#I have the thickest eyebrows in the world right now

[gtsdreamer2]

You had finally made it. This was your big break. Your whole life's work was in front of you, on a wheel cart, all covered up by a tarp and ready to present. You had finally worked you way onto Shark Tank. It was time to present your offer to the four judges.

   As you wheeled your cart out in front of them, you could feel all four sets of eyes on you. Three male judges, all top investors and smart businessmen in their own right, and the single female, Ms. Nikki. You followed her on various social platforms and were pretty in-the-know about her day-to-day. She wasn't very intimidating to look at in person, that was for sure. Five foot nothing with a flat chest and features that didn't immediately captivate. She wore big fancy clothing and platform heels to cover for her deficiencies in her stature and bust, but you weren't here to care about that. She was your best shot at getting an offer.

   "Lady and gentlemen," you started, pulling off the tarp with a flourish. "I come before you with a simple question. If you were given the opportunity to solve world hunger, would you?" All four judges leaned forward in their chairs to try to get a better look at the spread on the wheel cart before them. You had laid out various fruits and vegetables of unimaginable sizes as well as a small terarrium with a normal looking strawberry plant. There was a whiteboard with some diagrams and a couple vials of white shimmery liquid.

   "I come before you today to tell you that this question has already been solved. I have in front of you, right here and now, a way to end world hunger." Ms. Nikki's eyebrow went up, she was skeptical to be sure. Her whole social media presence was about helping to end the food crisis in developing countries and it looked to you like she was already hooked on what you might have to show her.

   "Take a look at these." you said, hefting a five pound strawberry in each hand. "Imagine walking down the street and seeing houses with front lawns filled with these giant fruits. Each of these are enought to feed a family two servings of friut a day for a whole week. Now what If I told you there was thirty on this vine and that they went from seed to harvest in only four weeks?

   "I'd say you're full of it and trying to sell me something," said one of the male judges, to which the other two male judges laughed. Ms. Nikki never took her eyes off you. She raised her hand, silencing her peers. "I'd say, one, how do you do it, two, is it cost effective, and three, is it safe?"

   "Smart woman!" you retorted, Trying to build a rapport with your best chance at landing a deal. "I'm not going to tell you to take a bite of these giant, delicious, and nutritionally fortified strawberries of course. There is a lot of science behind them and you all don't even know me. I WILL however demonstrate what I've done to them. Here." You carefully picked four strawberries from the live vine and approached the judges. "These are everyday ordinary strawberries. Organic. No pesticides, no GMOs. You handed each judge a berry and they all partook.

   "It tastes like a normal strawberry, big deal." Scoffed another male judge. "Well, not yet, but they're about to be a big deal," You joked back, to zero laughter. You cleared your throat. "Anyway, the difference between the big fruit I just held in my hand and the normal ones you just held in yours is this:" You hoisted one of the vials of shimmery liquid in front of them. "Allow me to demonstrate." You carefully poured liquid over the plants vines, making sure to douse the soil where the roots were thickest. In less than twenty seconds, the soil and vines had greedily sucked up every drop of liquid and the plant began to pulse larger. After about another minute, the fruit had doubled and then doubled again in size. All four judges' eyes looked ready to pop out of their heads. 'I've got em right where I want them.' You thought to yourself.

   The third male judge cleared his throat to quiet the clamoring if his cohosts. "Alright. That's cool. I think you've got something really special here. What were you looking for with this? Why have you come to us?" This was the part you were worried about.

   "Well, your judgeship, I have the formulas and the knowhow for making this all happen, what I lack is the capitol and the facilities." You needed to be up front about your needs or they never were going to play along.

   "My thing is, we're here to make money, not give handouts to the poor." The first judge said. "I get that its a great thing you're showing us, but I don't see dollar signs. I see a big money pit and no ROI. This whole thing seems like Nikki's cup of tea. Finally it was her turn to speak.

   "My fellow investors here are all about dollars and percentages and playing it safe. I think what you've got here is definitely worth investing in. What would you need to...for instance..." She pondered numbers and scale and time. "Begin feeding the entire population of Texas in the next three months?" It sounded like you were so close to a deal at this point, but you didn't want to scare her off.

   "I would seek an initial investment of ten million to start. That would cover seed and farmland, schematics to build the machine that creates the formula at a rate that could keep up with crop demand, and labor for the equipment and hands to farm the land." Your palms were beginning to sweat now.

   "I'll tell you what." She began, eying you like you were prey caught in her trap. "You need me, so I'll give you a counter offer: "I'll give you the ten million. And you can convert two of my Texas facilities. I want controlling stake of your business. I want 75%. You're doing this to end world hunger? I'll bankroll you, and you'll look like a Saint, and I'll be running the show, which I'm very good at, by the way. It's a very good deal. These three next to me want nothing to do with it. Oh, and by the way, I'll need one of those vials to take to my scientists to test it for safety first. I'll put a clause in the contract about dissolving this whole thing if all you can do is make giant poison fruit."

   You contemplated her offer. You'd lose any control you might have had over the whole operation. But Nikki was good at handling business. You had a duty to the world to spread this miracle. "Ms. Nikki. You've got a deal."

   The contract was quickly drawn up by Ms. Nikki's personal lawyer. Just as she had stated, 75% stake, her taking one of the remaining two vials for health testing, use of her land and various facilities, repurposed from one of her lines of beauty products or something. The whole thing seemed sound. You signed it and the deal was struck.

   Two months had passed since then, and operations were finally ramping up now. You hadn't had the opportunity to meet with your benefactor face-to-face since signing the contract, but you had spoken to her several times on the phone, each time she seemed more impatient than the last to get a tour of the facility once production had started. Today was that day. Her driver pulled into the mostly empty lot and he got out to open the door for her. She excitedly walked right up to you to give you a firm handshake and beaming smile. You were so nervous and anxious that you didn't realize that she was wearing a bigger coat than normal and was missing her signature platform shoes. Still she stood at the same height as your last meeting.

   "You have no idea how excited I am to witness the fruits of our labor! Pun intended of course." she laughed to herself and you laughed along side her as a gesture of good will.

   "It's all right through these doors!" You held the door for her and gestured her inside.  She quickly strode past the foyer and into the back, where all the magic was happening. Her eyes adjusted to the lighting, and she took in the entire facility. Boxes of seeds, premium mulch, various areas to test the effectiveness of the current batch of shimmery liquid. And then she saw it: the synthesizing of the miracle liquid. It was pouring out of a spout at a rhythmic rate and filling the same vials that you had used in the demonstration. They were being neatly packaged into crates that would be shipped to her farmland around the state, as per the contract.

   Ms. Nikki walked right over to crates, eyeing them carefully. "Production is going very smoothly Ms. There haven't been any hiccups." You told her boastfully. She carefully picked up a vial, holding it up to the fluorescent lights and watching it shimmer back and forth.

"And the effectiveness? Is it just as powerful as the first batch you used in your demonstration? I wouldn't want you to fall short of our goals, of course."

   "It's the very same formula, I can promise you that. And we have more than enough to meet our goal thanks to your premium factories here." You were watching the vials fill and feeling elated that your dreams were on the verge of being realized.

   "That's all I needed to hear." She said with a grin that startled you. "Let's test just how effective it is, shall we?"

   "Well, we don't have any sprouted plants here, but I could run out and-" before you could even finish your sentence, Ms. Nikki took the vial and tipped it against her lips, swallowing the whole thing with one gulp. You were flabbergasted. "Why would you do that?!" You shouted at her, suddenly losing your composure. You watched her whole body shudder as she released a sudden, powerful, erotic moan. She ran her hands up and down her body as you watched her pulse and grow three inches in height. She discarded her massive coat in a flourish revealing a pair of breasts that she definitely didn't use to have. You were suddenly speechless.

   "This is why!" she boomed, gesturing to her whole body. She was now almost as tall as you with what seemed to be at least D cup breasts hanging off her. "God, I missed that feeling. What a rush! Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? How far I've searched for something like this? Something that can do this to me? You think I've been traipsing all across the globe, doing charity work, helping the poors, just for fun? No. I think not. All this time I've been chasing rumors. Legends and myths of artifacts and fountains of youth and this and that and nothing prepared me for you walking through my door and HANDING it to me!" She picked up another vial and downed it, shivering and pulsing larger again.

   "I don't think you're thinking clearly Ms. Nikki. Those aren't meant to be consumed until they've been synthesized within the plants and-" she cut you off then.

   "Do you really think that I took home that vial just to display it in my office? Do you know how many world class scientists that I had study it since we last spoke two months ago? Fuck, the second that it was given the 'all clear' I drank it so fast." Ms. Nikki touched her lips as if reliving the first sensation all over again. "I've been so so very patient waiting for you to build all of this for me." She grabbed another four vials and inhaled them. "Mmmph!" She moaned out as she grew another two feet, ripping through all but her soaked panties. She threw the empty vials, shattering them against the far wall as she discarded her tattered clothes. She was now towering above you at eight feet tall and on full display. As if rediscovering her body for the first time, her curious fingers explored every inch of her impressive frame. She hefted her now heavy tits and tugged and tweaked her hard, sensitive nipples. She moved her hand to her wet mound and gave it a good rub, as if consoling her panties for hanging on.

   "Where was I?" She began again, trying to regain her train of thought. "Oh yes, I wanted you thank you again for helping me to achieve...this." She hoisted her tits again, cradling their mass in her arms for you to witness. "Money, status, influence, those can get a girl pretty far, but this!" She flexed her muscles and flashed a dazzling, satisfied smile. "This is real power!" Slowly you regained your ability to speak.

   "But you said...we were supposed to use all this to help the world. That was my dream. You can't do this! This is my life's work!"

   She let out a horrid cackle, completely invalidating your passionate protest while starting to drink vial after vial, case after case. "No darling. I'm your life's work now. All of this is mine. It's in the contract. The formula, the facilities, the production, mmmph, all of it. You're going to keep producing this wonderful formula, and I'm going to keep growing! It'll be wonderful!" As she began to grow faster and faster, her panties finally gave up the fight and tore away from her. She pushed herself through the truck bay of the facility and into the open air. "Don't worry though, you said there was plenty to go around! I'll let you grow as much food as you like!" You slightly perked up at the notion of still getting to fulfill your dream. She stood up to her full height of forty feet and stretched as another growth surge moved through her. "After all..." She continued, "A growing girl like me has a big appetite. I'm going to need all the food you can grow." She planted her massive ass back on the ground now, leaning back and spreading her legs before setting two fingers to work on herself. Her growth seemed to accelerate as she pleasured herself. The empty vials clattered and clicked against one another, waiting to be filled for her as her first of many orgasms shook the very earth. 'Fuck that's hot.' You thought to yourself, pushing the last remnants of your goals to end world hunger out of your mind.

[scrollonso]

Fanboy — Pedroscar (Ft. Sargecchi)

Oscar had been pacing in front of Logan's hotel room for what felt like hours — though in reality, it had barely been five minutes. His mind raced as he replayed the same scenarios over and over, trying to figure out how to frame his request without sounding too desperate. Every time he thought he had the perfect approach, doubt crept in. What if Logan laughed at him? Or worse, what if Logan told Marco and then Marco told Pedro? The sheer thought of it made Oscar feel like a schoolboy with a crush, which, in a way, he kind of was.

Logan had been seeing Marco for a while now — well, kind of. They weren’t official yet, but Oscar knew it was only a matter of time. Hell, Marco already had a small tattoo on his thigh dedicated to the American, a tiny symbol that Marco swore was just for them. It was the kind of thing that made Oscar simultaneously cringe and feel envious. Logan had it all: a blossoming relationship with a MotoGP star, the perfect insider access, and now, by extension, a way for Oscar to meet Pedro Acosta.

Pedro Acosta. The name alone made Oscar’s pulse quicken. Pedro had captivated him from the first moment he saw him on his bike back in 2021, far before he got to MotoGP. The way he handled himself on the track, the sharp focus in his eyes, the post-race interviews when his accent was at its thickest — it was all too much. Oscar had tried to brush it off as a passing infatuation, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. And now, thanks to Logan’s connection with Marco, Oscar saw a golden opportunity he couldn’t let slip through his fingers.

Gathering every ounce of courage, Oscar finally stepped up to Logan’s door and knocked. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, each second stretching out painfully. When the door opened, Logan stood there, fresh from a shower, hair slightly damp, looking as relaxed as ever.

“What’s up, mate?” Logan asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Oscar didn’t even bother with small talk. He was too wound up for that. “Logan, you have to ask Marco to get me a pass to the next Grand Prix,” he blurted out, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. He crossed his arms, giving Oscar a curious look. “What? You’re not even into MotoGP like that.”

Oscar sighed, feeling like the weight of his crush on Pedro was the worst-kept secret in the world. “Look, I just really, really want to meet Acosta, alright?” he admitted, his voice dropping a notch. “You know I’ve had a crush on him forever.”

Logan's expression shifted from curiosity to amusement, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, that’s what this is about,” he said, drawing out the words for effect. “You want me to get Marco to invite you so you can swoon over Pedro? You could’ve just said that, mate.”

“Yes!” Oscar’s desperation was fully on display now, his hands coming together in a pleading gesture. “I’m begging you, Logan. Please. You know Marco can get us into the paddock, right? Just mention it to him. Please!”

Logan snickered, clearly enjoying the sight of his normally composed friend unraveling like this. “Alright, alright, don’t get all dramatic,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll talk to Marco, but no promises. Besides,” he added with a mischievous grin, “if Pedro notices you, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Oscar’s eyes lit up, his earlier anxiety melting away. “You’re a legend, Logan. Seriously, I owe you one. I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Just don’t embarrass me in front of Marco or his rider friends. I’ve got my own reputation to think about.”

Oscar nodded eagerly, already imagining what it would be like to finally meet Pedro. The thrill of being in the paddock, seeing Pedro up close, maybe even having a conversation with him — it was almost too much to handle. But for now, all he could do was hope that Logan’s connection with Marco would come through.

A few days later, Oscar's phone buzzed with a message from Logan.

"Marco’s picking us up at 8. Be ready."

Oscar barely slept that night. His mind kept replaying the scenarios — meeting Pedro, what he’d say, what he’d wear. When his alarm finally went off, he was already wide awake, pacing again, but this time in his own apartment. He double-checked his outfit at least three times before heading downstairs to wait for Logan and Marco.

Right on time, Marco pulled up in front of the building, the rumble of the engine making Oscar’s heart jump. Logan was sitting in the passenger seat, his window down and a grin plastered on his face.

“C’mon, mate, let’s go!” Logan shouted, motioning for Oscar to hop in the back.

Oscar slid into the backseat, immediately hit with a mix of nerves and excitement. Marco glanced at him in the rearview mirror with an easy smile. "Ready for your big day, Oscar?"

Logan chuckled before Oscar could respond. "Oh, he’s been ready for days now. Can’t stop thinking about his beloved Acosta."

Marco raised an eyebrow and laughed, the sound light and teasing. "So that’s why you were so eager for me to bring you to the race." He glanced over at Logan. "You didn't tell me your friend had a thing for Pedro."

Oscar felt his cheeks flush instantly. "I- it's not like that," he stammered, trying to sound cool, but failing miserably. "I just, y'know... respect his racing skills."

Logan snorted, twisting in his seat to look back at Oscar with a wide grin. "Mate, you were literally begging me the other day. 'Please, Logan, you have to introduce me to Pedro!'" He teased, reaching over and shaking Marco's arm as he mocked the Aussie.

Marco chuckled again, shaking his head as they started down the road toward the track. "You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that. Pedro’s a great rider. But I hope you’re ready for all the chaos that comes with the paddock. It's not just racing; it’s a circus. Especially with him. "

Oscar let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it off, but inside, his stomach was in knots. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just... don’t, you know, mention anything about the crush thing to Pedro."

"Oh, don’t worry," Logan said, his tone dripping with mischief. "We won’t say a word." He paused for dramatic effect. "Not unless it comes up."

"Logan!" Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You promised!"

Marco laughed again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Oscar. Pedro's a good guy. Besides, he'll probably be too focused on the race to notice anything."

"Yeah, focused on winning, not on some random fanboy," Logan added, earning a glare from Oscar.

"I’m not a fanboy," Oscar muttered, slumping back into his seat. "I just... appreciate talent."

"Sure, mate, sure," Logan said with a wink. "But hey, if Pedro does notice you, you better be ready. MotoGP riders are a different breed." He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as Oscar's face scrunched up.

Marco nodded in agreement, his voice soft but teasing. "And if he doesn't notice, you’ll have to try harder. Maybe bring a sign next time? 'Pedro, marry me!' or something like that?"

Oscar groaned again, his face now a deep shade of red as both Logan and Marco burst into laughter.

As they neared the track, Marco shot Oscar another playful glance in the mirror. "Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you — at least until you meet Pedro. Then all bets are off."

When they pulled into the paddock area, Oscar felt his heart rate pick up again. The sight of the gleaming trucks, bikes, and riders milling around was almost surreal. It was a dream come true, but also terrifying now that he was so close to meeting Pedro Acosta.

Marco parked the car and turned around to face Oscar, who was still gripping the seatbelt tightly. "Alright, we're here. Just breathe," he said, his tone now a bit more reassuring, though the teasing glint in his eyes hadn't fully faded.

Logan hopped out of the car with his usual easygoing demeanor, but as Oscar stepped out, he felt the weight of his nerves pressing down on him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his stomach still felt like it was doing backflips.

Logan tossed an arm around Oscar’s shoulders, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "You alright, mate? You're looking a bit pale."

Oscar swatted his hand away, trying to act casual. "I'm fine. Just... excited, I guess."

Marco joined them, adjusting his jacket before nodding toward the pit lane. "Alright, let's go find the others. I’m sure Pedro’s around somewhere."

At the mention of Pedro, Oscar’s heart gave another lurch, but he forced himself to keep it together. He couldn’t make a fool of himself in front of Logan and Marco — or worse, Pedro. As they walked through the paddock, Oscar’s eyes darted around, taking in the sights. Mechanics were bustling around, riders were in various stages of preparation, and journalists hovered nearby, trying to catch interviews.

Marco waved at a few familiar faces as they passed, and soon enough, they spotted Pedro’s bike being prepped by his team. Oscar’s heart stopped when he saw Pedro standing nearby, deep in conversation with one of his mechanics.

Logan elbowed Oscar gently, smirking. "There he is, mate. Your knight in shining leather."

Oscar swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, I see him," he muttered, trying to sound calm, but the anxiety was creeping back in full force.

Marco leaned in closer and whispered, "Now’s your chance. You want an introduction, or are you going to stare at him from a distance all day?"

Oscar hesitated, feeling like his feet were glued to the ground. "I— I don’t know," he stammered. "Maybe I should wait until after the race? I don’t want to distract him."

Logan shook his head with a laugh. "You’re hopeless, Oscar. Pedro’s a pro. He won’t even bat an eye."

Before Oscar could respond, Pedro turned around, noticing Marco, Logan, and Oscar standing nearby. A bright smile spread across Pedro's face as he walked over to greet them, his relaxed confidence making Oscar’s nerves spike even higher.

"Hey, Marco!" Pedro called out, clapping Marco on the back before turning to Logan. "Logan, good to see you."

Then, his eyes landed on Oscar, and for a split second, Oscar forgot how to breathe. Pedro extended his hand toward him, smiling warmly. "And you must be Oscar, right? Marco’s mentioned you before."

Oscar blinked, his brain short-circuiting as he took Pedro’s hand, trying not to let his palms sweat too much. "Uh, yeah, that’s me," he said, forcing a smile and hoping his voice didn’t crack.

Pedro chuckled lightly, his grip firm but friendly. "Nice to meet you, man. Hope you’re enjoying the paddock."

Oscar nodded dumbly, still trying to process the fact that Pedro Acosta knew his name. "Yeah, it’s... amazing. Really cool."

Logan, clearly enjoying the whole situation, smirked and leaned in toward Pedro. "Oscar’s been dying to meet you, mate. He’s a big fan."

Pedro shot Oscar a playful glance, his smile widening. "Is that so? Well, I’m glad I could make your day."

Oscar felt his face burning with embarrassment, but Pedro’s friendly demeanor was starting to ease his nerves — just a little. "Yeah, I’ve followed your career for a while," Oscar admitted, managing to find his voice. "You’re, uh, incredible on the track."

"Thanks, man," Pedro said, sounding genuinely appreciative. "I’ve still got a lot to learn, but I’m doing my best out there."

Logan, ever the instigator, couldn’t resist one last jab. "Careful, Pedro. Oscar might ask for a selfie and then frame it on his wall."

Oscar groaned, glaring at Logan. "I hate you," he muttered under his breath.

Pedro laughed, clearly amused by their banter. "Hey, no worries. I’d be honored to be on someone’s wall," he said, winking at Oscar.

Oscar’s heart nearly exploded at the gesture, but before he could respond, the sound of engines revving nearby reminded them all that there was a race to prepare for. Marco clapped Pedro on the shoulder. "We should let you get back to it. Good luck out there."

"Thanks, Marco," Pedro said, giving a quick nod to all of them. "I’ll catch you guys after the race. Enjoy the show."

As Pedro walked away, Oscar let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his body finally relaxing. Logan and Marco both turned to him with matching smirks.

"See?" Logan said, clapping him on the back. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

Oscar shook his head, a dazed smile on his face. "No," he admitted softly, "not bad at all."

As Pedro disappeared into the crowd, the hum of the paddock returning to its usual buzz, Oscar felt like he was floating. The nerves had faded into a dizzy sort of euphoria. He’d just met Pedro Acosta. He shook his hand. And Pedro knew his name.

Logan leaned against a nearby barrier, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You look like you just met the Queen or something, mate."

Oscar rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. "Shut up, Logan. I’m allowed to be excited."

The race was a blur of excitement and tension, and by the time it was over, Pedro had finished third — an impressive podium finish considering the tough competition. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Oscar felt a sense of pride wash over him, even though he barely knew the guy.

As they started making their way back down to the paddock area, Oscar’s phone buzzed with a text, an Instagram notification. He glanced at the screen and felt his heart skip a beat.

"Hey, if you guys are still around, come by the garage. Would love to chat."

Oscar stared at the message for a moment, disbelief written all over his face. "Logan…"

Logan peered over at Oscar’s phone, his eyebrows shooting up. "No way. Pedro just texted you?"

Marco smirked. "Looks like you made quite the impression, Oscar."

Oscar couldn’t even process what was happening. He barely remembered how to breathe. "He wants us to come by his garage…"

Logan clapped him on the back. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go see your new best mate."

With Logan and Marco in tow, Oscar made his way from the VR46 garage to the KTM one. The excitement in the air felt even more electric now. When they reached Pedro’s garage, the young rider was waiting, still in his racing suit, talking to a few team members. His face lit up when he saw them approaching.

"Hey!" Pedro greeted them warmly, stepping away from his team. "Glad you guys could make it. What’d you think of the race?"

Oscar, still starstruck, fumbled for words. "You were… incredible," he managed, trying not to sound too overwhelmed. "Third place is amazing."

Pedro smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Thanks, man. It was a tough one, but am happy with the podium."

Logan, ever the smooth talker, chimed in. "Oscar here couldn’t stop watching you. You’ve got yourself a loyal fan."

Pedro laughed, glancing at Oscar with a wide grin. "Well, I appreciate that. Always good to know someone’s got my back."

Oscar felt his face heat up again, but he managed a sheepish smile. "You’ve got a lot of fans, not just me."

Pedro shrugged, still looking at Oscar with an amused glint in his eye. "Maybe, but not all of them get a personal invite to the garage."

Oscar blinked, stunned for a moment. Was Pedro flirting with him? He couldn’t be sure, but the way Pedro was looking at him felt… different. Before he could spiral too much into that thought, Pedro nodded toward the bikes.

"Want to take a closer look?" he asked, his tone casual but kind.

Oscar’s eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, come on," Pedro said, waving him over.

Oscar followed Pedro toward the bikes, feeling like he was in some kind of dream. Meanwhile, Logan and Marco exchanged knowing glances behind him, smirking as they watched their friend live out his wildest fantasy.

Oscar's excitement was palpable as he approached the bikes. Pedro's demeanor helped calm his racing heart, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was something special, even if he was acting like a highschool girl.

Pedro stopped in front of one of the bikes and gestured for Oscar to come closer. "Alright, let's get you on it," Pedro said, his voice gentle but firm. "I'll help you mount it."

Oscar nodded hesitantly, he'd watched Pedro ride hundreds of times but he'd never thought of even sitting on a bike himself. Pedro placed a steadying hand on the bike and carefully guided Oscar into position. With a practiced touch, he helped Oscar swing one leg over the bike, ensuring he was seated comfortably.

"How's that?" Pedro asked, his proximity making Oscar's pulse quicken.

"Good," Oscar managed, his voice barely above a whisper. He adjusted his position, trying to get a feel for the bike beneath him.

Pedro’s hands lingered on Oscar’s waist for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away. "You look like a natural. You look good sitting on my colours."

Oscar nodded, his face flushed with both excitement and a touch of embarrassment. "Thanks, Pedro."

Pedro gave him a reassuring smile. "Anytime. And hey, if you ever want to learn more, you know where to find me."

Logan and Marco watched the scene unfold, their smirks widening. It was clear to them that Pedro's attention to Oscar went beyond mere courtesy, and the way Oscar was responding made it obvious that the connection was mutual.

[infamoussparks]

Prologue

“DUPs done and gone. Curdun Cay emptied out. Conduits free to live and let live.”

“Can you believe it’s been five years?” Delsin crowed, hands firmly at his hips as he grinned madly at the deserted, rundown building before him. His olive complexion was stunning with the autumn sunlight washing over him. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees nearby and toyed with the locks of his hair that fell from beneath his favorite maroon beanie. Fetch and Eugene were at his side, as always.

“It’s wild to think about. And now we can finally get started doing what we’ve wanted to do since we finished things with Augustine and Curdun Cay was demolished.” Fetch nodded looking over the building before her, arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her fuschia hair was up in its signature bun and her pale skin soaked in the welcomed warmth of the sun, free from the clouds for the moment.

Eugene remained cozy in his oversized hoodie, eyes tossing cautious glances around the structure from behind his glasses. He chimed in with his own smile of satisfaction. “And the Department of Unified Protection was disbanded.”

“DUPs done and gone. Curdun Cay emptied out. Conduits free to live and let live.” Delsin was hopping from one foot to the other, excitement palpable in the air around him.

It was a glorified, empty warehouse somewhere in the outskirts of Seattle, safe from prying eyes and easy to protect in a pinch. It had a few broken windows and the main door was locked with the thickest chain and lock. Bolt cutters would have to be added to the shopping list once the self-proclaimed “Heroes of Seattle” started one. One of the side garage doors had been pushed open just high enough for all three friends to see into the dusty, vacant interior. Fetch took a few steps inside, hands by her side as she looked around, twirling slowly to take it all in. Delsin stepped past her standing a few feet away, his arms outstretched and the biggest, lazy grin on his face like he had just saved the world. Again. 

“Ta-dah! What do you think?” Delsin sounded as happy as a bird with a french fry.

Fetch nodded slowly, a smile lighting her face. “This place… yeah. It’s got potential.”

“I like to think so.”

“And you just bought it? Like, you own the place now?”

“Cold, hard cash, baby!”

“… uh, and a little hacking…” Eugene spoke softly, almost under his breath. He was slower to enter the bare structure but Delsin could tell he was already calculating exits, counting windows, checking security.

“Well, I like it! I could settle in here,” Fetch was still taking it all in. Two stories, metal staircases, and so much space for art. “What are we calling it once we’re done rebuilding?”

The three conduits fell silent, lost in thought. The moment didn’t last long before their voices started echoing off the metal and steel and emptiness inside. 

Delsin cleared his voice, “I was thinking… ‘Smoke and Neon’?”

“Nah. Too us.” Fetch shook her head with a slight frown.

“How about ‘You ConDoIt’?” Delsin smirked.

Fetch scrunched up her face in a look of disbelief. “Are you even being serious right now?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”

“Let’s hear them, Neon Princess.”

“We could call it, ‘Little Fletchlings’ or ‘School of the Gifted and Talented’.”

Delsin huffed and his hands found his hips, “We are not naming this place after some X-Men comic.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I think that’s dumb. We’re calling it ‘School of Rowe’.”

“Oh, sure. Like naming a school after you located in Salmon Bay doesn’t sound like we’re some sort of fishery.”

“I said ‘ROWE’ not ‘ROE’!”

“And I said—“

“W-we shouldn’t call it anything if we want to remain inconspicuous. A name would bring us too much attention.” Eugene’s voice was raised now, he was glaring at Delsin and Fetch from where he stood a few feet behind the couple. Silence fell and after a moment the mimic and the neon conduit exchanged a glance—Delsin with an eyebrow raised and Fetch with a smirk.

A burst of neon color raced toward Eugene before dying out to his left. Fetch flicked Eugene’s hoodie off his head. “That’s smart, Gameboy. Good thinking.” She accidentally knocked his glasses askew as she ruffled Eugene’s unkempt hair and walked past him toward the outside.

“Hey! Don’t touch—“

“That’s why we pay him the big bucks!” Delsin chimed in, slapping Eugene’s chest as he passed the video conduit and caught up to Fetch.

“I-I don’t even GET paid!” Eugene huffed, but it was no use to get angry with those two; it never stuck long enough to cause any issues.

Delsin and Fetch were already outside to plan out painting and what supplies they needed for the remodel and rebuild. Eugene rolled his eyes, fixed his glasses and turned his back on his friends to take another look around the empty warehouse. He took in a quiet breath of air and a small smile formed as he pulled up his hood back over his hair.

“Welcome home.”

[yuurikatsukii]

Cosplaying as Phichit at c2e2 today! Will post photos later!!

[heresathreebee]

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio.  She laughed when you said you were too. 

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer. 

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica. 

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked. 

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?" 

"There." She points at the screen. 

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?" 

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest). 

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question. 

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean." 

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas." 

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here. 

"No timer?," she asked. 

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart." 

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?" 

"Something like that." 

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better. 

But she can't know. 

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze. 

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her. 

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you. 

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…" 

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but… 

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that." 

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair." 

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo" 

"What was that?" 

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…" 

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too." 

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before. 

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?" 

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier–  looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too." 

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?" 

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them." 

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door,  but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over. 

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart. 

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her–  that is how eerily quiet it is. 

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then." 

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?" 

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here–  just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too." 

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!" 

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch." 

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them." 

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.  

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective." 

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light. 

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip. 

"So cute…" 

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence. 

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice." 

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry." 

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually." 

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair. 

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup. 

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…" 

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house. 

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.  

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down. 

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?" 

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was." 

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes. 

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?" 

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…" 

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything." 

~

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep. 

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home. 

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before. 

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

ALL IS FAIR

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

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

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

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

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

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

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

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

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

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

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

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

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

“Congrats then!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s just my luck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why? What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s happening?”

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

“What? Where are you going now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did they do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much you want to be joined?”

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

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

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

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

“Do you not like being with me?”

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

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

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

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

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

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Partners in business and life?”

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

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

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

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

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

----------------------------------------

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[damiano-mylove]

Condescending Bitch

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x reader

Wc: 2.5k

Cw(s): swearing, kissing, crying, probably typos (as per usual, tell me if it sucks)

Summary: Reader breaks up with their boyfriend and Thomas consoles them.

Masterlist

If honesty be a virtue, you'd be virtuous to plainly say you'd fallen out of love with your boyfriend and you had done so a while ago. It wasn't deliberate, it was a gradual fizz wherein you found your heart warming for someone else. You felt horrible about it and that guilt had been eating at you. There was no cheating, but you didn't think you'd be able to avoid it for much longer. Not to mention, it wasn't only the non-existent feelings, Luca was just an asshole when you weren't blinded by love.

There comes a time where one must throw in the towel, and now was that time for you.

You couldn't do it at a restaurant; knowing Luca, he'd cause a scene. You couldn't do it at some meeting place; it would ruin that place forever and ever to both of you. And that shit's just not fair.

In the end, you couldn't make the decision. So you put every single item of Luca's clothing in a bag (and a couple things he'd left around your flat), and drove over to his house while you still had the nerve. You'd gathered and lost the nerve a couple times before, but the plan was already in motion now. Hell, there was no plan, but whatever you were raring to do was up and running.

You drove straight to Luca's mother's house in record time. Time flies when you're laser focused.

"Y/n!" Luca's mother exclaimed joyfully as you entered the kind looking house. How someone like Luca came out of Mrs. Batali was a wonder in and of itself. Once Mrs. Batali spotted the bag in your hand, she frowned. "Has something happened, Bambino?"

Somehow, the hardest part of this breakup would be bidding goodbye to Luca's mother, and not Luca himself. You sighed, "I'm sorry, Signora. Luca and I have been having issues for a while now."

"Oh, don't be sorry, Bambino." The older lady's kind smile returned to her face, which struck a heart string you hadn't even known existed. Mrs. Batali swayed toward you, in all of her vanilla scented goodness. She hugged you around your neck loosely, which you returned around her wide hips. "You're always welcome for dinner and a roof. Don't let the stupid boy stop you from seeing me."

God gave two gifts to this world; one of them was Mrs. Batali.

A smile cracked across your face as your chest continued to tighten and hurt. You loved this family like your own, and you loved Luca at some point. So many memories were made in the throws of this relationship, and it was all going to be thrown out the window by you. But it was too late now.

"Ti amo." Mrs. Batali placed a kiss to your forehead which made your smile even more genuine. She patted your shoulder, finally releasing you from her motherly grasp. Sadly, she raised her arm to the stairs to Luca's bedroom. "I'll be down here, if you need me."

You smiled once more to the older lady and bowed your head in silent thanks. If you uttered a word, the word would lead to tears. It seemed the two of you knew this.

It was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but you had to seal the deal.

Without your consent, your feet began moving toward the stairs then up the stairs. Your heart beat in sickening rhythm with your footsteps, but your heart seemed more heavy than your feet. It was ridiculous. You were ready to throw up, pee, or meltdown - you didn't know which one, if it was one at all.

At long last, after walking down the longest hallway of your life, you stood in front of Luca's closed door. You remembered all the times you'd breeze in, going straight into Luca's arms for a kiss. His breath wasn't always good and he was a bad kisser, but he made you feel infatuation. Now it only seemed a fraction of what you felt for the other person. Yes, God, that was why you had to do this.

You knocked. Your heart was deafening.

"Come in!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You pushed open the door, feeling like you were having a heart attack. Luca smiled brightly at you from the light of his computer. Then he laid eyes on the bag. Don't know how, it was dark as fuck in the room. And smelt of cheap body spray and dirty clothes.

"Hey, Babe, I wasn't expecting you," Luca smiled, trying to act off the bag of his clothes and gifts in your hand. You flicked on the light as he stood up to close the door behind you.

This room is fucking disgusting. It was truly noxious.

"Alright, Luca, sit down, we've got to talk," you told him, putting on your bravest and thickest voice. It worked because the air in the room changed. The air grew thick and impossible to breath. It could've been cut with a knife. Luca sat on his bed, hands in his lap. You placed the bag on the ground and sighed, "We're breaking up."

For a second, he was unresponsive. Luca didn't say a word until he looked you in the eye, what felt like a full minute later. His bottom lip quivered. "You're dumping me?"

"You can tell people you dumped me, I don't mind," you quipped, trying to make the situation better. You did not, in fact, make the situation better. You potentially made it about thirteen times worse.

"No, you're not." Luca stood up again. Your breath caught in your throat. "We're not breaking up."

He took a few quick steps to you. You stood your ground, trying to be as brave as possible. Your mask was slipping. The last thing you wanted right now was for Luca to see that you were cracking under his gaze. That would be fucking horrendous.

All of a sudden, Luca barked out a laugh. He looked like a madman. "This is about that Thomas bitch, isn't it?" You didn't answer, and your facial expressions gave nothing away. Then Luca snapped, "Isn't it?!"

"If you want to fucking shout, we can shout," you seethed. Luca blinked angrily at you. "We're adults - act like it."

"You're a condescending bitch."

"And you're an ugly prick, but I've never complained about that. You've called me a condescending bitch about 3 times and a flat-out bitch more than a dozen," you recalled quickly, with venom dripping off each syllable. It shut Luca up. However, he began to cry. You felt nothing but hatred now. "You're one pathetic bitch to be crying over the girl who you treat like a fucking doormat." Luca only cried harder. No sympathy. You spun on your heel and opened the door.

Without a glance back, you left.

Mrs. Batali smiled at you on your way out and gave you a freshly baked bun, which you thanked her profusely for.

It didn't take long for reality to set in, however. The adrenaline faded as you drove back to your flat complex. You began crying at the wheel and completely broke down in the car park. Tears streamed down your face like rivers, snot clogged your nose. Your mouth tasted horrible so you started to eat the bun Mrs. Batali had baked. It was so good that you started crying harder.

How the fuck could you do that? At this point, you were too sad to give a fuck about sobbing in a car park at 6 in the evening. You just threw in the towel of a year long relationship, in the blink of an eye. Like it was nothing and meant nothing to you whatsoever, which wasn't true at all. You felt like a horrible person.

Your chest clogged up with emotions and stale air, your throat grew a lump that you couldn't swallow down. Now you were the pathetic one. Crying in a shitbox car over your ex while eating fucking bread.

A tap on the window scared the Jesus out of you.

When you looked at the source, the other person was looking right back at you, looking worried and confused. Leave it to Thomas to look sad just because you were sad. Thomas looked so fucking good even though a blur of teary eyelashes. He made the hand crank motion, so you rolled down your window.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked. You just started laughing. What a stupid fucking question. Thomas began chuckling, realizing how stupid it was himself. "Fair enough. Fancy a cup of tea and a chat or shall I leave you to your car bread?"

How the fuck could he make you laugh in times like these?

You smiled then shooed him away from your car door so you could open it. He obliged and moved back, for you to get out, still with bread and keys in hand. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows as you two began walking back to the flat complex you both lived in. "Aren't you going to roll up the window?"

"How the fuck is anyone meant to steal it when all the windows are up?" It was your turn to earn a laugh from Thomas. Thomas' laugh hit your ear like honey. The sort of honey that your mother gave you to cure your sore throat before nursery. It was soothing and just the right thing for the situation.

As you walked up the stairs with Thomas, you realized he was taking you to his flat. To be fair, he was the one who offered you tea. What's he going to do? Offer you your own tea?

Thomas unlocked the ugly blue door of his flat that everyone in the building had a copy of. The second you both walked into the flat, warmth enveloped you, along with sandalwood and spices from Thomas' extensive spice cabinet. He must have been cooking earlier because it smelt Heavenly. Everything was in perfect place with just the right amount of mess and disorganization to make it seem like a home.

"I'll put the kettle on, sit anywhere," Thomas instructed after you both took your shoes off. You were wearing ratty trainers while Thomas was wearing perfectly clean Vans.

You nodded and flung yourself on one of his couches with a sigh. The couch was soft, warm and welcoming and you felt tired from crying and yelling and just the day in general. It was a shit day, that started with your toast burning and ended with this shit. A nap would really do good.

However, Thomas had other plans entirely. He placed a purple mug, full of tea with what looked like your golden ratio of milk and sugar. Thomas was your best friend, of course he knew your golden ration. You knew his. With a smile, you sat up which allowed Thomas to sit beside you and drape his arm over the back of the couch.

"Feel like telling me why you were crying in your car?" Thomas asked. You laughed lightly and sipped the piping hot tea.

"Broke up with Luca about-" you checked a clock. "-30 minutes ago."

As horrible as it sounds, Thomas' face lit up. His facial features remained the same but his beautiful green eyes lit up like candles in a dark room. "Is that so?"

"He called me a condescending bitch."

"So he hasn't gotten a new script," Thomas smiled. You chuckled lightly and sniffed. Your nose was still clogged from all the crying. You just didn't feel like blowing your nose like an elephant in front of Thomas right now. "He'll never get the chance to get a new script for you now."

"Thank God above," you sighed out with a laugh to your words. Thomas smiled. "I'll miss his mum though. Wonderful lady."

Thomas sipped his own tea and you discretely moved closer to him. It wasn't as discrete as you'd thought because Thomas picked up and moved a bit closer to you with a stupid smile on his face. "So how'd it go down?"

Like friends do, you told him everything, down to the detail. All but Luca being right, with Thomas being the other man who'd stolen your heart. That wouldn't be a key detail here because the last thing you needed today was to dump your boyfriend then directly after scare your best friend away from you forever.

But he wasn't scared off by you telling him Luca though you were leaving him for Thomas. Thomas actually smirked at that part, like the thought amused him. You didn't think anything of it actually, except for how cute Thomas was when he was smirking.

Eventually, the conversation faded and you were hip to hip with Thomas. With a sigh, he rested your head in the crook of Thomas' neck. His feather soft hair tickled the side of your face but you wanted nothing else for the moment. The scent of Thomas' cologne was prominent when you were this close to him, but you weren't going to complain about that. His arm fell from the back of the couch to around your shoulders.

Feeling Thomas' head turn to you, you looked up at him. Thomas' hand lightly squeezed you arm. Your breath hitched in your throat as you thought you were imagining Thomas observing your face.

Those gorgeous green eyes that you could stare into all day were scanning your face gently. They landed on your lush lips, then back to your eyes. All it took was a small nod for Thomas to lean in.

It was slow. It was slow, but undeniably sweet. The passion was palpable the minute your lips met his, just as you had been dreaming of for months now. His pillow-like lips were perfectly moisturized, but not over-saturated. The lip balm he used was strawberry flavoured and you'd never admired strawberry flavoured lip balm as you were in this moment.

As suddenly as it began, it ended.

Thomas leaned back for a second, looking guilty. "You need time to get over Luca, this is wrong."

"I've been over Luca for months." You placed a kiss to his lips, which Thomas accepted for a second, then backed out of again. You groaned. "Thomas, Luca was right. I'm in love with you."

In a stunned silence, Thomas' cheeks turned bright red. A broad smile grew on his face and you felt confident in your confession. You meant it, surely, but now you were confident that you did the right thing in telling Thomas.

"I've been in love with you since we went to the Capitoline." Thomas' voice cracked as he made his confession. Your heart bustled with warmth. He'd been pining for you all this time just to watch you run with Luca.

You couldn't take your aching heart. Grabbing Thomas' face gently, you pressed your lips to his again. He gladly returned this kiss with fervour and renewed zeal. Nothing else mattered while your lips were joined with Thomas' lips. Nothing would ever be able to induce the utter happiness and peace you'd felt in this moment.

After the kiss lasting for a while, Thomas pulled you to sit on his lap. He cupped your sweet face gently and smiled into your brilliant eyes. He kissed your nose. "May I tell you something else, Y/n?"

"Anything."

"I don't think you're a condescending bitch."

[cuddlepilefics]

Sick at Work

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Changbin

Caregivers: 2basco

Prompt @sicktember

No one's POV.:

Changbin had caught a small cold a few days ago. It wasn't really that much of a bother to him, mostly just a slightly runny nose along with a faint scratchiness in his throat. He had made sure to take hot showers every day and to stay hydrated. However, as days passed, the rapper couldn't help but feel progressively worse. When he woke up this morning, his head felt heavy with congestion and his hearing was starting to sound muffled. His head was aching from the pressure but he forced himself out of bed to join his group for their schedule. As he was slowly becoming more awake, he noticed the irritated itch in his nose that became harder to ignore by the minute. Feeling a bit chilled, Changbin decided to put on one of his thickest hoodies. Right when he pulled it over his head, the tickle in his nose became unbearable. Unable to see with clothing covering his face, he pitched forwards, sneezing. Bumping his had on the door of his closet in the process, Changbin barely managed to suppress a curse before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Getting ready, Changbin's morning routine was frequently interrupted by his urge to sneeze. He had barely been awake for half an hour, yet he had already sneezed more than he had done in the past few days. Simply running his sleeve under his nose was enough to set him off again and the rapper was starting to dread going to work today. He didn't feel sick enough to stay at the dorm but he was so annoyingly sneezy, which would be really bothering, considering that 3racha wanted to work on some stuff in the studio and recording was certainly not going to go smoothly with him sneezing every few seconds. When Changbin was ready to head out, he met Chan in the kitchen, making coffee. Changbin got himself a cup too, hoping it would clear the fog in his head a bit. "How are you feeling today?", Chan asked, taking in his dongsaeng's tired face. Changbin shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee before replying: "Let's just put it this way, you're gonna get tired of saying 'bless you' reeeaal fast." – "That bad?", the leader frowned, eyebrows knitting together in concern. The younger shook his head with a sniffle, turning aside to sneeze immediately after. "Ndo, jus' really sneezy", the rapper forced out, scrubbing at his reddening nose with the cuff of his sleeve, only triggering another sneeze. Raising his eyebrow at Changbin, Chan questioned: "Are you sure you can work through this? You know, it's always fine to take a breather when you're sick." – "I'm sure. Don't even really feel sick. My nose is just so sensitive, it's annoying", the younger pouted, so his hyung decided to drop the topic.

Not much later, Jisung joined the two and they headed to the studio together. Changbin shivered lightly on the way there as the weather had gotten colder recently and the wind was picking up. His poor nose was already raw from him constantly scrubbing at it but it seemed like the only way to satisfy the annoying tickle. By the time they made it to the studio, he had already gone through an entire travel pack of tissues and had to go to the restroom to stuff his pockets with toilet paper. "You alright? You've taken a while", Chan asked worriedly when Changbin finally joined them. The truth was, Changbin had had a bad sneezing fit while at the restroom. Since he didn't want his friends to witness that, he stayed there to wait it out, blowing his nose a few times in hopes of getting rid of the congested feeling in his sinuses before washing his hands and joining them. Changbin nodded, already bringing his sleeve up to his face again, sniffling: "I-I'm fine, jus – jus' needed to h-hESSH! Huh - hEGSHU! Just needed to sneeze and blow by ndose." The other two blessed him and nodded in understanding before starting to work on some lyrics.

While Chan and Jisung seemed to be having a good time, really getting some lyrics down, Changbin was struggling. He couldn't focus on anything really. To him it seemed like his head was filled with cotton, making it impossible to grasp a solid thought. It also didn't help that he kept turning away to sneeze, which resulted in him being distracted from what he was doing again. The only thing that he remained aware of the entire time was his itchy nose and how painfully raw the skin around it had become. Chan had offered him a few more times to go home and rest but Changbin kept resisting. He wasn't that sick, right? Soon they had enough lyrics to start recording and the leader started to set up the microphone, while Changbin was beyond frustrated with himself. Neither had he been able to come up with any useful lyrics, nor would he be able to really record anything because his voice sounded so pathetically stuffy. Jisung would probably be the one recording the lines, while Chan went straight to editing them. Changbin was left to give the younger advice but other than that, all he could do was beat himself up for not really contributing anything to their work. That didn't mean he'd go home though.

Jisung was just about to start recording the first line, when Changbin held up his hand, signaling for him to wait. The younger looked at him curiously, watching his hyung's eyes flutter shut, mouth hanging slightly agape. "I-I nh-heed to sneeze", Changbin panted, breath hitching uncontrollably. "Yeah, I think the whole world knows that by now", Jisung teased. Eyes watering, the older twisted to the side roughly: "hESH! KGSH! N'gsCH! *sniff* sorry." – "Bless you", Chan sighed, studying his dongsaeng's face to figure out if it was safe for Jisung to start recording now. They went ahead with their recording but it was a slow process, frequently interrupted by Changbin's sneezes. Though it was disturbing their work, Chan and Jisung were mainly just worried for their friend. He couldn't possibly feel alright while sneezing that much. His nose was bright pink by now and his face looked blank and tired, almost as though he was asleep in his chair but his eyes were open, indicating that the rapper was indeed awake. Though his eyes were open, they looked distant, holding a sickly gloss. Changbin didn't look well at all but he had refused to go home earlier.

Changbin himself was mainly frustrated. Sure, he felt miserable but overall, he was frustrated with himself. He wasn't contributing anything to their work as a group, instead holding his friends back with his frequent sniffles. Going home didn't seem like an option though. He wasn't that sick and certainly wouldn't milk a cold just to get out of work. "Bin, seriously, just go home. You can't tell me you feel well because your sneezing is contradicting that", Chan sighed, turning away from his laptop. Jisung agreed: "You look awful and tired. Please get some rest." Changbin bit his lip, feeling guilty for holding his friends back. He was convinced they were annoyed at him at this point and he couldn't blame them but it still hurt him that they were trying to get rid of him. "Yah! Stop bossing me around!", he snapped, his eyes going unfocused immediately after before he turned to the side to sneeze. The other two were taken aback at their friend's sudden outburst. His face showed clear anger, the watery look in his eyes the only thing that kept him from being intimidating. He had been rather harsh when telling them off earlier too. Whenever they'd tell him to take a break, his demeanor would suddenly turn cold.

"Alright, I won't be telling you what to do anymore. You're an adult, decide for yourself. Make yourself miserable, I don't care", Chan stated coldly. He and Jisung then continued working, barely paying attention to Changbin. "Aish, we've been working for a while already. We should really eat something, shouldn't we?", the leader contemplated. He and Jisung then started a longer discussion about food, Changbin however was barely listening to them. He was trying to hold back his tears, his hyung's words having stung more than he wanted to admit. He couldn't even tell why his emotions were so all over the place today. The next thing he knew was Jisung leaving the studio. "Where's he going?", he muttered confused, squinting after the younger with watering eyes. Keeping his face clear of any emotion, Chan turned to him and replied: "If you had listened, you'd know that Sungie's getting us snacks." Mainly, Chan wanted to be alone with his dongsaneg for a moment, hoping the boy would crack and admit what was going on. He also had a plan in case that didn't work. Going on his phone, he texted Jisung instructions for when he returned. He wanted the younger to sneak up to Changbin from behind and feel his forehead. Him running a fever would be the only logical explanation for his temper Chan could give.

Heading out, Jisung went to the closest convenient store and raided the snack aisle. He felt his phone buzz and read Chan's message, nodding to himself as he had already had a similar suspicion. Changbin wasn't usually that easy to anger, so it would only make sense. Remembering his hyung's irritated pink nose, Jisung also decided to pick up some tissues. He hoped they'd be a bit gentler on Changbin's raw skin than the toilet paper he had been using over the past few hours. Jisung was quick to check out but tried to take his time walking back. Maybe Chan was talking Changbin into going home and he didn't want to interrupt and have their friend pull his guards back up. What he didn't know was that Chan was very far from talking Changbin into anything. He had given his dongsaeng the chance to tell him what was wrong multiple times already and now waited for Changbin to take the opportunity and speak up. That didn't happen though, so the Aussie really relied on Jisung and the back-up to his plan to work out. He heard the door open quietly but Changbin was too out of it to really pay attention to anything. To top that off, his hearing had become even more muffled from the congestion in his head, so he didn't hear Jisung slowly walking up behind him. Then there was suddenly a light, cool touch on his forehead and Changbin couldn't help but sigh in relief as it soothed the headache he had had all day. "Your skin's as hot as your temper", Jisung commented before removing his hand and plopping into his seat. Changbin didn't react to that at all, not even able to process what his dongsaeng had said.

When there was no reaction, Chan turned his chair to him and gave the younger a soft look, frowning: "You heard Jisung? You're running a fever." – "Oh", was all Changbin had to say to that. "Come on, mate. I can understand that you're frustrated but we're not bossing you around to be mean. We're genuinely worried 'bout you and your temperature is only more reason for us to take you home", the leader said with a comforting smile. That was what finally cracked Changbin. Soon the first tear rolled, then the next. Sniffling quietly, he pulled his sleeve over his hand to dry them but brushed against his nose in the process. "KGSH! h-hGSHHU! *sniff*" Trying to clean himself up, he pulled out some more crumpled toilet paper but Jisung was quick to hand him a tissue. "You're really not feeling yourself today, huh? Is that why you were so worked up?", Chan asked calmly, resting his hand on Changbin's shoulder. The younger nodded, rasping: "I'b sorry. It was so frustrati'g because I couldn't focus a'd was just so useless. Didn't thigk it was that bad." – "It's alright, but why don't you try talking to us next time?", Jisung smiled, brushing the older's hair back and holding his water bottle up to Changbin's forehead, since he had obviously enjoyed the cool touch earlier. While Changbin closed his eyes and relaxed, Chan was already shutting his laptop off and packing their things up. When everything was ready for them to leave, the leader patted Changbin's arm, humming: "Let's get you home. I bet a hot shower and an early bedtime sound nice right now." – "Really dice", the younger agreed, allowing Chan and Jisung to pull him up and take him home. 

[2lim3rz]

Reunited with the Snake (Fulgrim X Reader) [40K FIC] -PART 1

Requested By: Anon!

Part 1 because I hated that I was making you wait and also posting small increments is fun

Years had passed, too many to count and too many to be bothered to acknowledge. However, the pseudo-years of the warp did make their mark on you. Scars and blemishes where once there had been none. Frown lines when once there were lines that marked your perpetual smile.

A hole in your heart where someone had long since broken it.

The Heresy, what all information (or lack of) you could gather from it, was a horror-show. The moments you had glimpsed hurt you horribly, though it was only the fall of one Primarch that wounded you the most. The mighty Pheonix of the Imperium himself. The violet man with the softest, whitest hair imaginable. The most gentle look a person could ever have despite being a person could ever have, despite being eleven feet tall and having killed thousands, nay, billions. Even if it wasn’t actively himself, his actions had untold repercussions.

Stepping onto the planet, you were met with a meadow. Its fields gently swaying with the most perfect and greenest grass. The hills were gentle and the close-yet-distant trees promise shade with a nearby pond to frolic in. Faintly, you could see a traveling herd of what could only be described as a moving rainbow. Their sloped heads holding flickering tongues that darted this way and that as they whistled and chortled like happy foals.

It all disgusted you. Its perfection was vile and corrupting. What you thought was the sound of a breeze was a horrendously moaning scream. All the same, none of it prepared you for the sight of him. His lower body was serpentine and a vibrant purple. On the thickest parts of his snake-like half, the scales made large spiked ridges. Upon his back arched two mighty feathered wings that faded into leathery mammalian wings. Underneath two thinly muscular arms adorned in golden jewelry, was another pair of arms.

The man’s human-upper half could still be described as inhuman. His skin, though pale as ever, held the faintest tone of otherworldly pink. His head still held the same hair, though it waved where there was no wind and was much longer. A trio pair of pitch horns crowned his head, ears a distinct point, his eyes a blistering lavender, his extremely toned pectorals and abs more rigid than they ever appeared, as though carved from marble.

His arched eyebrows furrowed together, lips pursing before he bared fanged teeth into a laugh.

“Oh, mine Dark Prince, you’ve outdone yourself this time. Even the soul feels so similar..” his voice was a melodic sing-song, but scathing nonetheless “And I thought you loved me.” You stepped back at those words. All this time, anger had been your motive. At least, what you thought was anger. What you felt now was pity. Pity that your once glorious Primarch had fallen so low. Tears filled your vision, causing the Daemon-Primarch to waver in your sights.

“..Fulgrim…?” his name hurt to say.

Why, oh, why couldn’t you keep your anger as you fell to your knees, your next words fading into a sob. Your pity turned to a wretched relief that he was alive. You couldn’t muster the anger for the murder of Ferrus Manus, couldn’t summon the scathing words you memorized to rebuke everything he had done and was. You were only happy that he was still here. Physically changed, but still flesh and blood.

Hesitance betrayed his features, his lip twitched as one of his secondary hands slowly reached out. His parted lips partially closed as he murmured your name with utmost grace and nigh-reverence. Then just as quickly, he became a purple blur as your world lunged upward. Fulgrim had been at a distance, for he was nearly doubled the size he once was. Four massive arms cradled you as if you were a glass doll that would break at the slighest infraction.

He murmured your name, his voice growing louder and louder as he hugged you tightly. What room your arms found to stretch, you lashed out with a scream. Your cutting off as you focused for air instead.

“You’re here.. you’re alive. I thought you dead for so long.” Fulgrim sighed remorsefully as he lightened his hold (though it was still tight) and nuzzled his face to your neck “You’re here.. you’re here, oh my darling songbird.. My wondrous muse.. my love.” There was another detail you noticed on the ex-Primarch, the new hissing purr. How the my’s didn’t sound as complimentary as they once did, but more possessive.

Akin to a greedy beast hording all his goods and holding them close. Screaming ‘mine, mine, mine’ as if nothing could take you away.

“Whhh..what happened? You’re… oh, Fulgrim.. you’re so..” words were failing you. Some speck of logic finding it smart that you might not want to insult the snake. Even then your words were filled grief. Not that the man noticed as he grinned at you excitedly.

“Beautiful? I know! Just look at me, love, look at how I shine like jewels. Not even the Steeds compare to me..” he cooed, looking away from you to hold up the end of his tail.

He was right, he glittered more than polished gold. A sight that sent you crying again as you shook your head.

“You’re so hideous..” the words finally stammered out of you as you covered your face. “So hideously beautiful..” You could almost feel the breeze from Fulgrim whipping his head towards you.

“What?” the single word sent the world to silence. More literally than anything.

“Hh..hideous.. you’re… You’re not the Fulgrim I-I once knew and-”

Velvet-soft lips pressed against your’s just as harshly as your hands were yanked away. The suddenness of their presence  sent you thrashing to no avail. A large hand cradling your head . And yet despite your second’s resistance, you still melted into the kiss. You could still taste the salt from your tears even after a thin tongue licked them away.

“I’m not hideous, love,” there was the barest snarl in the purr now “demigods change in ten-thousand years.” his words gave you the chance to breath again.

“You’re…”

“Still the same man you fell for, all those years ago, lovely little one.” he breathed into your ear, words low as you looked towards the sky that held wavering colors despite not changing the colors of the word around you in a hypnotic dance.

“...But you murdered Ferrus..”

“A thing that had to be done, now let us go, love, I have many people I wish for you to greet and reunite with..”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Colour symbol ask:

Fluff: grey: maturity

Gordon & Alan

Secret Tunnel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Gordon

Well, my muses have come to life again, which is both great for my mental state and annoying timing with regards to the uni work I'm supposed to be doing, but I'll make it work :D

After making a Military Bros masterpost of everything I've written for those two for Military Bros Day, I started thinking about all the different brother duos and how much I've written for each of them. Now, I might be forgetting something, but the one combination I don't recall writing anything for at all is Gordon&Alan, so I poked at my muses and we came up with this!

It's only a loose tie-in to the prompt, I think, but some sensible Tinies content counts as being mature, right?

Colour Symbol Prompts

“So.” Alan glanced up at his brother, raising an eyebrow at the drawl. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Gordon continued, tone light in a way that would have been disarming if it wasn’t Gordon, and they weren’t in the remains of a collapsed building.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked, rolling his shoulder. It was stiff, vocally complaining at the movement, and Alan was well aware that without the pauldrons his overprotective brothers had thrown on his uniform before letting him join IR it would be a lot worse. While none of the debris had hit either of them directly, some smaller chunks of masonry had glanced off his left shoulder.

Gordon’s sharp amber eyes tracked the motion even as his brother spoke. “Well, the bad news is that our comms are down.” Alan had suspected as such, but the fact still dumped a heavy weight on his chest. No comms meant no John, no Scott or Virgil, no help from outside. He didn’t like being cut off from his brothers at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times.

Still, he at least had one brother this time, and despite his penchant for not taking things seriously at home, when out on a mission, Gordon was as reliable as they came. They might not have Thunderbird Five’s data at their disposal, or Scott’s leadership, or Virgil’s muscles, but they did have two working brains between them.

Panicking, as Alan had learnt the hard way on other rescues where things went wrong, did him no favours at all. He swallowed back the instinctual panic and met Gordon’s eyes in the artificial half light of the glowstick from Gordon’s baldric.

“So what’s the good news?” he asked.

“The good news,” Gordon said with a flourish and grin reserved for when things weren’t going their way and Alan’s immediate brother decided the world wasn’t allowed to do that, “is that I think I’ve found us a way out.”

“You think?” Alan couldn’t help but question, even though he was already scrabbling his way to his feet and looking around in the hopes of seeing whatever Gordon had found.

“Over here.” He followed the glowstick as Gordon headed over towards where the rubble looked the thickest, blocking them in. “There’s air flowing in.”

Neither of their uniforms offered much by way of exposed skin, but Alan leaned down where Gordon gestured and took off his helmet just long enough to feel a faint breeze on his cheek.

“Where’s that coming from?” he asked, tugging his helmet back on. Gordon pointed at the floor, or what had once been the floor.

“It’s coming from down there,” he said.

“The floor?” Alan knelt down where Gordon gestured. “Why would it be coming from the- oh.”

The house they’d been in, and were now trapped inside, had been an old one. Alan didn’t remember the exact age, but it was a couple of centuries old at least. Old houses, especially larger ones, had secret passageways.

“So how do we get it open?” he wondered out loud, already rummaging around the area. Gordon crouched down next to him with a shrug as his hands joined Alan’s in trying to find a way to open the passageway that had to be there if they were getting airflow.

“Figured finding ways to open secret passages was more your thing,” his brother admitted. “Don’t those games of yours have secret passageways in all the time?”

The question was an honest one, and Alan blinked. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but those are games. This is real. It won’t be the same.” Despite his words, his fingers were still pulling and pushing at the stones that made up the floor, because at least it was a lead.

They could, of course, wait for their bigger brothers to barge their way in, with Virgil encased in his exosuit and Scott so close behind he’d be standing on his heels while John guided them non-stop over the comms, but there was still a lot of work to be done and they were deep inside the building.

Said building took that moment to groan again, threatening another collapse if they didn’t get out pronto. Alan loved his brothers, but he wasn’t about to get crushed because he’d waited helplessly for rescue. The danger zone covered a large area, and while he and Gordon had found no casualties in their sector, Virgil and Scott would have to prioritise the civilians elsewhere no matter how much they might be panicking about losing contact with the pair of them.

If he and Gordon could find their own way out, so much the better.

“It’s close enough, right?” Gordon shrugged, still sounding inappropriately light-hearted for the situation. Alan didn’t take it personally – Gordon’s coping strategies had time and time proven themselves to be effective.

“I’ll let you know,” he grunted, finding ridges in the stone floor. “Bring that light closer. I think I’ve got something.”

The sickly green glow spread across more of his vision as Gordon held it close to his hands, illuminating the remains of the floor below them. There were multiple ridges carved into the stone, all uniform and completely mundane.

Except for the section that wasn’t.

Alan almost missed it, huffing in defeat as he sat on his haunches and rubbed at his shoulder again. At a glance, it looked no different to the rest of the floor, but it had caught his glove in a way the others hadn’t. It was also in the same place as the mysterious airflow.

Gloved fingers scrabbled at the discrepancy, hunting for a purchase that would hopefully reveal their way out. Gordon had moved to crouch right next to him, holding the glowstick aloft but otherwise keeping his hands to himself and leaving the investigation to Alan. His presence there was comforting, helping Alan to keep it together when part of him wanted to scream into his dead comms in the hope that John would pick it up anyway.

There was a click, barely audible over the noise of creaking masonry in their immediate vicinity. Alan felt it rather than heard it, his fingers suddenly pressing down as the resistance vanished. Age old mechanisms whirred back into life, until with a clunk part of the floor moved down and to the side, revealing a small, dark, passageway leading down into the belly of the house.

“Nice one,” Gordon acknowledged, leaning forwards and peering into the inky depths. A second glowstick was snapped and tossed in, illuminating what was definitely a rough-hewn rock corridor. “I’ll go first.”

He was halfway in by the time the words registered, and Alan peered at the opening with some reluctance. “And you’re sure this will get us out?” he checked, because he didn’t want to wait to be rescued like a civilian, but he also had no intentions of being buried alive.

“That air’s coming from somewhere,” Gordon reminded him, edging forwards a few more paces until he reached the glowstick laying where it had landed on the floor of the corridor. “And the roof of this thing seems pretty sturdy.” He rapped it a couple of times with his knuckles. “If the rest of the house collapses, this’ll be the last thing to go.”

A glance around showed that his brother was probably right. Alan swallowed before following him inside, sticking right on Gordon’s heels as the older blond led the way, glowstick held up high for light.

As far as passages went, it was small. Apt for a secret passage, but annoying when the ceiling lowered and the pair of them had to stoop almost double to get through some sections. It twisted and turned, in some areas narrow enough to force them to go through sideways, and at one point the way forwards seemed to vanish altogether before Alan realised a shaft of rock was concealing the next section.

It definitely lived up to its likely original purpose of a secret escape. Pursuing someone through there would be difficult; luckily, the only aim Alan and Gordon had was getting out of the collapsed building.

The first sign of the outside world was when their comms crackled in unison. It was impossible to make anything out through the static, but the garbled voice of John was definitely missing the calm tones their ginger brother usually deployed on rescues. Scott’s response was short and sharp, clipped in a way that screamed panic, and the low rumble of Virgil felt on edge, too.

Returning comms promised that they had to nearly be out, and Alan stumbled forwards, almost catching himself with his painful shoulder before he arrested his momentum with his healthy arm instead.

Neither he nor Gordon spoke, even though he was certain the same thoughts had to be running through his brother’s head as well. They were close, but they weren’t out yet, and had no reassurance that the exit for the secret tunnel hadn’t been collapsed or buried by more falling debris.

Still, it remained the best chance they had. Alan didn’t fancy trailing back through the passageway and sitting back in the rubble of the building, and he knew Gordon felt the same, so pushing onwards was their only choice. It continued to twist and turn, dog-legging and backtracking with no apparent rhyme nor reason. Alan tried to keep track of it in his head, logging it like any secret passage in Cavern Quest, but it put all the virtual ones to shame.

Then Gordon stopped, and Alan walked straight into him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed instinctively, before stepping back a pace. “Why have we stopped?”

“It doesn’t go any further,” Gordon said, holding the glowstick high. It was running out of juice, leaving the sickly green glow far fainter than it had been earlier. It was barely enough light to make out his brother’s face, let alone whatever the rocks surrounding them were doing. “This must be the end.”

“So get us out,” Alan shrugged, rubbing his shoulder and trying to hide the wince of pain that came with the action. Their comms were still broadcasting garbled static interspersed with panicked voices, but the signal was still too poor to even attempt to get hold of John. “There’ll be a mechanism somewhere. Try looking for something slightly off in the ridges on the stone?”

“Trying,” Gordon grunted. The faint green-lit silhouette of his shoulders strained as he pushed and pulled at the rocks. “Not finding anything, Alan.”

“Let me try.” He pushed forwards, trying to squeeze past Gordon to get a better look at the wall of rock blocking their way. Gordon fell back without complaint, although it took a lot of pushing and pulling, and a concerning scrape against his helmet before they managed it.

Alan was struck by a flash of gratitude that none of their older brothers were with them. Scott and John would both be too tall, and Virgil was too bulky. Getting through the passageway with one of them would have been a nightmare. At least he hadn’t yet stopped growing and Gordon was small – not that he planned on mentioning that to Gordon just yet. There was a time and a place for the teasing, and this was neither.

With Gordon now behind him, looming over his shoulder with the ever-fading glowstick held out helpfully in his periphery, Alan reached out and felt around for something similar to the switch he’d found to get them into the tunnel from the other end. Carefully uniform ridges carved across the rock and he followed them with his fingers until, finally, something gave.

Bright light spilled in as the end of the tunnel opened, blinding him with midday sun.

That, however, paled in comparison to the way both their comm audios suddenly sharpened.

“Any sign of them?” Scott’s voice demanded.

“Keep working on getting the mother out of that room,” John non-answered, still sounding far too on edge. “Virgil, there’s a small life sign the other side of the wall.”

“F.A.B.” The forced calm of Virgil’s voice told Alan he was no less agitated than the other two.

“Hey guys.” Gordon chipped in, echoing in Alan’s helmet from the comm channel in stereo with the sound of his voice in real time. “Where do you need us, Thunderbird Five?”

“Gordon!” All three voices overlapped in frantic cacophony. “Where are you?” Scott demanded. “Where’s Alan? Are you okay?”

“I’m here, too,” Alan promised.

“We’re fine,” Gordon added. “Who’s left to save?”

“Virgil and Scott are on the last life signs now,” John told them. “Your signals have reappeared a fair way out from the danger zone; get yourselves back to Thunderbird Two.”

Alan looked around and realised he was right – the two Thunderbirds gleamed in the sunlight, but it was immediately clear that the passageway they’d taken had led almost directly away from the crafts. Even in a straight line, the walk was going to take a good quarter of an hour.

Next to him, Gordon sighed and started walking. “F.A.B.,” he agreed. Alan stumbled a little as he lurched forwards to keep up. “We’ll see you there.”

Sure enough, by the time they arrived, both on-site brothers were waiting impatiently. It was clear that it was only the presence of their rescuees that had stopped them from striking out to meet them, but even that wasn’t enough to stop their big brothers charging towards them as soon as they were visible.

Scott reached them first, always the fastest runner, and Alan let out an oof as he was crushed into a frantic hug alongside Gordon. Worried blue eyes looked them both over, narrowing as they found something they didn’t like.

He was pushed aside as Virgil reached them, Thunderbird Two’s pilot refraining from giving them a bear hug only because he’d clearly spotted the scrape on Alan’s helmet as he’d approached.

“Are you hurt?” A medscanner was deployed almost before Virgil was finished talking. Scott didn’t wait for permission from anyone before carefully detaching Alan’s helmet and peering at his head. Alan didn’t bother to stop him.

“I’m fine!” he made sure to protest, though, although his hand betrayed him as it subconsciously moved across to rub at his shoulder again. None of his brothers missed the action, and before he knew it he was being whisked inside the green Thunderbird so Virgil could take a closer look.

Scott hovered worriedly by his side, glancing over periodically at Gordon. Alan followed suit, catching Gordon’s eye, and his brother rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. It was fond, though; Alan wasn’t at all surprised by Scott and Virgil’s behaviour, and he highly doubted Gordon was, either.

It was just a hazard of having older brothers.

[gorochanfanclub]

Change of Plans

Majima x Original Female Character

Summary: Alternate Goromi origin story. Majima is trying to train his assistant to be a hostess for his latest Kiryu scheme, but gets more than what he bargained for...

Contains: Goromi, sexually suggestive content, a couple curse words, a very jealous Majima

A/N: Haven’t posted anything here in a hot minute but had this idea and wanted to share. Only reason I didn’t make this an x reader is because the way I wanted it to end, it wouldn’t have worked :/ The only really defining traits of the woman in the story are that she’s a very tall American, has big b00bie, and her name is Hiromi. Also... please don’t take this too seriously >.< it was just something silly I thought of lol. This isn’t usually the type of style I like to write in, but I thought it might be fun to make something not so serious or heavy for a change! I hope you all do enjoy it!!

Running her hands down her body, Hiromi looks at herself in the mirror, turning slowly to view herself from every angle possible. The pink leather shines and gleams in the dim light of the dressing room, flashes of snakeskin detail sparkling in the mirror. She barely felt her ass held into the garment, the highest parts of her thighs getting a cool breeze from the fishnet stockings on them. Her broad shoulders poked out the top, her breasts pushed nearly to her chin. 

The entire ensemble was loud, definitely something she couldn’t possibly imagine herself wearing usually. However, she hadn’t been the one to pick out this outfit in the first place, her boss did. Majima, in another one of his crazy antics, had dragged her to a cabaret club of all places, thrown the clothes in her arms, and shoved her into the back room, demanding she change instantly. 

Groaning, Hiromi wonders if Majima really intended for her to leave the room dressed like this. It showed so much skin. She barely remembers the last time she was out in public showing this much skin, even swimming, Hiromi always opted for more conservative attire. 

A loud knock at the door draws her from her thoughts, her employer’s voice shouting yet muffled by the wooden slab. “Hey, Hiromi-chan,” he barks, “Ya been in there for a while now. How long does it take for you to put a dress on?” 

Looking back at herself in the mirror she grimaces. “Majima-san?” she calls over her shoulder, “Do you really want me to wear this?” She pauses, “What is this even for?”

Even through the door, she can hear her boss groan. “I don’t pay ya to ask questions, Hiromi-chan.” 

“I know you don’t, sir,” she snaps back, “You pay me to drive you around. Not wear…” her eyes find her reflection once more, “less than modest clothing.” 

The doorknob starts to giggle at her remark. “I’m sure ya look great,” Majima mutters, saying something under his breath afterwards Hiromi can’t quite hear. “I’m comin’ in, ya decent?” 

Nodding with a hum, Hiromi watches the door fly open, her boss standing in the doorway, the cabaret club’s owner hot on his heels. Eyeing her up and down, Majima soaks her up. A wicked grin plasters itself on his face. “Hot damn, girly!” he exclaims, “Ya look great! The boys are gonna eat you up.” 

Blinking rapidly, Hiromi stares at him with eyes like saucers. “‘Eat me up?’” she repeats, “Don’t you think this is…” she can’t finish, only looking at the vast amount of skin showing from under her clothes. 

Majima tilts his head, “It’s what? Don’t like what I picked ya?” 

Hiromi shakes her head rapidly, “Uh, no it’s fine, it’s just a little… revealing… is all.” 

Making his way across the room, Majima claps a gloved hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “Of course it is!” he shouts, his booming voice echoing in the room, “When yer in this line of work, ya gotta show off the goods.” With a flirtatious wink that makes Hiromi’s cheeks feel on fire, he adds, “And trust me, girly... you got ‘em.” 

Majima then steps back, looking her up and down once more before stopping at her breasts. The dress was barely holding them in and it made Majima chuckle, “Not to mention, I think Kiryu’s got a thing for big knockers like yers.” 

“What?” Hiromi snaps, “This is a Kiryu thing? You’re dragging me into this now?”

The one eyed man only shrugs, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? Yer on my payroll and I gotta use the tools I got on hand. Right now sweetheart, that’s you.” 

Slumping her shoulders, Hiromi knows it was best to simply accept her fate and take her orders. There was no arguing with Majima once his heart was set on something. The man was not only stubborn, he was determined. Sighing, she asks, “Alright, what would like me to do, sir?” 

Cackling maniacally, Majima claps, rubbing his leather gloves together in anticipation. “That’s more like it!” he shouts with glee. 

He then steps to Hiromi’s side, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders, leading her past the club owner and out into the main section of the club. “Now,” he explains, “here’s the plan; yer gonna use,” he gestures to her body, making a particularly large gesture to her chest, “all this, to lure Kiryu-chan in, right?” 

Hiromi nods in acknowledgement as he continues, “Get him all buttered up ‘n’ shit. Then…” he snaps loudly in front of Hiromi’s face, making her jerk backwards for a second, “I’ll swoop in for the kill- start disrespectin’ ya and all. Kiryu’s a real gentleman, there’s no way he’ll pass up the chance to fight fer a girl’s honor.” He ogles her breasts once more, “‘Specially one as busty as you.” 

The woman stutters nervously and incoherently before clearing her throat, “Do you really think I’ll be able to win him over, Majima-san?” Looking down, she rubs the back of her neck, “Kiryu seems to be a rather tough nut to crack. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this.” 

Walking them to a table in the back Majima chuckles once more. “I know yer, not,” he states blankly, much to his assistant’s surprise. “That’s why I’m gonna train ya…” 

Before she can protest, Hiromi feels herself being shoved onto the plush velvet sofa behind her. With a huff, she flops down, looking up through her hair to see Majima situating himself next to her. 

Sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face, Hiromi meekly asks, “Wh-what kind of training do I need, sir?” Looking down, she notices how far up her risque dress has ridden up. With a faint blush dusting her cheeks, she tugs it as close to her knees as possible, the action completely foiled by the lack of fabric the dress had. 

Leaning back, Majima makes himself comfortable. Crossing one of his leather clad legs over his knee, he sighs, “Gotta make sure you can handle Kiryu-chan.” Noticing the look of absolute fear on her face, he grins, waving a hand in dismissal, “Just relax, girly girl, we’re just gonna do some talkin’.” 

Majima reaches inside the inner breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and nonchalantly lighting one. As he inhales, a nostalgic smile works its way across his lips, tugging gently at the corners, “Y’know, I used to do this fer a living. Kinda miss it too…” 

He turns slowly to the woman on the seat next to him, “So yer in good hands, Hiromi-chan, nothin’ to worry yer pretty little head about.” 

She nods, taking his words in. Hiromi takes the chance to admire Majima as he prepares for his training session with her. The way the smoke floated around his head, it made him look like an angel, resting above the clouds, looking down on the world that belonged only to him. 

Majima could feel her eyes on him, watching him intently. Suddenly he felt nervous about being here with her, especially with the way he had dressed her, she was practically naked. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all… 

“Nuff about that, tho,” he beams, snapping himself from his dull stupor, pulling Hiromi from hers as well. “Let’s get down to it,” he sighs, raising a inquisitive eyebrow, “Ya ever done anythin’ like this before?” 

Touching a finger to her cheek, Hiromi tilts her head in thought. Majima smirked, finding the action somewhat cute. “Well…” she starts, “I’m not quite sure how ‘this’ all works but… I used to flirt a lot with men at the bars back in my clubbing days,” she turns to her boss with an expectant look, “Does that count, Majima-san?” 

Nodding, he smiles brightly, “That’s exactly the way you gotta act. Talk ‘em up, get ‘em to buy you more drinks,” he points a finger at her, “and usually I wouldn’t say this but since these’re special circumstances… there’s no such thing as ‘too handsy.’ Kiryu-chan’s been in prison fer ten long years, I imagine a perv like him would go wild havin’ a nice little thing like you pawing all over him.” 

Hiromi grins, nodding as she takes in her instructions. She hums, “I think I’m beginning to understand what I need to do.” 

Majima leans back, fluffing up his jacket then smoothing it down as he situates again, “Alright then, we’re just gonna pretend that I’m Kiryu-chan and yer gonna do yer best to win me over.” 

The woman nods shortly leaning back herself. In an instant, she crosses her long legs at the knees, the heel of her left foot tapping the glass table in front of them with a heavy thud. 

The action shocked Majima. His eye looks down to the pink stiletto next to his own thigh, the toes so dangerously close to grazing his leg. Trailing his gaze up her toned legs, he notices the fishnets end right at the thickest part of her rather voluptuous thighs, the elastic squeezing them ever so slightly. 

Following her body further, Majima trains his eye on the way the dress hugged her body in all the right places. From the way it strained against her hips, bunched slightly at her waist, then nearly ripped at her chest, he realized maybe he went a little too far with the outfit. 

Finally, his gaze meets her face. A blush threatens to creep onto his cheeks with the way she is looking at him. It was almost like she had flipped a switch inside her. The usual stoic and no nonsense Hiromi he relied on during a day to day basis was gone. In her place was a tigress, dark eyes staring him down like a wounded prey, ready to be devoured. 

Majima swallows, trying his best to keep his composure. He grins again, hiding his discomfort, “Hello there, my name is Kiryu Kazuma, what’s you’re name?” he asks, doing his best impression of the deep voiced Kiryu. 

The woman tilts her head with a wicked grin, “Hiromi. It means ‘generous beauty.’”

And what a beauty she is, Majima thinks to himself before tilting his own head in confusion, “‘Hiromi?’ That’s a Japanese name, ma’am. Don’t you think you’re a little tall for a Japanese lady?” 

Majima feels something grace his leg and he looks down to see one of Hiromi’s pink shoes rubbing itself gently up and down his thigh. She chuckles, “Astute observation Kiryu-san. In fact, I’m from America. Have you ever been?” 

Shaking his head, Majima shrugs, “Can’t say I have, Hiromi-chan. In fact, I’ve never left Japan.” 

Suddenly, the soft sensation of a foot rubbing his thigh is lost. Majima nearly lets out a displeased groan, choking it back at the last second. When he looks up to meet her face again, he is greeted with her leaning forward, her left hand supporting her and her right resting on the sofa in the spot her foot had previously been. 

“You should make a point to go sometime, Kiryu-san,” Hiromi mutters, her voice barely above a sultry whisper. Her hand begins to trace up Majima’s leg, palming his thigh gently, “I’m sure you’d get lots of young American ladies on your arm, what with you being so big and handsome.” 

This time, Majima isn’t able to hold back the blush on his cheeks. Here he was, sitting in a cabaret club with his long legged, scantily clad, foreign, assistant, and she’s fondling him like they’re lovers. It didn’t help that she was so close he could smell the mint of her gum from earlier still on her breath. 

“Maybe I’d rather stay right here,” Majima counters, “Why go to America when I have a gorgeous American girlie on my arm right now?” 

With a laugh, Hiromi’s fingers dig into the muscle on Majima’s thigh. With them so close to his manhood, Majima couldn’t help himself from jumping in shock. She really took his instruction to heart when he told her to get handsy. Swallowing, Majima wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. 

“You flatter me too much,” Hiromi laughs. Batting her eyelashes she smiles that predatory smile once more, “But… I can’t think of any other place in this world I’d rather be, either.” 

Flattening her palm once more, she trails her touch up Majima’s leg, onto his toned stomach, feeling every contour of his chiseled torso. Taking her other hand, she hooks a finger underneath Majima’s chin, forcing him to look at her, also bringing him a bit closer. 

“I’ve got everything I could possibly want right in front of me…” she whispers. Instinctively, Majima grabs her hip, desperately needing someplace to put his hands. This earns a light chuckle from Hiromi, “Touching already, are we? At least buy me a drink first.” 

Looming over her shoulder, he waves to the club owner to bring something around. Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he nearly stutters, “So, Hiromi-chan, ya got any special guys in yer life? Can’t imagine a sexy little broad like you going to bed alone.” 

The hungry gleam in his eye starts to grow, almost matching her own hungry gaze. She smiles, grazing her fingertips across Majima’s collarbone, “There might be one, and if he plays his cards right tonight…” The grip on his jaw tightens as she pulls his ear to her lips, “I might just go home with him.” 

With fake shock, Majima opens his mouth wide, “That so? Well I hope I do, then. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to wake up next to ya.” His grip on her hip strengthens, his gloved fingers squeaking against the leather of her dress. 

Continuing her motions on his chest, trailing over the edges of his tattoos, Hiromi asks coyly, “Do you have any ‘special’ women waiting for you at home, sir?” 

Majima only chuckles, “Now, if I did, would I really be at a place like this, lettin’ you fawn all over me?” She only shrugs, “You might, I couldn’t possibly know.” 

Shaking his head, Majima smirks, “Nah, I only got one lady in my life, and that’s you, darlin’.” 

Hiromi chuckles, pulling away from Majima once more. The loss of her hands on his skin leaves him feeling lonely and cold. However, suddenly, he finds Hiromi spreading her legs, arcing one over Majima’s hips to straddle him. 

Hovering her bum just above him, she grabs his shoulders, one of her knuckles outlining his jaw. She mumbles against his cheek, her breath causing the hairs on the back of his neck to raise, “Then I think we should enjoy our evening together, Kiryu-san.” 

Kiryu-san. 

Up until she said that, Majima had completely forgotten he was supposed to be training her for a night with Kiryu. Suddenly, the idea of having to watch her touch Kiryu and whisper into his ear the way she was doing to Majima right now seemed extremely unappealing. 

Something inside him boiled at the thought of that. He wasn’t sure what it was but with the way her lips were grazing his jaw and the way her weight was pressing upon him, he wasn’t sure he could stomach watching her do all the same things to another man… a man that wasn’t him. 

Leaning back, he meets her eyes, still dark, still hungry. Majima’s good eye darts to her lips, plump and covered in a hideous, gaudy pink shade that didn’t suit her at all. He was half tempted right then and there to kiss it all off, just to return her to her natural glory. 

Still playing the game Majima had abandoned a long time ago, she smiles, “What do you say, Kiryu-san? Can’t we have some fun?” 

Hearing her say his name again was just enough to pull Majima from his daze. Tapping her hip, that he previously had been gripping for dear life, he mutters to her, “Alright, get up, this isn’t gonna work.” 

Hiromi instantly stops her motions, furrowing her brow at her boss, “Wait- what?” 

Majima, with a bit of difficulty, and reluctance, pushes his assistant off him, sending her stumbling onto the velvet where she previously sat. “I said this ain’t gonna work, girly.” Standing up he glances over her body once more, taking in all the curves, “Kiryu ain’t gonna fall for all that. The guy may be a pervert but he ain’t stupid.” 

Sitting up as fast as she can Hiromi shakes her head, “What do you mean? Was I doing something wrong? Maybe I could try again. Was it too much?” she sputters, desperate to please her boss. 

Was it too much? Majima scoffs internally. She nearly was grinding against him and she had the audacity to ask if it was too much. Fact of the matter was, she was way too good at this, Kiryu wouldn’t have stood a chance. Five more minutes and Majima himself would have lost control.

Waving his hand to quell her blabbing, Majima shakes his head, still trying to pull himself back to reality. “Nah, it’s useless. We’ll have to think of something else. Yer just not cut out fer this, dollface,” he lies. 

Hanging her head in defeat she sighs, “I’m sorry, Majima-san, I really was trying.” 

Sighing himself, Majima feels a pang of guilt, “Don’t worry about it.” His eye falls to the hem of her dress that had ridden up a little too high. Finding it hard to breathe looking at her, he turns away, “Why don’t ya go get changed? That old thing is ugly as fuck anyway.” 

Hiromi nods, standing up and smoothing her dress down, “Yes, sir,” she states. Before she turns to leave, she looks down at herself one more time. She chuckles once then glances to Majima, “It’s a shame no one will get to see it, though… In fact, it might actually look pretty good on you, Majima-san.” 

At that comment, a lightbulb shines in Majima’s head. He darts his attention back to his assistant, eyeing the pink leather dress. “Say that again, Hiromi-chan,” he commands. 

Her smile falls, face contorting in confusion again. She slowly repeats herself, “‘It might actually look pretty good on you?’”

Of course, Majima thought. If Hiromi couldn’t get Kiryu to fight him, Majima could. What in this world would piss Kiryu off more than embarrassing him in front of an entire cabaret club by having drinks with a yakuza in drag? And if that didn’t work, Majima knew he could think of something on the fly. 

“Hiromi-chan,” Majima starts, “Yer a genius, I could kiss you right now.”

Her eyes go wide as her face goes dark with a blush, “You could... kiss me?”

Realizing what he just said, Majima nervously rubs the back of his neck, “Jeez, it’s just a figure of speech. I just mean... oh nevermind... come here a sec. I wanna see somethin’.”

Doing as she’s told, Hiromi walks up to her boss meekly. Majima moves to stand beside her, comparing his height and build to hers. Seeing how similar they were, he asks, “Say, Hiromi-chan, looks like we’re about the same size.” 

She only nervously nods, “Why, yes, sir. I’m a rather large woman and, with no offense to you, you’re a rather slim man. It isn’t too far fetched to think we’d be a similar size.” 

Grabbing her shoulders, Majima shoves her towards the back of the club, to the dressing room. “Great, now go take that thing off… and hand it to me when yer done.” 

“Hand it to… you?” 

***

After a long hour of doing his hair and makeup, Majima came out of the dressing room looking like a new man or in this case… woman. 

While he may not have had the assets to fill the garment out, Hiromi couldn’t deny that it indeed fit him like a glove. Not to mention, the pink faux snakeskin looked so much better on him. 

Arms crossed as she watches him prance around, fully drowning himself in his new character, Hiromi shakes her head in disbelief, “I had no idea this is what you had in mind as a backup plan but… color me impressed, sir. This might just be your greatest scheme yet.” 

With a feminine chuckle Majima flutters his eyelashes, “Why, thank you Hiromi-chan.” Stopping for a moment, he looks into the mirror, a scowl on his face, “Just need a name to match this pretty face.” 

Perking back up, he whips around, “I got one. Goromi.” Gesturing between them, he nods, “It’s my name and your name put together. What could be more perfect?” 

Hiromi nods, chuckling, “Very clever, sir.” Turning her wrist over, she checks her watch, “Majima-san, it’s getting late, should I phone Kiryu-san and have him swing by?” 

A manic grin spreads across Majima’s lips, the anticipation of violence making him giddy. “Do it. I think it’s time for Goromi to make her debut…” 

[pregnant-piggy]

One coffee please (1/2)

Blaise Zabini x reader

This is part of all I want for Christmas is fanfiction

This is written for @kalimagik‘s writing challenge

Words: 2.9k

A/N: this was my first time properly writing for Blaise and it will definitely not be the last. With this fic he has grown to be a character close to my heart and I am already excited to write more for him!

Prompts: 'what are you talking about? This is brilliant!' and 'you're cute when you're mad'

It was definitely winter. The wind was blazing around in the streets, howling around the corners of high buildings. It was blowing against the windows of houses and apartments, creating loud thrums in the ears of the people inside. The skies were dark grey in the night and icy blue in the morning. The sun was shining but it was cold. Streets froze overnight, but thawed before anyone woke up.

Even the thickest sheets and blankets couldn’t keep you warm as you lied in bed. At night you curled up to a ball to keep all the heat close to your body, but in the morning you woke with cold toes and fingertips. The sheets didn’t reach far enough to your neck and even your woollen jumper couldn’t protect you from the freeze. It was now more than ever that you longed for someone to cling onto in the night, to have their body heat against your skin. You wanted to feel the warmth that came from someone’s arms around your waist and the heat of someone’s fingertips on the skin under your jumper.

Instead you woke up alone in your apartment, the wind pounding against the tall windows. A moan escaped your mouth as you stretched out and the little bones in your back cracked. The cold air of your room flew over your arms and goose bumps formed all from your wrists to your armpits. A shiver ran over your spine, sliding from your neck to the dip of your back. A cold spread through your entire body from only putting your arms above the sheets.

Resting your arms atop of the blankets over your duvet, you sighed and opened your eyes, greeting the darkness that came with the winter's mornings. The sun that woke you in the summer was now still hidden behind the horizon and the tall buildings in the city. The skies were dark blue with clouds that coloured orange from the street lights. Maybe if it had been clear you could have seen the stars.

You had to get out of bed eventually. The longer you stayed in, the more you would have to hurry and the thought of that was almost enough to get you out of bed. But instead you rubbed your face and stared at the ceiling until the alarm from your phone sounded through your room. You lifted your body half in your bed and reached for your phone on the nightstand. Your cold fingers had turned off the alarm before you could even see the screen of your phone; waking up like this had become a habit lately.

After five minutes even your social media couldn’t keep your mind from the fact that useful time was passing and you tossed your phone somewhere on your bed. After a deep breath you threw the blankets and sheets off your yet warm body and swung your feet over the edge of your bed. If it wasn’t for the rug under your feet you would have crawled back into your bed. But instead you got up from your bed and walked to your closet, contemplating just wearing sweats.

You settled on a black pair of jeans and a dark green jumper with a turtle neck, so that you would still be warm. After freshening up and making yourself look acceptable to the outside public, you put on your shoes and stole an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen on your way to the door. Breakfast would come later. Right now you had to make sure you were on time.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Blaise wished he hadn’t worn his hoodie to bed last night. He woke with a sweaty back and quickly threw off the sheets. He welcomed the coldness with open arms, feeling the air wrapping around his hot body and calming down his skin.

It took him fifteen minutes to take a short shower, brush his teeth and put on some clothes. Much different from what anyone would wear on such a cold day, Blaise chose for a simple button up and rolled up the sleeves up his arms, his tattoos peeking out.

He took his keys and wallet from the table next to the front door and closed the door behind him, while he put on the leather jacket and checked his phone for any messages. The door locked with a soft click and Blaise put his other arm in his jacket, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. He reached into his pocket, fishing out his earphones and plugging them into his phone. The tones of his favourite song soon started to play and he relaxed as he walked out of his apartment building.

The streets under his feet were more slippery than they had been all week and it took Blaise a woman who nearly fell to realise. While the woman was helped by a passer-by, Blaise quickly turned around the corner and quickened his pace.

His hands were in his pockets, playing with the keys in his right one. The beat of the music synced with his steps and for a moment he forgot it was early in the morning and he wasn’t a morning person. He even arrived with a smile at the coffee shop he was headed for.

The bell of The Old Coffee House tingled when Blaise pushed open the door. The coffee shop originally was started by his grandfather, who had thought it would be a good thing to do with his retirement. The coffee shop was celebrating its thirtieth anniversary next year. It was the oldest company in the whole block and by tourists it was seen as a mark for the city. Blaise didn’t know if it was really that, but he was glad there were enough costumers.

His mother was managing the place from her home and she would come in once a week, to make sure everything went well. But it was mostly Blaise who had the control in the shop.

Well, Blaise and you.

You were Blaise's best friend. Your mothers were best friends and being forced to spend time together when you were kids had let to a connection to build. You had spent your whole lives together and when Blaise's mother was looking for someone to help her son in the coffee shop, you had been the first to volunteer. He had now been working with you for a year and it had only made that you were even closer now.

Blaise knew everything about you, from your morning routine to your favourite song and the dance you'd do to it. He knew what to do when you were down in the dump and what to give you when you were, as he called, ‘hangry’. He knew how to cheer you up and when to leave you alone when you were angry.

He had seen you at your best and at your worst. He was the first one to hear about your first date with your boyfriend and the one who was there when said boyfriend suddenly left you alone. He had seen you dancing on tabletops and crying in your bed.

Blaise was always there for you, because you had been there for him his entire life.

‘Well aren’t you happy for a Monday morning?’ you asked as you made your way into the space from the backroom, tying an apron at your back. Blaise rolled his eyes at you and took off his jacket. He hung it next to your coat behind the counter and took the apron from the hook, tying it the same way you had done. ‘What got you so cheerful?’

Blaise shrugged and leaned on the counter with his right forearm, watching you as you filled the coffee machine with coffee beans. You were humming along to a song that was playing over the radio while you turned on the machine and made two cups of coffee.

The grinding of the coffee beans sounded over the radio and your humming got softer as you lost track of where the song was. Instead you nodded along to the beat that was still vaguely audible over the low buzzing.

Blaise snickered when you tried to hit the high note and your hum failed to reach it. You shot him an annoyed look and he only shrugged at you, grinning as he turned around and he heard the huff from your lips.

Soon you fell into the routine that had developed over time. Since neither you nor Blaise were morning people, it was soon found that it was best if it was just silent. The only sounds were the radio and the occasional talk with a customer. It was a serene scene for anyone to walk into, seeing two people work in silence in a place that could be such a buzz in the afternoon.

While you helped a costumer to their coffee and muffin, Blaise leaned against the counter and watched you. The sunlight came in from the window behind you and the silhouette of your face was painted against a canvas of golden light. The edges of your figure were outlined by a golden thread. Your cheeks glowed up and your eyes seemed like the brightest gemstones Blaise had ever seen.

Blaise would be the last one to deny that you were pretty. Over the years he had seen you grow into the wonderful person you were now, inside and outside. There was something about your appearance that told the world how you were. With just one glance someone could see you as the passionate person you were, but Blaise knew that there was so much more to it than just passion.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked and Blaise was pulled from his thoughts. He flashed you his smirk and nodded before he took his own coffee mug. You raised your eyebrow at him as you noticed that what was in his mug was not coffee.

‘What’s in there?’ you asked, stepping closer to Blaise, ordering him to show his mug with your finger. ‘It smells like cinnamon.’

‘That’s because it has cinnamon in it,’ Blaise shrugged and he took a sip.

‘Well, of course,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘I figured that.’

Blaise lifted the mug to drink again, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist and taking the mug from him. You eyed it suspiciously and smelled it. Over the cup you made eye contact with Blaise and with your eyes you pleaded him to tell you what it was.

‘I made it,’ he said, suddenly feeling insecure. He had never told anyone about it. He knew it was silly, but he was afraid someone would judge him over his coffee.  ‘I was messing around at home once and this kind of came out of it… It’s not much, but it does help keep you awake.’

You squeezed your eyes before you carefully took a sip and Blaise watched you, biting the inside of his mouth anxiously. You swallowed and held your eyes closed a little longer. Blaise shook his head and turned away from you.

‘I know it’s rubbish-’

‘What are you talking about?’ you cried out, turned Blaise back to you. ‘This is brilliant! You made this?’

The look of adoration on your face was enough for Blaise to start smiling and the blood rushed to his cheeks. He nodded and chuckled when he saw the stun on your face.

‘Why would you hide this from me?’ you asked, tilting your head. ‘What more have you been hiding?’ you added playfully, meaning nothing but still making Blaise fear for his secrets.

‘Nothing you should know about,’ he joked, yet there was a hint of nervousness in his voice that went unnoticed by you. You laughed and pushed Blaise away as you welcomed the next costumer and went back to work.

_-_-_-_-_-_

It had frozen overnight. Or better said, it was freezing at night. It was still dark outside and the sun was hours from rising. Only very few people were awake at this time.

You were sunken deep into your dreams, under layers of blankets to keep the cold from numbing your toes. The cold didn’t bother you yet, but it sure would when you would have to get out of bed in the morning. Luckily, it was Sunday what meant that the coffee shop was closed today and you could stay in bed for as long as you liked. Plans for today had been cast aside and you had nothing to do but sit on the couch in three jumpers and binge your favourite series.

However, fate seemed to have a different thought.

It was narrowing three when the ringtone of your phone started to sound clear and disrupting in your room, waking you from your sleep. In the dark you patted down your nightstand to find the thing that was making the sound and when you found your phone, your thumb automatically went to turn off the alarm. You dropped your phone back next to your pillow, but the sound kept going and you realised it wasn’t your alarm, but someone was calling you.

A loud groan passed your lips as you turned on your back. Squeezing your eyes against the light from the screen and an even louder groan escaped your mouth when you noticed who was calling you.

‘What do you want, Blaise?’ you said, your voice groggy with sleep and annoyance.

It wasn’t unlike Blaise to call you in the middle of the night when he knew you would be asleep just to mess with you, but yet every time he called you worried something had happened to him. However, when you heard his chuckle at your sleepy voice you knew that there couldn’t be something too wrong.

‘Nice talking to you too,’ Blaise said and you could hear the slight double tongue. Of course.

‘Blaise it is two in the morning, what do you want from me?’ you groaned, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you heard Blaise laugh again.

‘I might have accidentally locked myself out of my apartment as I left earlier this night,’ he said. ‘And the janitor won’t answer my calls.’

‘I wonder why,’ you mumbled.

‘Can I come over?’

You sighed and shook your head. Of course you were friends with the guy that forgot his keys in the middle of the night. ‘Sure, come over.’

‘Great, because I am already at your door.’

Without even reacting to that you hung up and put your phone back on your nightstand. You looked in the dark at the pile of blankets on top of you and cursed Blaise under your breath. In the freezing cold you left your bed and patted over to the front door of your apartment. Looking through the peephole in the door you watched Blaise for a minute. His broad shoulders covered with the leather jacket that he never left without were the first thing that caught your eye and you swallowed before you took a step back.

You unlocked the door and opened it. The cold air from the corridor seeped inside the hall of your apartment and you knew that it was over with the heat that you had been trying to create the whole night. You shivered as the coldness reached your bare legs; despite freezing to death, you still couldn’t sleep with long pants.

‘Get inside, idiot,’ you hissed and pulled Blaise inside before he could say anything. He chuckled and ruffled your hair with his cold hand. Taking of his jacket and hanging it next to your other coats, Blaise eyed the distance between the living room and your bedroom curiously.

‘If you wait a minute, I’ll get the couch ready for you,’ you said and you walked to your bedroom, looking at the blankets and deciding which ones you could miss. However, you hadn’t even taken one blanket before Blaise had crawled into your bed, waiting to see what you would do.

Defeated you stood at the foot end of you bed, the end of a blanket in your hands. As much as you tried not to look, you couldn’t help notice Blaise’s bare chest. Your eyes scanned his torso and lingered at his tattoos. It wasn’t like you had never seen Blaise without a shirt, but it just had never happened that he was sitting in your bed without a shirt.

You swallowed down the sudden nervous tingle in your chest and tried to act nonchalant as you shrugged and put the blanket back in its place. You walked around the bed and settled next to Blaise, leaving enough space so it would be appropriate, but still getting a little closer hoping he’d bring you any warmth.

‘Alright, then we’ll do it like this,’ you muttered as you turned down the light and lay down.

And indeed as you had thought, you felt the heat radiating off of Blaise, engulfing you in a warm embrace. The cold that had been pestering you all night was now suddenly gone and you felt you fingers and toes get back some feeling.

‘You owe me breakfast,’ you mumbled as you closed your eyes and your head turned to the side, Blaise’s hot breath stroking over your face as you fell asleep.

- - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter @hahee154hq @chloer1275​

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.5}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 6.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

Five minutes to one thirty, the beginning of defense class. Robin sauntered towards her second row seat with a sigh, dropping down with a smile. Not even half an hour until something would be happening at last, and she already couldn't wait anymore. The entire day had been filled with little but guessing what would be happening, with anticipation and giddiness. Good thing that Morgan wasn't here yet; at least she could keep smiling for another five minutes before it would bring her into a vulnerable position. Or so she thought.

"Hey." A hoarse voice sounded from right next to her, and Robin jumped on the inside, however not even remotely on the outside. At least for Morgan's classes, she always plastered on her thickest facades, and that was her luck now. In an instant Robin turned her head to who was now sitting next to her, surprised to be spoken to at all, and her eyes fell onto the last person she would have expected. Alexander Downing.

For a moment, she just frowned at him in silence, unsure what to say or even if to say anything at all. She hadn't really spoken to him ever since he had stopped bothering her somewhere in her earlier years at Hogwarts, and he had never made an attempt to converse with her either. Until now.

"Uh, I heard it's your birthday today, is that true?" He asked after a moment of awkward silence, with a nervous half smile. Robin's frown only deepened in confusion. What advantage would he gain out of that knowledge? Little… so it was safe to answer.

"It is." She replied neutrally, in her best facade, politely and calmly but without any hint of emotion. Those she had enough on the inside. This surely wasn't what was supposed to happen in half an hour, was it? No… she couldn't imagine that.

"Happy birthday, in that case." He smiled at her, a crooked smile that conveyed enough nervousness to make Robin question his intentions even more. Just out of instinct, or should she call it habit, she held onto her backpack a little tighter, kept tension in all important muscle groups and always had an eye on her surroundings. Whatever he was trying to distract her from, she wouldn't be fooled.

"Thank you." She said though, with a polite but cold smile in return.

"I, uh… do you mind if I sit here with you for today's class?" He asked after another pause, balling the fabric of his trousers in his fists only to release it again a second later. "I forgot my textbook and I thought perhaps… we could share for today?"

Robin wanted to say no. Everything within her said no. "Certainly." Damnit, brain! If only she had the heart to be mean now, for her own sake. But somehow she could only ever be mean in return, never the one to start.

"Thank you…" He let out a relieved breath and another nervous laugh. "I really wasn't sure if you would be willing to."

Instead of giving a verbal reply, Robin summoned her book out of her bag, then placed it on the empty desk in between them. Another minute of silence passed.

"You know, I… uh…" He started again, and Robin dutifully turned to give him a suitable amount of her attention, eyebrows risen. "You have a pretty flower in your hair."

"I am aware. Thank you."

"I'm not good with flowers, or plants in general… but you're really into herbology, aren't you?"

"I deem it highly useful as a study of ingredients for potion making."

"Ah." He said awkwardly, looking down at his desk for a moment before he got out parchment and quill at last. Scribbling the date on top. "So, uh… potions, huh?"

"What about potions?" Robin frowned at him in question and still hugged her backpack to her chest. What exactly did he want from her? Uphold a conversation? Ask for tutoring? He most definitely wasn't sitting here because of a forgotten book.

"You liked the subject before? Or did you… I mean, do you take the N.E.W.T potions class?" He inquired, tapping his quill on the parchment in a way that almost smudged the entire page. Robin shuddered inwardly.

"I continued potions class, yes. It is my favorite subject."

"Cool…" He nodded to himself, turning back to his desk. It was absolutely obvious that he wanted to say something, Robin could tell even without looking at him. He made an attempt to start speaking a few times, subtly, in the belief Robin hadn't noticed. Only when the clock told them it was time for class to start, he finally found his voice again. "Uh, look Robin, I… you…"

"I am listening." She said, once he stopped with a frown to scratch his neck, but she kept looking at him in cool consideration.

"You are-..." He was cut off then by Morgan, who came sauntering down the few stairs from his office.

"Good morning, class! Beautiful day, is it not?" The professor smiled brightly and feignedly as ever, and the usual bunch of girls in the back rows started giggling. Robin groaned under her breath, rolling her eyes when nobody was looking, and then went back to perfect neutrality. Less than thirty minutes. She could do that.

… … …

Honestly, she couldn't focus. Fifteen minutes had passed, crippled away in a slow death, and every new minute had felt longer than the previous one. If Morgan made any more useless comments just to hear the girls in the back fawning over him, Robin would hit her head against her desk until either broke into pieces.

Twenty minutes into class… oh bloody hell, waiting was painful.

Twenty one… She had already read the chapter they were being introduced to now, and it was dreadfully boring to hear it all again, at a pace even the last idiot could follow.

Twenty two… Alexander next to her was actually taking notes of what Morgan said. Robin hadn't even bothered getting out parchment and quill in the first place.

Twenty three… His handwriting was messy. Not the nice kind of messy that held a certain aesthetic of knowledge and experience, like Snape's, but the kind of messy you would expect from a child in kindergarten.

Twenty four… The stupid paint on her face was starting to itch, and she had been dying to rub her eyes all day, only to be reminded by her subconscious mind that she would smudge the entire makeup thing.

Twenty five… Morgan was demonstrating a spell, but Snape had shown Robin a far better one that did the same thing, when they'd talked about the current dada subject in the lab three nights ago.

Twenty six… A tap on Robin's shoulder. She turned around to look at Melody Sparks in the row behind her. Gods, she couldn't believe that she had actually lived with that girl for over three years. Luckily that was long over now. Alexander turned around to the girl behind them as well.

"Hey jay…" Melody sneered with a crude grin. "Cute flower you've got there. Did you steal it from a graveyard?"

Robin gave her a cold glare for a moment, one of the kind that conveyed a bone deep chill, and Melody actually did look mildly frightened. Content with the reaction, Robin turned back around, even if the sight of Morgan wasn't any better.

"Alex!" Melody said quickly, before the boy could turn back to the front as well. It didn't need more than that one word for Robin to know that the girl was head over heels for him. Geez… she had no intention to get involved in any of that. "Alex, do you wanna hang out later?"

"Uh, I…" He croaked out, looking from Melody to Robin and back. Robin didn't look at either of them. "Sorry, Melody, but I really have to study for… charms."

Melody scoffed and leaned back in her chair, and Robin's neutral indifference took on a slightly more humored tone.

Twenty seven… Robin's heart picked up speed in anticipation once again. Three more minutes until precisely two o'clock. What would happen? Would anything happen at all?

Twenty eight… Alexander turned to Robin once again, with a nervous frown on his face.

"Uh, Robin?"

She returned the gaze expectantly and with seemingly more attention than she actually was willing to give him. But pretending to listen was a skill she had acquired long ago.

"I know I wasn't always nice to you and… all that… but look, I don't care what people say about you! You're not as terrifying as everyone claims, leave alone as obnoxious!" He said, and almost stumbled over his own words while he made small tears into the page on the desk in front of him. Robin didn't know what brought her more discomfort, his words or that maltreatment of parchment. "Actually… I think that your mysterious and… kinda scary demeanor is rather... attractive? I mean… crazy is kinda hot, right? Eh… I know that the others make fun of your hair, or… or call you a corpse because of your skin tone, or joke about where you got that scar from… but I don't mind at all! So… I was just wondering if you'd like to… you know… study with me, sometime?"

Twenty nine… Couldn't he have waited another freaking minute with… whatever he was doing here?! Robin felt overwhelmed, more insulted than flattered, and thus she simply stared at Alexander with a frown. Was he trying to mock her? Because nobody could seriously believe what he'd just said to be a compliment. Honestly, she hadn't known half of what he was saying, hadn't heard a word of it, for people usually didn't dare to insult her straight up. That was only left for Morgan to do.

"Am I boring you, Miss Mitchell?" The man in question asked sharply as he stepped up to Robin's desk with a piercing glare.

"Yes." She replied without pulling a face in the slightest, as she merely turned to look up at him with her perfect neutrality as always. Around her, the classroom burst out into whispers and snorts, quiet laughter even. Morgan looked entirely appalled.

Thirty… It was two o'clock at last, and Robin's heart skipped a beat. She ignored Alexander's questioning looks as well Morgan's angry glares, they both didn't matter right now, for she had no intention to make friends nor enemies today. The seconds ticked by, slower than her heartbeats… she was prepared for anything, anything that wasn't nothing. And just when Morgan moved to unleash his wrath upon her, the door finally flew open with a start.

A spate of billowing black took over the room, followed by a wave of immediate silence and attention, and Robin had to clench her teeth to keep her face neutral instead of grinning like an idiot. What Morgan couldn't do with a hundred words, Snape did with his mere presence. It was a feast for Robin's pride in her allegiance.

"Severus!" Morgan actually seemed to be just as startled as most of his students, and no less intimidated by the dangerously grave expression on Snape's face. "I… I'm in the middle of a sixth year class. Is whatever brings you here important enough to warrant such a… sudden disturbance?"

"Obviously."

"What is it I can help you with, then?" Morgan raised his eyebrows in a ridiculous gesture of defiance, which was the last thing Robin saw before he moved to stand with his back to her. That put him right in between her and Snape, as if blocking either from the other, and Robin couldn't tell if he was doing it intentionally or not, and even less to whose benefits his actions might be in that case.

"The headmaster wishes to speak to Miss Mitchell. I ought to see to it that she finds her way to his office… immediately." Snape replied tersely, and every single thing about his demeanor conveyed the gravity of the issue. "And for her not to let fear dictate her actions."

Robin's heart stopped for a second; had she actually done anything wrong? He knew that she wasn't scared of anyone but herself… and he very well knew that Morgan was the last person she wanted to know of her weaknesses. So why that last sentence? Let fear dictate her actions? Then it dawned on her: play along, Snape had said this morning. And playing along she did now, blindly trusting him in this act as she put on her best frightened face. A dash of guilt, a layer of despise… the perfect 'bloody hell I got caught' facade.

Admittedly, she had previously worked very hard on her indifference around Morgan, on the irradiation of any visible weakness, but if Snape deemed it important to change that strategy now, she would trust him with it and play along indeed. He was the true master of deceit, after all, and he knew of the recent increase in her troubles with Morgan. Perhaps that's what this all was about, a change of strategy to deal with him. She would have to ask Snape later.

Morgan moved a step to the side then and looked at Robin just in time to get a good glimpse of her best act. His lips immediately curled into a dark grin that was dripping with bitter spite. "Look at that, the little songbird has finally been caught. One can only hope you don't lose your voice when they put you in a cage."

His words sent a cold shiver all the way along Robin's spine, and while she didn't let that get to her for real, it served her to step up her act even more. With huge, frightened eyes she looked up at the two men in front of her, making herself as small and fragile as possible. It contradicted everything she had tried to display before, everything she was and had done until minutes ago, but still it was terribly easy to play the part now. And while Morgan basked in her feigned vulnerability, Snape's grave expression actually gained a subtle touch of hesitation. Not enough to be known, by far not, but enough for Robin to catch.

She averted her eyes then as she grabbed her book off the table painfully slowly, sighing inwardly in relief when she rose to her feet and held her backpack in her hands in front of her. The act was pathetic, but obviously necessary for some reason she was yet to understand. But at least the situation allowed her to withdraw herself from both Alexander and Morgan, as well as from the room overall. The entire class was still dead silent, and when she subtly looked around at some of the faces, all she saw was pity. They might not like her much, but obviously nobody despised her enough at this point to wish her a fate like the one she seemed to be facing. Little did they know that Snape had come as her salvation, not as her doom. But he did play his part magnificently indeed, and when he pushed Robin out of the room by her shoulder without another word to Morgan, she had to remind herself for a moment that she wasn't actually in trouble. Hopefully.

… … …

The heavy door fell shut behind them and they were alone at last, out of sight with a mere few steps along the hallway. Only then Snape stopped pushing her ahead of himself, dropping his hand from the top of her shoulder to the small of her back as he came to walk next to her instead. The touch left a burning trace along her back even in its subtlety, eradicating every bit of cold Morgan's words had left behind. Robin let out a long but controlled breath as they sauntered down the hallway next to each other; she didn't know what to ask first, so perhaps she should start with the obvious.

"That really was a save in the last second…" She said with a half smile directed at the man next to her. He still looked upset, but his lingering touch on her back was a good indicator that he wasn't upset about her, at least. "I'm not really in trouble, am I? Because you surely are very convincing in your resentment even now."

"You are free of any admonition… It is Morgan who concerns me."

"Why? What's with him?"

"Does he always speak to you in that manner?"

"Not all the time, but it isn't unusual either." Robin shrugged with one shoulder. "He seems to take great delight in my suffering though. Not just academically, but in seeing bad things happening to me in general. Remember the one time I got knocked into a wall during his class? About two weeks ago?"

"You mentioned it, yes."

"He actually smiled the entire time while I was crippled on the floor and hardly able to breathe."

"And you expect me not to be concerned about that?" He frowned at Robin, steering her into a hallway to the right.

"Well… I told you it's been getting worse since the beginning of the year. So in a way, you could say I'm concerned as well. But more for my nerves than my health; that man is mental torture!"

"Either way, today's… theatre should keep him at a distance for a while." He mused with a small sigh that was both annoyed and hopeful at once. An odd combination. "Say, was any of that real?"

"What do you mean?"

"Were you actually quite so… terrified?"

"No. Uncomfortable and a little annoyed perhaps, but not scared." Robin replied with a growing smirk. "You couldn't tell if it was feigned or not? That has to be a new personal best in my acting skills! If I can make you believe it, I can fool anyone."

"I rather hope you will not test that theory. Especially not on me."

"Don't worry… All you see is sincerely me." She smiled at the accidental rhyme for a second, then her brows furrowed ever so slightly. "Why did I have to play that pathetic, terrified girl though? Why destroy the perfect indifference I have actually managed to make him believe? Why today?"

"Damion Morgan is the kind of person who will torment you until he believes you to be broken and subdued. At this point, your only chance to be left alone is to make him believe that he has won at last."

"But I don't want to surrender to him! I'm not scared of him or whatever he'll do to try to drag me down. I can handle him." Robin protested mildly, even if she understood his reasoning very well. "You were the one who told me to be better than him, so why do you want me to just give up now?"

"I'm not asking you to surrender and give up, but to pretend that you do. I know that you could very well drive him to insanity without an actual effort, but I ask you to make him believe that he has the upper hand."

"But why? I can handle him!" Robin asked in almost a whine. She had fought so hard to be better… to let Morgan run into walls no matter from which side he tried to come at her. She had always succeeded as of yet, sometimes with more losses than gain, but she had always stayed on top. And now Snape wanted her to give all that up? "I'm just annoyed by him, that's all. I don't care if he laughs at my pain or makes scary comments about my impediment demise."

"But I do." Snape said so sincerely that a little bit of Robin's resistance melted away immediately. "Please, Robin… Pretend to surrender."

"Everybody will believe me to be vulnerable if I pretend to be! What if, in addition to Morgan, everyone else starts picking on me again as well?"

"Why do you have to be so ridiculously stubborn?!" He grumbled and rolled his eyes at her, but at the same time his fingers dug into her back just a little bit more. It sent a new heatwave through her body immediately. "You do not have to be vulnerable or submissive in order to let him believe he has the upper hand! Use that brilliant mind of yours, you can find another way to fool him into thinking what we want him to think."

"I don't know…" Robin sighed, and before she knew, he had stopped her in her track and turned her around to face him. Another heatwave.

"Do you want me to beg you?!" He asked while his eyes dug soul deep into hers. "Because I will if that is what it takes. You need to convince him that he has the upper hand."

For a moment, Robin's heart stopped beating and time froze to a stillstand. She had never seen him quite so desperate about anything, even if it was still hidden under a layer of composure that was surely exhausting to uphold. Why did he want her to make Morgan believe he had won quite so badly? It didn't matter… not really.

"Alright." She said in a quiet voice, sad eyes holding his gaze. "I'll lay low. Pretend to surrender. Neutrality has barely worked up to this point; perhaps your approach will prove more successful."

"Thank you!" He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, then his hand found Robin's back again as they continued on down the hallway, as if nothing had disrupted their walk in the first place.

"Sorry…" Robin breathed with a small spark of guilt nagging at her conscience. She'd really been rather difficult about this, especially when he just wanted to help her. She had even asked him to help her with Morgan! And obviously he took that task seriously.

"I would rather you scrutinise me than blindly follow any order." He replied with a sigh. "And as for your question about why today, I thought it would be obvious enough, on the surface at least."

"Enlighten me."

"It is your birthday. I was under the impression that you would rather spend it anywhere but in Morgan's classroom."

"Oh, definitely the right impression!" Robin chuckled, and finally the smile returned to her face with the sound. "I was stuck between Morgan's wrath and Alexander's… I don't even know."

"Alexander Downing?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at her in clear distaste for the subject. She couldn't blame him.

"Unfortunately. He was sitting next to me, as you probably saw, because he wanted to share my textbook. But then he kept on talking to me." Robin rolled her eyes now, still feeling irritated by the boy's odd behavior. "It was awful."

"What did he want? I haven't seen you two… conversing before."

"Because we haven't! And I honestly don't know what his true intentions were; he was nervous the entire time and his words left me no wiser."

"What did he say?"

"Well, first he…" Robin stopped in her sentence for a moment, considering if she really wanted to tell Snape what Alexander had said, in all its irritability. Oh to hell with it, why not? "First he said that - and I’m quoting here - I'm 'hot' despite being terrifying and crazy, in his opinion. Then he said people make fun of my hair and my complexion, and finally he asked me if I would fancy to study with him some time. I have absolutely no idea how his mind could even try to put that into a coherent, logical statement."

"Have you considered that he simply might be… interested in you?"

"Interested in mocking me, yes. But I rather think he was trying to get me to help him with his homework, you know, by flattering me. Or what he imagines to be flattery anyway."

"Either way, it makes me believe that my entrance was indeed a… save in the last second, as you put it."

"Yes! Absolutely!" Robin laughed, and when she looked up at Snape, she saw a not-smirk playing on his lips as well. Always a reason for her own smile to brighten inevitably. "So… now that you saved me from a horrible class, a madman and a teenage boy, where exactly are we going?"

"Precisely where I said we were going. To see the headmaster."

Robin's eyes widened in an instant, and her heart skipped a beat in a subtle touch of anxiety. "But… you said I wasn't in trouble!"

"You aren't. I do not lie, just as you don't."

"Then you're confusing me on purpose, already for the second time today!"

"And did the first time end so badly for you?"

"Well-... No." Robin sighed with an exaggerated eye rolling. He was insufferable when he was right.

"In that case, you might want to consider simply trusting me." He replied with a smug expression and a small smirk, and just from the sight of it alone Robin had to smirk as well. Whatever he was up to, it certainly wouldn't end to her disadvantage.

… … …

Robin was the first to enter Dumbledore's office after knocking and not getting a reply. Snape had told her to go in anyway, and he followed shortly behind her himself. While he closed the door, Robin walked ahead, scanning the crowded space for a moment and letting her eyes travel over the obscure objects she had never really had the time to inspect. This place was like a miniature version of the room of hidden things… so much to wonder about, yet so much to frown upon. Eventually her eyes fell onto the sorting hat high up on a shelf, and she stared at it for a moment before turning back to Snape.

"Is the sorting hat just collecting dust up there all year until the beginning of a new term? Or does it have any other purpose than that?" She asked in a quiet tone that just seemed appropriate for the thick silence of the office. Before Snape had any chance to answer her however, a different voice did just that in his turn.

"I am not a useless piece of decoration, Miss Mitchell." The hat grumbled, and Robin jumped around to stare at it again. No matter for how many years she watched the sorting ceremony, she couldn't get used to a talking accessory. "And neither am I an accessory!"

Behind her, Snape let out a humored huff that threatened to make Robin smile as well, hadn't it been for the hat who still gave her the chills.

"You have nothing to be amused about, Severus Snape!" The hat addressed Snape and Robin's eyebrows rose in surprise. Now she did smirk indeed, and it immediately drew the hat's attention back to her. "Neither have you!"

"Well… uh, sorry." Robin said with a small frown directed high up at the hat. "I… we… didn't mean to insult you. But you can't really expect us to know any better if all one sees of you is the sorting ceremony."

"I see you haven't let your house taint your candour in the least." The hat replied in a tone that made Robin frown even more. "The little girl I placed in Slytherin has risen to her grandeur indeed."

"What do you mean by that?" Robin inquired and crossed her arms over her chest while she felt Snape's presence coming closer behind her. She liked that they were on the same side of the conversation for once. And she liked that he was having her back.

"I mean that the girl I placed in Slytherin was by far not a perfect fit for the house of the serpent."

"Then why did you do it?" She asked, trying to keep her voice neutral instead of letting on how the air seemed to vanish out of the room. "Why place me in a house you don't think I belong into?"

"You need to listen more carefully; I said the girl I placed in Slytherin did not belong there. I never said you do not belong there now." The hat replied in an almost scolding manner. "I placed you in your house not because of who you were, but because of who you were going to be. Who you are now."

"That doesn't make any sense. You said that the house hasn't changed me, and yet I didn't belong here before I was who I am now. You have to see how that's contradictory, don't you?"

"The fact that you do not understand it as of yet does not make it any less sensical. Placing you in Slytherin was the necessary thing to do, and it is more obvious now than ever." The hat stated in such a certainty that Robin didn't know what to reply, so she left the talking to the odd piece of clothing. "A mistake made in the past has been corrected at last."

"But-..." Robin started, however she didn't get further when Snape's hand returned to the small of her back and he leaned in close enough for her to hear his words.

"Arguing with the hat is pointless. It will never reveal to you what it does not want to be known." He spoke quietly, and his breath fanned against the delicate skin of her neck in a way that sent a pleasant shudder through her in an instant. Hopefully the hat didn't read her mind now, out of all times… that would not only cause her trouble, but be terribly embarrassing as well.

"Please excuse my delay, I was kept busy by an urgent owl from the ministry." Dumbledore's voice from further down into the room startled both Robin and Snape for once, and in an instant there was an ineffable amount of space between them again. She surely hadn't imagined the whole thing now, had she? There was no time to dwell on it, for Dumbledore was a man who demanded the full attention of everyone present, and now was no exception to that.

"Headmaster." Snape greeted politely, with a hinted nod in acknowledgement. "Thank you for agreeing to hear me about my inquiry."

"Now, Severus, that certainly is nothing to thank me for." Dumbledore smiled that stupid small smile again, and Robin couldn't help deeming him just as deliberately inconcise as the hat had been. The thought lingered only until he turned his head to look at her however. "Miss Mitchell, what a delightful surprise to see you. Given the chance, I would like to wish you a truly happy birthday."

"Thank you." Robin replied with a half smile. "I appreciate that."

"What a lovely flower you have there… A gift, I presume?" The old man raised his eyebrows at her almost knowingly.

"Not a gift." Robin replied quickly as she dropped her arms to her sides to at least somehow demonstrate a subtle touch of confidence. "Merely a point proven."

"I see." Dumbledore's smile widened for a moment, then he went back to his constantly mild facade. "It suits you rather well, if I may say so."

"Certainly you may. Thank you."

"Headmaster, I would like to ask for your permission on an issue of importance to me." Snape finally said, changing the topic as he most definitely picked up on Robin's discomfort even if he stood a good four steps away now. Gods, she was glad for that talent of his.

"What issue?" Dumbledore turned to look at him, releasing Robin from his focus and she honestly felt grateful for that as well.

"I would like to take Miss Mitchell on an… excursion this Saturday." Snape said ever neutrally, and Robin's heart skipped a beat. He wanted what?! "She has made remarkable progress in her studies of uncommon substances, and I would like to give her the opportunity to test one of her theories at least. Under my supervision, of course."

Robin merely blinked at Snape at first, stunned to silence, then she looked over to Dumbledore with no less surprise and back to Snape at last. He actually wanted to do this? Together with her?! Sure, she was aware that he had liked her handbook, he'd told her that much without words even, but she hadn't known that he deemed her studies worth this effort and trouble.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore smiled at Snape first, then at Robin. "How many theories do you have?"

"How much time do you have?" Robin returned in a huff without thinking, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw the not-smirk on Snape's face. When she looked at him in a silent question, asking 'should I?' with her gaze alone, he replied an unmistakable 'yes.' the same way, and Robin's lips tugged into the slightest smile upon their ability to understand each other even without words. Especially without words. Then she summoned her handbook out of her backpack, and walked the few steps to Dumbledore's desk to place it in front of him.

The headmaster looked partially amused, partially surprised when he pushed his reading glasses up his nose and started scanning over the many pages filled with Robin's writing, drawings and cutouts. For a few minutes he flipped through the book carefully, much to her appreciation, until finally he returned the journal with a sincere smile and a small nod.

"Impressive. A thorough and professional study indeed." Dumbledore mused while Robin moved back to stand next to Snape, a good step closer than before, but she could always blame it on coincidence. "I could not say that I know even half of these matters half as well as you obviously do."

"Thank you." She finally replied, giving the headmaster a nod in acknowledgement before she moved to store her journal back in her backpack. "I have been working on this for a while now, but I haven't been able to verify any of it yet."

"Which, precisely, is why I want to encourage the effort to do so." Snape added not even a second later, and they both looked at Dumbledore expectantly, who however only smiled at them for a moment in return.

"Did you two plan this inquiry ahead of time?" He asked with a sincerely humored expression, observing both Snape and Robin with a carefully considering gaze.

"No." Both of them replied at the same time, upon which their heads turned to look at each other in an instant and synchrony. Robin bit her lip to keep from smiling, which only worked partially however when she saw Snape’s surprised face.

"Either way," Dumbledore said with another sincere smile, "I believe your wish to encourage Miss Mitchell in her studies to be justified, Severus. I very much approve of your inquiry, and I would like to encourage it even. Take all of Saturday, both of you. Perhaps you could bring back one or another specimen for the greenhouse, if your excursion should prove any of your theories correct."

"Thank you, headmaster." Snape was first to reply, back to stoicism as ever.

"Yes, thank you!" Robin also added, even if it hadn't been her inquiry in the first place. But it was about her, after all. "I'm sure we can find something new for the greenhouse."

"I have no doubt you will." Dumbledore returned with a nod, and leaned back in his chair at last. "Good luck to you, but do be careful. Straying off the common path proves a risk at times, even for the most… accomplished witches and wizards."

Both nodded, and after saying their polite goodbyes, first Robin and then Snape left the headmaster's stuffy office to skip down the narrow spiral staircase until at last they were back in the hallways.

"So…" Robin started with a small smirk as they were once again sauntering through the empty space. "You couldn't have told me of that plan beforehand?"

"Would it have changed anything?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Besides taking away from your suspense and my amusement?"

"No… not really." She chuckled in return. "May I consider this as a gift then, at least?"

"Yes."

"In that case, thank you very much. I already can't wait for Saturday."

"As… reluctant as I am to admit it, I am rather looking forward to it as well." He sighed, but it couldn't lessen the fact that his subtle smile was obvious as day to Robin. Her heart soared at the sight. It didn't even matter that he was probably looking forward to some practical research rather than to spending time with her, but either was perfectly fine in this case.

"And now?" She finally asked, leaning her head to the side as she looked up at him. "There's still twenty minutes of class time left, officially."

"In that case, we perhaps should see to it that we get out of the castle before the students flood the halls." He mused as he returned her gaze with a humored expression. "Care for a walk?"

"Obviously." She grinned as she finally swung her backpack over her shoulders where it belonged. "I take it then that you're not returning me to Morgan's purgatory? I'm surprised. Professor..."

"As if I would even consider that in the first place… I am the only one who may torment you." He rolled his eyes at her exaggeratedly, but with a not-smirk nonetheless. "Happy birthday, Robin."

______________________________

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[emilycollins00]

A3 Actors! Knight in shining armour

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Omi Fushimi x Reader

Themes: Love-longing / Subtle / Bitter / Hope

“Nah, it can't be”

“I swear on my life”

“No way!”

“I'm telling you Kazunari, it's like that every time” 

The summer member laughed at the seriousness of your voice, leaning back on the couch of the dorm. Frowning at the lack of support you weren’t expecting, you opened your mouth when the bell from the entrance rang, the strong voice of the main cook of Mankai annunciating his arrival. 

Seeing this as an oportunity, you raised an eyebrow at the blond “Watch” 

Turning both of your heads towards the kitchen, you saw Omi entering with hands full of shopping bags. 

“Welcome back, Omimi!” 

“Hey, Omi” 

“I’m back. Oh, Y/N” he smiled as he left the food on the table “Didn’t know you were coming today. I decided to go buy some things on sale and time flew by” 

You paid no mind to his apology. You had been the one to come unannounced after all “It’s fine. Hey Omi, I like you, want to go out with me?” 

“Mhm?” Omi turned to you, blinking for a few seconds before he nodded, a warm smile on his face “Well, I don’t see why not, it’s early. That new camera shop you told me last week, right? I’ll leave my things and we can go” 

As the university student left, you didn’t even bother to look at Kazunari, moving your hands tiredly as if to say ‘what did I tell you’ 

Startled, he looked at you both confused and fascinated "What the…? That was high-key so-” 

Whatever he was about to say didn’t get to leave his mouth, the loud voices of other autumn members arriving from the hall. Banri was commenting something about stances as he pointed Taichi’s script when he noticed you, glass of soda on the table next to a bag of chips. His expression changed from a focused one to entertained. 

“Ah, If it isn’t the person who doesn't live here but it’s startin’ to look like it” 

You greeted them as if you took off an imaginary hat, not bothering to bite back “Hey there Mr. Joker, Taichi” 

Banri scoffed, heading to the table to steal the food as the red-head cried indignantly “Man, why does Ban-chan always gets to be called that? Y/N, I also want a cool nickname!” 

You laughed.

“Why would you want to be even called something by them?” Banri asked, taking a few chips. Frowning, you took the bag of chips from him and pinched him in the ribs “Hey!”

"Jerk"

“You say that because you got a badass nickname!”

“Whatever. Did you finally do something about Omi-san or what”

“Come on, not you too. I was talking about the same thing with Kazunari here two seconds ago!”

You had been Omi’s classmates in the photography club since your first year of university and falling in love with him was not something you had really planned. You were supposed to be friends. Nothing in between.

Easier to say than do, considering the boy’s personality and looks. Ever since his eyes kept locking warmly with yours, taking time to visit new places for panoramic shots or having lunch together to discuss your favorite ways to take photos at dawn… You knew you had pretty much fallen for that lovable and gentle giant.

He was kind, generous and was always a huge help whenever anyone had any kind of trouble. By the time you really started trying to show your feelings, you also discovered the reason why someone like him was still single.

"Why does everyone think I'm not doing anything?” you raised your arms, groaning tired “I’ve tried everything, he’s just the thickest person I've ever seen in my entire life! It's like God put all the good things to show him off and went ‘Hah, let's see who can crack this one!’ Can you believe yesterday he…”

You kept ranting. You were the first one who didn’t know how he had gotten so much into your heart. His obliviousness drove was driving you crazy. 

By the time you finished talking, everyone in that room was speechless. Banri, Kazunari and Taichi looked at each other. 

“I’m back” Omi appeared carrying a jacket and his camera “Ah, did you guys finish practicing? We were about to go out, if you guys want to join- everything okay, Y/N?” 

Even though you were mentally facepalming, you lifted your head and nodded. Taking you bag, you waved as you headed towards the main door. Omi watched your back and started to follow you when Banri called him out. 

“Omi-san, might wanna tell your significant other about tea, they seem more on edge than usual” 

He laughed, as if Banri had said some kind of joke “They do look tired, right? Anyway, I’ll try to be back before dinner. If I'm late there’s some stew on the pot so everyone can heat some rice to go with it” 

After closing the main door. The autumn members and Kazunari stood in silence processing what had just happened again. 

                                ……………………………………

“You were right, they had so many new adaptable lenses, I think I'll come here to buy the new stuff they told us they'll receive next week” 

After visiting the camera shop- which was true you had wanted to go- you and Omi wandered around Veludo Way. 

“Do you mind if we go to the park before we leave? I like the light it has around this time” he turned to you and watched you shrug, indicating you didn't mind. 

“Sure, you’re the boss now” 

He chuckled, and your heart skipped a beat at the sound. He was so not fair.

Arriving at the park during dinner time meant the playground was mostly empty. Just a few kids playing here and there and birds chirping along in the background. The sky was turning a warm toasted orange tinted with red, with the wind howling between the branches of the trees, as if it knew that in the world there was no sweeter music than that of the sounds surrounding a sunset.

You loved sunsets.

“That’s a great smile right there” 

You rolled your eyes as you saw Omi’s camera focusing on you. You tried to look mad, but knew the smile that was on your face said otherwise “You really need to stop doing those things. I already fell for you” 

Omi laughed turning and taking some other photos around you two. You lowered your gaze to the ground.

“Omi”

“Mmm?”

“I like you”

“Uh, me too?” 

“I know. I also have an important question” 

“Sure” he put the camera in front of him, focusing on the sun hiding behind the buildings. Your eyes followed his movement longingly.

Omi was kind, compassionate, diligent. He was something brought out of a fairy tell. The knight in shining armour everyone wanted. You pursed your lips together. You loved him. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?” 

But maybe he didn’t need someone like that at the moment. 

From the corner of his eye, Omi peeked at you, putting the camera down and staring at the view in front of him. None of you spoke for a while, the only sound heard being of the birds and cars in the distance.

“You… are an amazing person, Y/N”

You tried not to let the lump on your throat be noticeable and laughed, sitting on one of the empty swings around the place “I should be the one saying that”

He shook his head “Unlike me, you are not afraid of saying what’s on your mind, and you act on it. It’s... admirable”

As you gripped the chains of the swing, you thought about the concept of knights in shining armour again. 

They looked perfect, but perhaps they were like that because little things could truly find a way through their armour, hiding a self that was vulnerable and damaged.

“Will I be a bother… if I ask you to let me stay with you?”

The smile he had a few moments ago was replaced with a sigh when he looked at you “You know, my siblings used to say I always looked like a big tree, big and dependable” he chuckled “Don’t know were they got it from but I-”

“What do you feel like?” 

Omi scratched the back of his head, thinking about it for a few seconds “Sometimes I imagine myself as a leaf leaving a tree, you know. It… falls upward first, then slowly towards the ground” 

It was as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs and now floated in the air “Will... that leaf ever fully fall?”

“I want to” he looked up at the horizon once again “One day”

You smiled. You didn’t mind waiting.

“One day”

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I love Omi so much, he deserves everything good. I truly hope at some point he understands that too.

Hope you liked it! Have a wonderful day 💕

[depressedkakashihatake-fics]

Bake Me up A Dream

Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Kakagai Week Day 2- Prompt: Flowers

AU: Bakery Au

Edited by: @mireleth

The sound of birds chirping at the front door of his shop drew Tenzo’s attention away from the book that he was currently reading. The door chime he had chosen was perfect. Not obnoxious enough to annoy him whenever there was a new customer, but still out of place enough that he would look up from whatever he was doing without fail.

At his door stood a man wearing possibly the ugliest green tracksuit combo he had ever seen with long hair braided behind his back and the thickest eyebrows in existence. That last observation wasn’t even an exaggeration on his part. Were eyebrows really allowed to be that big?

“Hello.” Slipping his bookmark into place, Tenzo set his book down on the counter in front of him and focused his full attention on the new customer. “How can i help you today?”

A shy smile greeted him. “I’m looking for a plant.” Taking a step into the shop, the man’s eyes scanned the selection of plants that Tenzo currently had out on display. “Something that will survive a few months.”

That was interesting. Very few people bothered to specify that they actually wanted the plant to survive, let alone ‘a few months’.

He had a few plants that could survive quite a long time if given the right care, but finding the right one wasn’t as easy as knowing how long someone wanted it to last. Stepping out from behind the counter, he slowly made his way towards the other man.

“Is there a particular plant you want?” He pressed for more information. “Something that flowers? Or a plant that’s easy to take care of? Big or small?”

“Well…” It was clear that this trip hadn’t been well thought out. Tenzo could see that the questions he asked were now being carefully considered, which was more than he could say for most customers. A lot of people who came through that door just grabbed the prettiest thing they saw, paid, and left without speaking a word to him.

Clearly the man was on a mission.

“I don’t think a flowering plant would be good,” the customer muttered to himself. “He doesn’t like flowers, but he likes sturdy plants. Something that can grow well and doesn’t require a lot of attention. He tends to forget about other things when he’s really focused on tasks.”

That sounded like the type of person who would love Tenzo’s selection of herbaceous perennials. Though there still were quite a lot of them that flowered, he could think of one that might fit the customer’s preferences.

Waving the man forward he did a 180 degree turn and headed towards the back corner where he kept some of his less fragile plants. The ones that didn’t need constant care every day, or needed to be away from the sunlight that shone through the front windows from 7am to 8pm everyday.

“I think…” His eyes scanned the shelves, searching for the plant he was thinking of. “Ah, here it is.” Reaching out, he carefully picked up the small Zamioculcas zamiifolia from the shelf and turned back around, almost jumping out of his skin when he found his customer standing directly behind him. Releasing his grip on the potted plant, he watched in horror as it plummeted towards the floor.

Instead of hearing the sound of the pot shattering against the ground, Tenzo found himself watching as the man swooped down and caught the plant with ease, saving him from losing a sale.

“Sorry,” the shy smile that Tenzo had been greeted with was back on his face, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” With the apology out of the way, he turned his attention down to the plant now resting in his hands. Tenzo wasn’t quite sure what was going through his mind, but the way that his smile slowly morphed into a tender gaze told him that he had made the right choice.

Now he just had to lock in the sale.

“It’s an easy plant to take care of,” he explained, making his way back over towards the counter so he could put some distance between the two of them. “You, or your partner, only really need to water it when the dirt is dry, and even then if you forget a day or two it will still live.”

For a second he thought his words were being ignored. There was no verbal response to what he had said, and the man was still looking down at the plant with the fondest expression. Almost like he was hypnotized by it.

“He’ll love it.” The words finally broke through the silence that had fallen between them, bright happy eyes turning upwards to meet his gaze. “And it’ll go great in the bakery.”

Well, now that was just something Tenzo couldn’t ignore. A bakery sounded like a great idea, especially if it ended up somewhere nearby where he could sneak in once in a while to grab a treat.

Seeing the plant being set down in front of him, Tenzo turned his attention to the till and started to punch in the price, but his interest in the aforementioned bakery continued to nag at him.

“It’ll be ¥7000.” He smiled back at his customer. “And what is this bakery, if you don’t mind me asking? Planning to open up a new place?”

There was a moment of hesitation, but then the flood gates seemed to open. Tenzo hadn’t been expecting such a long, detailed answer to his question. A whole story was presented to him and before he knew it he was invested. This sounded like the best boyfriend ever, and if he was into bad clothing choices he might have been tempted to try to steal this one for himself.

Not that he really thought it was possible. The way that he said his partner’s name, the way his eyes lit up everytime he talked about him. This was a man who was head over heels in love. No-one could hope to steal him.

“Do you think it sounds alright?” Tenzo blinked, a little confused by the question. “I didn’t really talk to him about buying the location. I didn’t have time. It was such a cheap price and I knew if I waited to talk to him someone would swoop it up before I could get back to it in time…”

“I think he’ll love it.” His words were met with a warm happy look. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a boyfriend who listens to them gush about their dream of opening a bakery, and then as soon as he sees a small place on sale for cheap enough just swoops it up without thinking. He’s bound to love it.”

At least, that’s how he would feel if someone had bought him the small shop he now owned knowing that he wanted to open up a flower shop. One that specializes in living potted plants that would stay with a person for months or even years as long as they took proper care of them, unlike the Yamanaka shop down the street. He had never understood the obsession with flowers that had been ripped away from their roots and would die within a week regardless of how much care a person gave them. It seemed such a waste of a beautiful plant.

“Thanks.” Taking the money that was now being presented to him, Tenzo punched it into the till and stashed it away in the drawer. “He has done a lot for me since we were young. Without him I wouldn’t have the dojo, and we’d both be working shitty jobs we didn’t like. I want to pay him back. Give him something he actually enjoys instead of…” He stopped himself there, replacing whatever words he was about to say with a chuckle instead. “Well, I doubt you want me to bore you with the whole story.”

“Not that I have much to do,” Tenzo waved his hand towards the empty store to emphasize his point, “but you should get back and present him with his new gifts. I’m sure he’ll love them both.”

With one final goodbye, Tenzo watched as his customer made his way back out the front door, and as soon as the door chime went off he kicked himself mentally. All of that talking, and he had forgotten to ask where the bakery was going to be, or even what the man’s name was.

He was never going to get one of those delicious cupcakes that apparently made the world stop with their sugary greatness, and that was just upsetting.

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Numbers.

Even when he closed his eyes, all Kakashi saw was numbers. Equations, pay cheques, costs, and deductions. Numbers were swimming in his brain and he wanted nothing more to bash his head against the table until they disappeared.

Why did he have to have the worst job in existence? Why had he been given a brain smart enough to do this job with such ease, but the attention span of a five year old on sugar?

He needed to do something, anything, to take his mind off of all of the paperwork and the endless numbers.

A creaking sound snagged his attention. Gai . Gai was home. Only the front door of their tiny apartment creaked like that, no matter how much oil he put on the hinges to try and get it to stop.

Gai could help him think of more enjoyable things. He was great at doing that.

Bolting up from his seat, Kakashi rushed towards the front room and threw his arms around Gai’s neck, hugging him tightly as he tried to maneuver himself around the body that had suddenly appeared. Not that this was anything new for Gai. Kakashi had started making a habit out of greeting him like this years ago when they first moved into their apartment, and he had never missed the opportunity to greet Gai with just as much enthusiasm as the day before.

Behind him, Pakkun came trudging along after being forced to wake up from his two hour long nap on Kakashi’s lap. The poor pug dog was rarely ever happy to be awoken so rudely, but he usually forgot about his gripes with Kakashi’s sudden movements when he was presented with treats a few minutes after the daily greetings.

“You needed a break, I see.” As always, Gai could see right through him. Whether it was because he was vibrating with excitement or because Gai could see that he had made an absolute mess of his hair while running his fingers through it stressing over his paperwork, it didn’t really matter. Gai was home now and a few hours of relaxing before bed was exactly what he had been looking forward to all day. “Work sending you too much paperwork again?”

“You know how they are.” Hiding his face in Gai’s neck, he closed his eyes and relaxed while Gai set everything down on the small table they had by the door and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Whenever I finish paperwork they send me more. I’m certain they’re pawning off everyone else’s paperwork on me.”

There were actually more accountants than just him. There had to be, for a company as big as Hiruzen-sama’s was. He and his husband, Danzo-Sama, owned restaurants all over the country. One person couldn’t possibly do the paperwork for every single one of them, but some days it felt like they were determined to have Kakashi try.

“Well, I think you should quit.” Tilting his head to the side, Kakashi cracked his right eye open and stared up at Gai. “What? It’s true! You deserve a job where you’re not overworked and constantly stressed.”

“Are you going to find me one of those?” He huffed, forever amused by Gai’s insistence that he find a better job. He had tried to do that in the past and it never worked out. Either his new boss didn’t like him because he was smarter than them, or his new co-workers refused to work with him because he was socially awkward.

Usually the second one. His first day never went well enough for him to stick around and let his boss learn just how smart he was. Honestly, he was lucky he was always allowed to come back after every new attempt. Most bosses would have gotten fed up with him continuously quitting and coming back after three years, but Hiruzen always welcomed him back with a pile of paperwork twice the size as what he had left behind.

Feeling Gai’s arms retracting from his waist, Kakashi whined. He wasn’t done getting comfort hugs yet, but Gai seemed determined to pull away. No matter how much Kakashi tried to squirm his way back into that warm hug Gai continued to retract his arms until he was able to take a step back. With space now between the pair, Gai moved his hands onto Kakashi’s shoulders and gazed deep into his eyes.

It was a little unsettling if he was being honest with himself.

“What if I told you—well if maybe I…” Gai fell silent. It seemed pretty obvious that he was trying to break some sort of news to Kakashi, but he was having troubles doing it, which only made Kakashi worry.

Had Gai found him a new job? Was he going to have to go through the ‘quit, start new job, get fired, and go back to beg for his old job back’ routine all over again? Were they ever going to stop with this stupid game and admit he was stuck where he was?

“Oh, no. Don’t get that look.” Gai’s words cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present and to those soft kind eyes that always seemed to look at him with more love than he could imagine anyone having for someone like him. “It’s a good thing. I did a good thing, Kakashi. Well, I think I did.”

Another moment of doubt, and more worries rushed through Kakashi’s mind. There was no way this could end well for him at all. It never did.

“Gai,” nibbling at his bottom lip, Kakashi took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his face, “I’m good where I am. I know it’s not perfect and it’s a lot of work, but it’s a job. I get paid to be there and that job helped us buy the dojo so it’s a good thing isn’t it?”

There’s no way they would have been able to afford to support Gai’s dream without the money he was making under Hiruzen. No other job paid well enough for them to afford their apartment and save up the money they needed to get Gai’s dojo. The money his father had left him in high school had only been enough to buy the place, not refurbish it and get all of the equipment they needed, and Gai’s job as a trainer at the local gym hadn’t been paying him much at all.

He owed a lot to Hiruzen, so finding another job that wasn’t going to work out in the end wasn’t ideal for him at this point.

Unfortunately, Gai wasn’t convinced.

“It’s not just a new job, Kakashi.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit. Gai’s pep talks always started like this and he always ended up going with whatever new job his boyfriend had found for him. It was getting exhausting. “I mean it. I didn’t talk to someone to get you a chance at a new firm, or to have you doing more paperwork behind a desk.”

Ok, that did sound a bit new. It wouldn’t hurt to at least listen to Gai, would it?

“So,” he raised an eyebrow, still a little unimpressed, “what is it? Did you get me a fast food job? Am I going to be telling teenagers how to make hamburgers and deal with customers yelling at me because they got a pickle on their burger?”

Fast food workers really didn’t get paid enough for the bullshit they had to put up with.

“I would never dream of getting you a job like that.” Gai frowned. “No, I got… well, I found a small place near the dojo that was up for sale. It was really cheap and we still had enough money left over after all of the renovations.”

“Gai, please tell me you didn’t buy another place…” It was enough to have to do the finances for Gai’s dojo on top of all of the work he did for Hiruzen’s companies. Another place to take care of on top of all of that would probably put him in an early grave. “Isn’t one dojo enough? I can’t handle…”

A finger pressed against his lips, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

“I did not buy another building so I could have another dojo.” There was a hurt look in Gai’s eyes when Kakashi looked back at him. “Do you really think… Kakashi, you’ve given up more than enough for me already.”

Ok, he deserved that one. Gai was the sweetest person he had ever met. There was no way he was going to buy himself another building without consulting Kakashi. Especially when Kakashi had put in so many extra hours just so they could afford everything they needed for the first dojo.

“Then what is it?” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation.

“Well, it’s just a small place.” Tilting his head, Kakashi waited for clarification. “Just enough for a small display room and a large kitchen in the back for you to work in.”

A kitchen? That sounded an awful lot like something he had been dreaming about for years. A dream he had only ever dared to share with Gai while they were laying in bed drifting off to sleep.

“Gai…” He was almost afraid to ask. Scared that all of the excitement building up inside of him would come crashing down when Gai told him that his assumptions were wrong. “Did you… are we going to need money to set up a… a bakery?”

The last word left his mouth in a whisper, fear coursing through his veins as he waited for an answer.

There was no verbal response. Just a shy nod of Gai’s head and suddenly Kakashi was throwing his arms around the other man’s neck and hugging him tighter than he ever had before.

“A bakery…” He buried his face into Gai’s neck, taking in the sweet familiar scent of the cologne that Gai put on every day after his afternoon shower. “We’re getting a bakery.”

“One where you can spend your mornings making all of the goodies you can think of.” Gai’s arms wrapped around his waist once more, pulling him close to his chest. “And it’ll be a hit, Kakashi. The only accounting you’ll have to do once we open up business is for your bakery and my dojo.”

“Our bakery,” Kakashi corrected him. “We both know if I try to do the advertisements, PR or anything involving interacting with people that the place is going to flop within a month.” He really wasn’t the best at talking to people. It’s why he always worked from home when he could, and avoided his co-workers when he had to go into the office.

“Our bakery.” Gai chuckled, squeezing Kakashi just a bit tighter into his hug. “And I got the first decoration that we can put up when we open it. But you’ll have to take care of it until the bakery is ready.”

Feeling Gai letting go of him once more, Kakashi whined. He hated giving up Gai’s hugs to do other things. It was never as good as being engulfed by those comfortable, warm arms that he loved so much.

“I’ll give you all of the hugs later, I promise.” A hand came up to his shoulder, carefully turning him around so that he could see the potted plant that Gai had set down on the table behind him earlier. It was the most beautiful plant he had ever seen. “I was told this would be the perfect plant for you.”

Apparently someone knew him very well.

“I love it.” He looked back at Gai with the biggest smile, chuckling when he saw the fond look in the taijutsu master’s eyes “It’ll look great at the front of the bakery where everyone can see it.”

A bakery. His bakery. Part of him still couldn’t believe it.

Reaching up he laid his hand against Gai’s cheek. “Tell me, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

“That’s a very long list.” Leaning down just a bit, Gai pressed a tender kiss to his neck. “One I’ll make sure to give you while we’re celebrating after dinner.”

An amazing boyfriend, a chance at his dream job, and promises of celebrations? There was no way today could get any better for him.

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Three months of endless, grueling work. That is what Kakashi had to put up with to see this day. Ripping out old shitty flooring, more expenses than he had been expecting when he first saw the place, setting up the kitchen just perfectly for him to work in, and finding all of the staff that they needed for their opening day. There had been more than a few bumps in the road, but they had finally made it.

At five in the morning he had crawled out of bed already dreading the thought of going back to his computer to look at more numbers. The sick feeling he got at the mere thought of having to waste away another day organizing Hiruzen-sama’s company accounts had been more than enough to make him want to vomit. A feeling that he had, unfortunately, gotten far too used to over the years.

Then that moment of realization hit him. The date on the calendar he kept up on the kitchen wall beside the fridge caught his eye, and all of those sickly gross feelings washed away.

His last day had been a week ago. Hiruzen-sama had already called him two days after he had finished at the company asking him when he would be coming back, and had laughed when Kakashi told him that he hadn’t even been able to start his new job yet. It had made Kakashi angry but he had pushed it into the back of his mind and focused on finishing the work he and Gai were doing on the new bakery.

And now here he was. Standing at the front of the bakery after having finished making all of the cupcakes, cookies, cakes, pastries and other goodies for the day. His new designers, Sai and Shikamaru, were in the back putting icing on the cupcakes and cakes. The salesperson, Sakura, was in the midst of organizing everything into the display cases, and he was currently busying himself with finding the right place to put his plant.

The plant that Gai had gotten him when he had come home with news of his new purchase. A Zamioculcas zamiifolia according to every bing search that he did to find out how to take care of the thing.

Kakashi had been convinced he would kill it within a few days because of his habit of forgetting to take care of things (including himself), but it had somehow managed to survive until today. It was even bigger than when he had first gotten it which was, in his personal opinion, a miracle.

The sound of dogs barking at the front door alerted Kakashi to his new guest. One Maito Gai in the midst of trying desperately to rein back a large black bull dog and the much smaller, but no less feisty, pug dog that were currently attempting to follow him into the bakery.

“I told you to wait outside.” He could tell Gai was trying to scold the dogs, but his voice was much too soft and kind for it to really have any effect on them. “No dogs in the bakery. We’ll be right out, I promise.”

It was sort of cruel to keep them outside in his opinion. The pair were used to always being by his side at all times, and neither of them had taken it well when Gai dropped him off at the bakery at six in the morning and closed the door before either of them could jump out to follow him. Thankfully Gai’s dojo didn’t have the same health code laws against having pets inside, so Gai decided to spoil his morning class with a visit from his boyfriends hounds.

“You know, if you want them to listen you’re going to have to put a little more strength into your voice,” he offered, laughing when Gai turned to glare at him “Exactly. Take that look and put it into words.”

Gai did not seem to enjoy his humor as much as he did, simply rolling his eyes in response to Kakashi’s words and giving the dogs one final look with a soft ‘two seconds’ before allowing the door to close and turning his full attention to Kakashi.

His eyes seemed to examine Kakashi for a moment. A smile spread across his face as he stepped up to his side and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve seen you since…” Hearing the pause, Kakashi couldn’t help but chuckle. Had it really been that long since he had been happy? How bad was his accounting work getting to him that Gai had to think of when the last time he was genuinely happy was? “Oh, since we adopted Bull!”

Well, that was pretty bad. They had adopted Bull 7 months ago and now Gai was telling him that he hadn’t been as happy as that moment since? That was sort of depressing.

Though, maybe this was just a turning point for him. If things worked out he was never going to have to return to that shitty desk space in their apartment, spending hours sitting and staring at a computer screen. The only finance work he’d have to do from now on was for his own bakery and Gai’s dojo, and somehow that didn’t feel nearly as daunting a task.

“Here,” holding out the Zamioculcas zamiifolia to Gai, he smiled when his boyfriend returned his gesture with a confused look, “I have no idea where to put it, and you’re great at making things look amazing. You chose the layout here after all, so you choose where this goes.”

Taking the plant from Kakashi, Gai took a few short strides up to the front till and carefully placed the plant off to the side, moving the small business card stand right in front of it.

“I think it looks best here, right out front.” He beamed, and somehow Kakashi found himself falling in love with that smile all over again. “It pulls the look together perfectly.”

Kakashi was about to respond when the sound of barking dogs caught his attention once more. Turning to look at the door, he smiled when he saw a brunette stumbling past Bull and Pakkun into the building.

“S-Sorry.” The man held up his hands towards the dog, giving them a smile when they continued to bark at him. “I didn’t see you there little guy.”

“Ahh, Pakkun’s hiding and trying to trip people again.” Gai chuckled, glancing over at Kakashi as he spoke. “You really must get him out of that habit.”

“It has been three years since I got him,” Kakashi argued. “At this point there is nothing I can do.”

Giving his head a shake Gai returned his attention to the customer now standing at the front door. “I see you found your way here quickly.”

“Kind of hard not to.” The brunette smiled back at them. “You’ve had this place under construction for months and it’s right beside my favorite coffee place.”

“At least people noticed us getting ready,” Kakashi muttered under his breath, noticing the moment that the other man’s eyes caught sight of the plant that Gai had put beside the till. “I see the plant is already getting attention.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard not to notice it.” Kakashi watched as the man brought a hand up to settle in his hair, his eyes lighting up when he looked over at Gai. “You made sure it didn’t die.”

“Actually, he took pretty good care of it himself.” Even though Gai was trying to say it with pride, Kakashi felt like he had just been insulted. As if it was expected that he would kill the plants if left alone with it for too long. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. Kakashi wasn’t known to remember to water his plants and most of them died within a few days of being left in his care. That still didn’t mean he needed to have his boyfriend act so surprised at his ability to keep one single plant alive. “Kakashi, instead of getting upset why don’t you offer our customer a treat?”

Taking his cue, Kakashi turned away from his boyfriend with a soft huff and picked up the plate of samples that he had made up for anyone who decided to wander into the store.

“Here.” He held it out towards the men, glaring at Gai when he gave him an unimpressed look. “What?”

“I can see why you said he stays in the back,” Sakura giggled from behind the counter where she was still putting treats out on display. “That was pretty bad.”

“I hate you both,” Kakashi grumbled under his breath, watching as the brunette ignored their little argument and picked up a small chocolate cupcake with just a little bit of frosting on top, and plopped it into his mouth.

His eyes immediately lit up, a smile pulling at his lips as he looked over at Gai.

“You must have hired the best baker in town.” He smiled brightly. “That’s amazing!”

“Well,” Kakashi met Gai’s gaze, smiling when he saw the proud look on his boyfriend’s face, “he might not be the best with people, but he is amazing in the kitchen.”