too, because she doesn’t directly respond. Instead she says, “Had an interesting conversation with my son this morning. Came back from his run all flustered.”

You note the way she says my son, not “Jamie.” 

She continues, “Said he found a girl asleep out front. He was worried about her and I said not to, that’s just the girl we’re always having ‘round for tea, but he was having none of it. Said you’d be better off inside in your own bed, with someone to make sure the door was locked because you always forget to do it.”

Georgie sips her coffee again, looking straight through your eyes and down to your soul. “It’s funny, because he talked like he knows you. Odd, innit?”

You choke on your toast.

You gasp out, “Odd,” in agreement, but Georgie is still looking at you with those piercing blue eyes.

“You know my baby tells me everything,” she says. “Not always right away, but he does.”

You nod. There’s no salvaging this. You’re going to have to move again to Chelsea or someplace equally new and foreign, and it’s your own fault for never being honest.

You’re about to open your mouth to say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you’ll never see me again and it’ll be ok, when Georgie places her hand on yours.

“I love you like my own child,” she says. “And maybe that’s because I see myself in you. I don’t want you to get stuck in your head the same way I did. Which is why I think all you need is another chance. One where you’re told by more people than one that you’re loved and wanted, and most of all that you’re safe. Which is exactly what I told Jamie. He’ll be over here in about five minutes.”

She takes another sip of her coffee with her free hand as you choke again.

“Georgie,” you sputter, “he doesn’t even want to see me! He told you what happened. Oh my god, I need a hairbrush.”

“You’re wrong, love,” she calls after you as you rush to your bathroom, “He absolutely wants to see you.”

—

You’re thundering down the stairs exactly four minutes and fifty-eight seconds later just in time to hear Georgie answer the door and promptly exit, leaving you with Jamie. Jamie, who you haven’t seen in months.

This is going to be a shit show, you think, but then you remember everything Georgie has ever said to you. Including the phrase, “He absolutely wants to see you.”

You don’t have time to twist that into something negative because Jamie Tartt is standing in front of you in your kitchen looking like the best thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s taking every ounce of your self-control not to launch yourself into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. “I shouldn’t have run away. I broke your heart on purpose and that was a shitty thing to do. And I’m sorry for becoming friends with your parents and not telling them. I should’ve handled it better.”

Jamie’s frowning. You wish his face were at least neutral.

He says, “You’re sorry,” as though he can’t believe those words are coming out of your mouth. You cringe a little. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I know that doesn’t make anything better, but… I am.”

Jamie asks, “Why?” and you have no idea what he means.

“I just told you why I’m sorry,” you reply. “Not sure how much clearer you want.”

Jamie shakes his head. “No, fuck, I mean- why are you sorry? Why do you think you have something to apologize for?”

That catches you off guard. That’s not even remotely close to how you thought he would respond.

You’re trying to figure out what to say when Jamie starts talking again.

“Look- I knew what it was like for me mum when I was growing up. Sometimes you meet the wrong person and they fucking… fuck you up. So when you meet the right person, you’re all scared and it’s all shit so you do the things you should have done with the wrong person. And yeah, I was fucking wrecked when you left, but I understood. I’m me, and me is a lot.” 

The corners of your mouth turn up ever so slightly at the odd turn of phrase.

Jamie takes a breath. “What I’m saying is, maybe we have things to work on. But I want to work on them. With you. Not with someone else. Fucking hell, babe, I’ve never laughed as hard as when I’m with you. Like, imagine there’s this bird and she’s fit as fuck but then she talks and says the funniest shit and but then flips the switch and actually listens to what you have to say? Has actual empathy, like. It’s a fuckin’ breath of fresh air after being with the lads all day.”

“Right,” you say. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“Oh fuck no,” Jamie replies. “I was mad. Yeah. Proper mad. Got over it, though. Talked to Ted a lot, and Dr. Sharon. Worked through some of me own shit. Mummy says you’ve been working on your own shit too.”

You slowly nod. “Yeah, I have. It’s been alright. She gives me hope, you know? She has a perfectly wonderful life and she was able to get out of her own head long enough to enjoy it. Not let it slip through her fingers.”

You’re both silent for a moment. It’s been forever since you’ve seen Jamie up close, and you still find yourself lost in his eyes. 

You both have the same thought at the same time and suddenly your arms are wrapped around his middle and his are holding you tightly, his cheek resting on the top of your head. 

“I’m not letting you walk away again, yeah?” he says. “Mum’d fucking kill me if I did. You’re the only one I want anyway.”

You nod into his chest. “I love you so much,” you say, voice muffled. “I can’t believe that I get to have you.”

—

Jamie tells you over dinner that night that he’s the one who bought your flat. It’s waiting for you to come back. You finish out the month in Manchester then move home to Richmond.

A year later, there’s a forest and a picnic and a ring on your left hand. Eight months after that there’s a garden and starry lights hung in trees and a white dress. You’re surrounded by friends and family and a sign that says, the Tartts and glasses are clinking the whole night as you kiss someone who chose to be patient with you. You’re two people who saw exactly who the other was, and chose to love each other for it. 

Table of Contents

[mi-rae07]

Choi San : A Marriage Not Of Love (Part 2/3)

Pairing : Choi San (Ateez) and named character (Kim Sowon)

________________________

Tw//: mentions of self harm

_________________________

A/n : angst might be slightly lesser here but the final part will have enough and more.

__________________________

Sowon hummed as she felt herself slowly wake, opening her eyes and looking around as she realized she was back in hers and san's room, her entire body covered with silk blankets. The time seemed to be 5pm, she had been asleep for hours.

San : how do you feel right now?

Sowon flinched as she realized san was sitting next to her on a chair, a book held loosely in his left hand as he stared at her

Sowon : you…you haven't gone to work yet?

San : work can wait, you're more important.

Sowon didn't believe that from him.

Sowon : well now I am awake so you can go.

San : it's 5pm, do you really want me to go to work just for an hour or two sowon?

Sowon sighed, looking away as she said

Sowon : you didn’t have to miss work because of me.

San : you're my wife-

Sowon : in theory.

San paused as sowon sat up straight, feeling much better than she had before. She looked to the bedside table as she noticed bottles of fever medicines on it, san had fed her medicines while she was asleep.

Sowon : you don't have to pretend anymore.

San paused, staring at sowon and her cut off eyes. It had finally happened, she had gotten tired of trying.

Sowon : I know you do not love me, you never have, it was just all pretend. Was it not, san?

She needed that last confirmation, and san had his chance to tell her everything now, the whole truth. And he wanted to, he wanted to tell her so bad. But these were his burdens, he wouldn’t endanger sowon like that. And so san looked away as he said coldly

San : yes.

Sowon nodded, her face not showing even an ounce of emotion as she got up from the bed before saying

Sowon : then we will live like that from now, just pretend when there are people around and forget about each other when no one's watching.

San's eyes widened, not expecting her to say this. He had expected her to divorce him, and he had thought he would have to find a way to make his grandfather agree to still leaving the company with him because san wasn't planning to marry another woman.

San : you…you're not going to divorce me?

Sowon scoffed as she said

Sowon : have you forgotten that I'm an orphan, san? If I divorce you where exactly will I go? Consider this as me taking advantage of your resources, just as you have taken advantage of mine. I do not know your reasons for this marriage but I don't think I want to know anymore either.

Sowon turned around and walked towards the door as she said

Sowon : we'll start by sleeping separately from now.

_______________________________

2 weeks later :

And just like that san's entire life had changed, he barely even got to see his wife anymore. She changed her meal timings so san wouldn't see her during dinner or breakfast anymore, she wouldn't step inside his room either and got all her things shifted to a separate room. San couldn't sleep a wink as he stared around at the empty room, realizing that he actually had nothing to fill the room with, it had been all hers. Her scent still lingered in the pillows and san never let the maids wash it.

He couldn't even properly work anymore because he kept thinking of her, whether she was doing fine or eating her meals on time. He was worried, but he couldn't show it. Soohyun had his bugs all over san's manor, san knew half the maids worked for soohyun and kept an eye on san and sowon. It was the whole reason san kept being rude to her even in their own house and rooms, he couldn't let soohyun know this was anything more than a loveless arranged marriage.

??? : san.

San flinched as he looked up from his study table, realizing sowon had stepped into his study quietly while he was in his thoughts. San stood up from his seat, eyeing sowon to see if she was completely alright. He only got to see her at rare occasions and this was one of them.

San : is something wrong?

Sowon : you can sit down, it's not a great matter.

San did not sit. Sowon sighed as she said

Sowon : there's a party tomorrow evening, at yena's house. I just got the invitation.

Sowon placed the invitation on san's table as he stared at it with blank eyes before saying

San : we don’t have to go if you don't want to-

Sowon : we are going, your brother is going to be there.

San's breath hitched in his throat, his brother rarely attended the same parties as san. Their circles were entirely different, and he had no idea soohyun was associated with yena.

San : what? Why-

Sowon : didn't you read the invitation card san, yena's sister is getting engaged to soohyun next week. This is a before party.

_______________________________

Sowon looked around the grand party hall as her arm was coiled around san's, the both of them walking together to wherever san led her. Neither of them had uttered a word in the car about anything, so she just let san take the lead. He was the one that did the business anyway. They had just finished talking to some business partners when a voice cut through them

Yena : san-ah!

Sowon looked forward as she saw yena rushing up to them with a wide smile, immediately hugging san as sowon let go of her hold on san's arm and stepped aside slightly. She hated seeing yena at all, but she did not let it show on her face as she smiled at yena. Yena eyed sowon with annoyed eyes before saying

Yena : oh you're here too.

San : she is my wife, why wouldn't she be here?

Yena rolled her eyes at san playfully before saying with a sarcastic chuckle

Yena : we all know it's just arranged.

San frowned and was about to say something when another voice interrupted them, this time a low-pitched male voice

??? : ah, the star couple!

San froze as soohyun stepped forward, looking over at sowon as he took her hand and kissed it with a wide smile. Sowon smiled as well, unaware of soohyun's actual motives as she said

Sowon : soohyun-shi, it's been a while since we saw you. I've been asking you to visit our house for so long, you never come.

Soohyun chuckled almost innocently as he said

Soohyun : I've been quite busy you see, what with my lovely to-be-fiancé and all that.

Soohyun finally turned his attention to san as he eyed him as well before holding his hand out for san to shake. San shook it with a blank face, making yena chuckle as she once again laid her palm against san's shoulder before saying

Yena : sannie has always been a bit of a cold person.

San's eyes turned sharp as he looked at yena and said

San : I have told you not to call me that, yena.

Yena smiled a sickly sweet smile that made sowon want to throw up, soohyun looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the scene. Sowon looked around as she noticed the people were eyeing san and yena as well, some of them whispering softly with each other. Sowon suddenly felt little, like she wasn't supposed to be here. She let out a breath before saying

Sowon : I'll need to use the ladies room quick, please excuse me.

Sowon gave the three of them one last smile before walking to the restroom, her purse clutched tight in her hand.

__________________________________

It had been an hour since sowon had shut herself in one of the bathroom cubicles and she supposed it was high time she stepped out into the party now, not that her absence would cause anyone worry but even then. And so sowon stepped out of the ladies room, walking around as she tried to find san somewhere. She had just turned to a secluded corner space when she felt someone grab her arm and pull her to a side.

Sowon : soohyun-shi?

Soohyun : finally I've gotten you without having my brother loom all over you.

Sowon frowned, looking up at soohyun as she asked

Sowon : what?

Soohyun : he doesn't love you, does he? He's arranged this entire marriage for his own benefit, to steal that company from me.

I frowned, confused. I didn't know why he was telling me all this now.

Soohyun : but then again, he's always been like this. Selfish and cruel for his own needs, there's something he has been hiding from you as well. I'm the only person who knows it but now I suppose you should too.

Sowon felt her heart race at his words, she always knew there was something that san hid from her. And san had always been hostile to his brother, now she supposed she would know why.

Sowon : and what…is that?

Soohyun chuckled as he leaned closer to her before whispering

Soohyun : he killed his own mother, our, mother. He stabbed her to death while she was trying to save him.

Sowon's eyes widened, her heart dropping at his words. No…no this couldn't be true. San was cruel to her but he never harmed her physically, he couldn't have killed his own mother.

Soohyun : you must not believe me, and I don’t blame you for it. But think about it, why would I need to lie about something like this? To break you marriage? But that's already broken, isn't it?

Sowon let out a shaky breath as she realized soohyun was right, there was no need for him to lie about this. And this fact explained many things about san.

Soohyun : I suggest you to leave that man and run while you still can, sowon. He is dangerous, deadly.

Sowon was about to say something when soohyun looked past her, eyeing someone behind her. Sowon turned as well as she saw san walking up to them with a cold face, both his hands tucked into his pocket as he said to soohyun

San : done with your conversation with my wife, brother?

Soohyun smiled sweetly as he said

Soohyun : of course, you can have her now.

Saying that soohyun walked away, leaving a shaken sowon behind. She watched as san approach her, her heart racing with a new emotion. Fear. Something she'd never felt for san before but now seeing the way his eyes looked, his shoulders straight and pulled back, he looked every bit of the murderer soohyun said he was.

As san tried to step closer sowon stepped back, not looking at him. San noticed it, the new fear in her for him.

San : sowon?

Sowon : did you kill her?

San froze, his face going pale.

San : wh-what?

San had never stuttered, and that was an answer for sowon in itself. But even then she continued, her voice shaky from the tears as she looked up at san

Sowon : did you kill your mother, san?

San stared at her with wide eyes, finally betraying emotions on his face. It all seemed to flood onto him at once, as if sowon had stabbed him herself.

San : did…did he tell you that?

Sowon : he told me you were selfish and cruel, and that you killed your mother by stabbing her when she tried saving you. He asked me to run away from you, san.

San let out a shaky breath, looking like he was about to fall onto his knees any second.

Sowon : you killed her, didn't you? You killed the person that gave birth to you and raised you.

San felt his body tremble, his hands clenching inside his suit pocket. The fear in sowon's eyes broke him apart. Her hate, he could manage. But fear, fear he could never. It would destroy him.

San : so-sowon please. I just-

Sowon : if you killed your mother who is to say you won’t kill your wife, san? I…I slept with a cold-blooded murderer for years without realizing. I trusted you, I loved a bloody murderer.

San felt his heart break at her words, tears filling his eyes for the first time in years. He had pushed this all away, he had told himself that as long as sowon loved him nothing else mattered. But now she had called him a murderer too, and san no longer felt the need to live.

Sowon took the wedding ring that adorned her ring finger as she threw it at san, tears streaming down her cheeks as she said

Sowon : I would rather stay an orphan than have a husband that killed his own mother, I would rather die than belong to a murderer, a monster.

San stared at the wedding ring that felt to his feet, the diamond in it cracking as sowon said

Sowon : I am no longer your wife, choi san.

Sowon turned around and left, leaving a broken san behind. He felt to the floor, clutching sowon's cracked wedding ring in his hand as he sobbed pathetically. He had lost everything, everything.

Soohyun had done worse than what he'd say he would do.

___________________________________

When san had come back to the manor hours later, drenched in cold and snow he'd expected the maids to tell him that sowon had left, her things all packed. But instead they'd told him that she had locked herself up in her room, no sounds to be heard. And so san had walked up to her room, knocking on her door as he said

San : please open the door, please.

San felt his voice break from how much he had cried, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he shivered in the cold. But he didn't bother, sowon had shivered in cold too once, all because of him.

San once again knocked on the door, his libs trembling as he said

San : let me-let me explain sowon, please just let me…

San let out a painful sob as he slid down the door, falling on his knees as he rested his head against the door

San : I didn't mean to do it, I didn't know it was her, please. I would never have done…never have done anything to hurt her. Or you-I would never hurt you sowon.

Sowon shut her eyes tightly from the other side of the door as she heard san's broken pleas and cries, his sobs breaking her apart. He had never cried in front of her, not even when his dad had passed away. Now hearing how broken he was sowon wanted to go and hug him.

But he was a murderer, sowon remembered. He had murdered his mother in cold blood no matter his excuses, and she was scared he'd do the same with her. These cries could be fake, it could be to lure her out and weaken her.

She wasn't going to fall.

San felt his breathing get shallow as he weakly banged against the door, his hands cold and shivering. He could've just gone to the fire burning in his room, all warm and cozy for him. There was no need for him to be lying in this cold, dark hallway. But sowon was on the other side of this door, he couldn't leave.

Not even when the coldness and darkness around him reminded him of the month he had spent locked up in that basement, being starved and tortured would he leave her. He had felt the same way then, abandoned and misunderstood. But this…this was worse than that.

No one was locking him up or starving and torturing him here, but sowon was scared of him. She was sitting on the other side of the door, her love for him slowly cracking away and the fear for him rising. He felt worse than he had back then, he felt like he was getting stabbed in the heart again and again.

San cried again, feeling his body get weak as he fell onto the floor with a low thud. He could barely speak anymore, his throat burning. But even then he called out her name again and again desperately, wishing she would open the door and take him in her arms.

She didn’t, and san supposed she wouldn't again for a long, long time.

________________________________

The next day san opened his eyes, feeling like he was about to pass out again from the pain covering his body. He felt cold and hot at the same time, his eyes puffy and blurry. But despite that he sat up, looking at the door in front of him. It was still locked, sowon hadn't stepped out of her room.

San stood up wobblily as held onto the wall for support, looking at the time in the hallway clock. 11am, 2 hours past breakfast and 2 hours before lunchtime. San had work, and he supposed that maybe if he left for work sowon would come out and have her meals without being scared of his presence. As much as it hurt san, he knew it was the truth.

And just like that, despite feeling like he was about to die he left for work, just so sowon could eat.

____________________________________

??? : boss, there's someone who's come to see you.

San didn't bother looking up from his papers, half because he was sick and half because he couldn't bother enough to use the little energy he had left.

San : I don't have any appointments today.

??? : yes, sir but this is your brother.

San paused, still not looking up from his papers. Before he could say anything more the door opened again as a cheery voice cut through the air

Soohyun : my dear younger brother!

San shut his eyes, the assistant stepping outside and closing the door as she left san and soohyun alone. San watched as soohyun happily plopped down on the seat opposite san as he said

Soohyun : oh you look like a disaster, did she yell at you?

San : why would I care if she yelled at me? I do not love her and neither do I care.

A whole lie. Soohyun shrugged as he said

Soohyun : well that is true.

San had been excellent at hiding his love, so much to the point that even sowon didn't know about it. Soohyun was no exception.

San : then why did you tell her? Why yesterday night?

Soohyun : it was our mother’s birthday yesterday. Consider it as my gift for her. Plus! It was fun.

San paused, trying his best to conceal his emotions as he asked

San : and why are you here now, to torture me again? Remind me of the fact that I killed our mother?

Soohyun : I was just here to have fun at your horrible state, see how the seed I planted has grown.

San : what else did you tell her? Did you tell her that you thought I also tried to poison our mother when I was 12?

Soohyun gasped as he said

Soohyun : oh no! whatever will I do, I completely forgot about that. Don't worry, you can tell her that yourself.

Soohyun chuckled as he leaned forward and ruffled san's hair before standing up

Soohyun : you don't deserve even an ounce of happiness after all that you've done, san. I hope you don't forget that, not like anyone would ever give someone like you happiness but you know.

Soohyun turned around and left just like that, leaving san alone in his office room. He let out a breath, letting his head drop into his hands.

____________________________________

Sowon felt utterly alone and exasperated, she had no idea what to think. She stared at her empty ring finger as she remembered the look on san's face when she'd thrown that at him and it had cracked, she'd never seen anyone look so broken before. And then she remembered him banging on the door, begging her to open it as he cried. She'd never seen him cry, never seen anyone cry so desperately and yet she hadn't opened the door. How could she?

Sowon flinched as she felt someone bang the door again, san's loud voice cutting through the silent room

San : you haven't eaten.

Sowon looked away from the door, clenching her hands as san banged the door again

San : you have to eat something sowon, come out!

Sowon didn't want to come out of her room when san was outside, she was scared.

San : sowon, either you come out or I open this door myself.

Sowon did not move from her place. And to her utter horror, a minute later san had opened the door to her room with his spare keys, stepping inside and staring right at her.

San : I went to work today despite feeling like dying just so you'd come out and have your meals. And then the maids tell me you still haven't had anything, are you crazy?

Sowon stared at san in part fear, wondering whether he'd harm her for not having had her meals and causing him anger.

San : sowon go to the dining hall and have you dinner, right now.

Sowon shook her head as she looked away, she was not hungry. San glared at her as he stepped forward, trying to hold her arm in order to get her to come with him.

He was just trying to get her to eat, but all sowon could see was the anger in san’s eyes, his hands coming to grab hers. She felt fear engulf her as sowon quickly moved away from him, her hands coming up to shield herself as she said in fear

Sowon : please don’t hurt me please! I'll eat, I…

Sowon breathed heavily as she curled her legs towards herself to protect herself, san's eyes widening as he stepped back in horror. He had just touched her arm…and she'd thought he was going to hurt her. She was scared of him, like he was some sort of a monster. Her small cries and whimpers were proof.

Sowon looked up with teary eyes as she watched san stumble back, his eyes wide and teary as he recoiled. And suddenly sowon felt her heart drop as she realized what she'd done, she had backed away from san like he was some otherworldly being.

Sowon : san.

Sowon quickly got up from her bed as she rushed to san, trying to hold his arm. But he snatched it back, staring at her with teary eyes as she said

Sowon : no I didn’t…I just wasn’t-

San : you…you thought I was going to hurt you.

San’s voice sounded desperate, broken beyond repair. He looked like she had just stabbed him. Sowon’s eyes softened at that as she said

Sowon : no I just…I-your mother-

San flinched as sowon realised that was the wrong thing to say given the situation, making her shake her head as she said in a hurry, trying to reach out for him again

Sowon : oh no, san-

Sowon cut herself off as san rushed out of her room, not letting her say anything more.

_____________________________________

San rushed into his bathroom, falling onto the floor with a sob as he brought his palms to his face. He tried muffling his sobs, feeling pathetic as his body shivered from the cold yet again. He hated himself, oh he had never hated himself so much before.

San looked up as he saw the razor blade sitting on the top of his sink, one he had used to shave a few days before. He felt himself grabbing it as he plucked the blade out, the force causing his finger skin to tear as blood oozed out. San let out a shaky sob as he pulled his sleeves up, staring down at the old cut marks on his arm. It had been years since he'd done this, but now he felt himself slowly relapsing, wanting to feel the pain again.

Anything, anything to stop the pain he was feeling in his heart.

And so san used the blade to cut through his arm, once again opening up the old and healed self harm cuts as blood dripped down onto the marble floor. He did not stop at just one cut, he cut his skin again and again, the pain seeping through his entire body as he felt his mind go numb.

This, this was what he wanted. His mind to go numb, and if hurting himself was what it took to make that happen, then so be it.

With another sob san cut his arm again, this time the blade going even deeper as san let out a groan in pain.

Nothing was as sharp and deep as sowon's words anyway.

_____________________________________

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of MHA 2024 Day 8 - Beauty

Shouta aches all over and only half of that pain comes from the various injuries littering his body. Mostly he's just tired and weary and too damn young to feel this old, but the thought of what his kids will likely have to face in the future, the thought of one of them still missing, weighs him down way beyond his years.

He's only barely listening to the doctor telling him how to care for himself and his scrapes, too busy thinking about how they best get Bakugo back, how he'll have to reassure the kids, the parents, the media, and just the thought of having to deal with the latter leaves a sour aftertaste on his tongue.

Shouta doesn't have time for this.

He doesn't have time to listen to this when Recovery Girl can just kiss him better once he got a decent night of sleep, he doesn't have time to sit here and be idle when a million things need to be done and he especially doesn't have time for Hizashi's fretting.

Who materialises in his hospital room as if Shouta’s thoughts have conjured him and Shouta just barely suppresses a sigh.

Hizashi has been hovering ever since that incident at the USJ and Shouta is growing tired of it. He doesn’t need a chaperon and he doesn’t need Hizashi to lose his head over injuries that have long been healed when there are so many other things that need worrying about.

“Shouta, how are you?” Hizashi frantically asks, coming to a stop in front of Shouta and fluttering his hands over his body as if he could feel any potential injuries.

“I’m fine, will you stop,” Shouta says and takes a step back, dismayed by the easy way Hizashi invades his private space.

“Are you really? Where’s the doctor?” Hizashi demands to know and looks around. “Or your file. Gimme.”

“You will not read my file, Hizashi, I am fine.”

Hizashi eyes him critically, clearly not believing a word Shouta is saying and Shouta is so fed up with this constant fretting and worrying and hovering that he snaps.

“Will you stop it?” he hisses out and Hizashi frowns at him.

“Stop what?”

“This—” Shouta gestures at the entirety of Hizashi and then makes a sweeping motion through the room. “All of it. You don’t need to see my file and you don’t need to speak to my doctor!”

“Shouta,” Hizashi says, and he seems entirely serious, which only pisses Shouta off more. “How else would I know how to care for you? It’s not as if you tell me anything. Hell, I had to hear about you being in the hospital from Nezu! Again, I might add because you can’t be bothered to keep me informed.” Hizashi pauses to take a deep breath but he goes on before Shouta can find his own words. “You kind of drifted away from me ever since Oboro died but it’s getting worse lately, you keep pushing me away and how am I going to take care of you if I don’t even know your injuries?”

"Well, the beauty of this arrangement is that you don't have to take care of me," Shouta scathingly says because he very deliberately did not make Hizashi his emergency contact for precisely this reason, and watches how Hizashi stills completely.

"Arrangement?" he whispers out and Shouta refuses to be hurt by the way his voice cracks. "You're calling this friendship an 'arrangement'?"

He sounds lost and broken and flayed open in a way Shouta didn't think possible and he takes a surprised step back when open and raw hurt flashes over Hizashi's face.

It's a look Shouta hasn't seen on him since he screamed at him to leave him the fuck alone right after Oboro's death and Shouta thought he would never see it again, because ever since then Hizashi has been guarded around him.

He's been guarded around him for close to ten years now, Shouta suddenly realises with a start but he doesn't have time to process anything before Hizashi's face shuts down on him, smoothing out into absolute perfect nothingness.

"Alright," Hizashi says, his voice perfectly even as he stuffs his hands into his pockets as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. "See you at school, I guess," he adds and then turns around and leaves.

Shouta feels as if the muted thud of the door closing echoes around the room for minutes and during that time he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from it, wondering if maybe Hizashi will come back, will laugh it all off like he did so many times already and then go back to fretting over Shouta but nothing happens.

Hizashi is just gone.

~*~*~

It’s jarring, Hizashi’s absence.

Shouta didn’t expect it, wasn’t aware that Hizashi is so closely tied to Shouta’s life because—and he can maybe admit to it—he did keep him at arm’s length, or at least he tried to.

It’s clear now that it didn’t work, not at all, and Shouta is completely lost. Everything is a mess; his head, his body, his students, the world at large. It’s all fucked up and for a while, Shouta doesn’t have time to think about anything but press work and his students and All Might’s retirement.

By the time he gets to sit down and really think about things, it all comes crashing down around him and he realises with a start just how much he misses Hizashi.

But Hizashi has kept to himself these past days; he hasn’t tried to contact Shouta, hasn’t tried to keep up with anything that’s happening on Shouta’s side and he hasn’t so much as spared a single look for the scrapes still littering Shouta’s body.

He keeps a professional air around him at the school, and it almost feels as if they are nothing but co-workers. As if over ten years of knowing each other never happened in the first place and Shouta knows it’s his fault.

He has to admit that there is no one else to blame, because he fucked up, he said the wrong things at the wrong time to the only person that still matters to him—after doing the wrong things for the wrong reasons for years—and he has no clue how he’s going to un-fuck all of this.

Well, he knows where to start, knows where he has to start, but talking has never been Shouta’s strong suit and especially not with Hizashi.

It’s true, that he kept pushing Hizashi away, but probably not for the reasons Hizashi thinks and Shouta has no clue if he can explain it in a way that would make Hizashi understand.

What he does know, though, is that he has to try, because this last week has shown Shouta that not having Hizashi in his life is also not an option.

Can we talk? Shouta sends to Hizashi and it feels wholly inadequate, but he doesn't know how else to start.

We can talk about the upcoming lesson plan at school. The answer is immediate and painfully unpersonal and Shouta aches.

Not about work, Shouta sends back. About us.

There's no reply for long enough that Shouta starts to pace the length of the room before he feels his phone vibrate in his hand.

You made it more than clear that there is no us to talk about, is the devastating reply he gets and he can't even blame Hizashi. This is all on Shouta and he damn well knows it.

Still, he can’t let it stand like this.

There is and I’m sorry I made it sound as if there isn’t. Please, let me apologise. Let’s talk.

Hizashi leaves him on read for long enough that Shouta’s heart sinks right to the bottom of his feet and when Hizashi finally does start to type something, Shouta clutches the phone so tightly he’s afraid it will break.

If you remember where I live you can come over.

Shouta is out of the door before he even has the phone pocketed and even though it’s been years since he was at Hizashi’s place, he still remembers.

He also remembers why he hasn’t been there in years and the thought aches still. But Shouta remembers the picture he saw in Hizashi’s living-room, of the three of them, Oboro and Hizashi smiling so brightly at the camera while Shouta had his trade-mark frown on his face and it had scared Shouta.

Because what if one day it would be on him to put up a picture of the three of them, to remember both Oboro and Hizashi? What if he ended up being the last of their friend group to be around?

It had scared him so much and now he can admit that he started to push Hizashi away at that time. He thought it would be easier like this when he’d inevitably lose Hizashi too, but of course Shouta got it all wrong.

Nothing is easier like this, alone, and especially not knowing he hurt Hizashi with his behaviour.

He makes it over to Hizashi’s place in record time but when Hizashi opens the door for him, Shouta finds himself tongue-tied.

Hizashi is looking at him but there’s still this distance and Shouta wonders if this is how he came across all these years too.

If yes, then it’s a wonder Hizashi didn’t tell him to go fuck himself sooner. But then again, Hizashi has always been a better person than Shouta.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of Shouta’s mouth and it’s not enough, he knows it’s not, but it’s a start.

It has to be because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do otherwise.

Hizashi eyes him for a moment and the ice in his eyes doesn’t melt at all.

“Is that all you have to say?” he wants to know after staring at Shouta for what feels like hours. “Because then you can leave again.”

“No, it’s not! Hizashi, of course it’s not. Can I come in?”

“If you must.”

Hizashi moves away, allows Shouta into his apartment, but he still feels like an intruder, as if he doesn’t belong at all and he wonders if there’s even a way for him to mend this. It would be well within Hizashi’s rights to not forgive him for the past ten years.

“Thank you,” Shouta whispers as he walks past him, eager to get inside because then, maybe, he can explain himself without Hizashi closing the door in his face.

When he enters the living-room Shouta’s eyes immediately fall onto the picture and it hurts just as much as it did back then but while it used to be because of the things Shouta already lost, it now aches with the threat of losing what he has left.

“Hizashi, you’re my friend. Of course you are my friend. You’re the most important person in my life,” Shouta gets out, his eyes still glued to the picture but he feels Hizashi’s gaze on him.

“How nice,” he says, almost sounding bored and Shouta thinks he deserves that. “You have a great way of showing that.”

“I know I fucked up,” Shouta says and turns around. “And I have been fucking it all up for a while,” he then admits, because he came here to make things right and he needs to be honest for that.

“If you’re here because you think you need to apologise for hurting my feelings, then don’t. I’m a big guy, I’ll survive. It’s my fault for reading more into our—acquaintance than there really was, anyway.”

“No!” Shouta almost yells out because this is all wrong, it’s all so wrong and he desperately needs to set this right. “We’re friends, or—we should be, still, and it’s my fault we’re not.”

“And that’s okay,” Hizashi shrugs without meeting Shouta’s eyes. “You don’t have to be friends with everyone. Without Oboro it’s—we can be co-workers. It’s fine.”

Shouta can feel the urge to activate his quirk rise in him, but it’s wrong, it would be so wrong, because he’d silence Hizashi like that and he already shut him out for long enough.

“It’s not fine,” Shouta says and he takes a step closer to Hizashi.

It’s usually Hizashi who bridges the distance between them, but Shouta realises that it’s on him now. He created that distance, so it’s on him to reduce it, too.

“I’m sorry I have shut you out.”

“Shouta, you haven’t shut me out. You shut someone out when you refuse to talk about a specific topic, or when you keep a certain problem from them. You’ve pushed me out of your life. And I was too stupid to accept it, so that’s on me. I should have taken the hint when you stopped sharing anything personal with me and I should have definitely clued in when you moved and didn’t even tell me about it. I had to find out from Nemuri because by then you couldn’t be bothered to talk to me anymore. Which is fine, by the way, because you are free to decide who you want in your life. I just somehow never got around to accepting that you don’t want me around.”

“Shut up!” Shouta yells out because he can’t hear Hizashi talk like that, he can’t hear how much pain he caused him and most of all he doesn’t know how to fix something he broke so thoroughly. “I am so sorry, Hizashi,” he then mutters and it’s been years since he last cried but he finds tears gathering in his eyes now. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admits and it feels as if the words are carving him open.

“You don’t have to fix anything, we can just—”

“I’m scared,” Shouta interrupts him and he can’t muster the courage to look at Hizashi but he knows his gaze is on Shouta. “I’m terrified and I have been ever since Oboro died. I should have saved him, I was right there and didn’t do anything. We lost him because of me. And I kept thinking, what if I lose Hizashi next?” Shouta takes a shuddering breath.

“You didn’t lose me. You actively pushed me away,” Hizashi reminds him and it cuts Shouta deep but Hizashi is right.

In his fear, he did everything wrong.

“And I thought it would be easier like that. You and Oboro, you were my best friends. Losing one was unbearable. I couldn’t fathom to lose another one, so—”

“You made sure there was no best friend to lose, because we wouldn’t be friends anymore,” Hizashi finishes for him and hearing it out loud like that is so stupid, it’s so irrational that Shouta is upset with himself.

“It wasn’t a conscious thought,” Shouta admits. “It wasn’t so precise. I just knew that it would hurt and I tried to protect myself.”

“And how has that been working out for you?” Hizashi asks and it’s not as mean as it could be but still, Shouta lets out a desperate laugh.

“Horribly,” he confesses, because underneath all of that fear he has missed Hizashi. “I did everything wrong. It hurts anyway, differently than it does from losing Oboro, and I fucked us both over. I fucked everything up.”

Hizashi doesn’t refute him, because he can’t and Shouta wonders where they are supposed to go from here.

If there even is anywhere for them to go, together.

“What do you want, Shouta?” Hizashi asks him and he sounds so tired. “What do you want from me? Why are you here?”

“I want us to be friends again,” Shouta gets out and he hates how his voice shakes. “I want—to not be an asshole and to be a friend you deserve. If—you want that, too,” he adds on, because he would understand if Hizashi told him to go fuck himself.

It’d be well within his rights, after all, and Shouta would accept that, too. It’s only fair.

“If we do that,” Hizashi thoughtfully starts and Shouta hates the emphasis on the first word, “then it can’t just be me, shouldering this friendship. It can’t just be my stubbornness keeping us going. You need to contribute something, open yourself up. I can’t do this again when it’s just on me. If you shut me out again—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence but Shouta nods anyway. He understands.

“I know,” he rushes out. “But it’s not just you, Hizashi, I haven’t shared my life with anyone in so long and it might take me a while to learn how to do that again,” Shouta says and it’s only when he says it that he realises how true it is.

No one knows things about him anymore. Shouta didn’t just keep Hizashi at arm’s length, he’s doing that with everyone.

“I’m not asking you to spill everything or be an open book or whatever,” Hizashi says. “I just need you to try and to want this. It’ll be a learning curve for both of us, because we haven’t been friends in so long. I don’t need to know everything. Just enough to know that you want me in your life.”

It should be an incredibly low bar, but to Shouta it feels daunting and scary and that is precisely the reason he fishes out his phone.

“I adopted a cat,” he says and it’s a peace offering, a first step and Shouta just hopes Hizashi will take it. “Do you want to see some pictures of him?”

“What’s his name?” Hizashi asks after a moment and comes closer so he can see Shouta’s screen and it feels monumental to Shouta.

Monumental enough that he has to close his eyes and just breathe through it for a moment. Hizashi stays silent, gives him this moment, which is probably more than Shouta deserves in all honesty and he promises to do better.

Hizashi deserves a friend, deserves the best friend, and Shouta is going to try and fill that spot again.

“Snapple,” he finally answers Hizashi’s question and pulls up some pictures. “Because he keeps snapping at me whenever I eat an apple.”

Hizashi lets out a snort.

“You’re still horrible at naming things,” he almost fondly says and Shouta remembers with a start that it was Hizashi who named him Eraserhead, who gave him that identity when Shouta couldn’t be bothered to care and how did Shouta thank him for it?

“I am,” he agrees, his voice coming out shaky and thick as he tilts the phone so Hizashi can see better.

It’s not much, really, but for them it’s a whole lot and to Shouta especially it’s scary enough that his hands shake but he has to try.

For Hizashi, and for himself, he has to do better.

[moodywyrm]

sfjdjdj rockstar!sevika getting so fed up with the questions of her relationship status that at one point she just posts (anywhere she can. insta, twitter, etc.) a picture of you two kissing on your wedding day, something that was kept very private: you in your dress (if applicable) and her in a suit, wedding rings shining in the light; and pinning it to her profile with the caption “I’m taken.”

yes! @pinknightsinmymind and I have actually talked about this!

okay so initially, the kiss marks and the hickies were supposed to show everyone that she's taken. what sevika didn't consider is that rockstars are kinda expected or anticipated to be sex symbols, hence the imagery of sex on her body wouldn't necessarily imply a relationship. early on in her career she got a lot of questions about how many girls she'd recruited to leave those marks on her for every show. it irritated her to no end!!

so when that didn't work, she started carrying around your panties. she thought that would somehow be better than the hickies and lipstick marks (it wasn't) (it was pretty much the same thing) (everyone just thought she was a player).

finally, when that didn't work, she started bringing you on stage, kissing you, being all touchy, everything. still, she got so many people asking her if you two were just friends, and, dear god, she got propositioned so often by fans. it didn't matter how many times she called you her wife, how often she showed off your marks and your gifts and the fucking rings, people never listened. it was infuriating!!!

so one day, when she literally can't fucking take it anymore, her fans open up instagram and are immediately confronted with these absolutely gorgeous wedding photos. Sevika uploaded three different posts of ten images, each of them beginning with pictures of your guys intimate little wedding. you both look gorgeous, all done up and oh so in love. her favorite, one of you swiping a little dot of frosting on her cheek, followed by one of you kissing it off. your favorite is one of Sevika tearing up as you walk down the aisle, the bridal party equally in giggles and in tears at how soft the entire moment was. the caption on each post is pretty much the same.

I am happily and eternally married. Fuckers.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Make him dog food: Hannibal x gn reader

This is more of a personal thing based on a non-fan fiction thing I'm writing. I've been thinking and processing a lot of stuff and I am just feeling a lot of things. I love horror revenge stories so I felt this fit well.

Content warnings: Talk of cannibalism, murder, mentions of past abuse and sa, dogs being fed human meat, reader is kinda unstable, reader breaks down a bit

"Y/n. What are you doing here?" Hannibal asks, seemingly ignoring the fact you're covered in blood, but he knows it's not yours. Your face is tear stained and bloody along with the rest of your body.

"I killed him." You say cryptically walking into his house. He shuts the door behind you and guides you to his bathroom.

"Who did you kill?" He asks calmly, sitting you down and taking off your shoes.

"My ex-boyfriend." You say, running a hand over your hair. You look down at your hands covered in dry blood and just stare at them while Hannibal takes off your socks. "I've told you about him before. He's the one who never took no for an answer, you know who I'm talking about." Hannibal nods.

"Did it feel good?" He asks, standing back up and looking at you. He knows what your ex-boyfriend did to you when you were dating. How he abused and assaulted you over and over again. You'd mentioned your feeling about what should be done to him, Hannibal only encouraged them. "Did killing your ex-boyfriend make you feel like you finally got justice?" He asks, turning on the shower.

You shake your head and look over at him, finally picking up on the scent of the dried blood all over you. Before you killed him you paralyzed him. You took your time killing him. He didn't deserve a quick, painless death.

"It made me feel better. But it's not justice. I brought the body here. It's in my car. I know you eat people Hannibal. But eating him is too good for his body," You say, standing up, "Are you visiting Will Graham anytime soon? At his house in Virginia?" You take off your coat and hand it to Hannibal.

"Yes I am, in a couple days." He smiles slightly and motions for you to go into the shower. "What does Will Graham have to do with your plans?" You put your hand under the shower head and feel the temperature of the water.

"Let's feed him to dogs. I want to make him dog food." You say, watching as the dried blood starts to wash away from your hand slowly.

Hannibal nods and opens the bathroom door. "I can have that arranged. Shower first, I'll get the body ready." He shuts the door and you peel off your bloody sweater and pants. You get fully undressed and walking into the shower, the run off water going from clear to pink.

You start to clean yourself with soap when some tears roll down your cheeks. You got your revenge, he can't hurt anyone anymore, but it still hurts to even think of what he did. You start to quietly sob as you keep washing yourself, scrubbing your skin harder and harder, maybe hoping you'll reach a layer of skin he never touched.

When you leave the shower your skin is hot and irritated from the water and the scrubbing you did. You wrap yourself in a towel and gather your dirty clothes before leaving the bathroom. You find clothes laid out for you from Hannibal. You put your dirty clothes in the hamper in the room and put on the clean ones. You dry off your hair and take a couple deep breaths when it all hits you.

This entire time you've felt detached from what he did to you but now, after killing him it's all coming back. You start to break into a sob, a loud, guttural sob. Hannibal comes back into the room and helps you stand up. He holds you in his arms while you sob, your head throbbing with pressure and your cheeks becoming wet.

After a good ten minutes of you sobbing you finally calm down. You wipe your eyes and pull away from Hannibal.

"Make him dog food." You say seriously to him, your voice still choked from the sobbing. Hannibal just smiles slightly and nods.

"I will." Is his reply.

[dyne-osaur]

might be rambling this might mean nothing but omg has anyone thought about how a huge thing™ in dead boy detectives is how women were wronged ?? (and also not just women who were wronged but boys who were shitty assholes but in this essay i am focusing on how women were wronged) am i looking too much into it.. (this is prob not intentional and i am overthinking as per usual but like)

spoilers duh

also this got really long i apologize

so in episode 1 we meet crystal who is basically like the catalyst for everything happening right and this is kinda obvious but like the whole kinda happens because her toxic demon ex bf stole her memories (fuck you david) and like? that was a horrible thing to happen to her and he sucks boo >:( and also throughout the whole show she has to deal with his shittiness and whatnot

and also in episode 1 we obviously see becky aspen who is like a child (specifically a little girl) who was kidnapped by esther (who also only goes after girls like hello?) and about to be fed to her giant snake which like ?? hey now,,, and they have to go in and save her and i feel like it's kinda important esp with the last episode ("she killed hundreds of little girls to stay young; who gets justice for them?" or smth) like it's built on the backbone of women who were wronged

in episode 2 with the dandelion sprites we have niko who lost her dad and her mom wants her to just be better and the sprites literally like infected(?) her while she was trying to feel better or smth (prob a bit of a stretch ngl) so we don't rly see much of this in episode 2

in episode 3 the most obvious thing of all is that the devlin guy murdered his entire family (his wife and two daughters) because he was a bitch and hated that they wanted to leave him which like ?? okay fragile male ego (as crystal so eloquently puts it) like these girls felt haunted by him in life and even in death they were stuck in a loop getting killed by him over and over and over because of his fear they would leave them. he was controlling and abusive and a creep and in the end he killed them. (obviously this episode has other important themes like how charles' trauma is reflected in this and his emotional response to devlin and the horror of controlling/abusive family members but i feel like there's smth to be said with how women keep getting wronged in this show idk)

in episode 4 we get crystal who is still dealing with the effects of her lost memories and her desperation to find her mom (we all know how that turned out) and importantly we get the stuff in the gift shop (specifically lillith and ig the washer woman)

the washer woman is washing away the blood of humanity yadda yadda (she's a rly interesting character i love her) and like when she and crystal are left alone crystal is desperately trying to find how she can have her lost memories and past back and the washer woman gives her that riddle to help her smth smth (basically crystal's memories)

lillith is more introduced here as the goddess of wronged women (and blood magic) (this is self-explanatory i hope)

in episode 5 (this one i feel is also obvious) we get those charming-but-actually-really-shitty jocks who died because maren (brad's gf) murdered them because they were being really horrible. we get shelby who killed herself because they drugged her and ruined her entire life and her future and everything and even in death the boys (though i love them, this was a fault of theirs) were skeptical because the jocks were just so charming

and then we get maren who invites crystal over because of her fear that she would get caught when she was trying to protect herself and she made a(n albeit huge) mistake. brad sent her nudes to his bff richie and they never thought they were in the wrong like hello? i was like wtf but anyways they practically ruined the lives of these girls (maybe not maren because they never fully got out but they could've and either way she ended up turning herself in from her guilt and stuff)

(also note: crystal says "we all lost our lives to boys who went too far" and like.. a big thing™ from my perspective is also how men/boys go too far e.g. the schoolboys (edwin and charlies) and david (crystal) and also the jocks and devlin and later esther's husband and arguably the cat king (don't come at me i actually love him towards the end but for more info check out this post i love their take on him) etc. there's probably more i just can't think of them atm)

in this episode we also meet maxine for like a second(?) time (first being devlin murders in ep 3) where she obviously wronged jenny by stalking her and she doesn't see what's wrong with what she did when she literally tried to murder her, she stalked her, she's apparently done this MULTIPLE times (smth ab this happening "again" which ? oml) and jenny feels horrible about this because she put herself out there for once and she got hurt. and at the end of this episode we see them all hang out and of course david comes back because crystal can't catch a break but back to the topic jenny was almost killed by maxine who did a horrible thing to her

episode 6 we finally hear tragic mick's story. sedna was literally a girl who got sacrificed by her dad because he thought it would help. she was a woman wronged out of the many women wronged on this show and she became a goddess for her trauma yay?? but at the core of that backstory was sedna who was a woman wronged by her father. (and ofc tragic mick and how he became human POOR GUY)

we also have crystal who finally has a way to get david out of her head (did anyone notice it doesn't break till she says "i just wish i could be normal" or smth which is prob kinda why she lost her powers?) all of this has been culminating since the beginning and then later he comes back and he's taunting her and yelling at her for giving up "the one thing that made you special" (come on man :|) she does get her powers back later though yippie (and sees her badass ancestors)

and jenny who is still dealing with the trauma is obviously upset throughout the episode because yk maxine was crazy

episode 7 we have the boys in hell but to keep in theme we have crystal who feels horrible that charles won't let her help and she just goes out to get david to open a gate and jenny follows. jenny then gets violated as david literally possesses her and we get kinda the climax and then the resolution of david and crystal as she realizes her power and takes her memories back and buries him because he was a horrible horrible person to her (and also the comments he made were so creepy like "i want to get back inside you" "let me back in" WHAT THE HELL no way that wasn't intentionally creepy)

and then jenny (poor jenny) has to deal with the fact that she has now been possessed and has to deal with all this creepy shit like can homegirl catch a break goddamn (and speaking of jenny we see maxine on the stairs still clueless to what she did wrong MAXINE OPEN YOUR EYES)

crystal eats her memories

episode 8 she finds out she was a horrible person and her past was not as great as she thought it would be. she treated her friends and strangers badly and she wakes up and she feels horrid. and she thinks it will get better and she calls her mom and her parents did her dirty. they neglected her (didn't even REALIZE she was MISSING) and didn't do shit for her and she probably acted out for attention (in horrible ways i am in no way defending what she did btw but she can be a horrible person and changed as a person crystal they could never make me hate you) and she swallows the rest of her memories and finds out that she was not the person she wanted to be

in episode 8 we also find out esther's backstory. the big bad of it all and i think a huge point in the story is how at the core of it all was a woman who was wronged and turned horrible for it. her husband cheated on her and she killed him but then she couldn't get enough and just wow. just to me the fact that at the core of the story is a woman who was horribly treated and as a result turned into a horrible person (and kind of parallel to crystal who was horribly treated (by her parents and by david) and she finds she can still turn things around and be good) and esther is too far gone as she yk decides to continue being evil

in episode 8, the end of it all, we see that turning point where crystal goes into esther's head and summons lillith. the goddess of wronged women. we see her as crystal yells that esther has been tormenting girls, WRONGING WOMEN, for decades (centuries?). we see the rage in lillith's face as she turns her stare on esther for skewing the gift that lillith gave to a woman scorned. we see lillith drag esther out of the house screaming and AGH i love that so much idk

but yeah those are my thoughts on the amount of women i just saw wronged and this could all mean nothing and i could be very insane and crazy but ! whatever !

[thecountesstribe]

HOTD SEASON 2X4 SPOILERS AND REACTIONS.

Babies we got our asses kicked today huh??!

I knew it was coming, I knew but that doesn't make it hurt less. As a matter of fact it hurts worse because I loved book Rhaenys and sure they changed and butchered her character somewhat in the show but that was Grandma and I loved her. I need Vhagar and Aemond dead bro. I'm not even playing I'm wishing for their downfall so hard right now. Rhaenys Targaryen was one of the greatest women in Westeros to ever live and stamp that. I'm not ready for the reactions of her family when they find out about her death. Baela, Rhaena, Jace, Corlys, Rhaenyra and the others just recently lost Luke and to lose her so soon after. I'll be sick. Her relationship with Meleys was so special to me. Meleys looking back at her for the first time during the episode and then taking her last look at her for the final time, I was in tears. I'll never get over this hurt. Her face when she realized that she wasn't going back home with Meleys and the fall 💔💔💔. I am not okay, I'm not okay. Rest in peace to them both.

Sunfyre I'm sorry you had that halfwit who barely knows his mother tongue for a rider even though that little nudge you gave him was actually super duper cute. Another one of my babies. Y'all don't think they rewrote the story to kill off Sunfyre because in the trailer for episode 5, Sunfyre wasn't shown.

Aemond I hate you! Living up to that kinslayer moniker. So we intentionally see him burn both his brother (honestly fuckin deserved and about time) and his dragon. Wonder how this is gonna play out, they better not give Aemond Baela's story arc. I'm so fuckin serious. That's it. I wanna fight.

Rhaenyra coming home to a tongue lashing was so satisfying. Jacaerys was fed up y'hear me. He was done. Her telling him about the song of fire and ice just like Vizzy T did for her warmed me a little.

Criston Cole shut the fuck up challenge. It happened years ago, it's time to let that hurt go. They let that old man read him for filth and spit on him just for me.

Alicent being potentially pregnant and having to take medieval plan b or is it medieval abortion medication is so funny to me. I wonder how crybaby Cole would take the news of her potentially getting rid of the child? It's gonna be a mess.

Jacaerys was angry this entire episode and I don't blame him. Why in a room full of adults with battle experience/tactics for the war to come does he and Baela have to act like the adults. On top of that his queen, the one who they're fighting for is just taking unnecessary stupid risks and not thinking like a leader. I'd be irritated asf too. The black council aside from a selected few are just a bunch of bickering childish idiots. Both him and Baela were tired. Baela and him stepping up and leading the council was so good. They literally fed us what could've been had they had a chance to rule. Westeros was robbed. Baela proving she's just as worthy as Jace is just *chefs kiss. One thing I could say about my boy is that he knows Baela could hold her own, she's proved it but he will never ever under any circumstances let anybody feel that they could dismiss her or disrespect her. Him letting that one goof know it's because of her they have actual information on some of the greens army and acknowledging her contributions, yeah they would've been both sat the throne. Ain't nothing like she's just a queen's consort with no power. They would've been co rulers fr. Him comforting her publicly when they brought up Daemon in front of the council no less, like he doesn't play about her. That's the kinda guy you want to be locked in for life with. Rhaenys looking on in the background was a parallel to the first time they held hands during the funeral and she came up to them and she peeped the same thing she peeped then. I know she knew that Baela was in great hands. 😭😭😭 Never beating the best couple in Westeros allegations.

They black council talking about Daemon probably having an orgy LMAOO, he's getting fucked alright. That man has not had one moment of peace since he stepped foot in spooky town and it's what he deserves. Laena being beautiful and haunting his ass, period boo and baby Rhaenyra wearing older Rhaenyra's clothes and the crown that was too big for her tiny head (symbolizing it was/is a burden) and tormenting him. Yeah I'm gonna have that on repeat.

Rhaenys already knowing Adam and Alyn are Corlys children before flying to her death and her informing him and that sweet scene with Alyn, I think she learned her lesson after the whole debacle with Laenor and his boys. That's growth. Wish we could've had more of that development on screen but what can we do.

It was honestly a solid episode. I'm exhausted this was probably a review too long and if you stuck around till the end thanks for reading my thoughts ❤️. Sunfyre, Meleys and Rhaenys didn't deserve that. Sending hugs.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Hopeless: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You and your lawyer try to fight your unlawful arrest but it's not looking good. The entire team feels your loss and tries to concentrate on the case at hand. None of them can predict the outcome.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness." - Kingman Brewster, Jr.

You haven't received your cell number, so you're stuck in the interrogation room awaiting that information. You're already at the prison in Goochland but away from the rest of the inmates. Still, you can feel every bit of despair and sadness seeping through the walls. Your anxiety is in the form of tapping your finger on the desk and bouncing your leg. Your lawyer, Steve Grant is on his way to you to discuss your options and the details of the case.

The door to the interrogation room opens, and Steven walks in wearing a very nice suit and an expensive-looking briefcase.

"Y/N? My name is Steven Grant. I'm sure you know who I am by this point."

"Yeah, my father sent you to me?"

"Yes." He takes a seat across from you and opens his briefcase where the files of your case are. He removes the files and lays them out so you both can see it. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"I should start by saying I didn't do this. I've never seen those men before in my life. If I'm not at work, I'm at home with my boyfriend. I'm in the FBI, why would I want to kill one person much less seven?"

"You know more than most that people in power can do pretty horrible things."

"Before we begin, I just want to say I have everything riding on this. I have a life, a boyfriend, a home to get back to."

"I understand. I will do my best to give you the best possible outcome. They gave me everything they have on your case, so we'll go over the evidence and see if we can contradict what they have. Then, we'll go over possible alibis and prepare for the kind of questions they might ask you. They're giving us a couple of hours together, so that should be more than enough time."

"Okay," you whisper.

The tapping on the desk and bouncing of your leg doesn't stop. All you can think about is Spencer and how he must be taking this. You can't imagine he's doing well. In fact, he's far from it. He walks into work with his hair a bit messy, his eyes a bit puffy, and not his usual smile on his face. He's a complete wreck. He misses you so fucking much and hates that you're locked up for something you didn't do.

All he wants to do is visit you but they're not allowing visitors. You don't have access to a phone, so he's pretty much stuck where he is. He's so fucking sad all the time. He won't feel better until you're out and back in his arms. Derek sees the young genius hunched over as he walks past, and his heart aches for him. The entire team meets in the briefing room to go over the current case, but there is tension in the air because you're not with them.

"I know you're all worried about Y/N, but until we can figure out what's going on with her, I need everyone on assigned cases," Hotch says.

"I talked to the Captain of Virginia PD, but they don't want the Feds on it. Not since he knows she's one of us," JJ sighs.

"Screw them. We should be working on her case," Derek says.

"I understand, Morgan, but the focus is on this case right now. I will do my best to coordinate with Virginia PD. I promise I am doing whatever I can to help her, even if it doesn't look like it. JJ, begin."

"We've got four dead in a home invasion in southeast D.C."

"What was the cause of death?"

"Blunt force trauma. No knife or gun present at the scene."

"Have we been invited in?"

"Yeah, the cops want us to meet them at the crime scene."

"Isn't southeast where all that vandalism's been lately?" Emily asks.

"It's the same area, yeah. Do you think they could be connected?"

"I don't know. The weapon certainly doesn't fit the typical MO of a home invasion killer."

"Well, it's worth considering. It's common for vandalism to escalate into violence, plus there's a lot of anger out there. That neighborhood's mostly black working class. Now, it's being gentrified while the people who live there are having a tough time. Were the victims wealthy?"

"Yeah, it was two couples. They were both part of the influx of new wealth in the area."

"Did police report a robbery?"

"Nothing was taken."

"What race were the victims?" Derek asks.

"One couple was white, the other black."

"Well, if this is related to vandalism, four dead is a hell of an escalation."

"So, there's the potential for a lot more bodies out there?"

"That's what I'm afraid of. We leave in five," Hotch says and packs up his things.

The crime scene is in a house that has steps leading up to the front door, so Spencer stays outside with JJ and Hotch. The lead detective on the case is waiting for the team when they arrive, and JJ shakes his hand.

"Detective Andrews? I'm Jenifer Jareau. These are agents Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid."

"Thanks for getting here so fast."

"What can you tell us?"

The detective walks to a car outside the house that has been blocked off by police tape. There is blood on the car and on the ground, signifying that an attack took place.

"It looks like one of the victims was attacked when he got out of his car. This means whoever did this probably used his keys to get inside and surprise the other victims."

"Who found the bodies?"

"The cleaning woman. She's giving her statement now."

"Dave, would you, Morgan, and Prentiss go inside? We'll cover out here," Hotch says.

"I know you're all used to this, but it's a hell of a sight in there," Andrews sighs and leads the three agents up the steps.

Spencer stays outside since he can't walk up the stairs but when the door is opened, he can see the array of bodies inside covered with white sheets. Emily and Derek are visibly upset but Rossi can tell that it's not because of what's in front of them. Derek looks around the room and clenches his hands into fists before releasing them.

"Are you two okay?"

"Y/N should be here," Derek says.

"I know."

"She would have already known what kind of unsub we'd be dealing with," Emily adds.

All three people hear a sniffle come from outside, and they see Spencer trying not to cry. Rossi is the only one who goes out there to talk to him while Derek and Emily stay inside to inspect the crime scene.

"Hey, kid, she's going to be okay."

"I should be with her," Spencer sighs.

"The most you can do for her is work the case. You know she would have wanted that."

Spencer shakes his head angrily and glares at Rossi.

"Don't talk about her like she's never coming back."

Spencer hobbles away and Rossi goes back inside the house to help Derek and Emily.

"Did the neighbors see anything?" JJ asks the detective.

"Oh, you know, the patrol cars are even doubled in this area because of the vandalism but nothing."

"The unsub would have to be extremely fast and efficient," Spencer adds.

"Look at this." Hotch kneels down next to the car and points to a red puddle on the ground and much smaller drops around it. "There's a pool of blood here and then drops as the victim moves toward the door. How big was the victim?"

"6'1", 6'2". Why?"

"If he was strong enough to move under his own power, you'd expect signs of a struggle. If not, there'd most likely be drag marks. He was carried. That's a lot of dead weight for one person to move alone."

"There's no pool of blood on the porch which means they didn't have to set him down to open the door. There's more than one unsub."

"So, victim one gets dropped here," Rossi points to where the first victim lays, "while number two comes around the corner to see what's going on, and the unsub attacks him there."

"The female victims were probably here when the first attack occurred," Emily points to a spot in the corner. "Which means somebody would have to control them pretty quickly. How many unsubs are you thinking?"

"At least one to move the body inside, another one to take out man number two, and one more to subdue the others."

"Well, vandalism breeds a pack mentality," Emily scoffs.

"If it's the same unsubs, then we're looking at a group of three, maybe four. These aren't kids. They're too efficient. There's control and precision. Juveniles are sloppy."

"He's right," Emily nods. "There is nothing tentative about these kills. There's no experimentation. These guys know what they're doing."

"I don't know," Derek sighs.

"What are you thinking?"

"I can understand vandalism escalating into violence, but that's usually gradual. This? This feels fully evolved."

The local police can handle cleaning up the crime scene, so the team heads back to the BAU to discuss the details of the case and what the next steps should be. Spencer sits down inside the office, looks at your empty chair, and grows sad. JJ pulls up the details of every crime related to the case on the big screen.

"Okay, on September 3rd, fifteen luxury cars had their windows smashed. On September 14th, a new upscale clothing boutique was vandalized. On September 24th, two different restaurants, both catering to a wealthy clientele, had their front windows smashed and their interiors torn apart. Finally, on October 1st, a newly renovated townhome was ransacked before the family could move in."

"So, they went from attacking public property to a private residence, but no victim?"

"The question is, what makes them move from that to this?"

"The vandalism targets were all symbols of the neighborhood's changing makeup and economy. Maybe there's something specific about these victims that set the unsubs off."

"I've spoken to the victims' family members. They've agreed to come in and help however they can," JJ says.

"Garcia, check social networking sites and see if these unsubs have coordinated these attacks online."

"If they dare tweet, I shall flush them out like a bird dog, sir," Penelope declares and leaves the briefing room.

"We need to be asking how these unsubs manage to not stand out in this neighborhood. Each of these crime scene locations is a representation of new wealth and status, but the area surrounding the crime scenes is still populated by long-time residents who are slowly being pushed out."

"That's a lot of disenfranchised people who are all part of the neighborhood makeup. Most likely these unsubs don't stand out because they're probably local themselves."

"I don't know. I'm with Rossi," Emily says to Derek. "I mean, the anger I get, but this much violence? We're looking at at least three men with an incredible amount of rage. Where do you hide that?"

Hotch's phone rings and he sees it's Cheif Strauss calling. He excuses himself and steps into a nearby empty office to take the call.

"Good afternoon, Chief Strauss."

"Good afternoon. I bet you can guess why I'm calling."

"We're working hard on the assigned case. I'm confident my team can handle this."

"I'm not calling about that. I'm calling about Y/N and her arrest." Hotch's heart drops but he keeps his cool. "I'm surprised you didn't call me about this."

"I'm handling it, ma'am."

"Local police have been in contact with me about you. They do not want our help on this. I know it's difficult, but you cannot be working on her case. None of your team can."

"I understand," Hotch sighs.

"I mean it, Aaron. Stay out of this one and let the local police handle it. Your involvement wouldn't be the best idea considering she is under your supervision. I'd hate to have to replace a good team for something like this."

"Yes, ma'am."

Strauss hangs up and Hotch sighs in frustration. It's going to be a lot harder to get information on your case if the local PD is going to his boss about his involvement. He pockets his phone and walks to Penelope's office to see where she's at. He knocks once and enters only to see the details of your case on her computer screen. She has the different victims on display to see the connection, and Hotch shakes his head.

"Garcia, I need you to focus on the case at hand."

"Sorry, sir." She exits out of every tab pertaining to your case. "I have the information you were looking for. My list has seven hundred and thirteen hits."

"Okay. Listen, Strauss cut us off from working on Y/N's case. If she finds out you're looking into it, you can be fired. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Hotch leaves her office and rejoins Derek in the briefing room. "I had Garcia run records on anyone in the target area who in the last year was foreclosed upon, filed for bankruptcy, or applied for unemployment, and then narrowed that list down to men between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five."

"And?"

"Seven hundred and thirteen hits."

"The victims' families are here," JJ announces.

There are so many people inside the BAU that keep the entire team busy. Spencer has his part to do but he can't help but feel a bit distracted. His mind often drifts to you and what you might be doing right now.

x

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[lavenderhorns]

there's a lot of rage swirling around inside me right now I think, just at how things have ended up where I've done all the "right" things that everyone says you should do, gone to college and followed every bit of resume and cover letter advice, and have gotten literally nothing from literal hundreds of job applications. this feeling of being stuck and unable to move forward in life is certainly not a new one to me but it's been amplified so, so much by the fact that I can't find anything for work and am stuck at my dad's place slowly getting more fed up with him each day. there's a lot of anger in watching all my friends struggling with these same issues, about 3 of my 25-ish friends in town have jobs, previously 5 but two of them just got laid off, one when the entire building of 250+ people was unceremoniously canned. there's a lot of simmering fury in how everyone over 30, from friends to family to strangers to people literally working for the career service attached to the government, that just ignore the labour issues going on not just in general but also specific to my province, yknow how unemployment for people my age without that "2+ years work experience required" is approaching 20%, a number that would cause stammered outrage in any of these people if it actually applied to them, but is just quietly ignored when it only applies to the younger generation I guess. like, what is even the emotion that comes from "jobs are so heavily ingrained in society in capitalism that not having one will kill you in many ways BUT you're not allowed to have one no matter how hard you try" aside from just. I'm so goddamn angry, even though I don't like being angry. and there's really nowhere to direct this anger aside from vaguely in the direction of society and established norms and the government, and there's really nothing I can personally do to drag myself out of this situation. I can apply to thousands of jobs and make the most perfect resume ever, but at the end of the day it's not me who decides if I get the job. it's up to whatever shitty ai garbage program is throwing 99% of applications in the shredder to somehow notice mine which then passes it onto an uncaring hiring manager who just picks the person with the most experience and ignores the other 99 resumes the machine spat out because just about every single job here gets hundreds and hundreds of applications because, get this, no one my age is fucking able to find any work! and throughout all of this I'm just doing my best to deal with the creeping dread of slowly feeling that depression (that I don't like thinking about how close got to killing me back in high school) start to rear its head again because it's getting less and less easy to see any sort of future for myself like this. and this is all on top of the canadian housing market meaning I'm never gonna actually own a home, and every bit of daily necessities has been ruthlessly price gouged to 400% of what it was a few years ago and blamed on "inflation" while rent has skyrocketed because landlords imagined a bigger number, and while just about everyone in the country is angry at the PM because of all this it's terrifying to know that the general population political lean is worryingly conservative, as if that isn't the fucking cause of all this. all while I desperately want to transition more and figure out my personal style and dress the way I really want as if that wouldn't kill any and all chances of possibly making it through a job interview assuming I ever even get one.

and like, things aren't all bad for me right now. I'm not actively going broke yet, I have a wonderful long distance partner, I've been getting better at cooking and digital art and meeting even more local friends (many of whom are trans), and in terms of coming into my own as a person I feel like I've finally been settling into who I am.

but like, it kinda pales in comparison to the job market trying to kill me, yknow?

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Ravens.

a/n: this is a short part two to my story ravens which was requested like twice. I never planned on writing this but we do stupid shit when bored.

Warnings: slight swearing.

Pairings: Natasha X reader. Established relationship.

"no way"

Tony said astounded as he stared at y/n's shoulder. Upon said shoulder was a raven by the name nyx. Y/n gave Tony a smug look. Natasha was grinning ear to ear as she stood proudly next to her girlfriend. Natasha had known her girlfriends hobby would be worth it. Well she didn't but she believed so.

"yes way."

Nyx said. Tony screamed. Steve's eyes nearly popped out his head. Wanda fainted. A bird just spoke.

"that.. that thing can talk!?"

Tony exclaimed. Y/n shrugged.

"actually I'm a raven not a thing."

Nyx stated. This time Tony nearly fainted. The bir- raven just corrected him. The avengers just stood in shock. They all knew that y/n fed the local ravens but they never thought anything would come if it. Let alone one warning her of danger and setting up spies to assist her.

"What's wrong guys? You look like you saw a ghost."

Y/n said teasingly. Of course y/n was going to milk this for all it's worth. Tony glared at her.

"A goddamn crow is talking to us! How are you calm!?"

Tony basically screeched.

"I am a raven."

Nyx reiterated. Tony glared at nyx this time.

"So now we have the whole talking raven part out if the way can we discuss the matter at hand."

Y/n said. Despite the joy she got out of Tony's annoyance they were still under threat by HYDRA.

"what matter at hand?"

Steve asked, seemingly recovered from the initial shock.

"a place by the name HYDRA plans to attack you."

Nyx repeated to the avengers the story they shared to y/n. The avengers took it surprisingly well other than, well, Tony ofcourse.

The next couple weeks were a blur. Y/n now spent time feeding and talking to the ravens and discussing information about the planned attack so when it finally came the avengers would be ready. This was quite successful. The ravens who weren't locals and from the HYDRA base were skeptical of y/n though however after affirmation from nyx they came around.

The attack came. It was easy. The avengers already had the entire of HYDRA'S plan memorised and a counter plan in place. What was better was the fact an army of ravens attacked too. Swooping down from above. And due to HYDRA'S lack of preparation for a small airforce they were greatly outnumbered. And so greatly beaten.

After the attack wounds were cleaned and injured ravens taken into y/n's room for care because apparently to no one's knowledge y/n had done a secret veterinary course in case she came across an injured raven whilst feeding them. Even Natasha didn't know. And she was her girlfriend. This incident although did claim y/n one thing. And that was the avengers respect. And the fact that y/n had befriended basically the worlds raven population scared the shit out of them.

As y/n promised her window to her room was constantly open for nyx or any other raven who needed assistance or help. Of course however nyx got her own personal perch tree type thing y/n crafted out of fallen branches from a nearby park. Tony however was now under constant teasing from y/n and nyx for the disrespect y/n got during simply feeding the ravens. Y/n was eventually deemed raven queen by Natasha as her hero name as nyx and the other ravens, or so nyx says, call her their lady.

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@screechcat

[gravitysgone]

I am maybe frustrated today because I genuinely want to be honest and good, but I end up hurting myself doing it.

Not so much hurting. But putting my desire to be good and compensate before my own well being.

When Ruby left, I immediately took a hit on my disability benefits and pension. I am back to being a single person and not a parent supporting a kid. My income went down.

The thing is, I still had access to certain funds because I am the legal parent. A little over a thousand dollars a month.

Instead of concealing it or taking it, I did what I thought was right, or what I felt was an obligation. Or better still, I felt guilty about. I was foisting a kid on her grandma and her wife, after all.

I have transferred the entire amount to grandma...and indirectly (I hope...grandma is a snakey broad when money is involved) to Ruby. As I said, I want to be as clear and above board for everything. And it felt like the most beneficial and honest thing to do.

Grandma is still looking for money above that. Asking me why I don't have help with support from my ex...and honest...I don't know. She is her daughter. Why don't you ask why she ain't chipping in. You raised her (which may be exactly why). And while you're at it, ask her why I paid child support from the day it was arranged to the day Ruby came to live with me. But in return, the whole time Ruby was with me, I got a grand total of $15. Fifteen bucks. So it's your fight. Not mine.

Being a father, there is this sort of perception that we don't need or deserve child support.

So, in all this mess, I am ending up with the short end of the stick. And it feels kind of like once again it's my fault. I am dumb and the stupid do as stupid does.

Of course, I never could have kept any of the money, I would have felt gross about it every day. People who take benefits which are entitled to their kids and keep them, they are just too greasy for me.

I am just fed up with being asked for more while I have nothing and certainly not enough to spare. Or even live on without help and luck. And while I look at pizza websites like a girl window shopping a wedding dress.

One way or another, I will get to my end knowing I am square with the house and paid back all I owed.

It just sucks sometimes.