#and WHO would have thought that drawing everyday for several hours

[nattousan]

shocked and affronted that the answer to my art getting better was for me to draw more often >:(

[malkaviian]

expanding on the "luca was bullied" thing, because i knew i was going to give this guy some trauma eventually

[shmothman]

Defying Fate

Pairing: Casper/Reader Rating: Teen and up audiences Words: 991 Read on AO3

Summary: Finally, you and Casper are together in person, tangled together with your feelings laid bare. Still, there are some things that he needs to ask.

With your head resting on Casper’s bare chest and his fingers smoothing over your hair, you don’t think you’ve ever felt quite so happy, so in love. You’ve been making good use of the past hour or so since he showed up at your door in person, and you practically feel like you’re walking on air.

You can’t believe he’s real.

You can’t believe any of this is real.

But you’re so, so glad that it is.

He calls your name softly, his voice like heaven, and you hum a questioning tone back as you’re pulled from your thoughts, loath to move from your comfortable spot against his chest.

“I…” he starts, and you immediately hear that he sounds nervous, so you look up at him, eyes brimming with all the feelings swirling in your heart. “I am certainly not complaining, but… I… I need to know…”

Your brows draw together in confusion as he seems to gather his thoughts. “Know what?”

He meets your eyes, and his gaze is… sad. Remorseful. “How… how are you okay with this?”

You blink. “What, having sex with you?”

His cheeks flush that pretty pink you adore so much. “N-not that,” he rushes to say, before growing serious once more. “I mean… with being with me. After I have spent the last several years trying to kill you. Doesn’t… does that not bother you? You act as if it’s nothing.”

Oh. That’s what’s on his mind.

You settle back into his arms, laying your head next to his so that your noses almost touch. His gaze is so open and honest, it almost makes your heart hurt. “Well,” you say quietly, “no harm, no foul, I guess?”

He exhales through his nose in something that’s almost like an amused little laugh. “You are so… cavalier about things, Sunshine. Is that truly all you think of it?”

For a grim reaper, Casper sure does wear his heart on his sleeve. Not that you’ve met any other reapers yet—maybe they’re all like this. 

You bring your hand to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and watching the way his eyes flutter closed. How do you love him so much when you’ve only known he exists for a week?

“I… don’t know, honestly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it. All I know is how I feel about you.” 

He blinks his eyes open, and the look on his face is so very hopeful. Like he needs to hear you tell him that it doesn’t matter to you, that it doesn’t change how you feel about him.

“It’s like… by the time that I realized you’re, y’know, actually the grim reaper and everything, I already felt like I had known you for ages, and that was only after like, two days. And then I get this massive revelation that every weird thing that’s happened to me, everything that people say is crazy but is just my everyday experience, that’s all you? That’s all the doing of this pretty boy on my computer screen?”

He pouts slightly at being called a pretty boy, but you continue.

“But, I mean, I’ve never taken my constant near death experiences seriously. You’ve been watching, right? Have you ever seen me react in any way that isn’t just… a shrug?”

“I suppose not,” he says. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been the one trying to end your life.”

“You said it yourself, Casper. If it wasn’t you, it would be another reaper. Normally ‘I was just doing my job’ would be a terrible excuse, but given that we’re in the realm of like, fate and magic and the balance of nature type shit, I can’t fault you too much here.” You grin. “I just happened to get lucky, and they assigned me to the one reaper who would fall head over heels for me the minute he decided to break protocol and talk to me.”

He’s blushing again, and you think he’s about to protest the idea that he fell for you that quickly, but instead, he leans in to touch his forehead to yours and says, “any reaper would have fallen for you. I’m the one who got lucky.”

Your heart flutters happily in your chest, and you sound rather breathless as you say, “okay, maybe we’re both lucky,” and you lean in to press your lips to his.

You feel him melt beneath your kiss, as he has every time so far, like he’s turned to liquid: quicksilver at your touch, shimmering and cold. If he says that you’re like sunshine, then you say he’s the moon: something beautiful and bright in the darkness, the light by which you find your way home.

As you pull back slightly, there’s a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Or,” you say, “maybe it’s just fate.”

He’s been made breathless by your kiss, but he still smiles back. “Perhaps,” he replies into the scant space between you. “Though, I’m growing fond of the idea that this is in defiance of fate itself. That we are making our own destiny.”

You hum, as if thinking deeply. “Well, clearly we both love breaking the rules, especially for each other.” With a sudden grin, you shift, rolling yourself atop him and watching those pretty red eyes go wide. “Whaddya say we defy fate all night?”

That vivid blush crawls up to his ears, then down his neck to splash across his bare chest. Unable to summon words, he simply nods.

You waggle your eyebrows, only just getting started with your terrible jokes. “Wait, wait, I got another one: how’s this for destiny?” 

He rolls his eyes with a huff that doesn’t mask his clear affection, and opens his mouth—probably to call you annoying or something, but he doesn’t get that far, because you’re already kissing him again.

And that’s something he won’t defy.

[crazerk]

This demo has lived rent free in my brain for the last 24 hours bestie !!! All the origins are so fun! I’m particularly drawn to the noble tho 👀And as for a basic question: can we please get some fun facts about the ROs ? TY <333

This comment made my day! I’m glad these characters aren’t tormenting only me now lol.

Fun facts under the cut!

Kaz

As a child he pretended to be afraid of the dark for years because his mother would comfort him with stories from her homeland. She still thinks he is and asks the servants to keep some candles burning at night, even though they annoy him. He considers this karma for the lies.

He has a massive sweet tooth. He might project the image of a stoic, serious emperor but that man loves sweets. He doesn’t indulge too often in public though. He’d rather sneak into the kitchens at night and once frightened a poor cook half to death when he stumbled upon his sovereign eating honey straight from a jar at like 2 am.

He’s a remarkable artist. He draws a lot. Really into architecture too.

He fidgets with his signet ring when he’s nervous. He does this unconsciously most of the time, and those who aren’t familiar with his mannerisms might assume he’s just deep in thought. But really his mind is spamming the panic button.

I’m not sure if this is a “fun” fact but he enjoys bloodsport. His father’s reign was criticized for this and his friendship with Fang has given him a different perspective on how slaves in the fighting pits are treated so he’s distanced himself from it. But it bothers him a bit, how much like his father he can be.

Fang

He has talent for juggling and often uses it to entertain children in the marketplace.

He’s quite the pirate fanboy. He wants to be a pirate so bad and dreams of owning a ship and just sailing around the world someday. Fang once won a drinking contest against a notorious pirate captain, earning him a place on the crew if he ever felt inclined. Fang thinks about that offer everyday.

He learned how to read and write from his master and has a hidden stash of romantic poetry that he's written over the years, inspired by his various crushes and lovers. He's never shared these poems with anyone, as he fears they might ruin his roguish reputation.

He doesn’t have a home. He has enough gold stockpiled from his fighting days to live comfortably and Khazunef has made it clear that he’s welcome at the palace but he prefers to just… wander around. He claims it’s because he likes not knowing where he’ll end up, and that every day is a new adventure. But really it’s because when he thinks of home he remembers a time long ago when he was a boy, before the raiders, before the slavery and before the fighting, when his mother would cradle him by a warm hearth and sing a lullaby. He can’t recreate that feeling. He’s terrified even trying to.

Persa

She loves to play pranks. Her favorite involves sneaking into rooms while their occupants are away and rearranging their furniture just slightly, enough to make them question their own sanity when they return.

She has a photographic memory, which comes in handy for her favorite pastime: gambling. Do not under any circumstances challenge her to any games of chance, as she can easily remember cards played or patterns in a game. Several guards have lost months wages in this manner.

Shes the definition of having a green thumb. She has a fondness for winter roses, a flower that grows in the snowy peaks of her native land. She managed to cultivate them in the desert. Persa tends a small garden of these roses in the palace as a reminder of home. She’s skilled herbalist and often disappears into the palace gardens for hours at a time, gathering plants and herbs for her potions and remedies.

Persa is a gifted singer, but she only sings when she thinks no one is listening. Her voice is hauntingly beautiful, and it's said that even the birds fall silent to listen it. Something she finds herself humming tunes of the songs from her home, but she can never quite remember the words.

Ignasia

She absolutely detests spicy foods. Yes she knows, it’s ironic that a fire priestess can’t stand the heat. You can only make that joke once. Do it again and she might curse you.

Despite her serious demeanor, Ignasia has a wicked sense of humor. She loves to tell jokes with a straight face, leaving others unsure whether to laugh or not.

She has a talent for mimicry and can do impressions of almost anyone including fellow priestess, imperial courtiers and advisors. She won’t confirm or deny if she’s used this skill for dubious purposes.

She pretends leaving her noble family behind to become a priestess was a great sacrifice. In truth it was her greatest pleasure.

Sometimes, she tells people that she sees things in the flames that aren’t there. She tells herself it’s for the greater good. To give hope to the man who asked if his daughter’s sickness was fatal, to prevent a young lad who asked if the gods will protect him if he sought out his sister’s murderer from getting killed or simply because the truth was too heavy. She tells herself it’s for the best, and the flames wouldn’t mind. Right?

[cosmic-vacuum]

Introduction.

Heard someone online say this— "The right DIRECTION is actually more important than HARD WORK itself."

The first step to "working smart" is also stepping in the right direction.

Hard work directed towards unproductive and degenerative activities is equivalent to stalemate in the specific field if not further degradation.

HOW SO, DO WE STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION?

Step 1: Have a talk with yourself about what you really wish to do.

My talks before starting this usually ended up in tears.

I've been failing in life altogether for over two years now and all the cumulative criticism combined with regrets and embarrassments fueled defense mechanisms and avoidance techniques to develop inside me.

The talk was obviously hard, but finally I've opened myself to opinion and change recently— this in itself is the greatest change a human being can have.

It wasn't easy, of course.

I was supposed to fight down my own behaviour and impulsive reflexes to understand words and opinions of the other people around me whilst not being swayed completely by them or even rejecting them completely.

This is one of those things easier said than done.

It was talking to myself more that led to this.

The only person who can reach the inner voice of your consciousness is you. This voice is the most truthful and genuine guide you can find, only, you must know to separate it from words materialised by intrusive thoughts.

Sit with yourself, talk to yourself, ask yourself what you want to do.

It may take a while, but you will surely get response when you try to connect to your inner self.

Step 2: Get into what you wish to accomplish— know more.

Reasearch about your goal. We can't start into something we barely know about.

2024 is a great year to live in but only for the seekers.

You'll find everything you need to know about anything online today, all you need to have is the desire to see.

This is the first step to "Smart Work" too.

[Smart work: works only when applied with hard work. It's not the other way around— you can not replace hard work by smart work]

We will be revisiting this several times in times ahead so don't worry if there are unanswered questions [you can always comment or dm them to me].

Step 3: This is probably the TRUEST of all advise I've heard growing up– You're the average of the five people you listen to everyday.

I have personally seen so many people change for the worse on having bad company surrounding them.

It's easier for people yo pick up bad behaviours rather than good ones so no matter how selfish it would make you feel, cross out bad influences from your life

If you happen to be someone mostly at home and in presence of parents or siblings (like me), try to make firstly, your pwn mind your best companion. When there's problems, talk about it to your own self.

It's magical, trust me.

This takes time to get a hang of but it's magical.

Other than that, fill your ears with podcasts or perhaps you tube videos of people who are wise and/or related to your specific goal.

[I will be sharing a list of thr best podcasts to hear for personal growth later in a separate post.]

Step 4: Have a proper plan.

How you spend your minutes, hours, days, months and therefore the years becomes how you ultimately spend your life.

A— Take either a calendar or just draw out the months which compose your selected "two month" time.

B— Write your goal on a piece of paper and formulate a monthly procedure to achieve it.

If this goal is some sort of skill development for example, divide the procedure into the two months and then further down to weeks. Then, divide the workload per day of the week.

This is also applicable for students preparing for some or the other sort of examination or are just studying in general.

C— People who wish to upgrade their personalities will be part of a more active process which will run alongside the daily log posts.

WHAT NEXT?

Once we've got all we wish to change outlined, we can step into finally starting the process.

This turned out to be longer than I expected so I'll keep it till here. Anything else we need to do will follow in the following posts.

If we wish, we can.

[check out the blog to join the journey]

[oliverreedmasterass]

In honor of the twins’ birthday weekend...

Synopsis: Danny and Sam take the twins to a private karaoke room to celebrate their 27th birthday

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: drinking, language, Oliver Reed 

Notes: thank you @jmkho for letting me bounce my ideas off of you!! 

_____________________________________

“So you’re not gonna tell us where we’re going?” Jake leaned forward from the backseat of Sam’s Tesla to ask between Sam and Danny, who were in the front. 

“Nope!” They both chirped with bright smiles. 

“Great,” Jake mumbled, looking worried. 

“Ease up,” Josh gave him a playful nudge. “I’m sure they’ve got a fun evening planned.” 

“You don’t turn 27 everyday,” Danny turned around to tell Jake. “You should be more excited.” 

Danny shook his head when he saw that Jake was crossing his arms with a deep frown, glaring at the back of Sam’s driver’s seat. 

“I would be more excited if I didn’t have severe trust issues,” Jake grumbled. “I don’t understand why everything has to be a secret tonight.” 

“I requested it,” Josh told Jake. “I like a little surprise on my birthday.” 

“I’m glad you do,” Jake retorted. 

“It’s not like we’re gonna push you off a cliff or something, Jake,” Sam tried to comfort him. 

Jake thought on Sam’s words. “I don’t like that you thought of that as an example. That doesn’t make me feel better at all.” 

“Look, Jake,” Danny tried to establish eye contact with him. “We made a reservation at a very normal place to celebrate a birthday. It’s going to be a fun evening, you know, once you get a few drinks in you.” 

While Jake remained stiff with worry, Josh bounced up and down in his seat in eager anticipation for the night ahead. 

The twin’s body language remained the same as Sam drove into the parking lot of a karaoke bar. Jake stared out the window at the neon lights and had to do everything within his power to not let out a deep groan. When Sam and Danny asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, he had insisted that all he wanted was a few good drinks and to slow things down for a bit. He was certain that Josh must have given them the exact opposite request, so this was how they were meeting them in the middle. Sometimes it stunk to share a birthday with his brother. 

“No way,” Josh’s voice raised in excitement. “We’re doing karaoke?” 

“We have a private booth,” Sam shared as he put the car into park. “One hour of unlimited drinks and non-stop singing.”

Josh turned to Jake, ready to share his excitement, but his smile quickly curved down when he saw that Jake was pouting at the building. 

“Hey, snap out of it,” Josh said, smacking Jake in the arm with the back of his hand. That got Jake to turn in his direction and scowl while rubbing at his bicep. “You’re gonna have fun tonight, god dammit.” 

Jake knew he would be scolded for ruining Josh’s night if he didn’t give into things, so he let out a small huff and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Let’s go then,” he said. Better to get things over with fast than to draw it out. 

The four made their way through the front doors and were immediately greeted by even more neon lights in the darkened reception area. Jake gazed around at the bar that he was definitely going to hit up, and the line of rooms that seemed to surround the bar in a circle. Inside those rooms he could just barely make out groups of people flailing their bodies around to muffled music. Josh joined Jake’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I know birthdays are hard for you,” he said under his breath. “Getting older is scary. But we’re in our prime, we gotta enjoy things before we start cracking like glow sticks and knock out after a single drink.” 

“I know, I know,” Jake said. He understood where Josh was coming from, it was just kind of his thing to sulk around on his birthday every year. He had been doing it for so long, he really didn’t know what else to do with himself on his special day. 

Sam and Danny checked in with the receptionist and then motioned for Jake and Josh to join them when they were handed a key to one of the rooms. 

“She said that we could start with some drinks now and order more to the room later if we run out,” Danny said mostly to Jake. It was clear that he was doing everything he could to make Jake feel content, which he did appreciate. 

“Why don’t you go to the room and I’ll grab us some drinks then?” he proposed. He hoped he could stall a bit so they wouldn’t immediately force a microphone in his hand. 

“Don’t be crazy,” Sam shook his head. “Drinks are on me tonight.” 

Even though Jake wanted to protest, Danny and Josh steered him to their private room while Sam peeled off for the bar, promising he would get them the “good shit.” Jake winced, bracing himself for a long evening of tequila shots and margaritas: the only two drinks Sam apparently knew how to order. 

They made their way into the room and Jake purposefully took a seat as far away from the microphone stand as he could. The room was on the smaller side, but it still gave them plenty of room to thrash around, which Jake knew for a fact was going to happen. While Josh and Danny started to excitedly look through the song options, Jake leaned forward, practically curling into a ball to disappear from reality. Sam entered the room, his arms loaded with, of course, tequila shots and margaritas, and forced a glass into Jake’s hand. 

“Bottoms up!” Sam called to his older brother. “Here’s to 27!” 

Jake wasn’t happy about it, but Josh grabbed his arm and lifted him to his feet so they could all clink their glasses together, before shooting it back. 

“Fuck me,” Josh choked. “This tequila is awful.” 

“It’s a karaoke bar, what did you expect?” Sam laughed. 

“Something that doesn’t taste like gasoline,” Josh muttered. 

“Jake, do you want to kick things off?” Danny asked, holding the microphone up to Jake. 

“No,” Jake couldn’t hide his disgust at the thought of being the first one to sing and make a huge fool of himself. 

“I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea,” Danny murmured. He passed the microphone to Josh, who looked to be on the verge of imploding, he was so excited. 

“Give Jake a tambourine, that’ll lift his spirits,” Josh leaned into Danny’s side. “One more drink in him and he’ll start to come around. It’s like clockwork, I promise.” 

Danny seemed to take some solace in that, and he grabbed a tambourine to force into Jake’s hands. The shitty tequila was catching up to Jake a lot faster than he would have expected but, as he started to sip away at his mediocre margarita, he found that he was still feeling unenthusiastic about singing with his friends. 

Josh didn’t let Jake’s sour mood ruin his day as he selected a song with a mischievous grin and leaned over to bellow into the microphone, 

“HOW ARE YOU ALL DOING TONIGHT?” 

Jake jumped in surprise while Danny and Sam let out loud cackles at Josh’s spectacle.

“THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, SIR JACOB THOMAS!”

“Yeah, Jack!” Sam clapped before getting body slammed by Jake. 

 A disco ball started to spin above their heads, engulfing them in flashes of pulsing light as “Dancing Queen” pumped out from the speakers. Josh pitched his voice up and started to give the song his all, opening his arms up to the room while closing his eyes. While Sam and Danny cheered and danced along, Jake stared his brother down and worked on his drink. Karaoke was the bane of his existence. 

“Come on, sing along, you know this one!” Josh took a break to encourage his twin. He put the mic up to Jake’s face but, with a scowl, Jake pushed it away. 

“Boooooo,” Sam and Danny gave him a big thumbs down. 

Josh shrugged, unbothered by Jake’s brooding, and worked the room, dancing like he was in the Mamma Mia cast with a wide grin. Jake grabbed another shot and threw it back as he watched his friends. It did look like they were having a good time: Sam looked straight out of Saturday Night Fever with some of the moves he was busting out, and Danny didn’t seem to have a single worry in the world. Josh was entirely in his element, proving that disco really does live in the pelvis, and a few times he caught Jake’s eye, making subtle motions, encouraging him to join them. Jake was starting to feel more loose, the tension releasing from his shoulders and, before he knew it, he found himself shaking a tambourine to the beat. 

Okay, so maybe karaoke was a little fun. 

Josh finished the song on a high note and then flopped back against the sofa in exhaustion, his face red from giving it his all. 

“I need to get in shape for Starcatcher,” he gulped while trying to catch his breath. 

“For what it’s worth, you were going pretty hard,” Jake leaned over to put a hand on his shoulder. Josh could tell that Jake was starting to get tipsy enough that he was coming around, so that dramatically lifted his spirits. 

Even though Jake could have probably sang the next song, Sam snatched the microphone from Josh and started to leaf through the binder, filled to the brim with every song imaginable. 

“Hurry it up!” Josh scolded Sam after waiting a few beats. “We’ve only got an hour!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said over his shoulder. He flipped through a few more pages and then slammed his finger down on one of the song titles, calling out in triumph. He grabbed the remote from the table and quickly punched in the code to the song and then took another shot to brace himself for his performance. In a similar vein, Jake set down the tambourine so he could cover his ears. While Josh had been blessed with some insane pipes, Sam unfortunately did not possess the voice of an angel. 

“You’re singing Hozier?” Danny poked fun at Sam with a laugh. “Out of all the songs in there, that’s what you pick?” 

“It’s a great fucking song,” Sam held his nose up. For a little extra flair, he pulled his black shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest to the room. 

“Tits out for Hozier!” Josh whooped. 

“My lover’s got humor, she’s the giggle at a funeral…” Sam started to croon, both offbeat and out of key. Jake exchanged a look with Josh and it was clear that they were both thinking the same thing: thank god Sam stuck to the bass and keys. Danny tried to be supportive of his best friend but, as Sam’s voice got progressively louder and more croaky, Danny’s whoops and cheers died down. A few minutes into the song it was clear that Sam was entirely lost in the music and had forgotten there was anyone else in the room with him. 

“IF I’M THE PAGAN OF A GOOD TIME, MY LOVER’S IN THE SUNLIGHT,”  Sam was more screaming than singing as he dropped down to his knees and leaned his head up to face the heavens above. He sounded like a dying cat as his deep voice warbled, and Jake and Josh flinched at every note. Danny downed the rest of his margarita and then excused himself to get a refill. Jake noticed that Danny had returned a few minutes later, but waited outside the door where Sam’s ungodly vocals were muted until the song finished. 

When Sam finished his last note, his voice cracking multiple times, he did a mic drop and brushed off his shoulder like he had just given the best vocal performance in recorded history. Danny came back into the room and slipped another drink into Jake’s hand. 

“I think we should keep Sam off the mic for the rest of the night,” he said softly to Jake and Josh so Sam wouldn’t hear. “That was atrocious.” 

Jake looked down at the IPA Danny had given him and smiled. Leave it to Danny to get him a drink that he actually enjoyed. He downed half of the bottle and then wiped the excess away from his mouth. 

“Let’s do this shit,” he announced, starting to sound a bit British. 

“Yeah, Jake!” Josh cheered him on. 

Jake grabbed the microphone from the ground with a grunt and wiped off Sam’s saliva with the back of his linen top. Josh’s voice scolding Sam for taking too long was still ringing in Jake’s ears, so he rushed to find a song that jumped out at him. He was smart to go after Sam because he could literally choose any song on the planet and it would be better than what they had just endured. The problem was, Jake was determined to prove to his band members that he could outsing all of them. That was mostly the booze giving Jake an unfathomable amount of confidence, but his face lit up when he saw the perfect song. 

“Jesus Christ,” Josh muttered under his breath as "I Believe In A Thing Called Love” flashed on the television screen. “You haven’t had near enough drinks to do that one.” 

“You only turn 27 once,” Jake reminded Josh. 

The guitars opened the song and Jake turned his attention to the screen, focusing hard so the lyrics would stop blurring together. 

“Can’t explain all the feelings that you’re making me feel,” he started, having to stop halfway through to hold down a large burp. “My heart’s in overdrive and you’re behind the steering wheel.” 

“This is gonna be a trainwreck,” he could hear Josh tell Danny behind his back. Jake knew at that moment that he had to give every ounce of his being into the song and knock Josh’s damn socks off. 

“TOUCHING YOUUUUUUU, TOUCHING MEEEEEEE,” his voice seamlessly shifted up to falsetto with a pretty impressive vibrato. Josh needed to quit forgetting that, as twins, they basically had the same damn vocal cords. “TOUCHING YOU, GOD, YOU’RE TOUCHING ME!” Jake continued, feeling weightless from the joy of outperforming his brother. He was doing things with his voice that he didn’t even know were humanly possible as he entered the chorus and switched back and forth between high and low pitches, his voice in the middle of an intense ping pong match. 

“I BELIEVE IN A THING CALLED LOOOOOOOOOOVE,” Jake wailed. 

Danny and Sam screamed out in shock that Jake was actually nailing it and they joined in on the backup vocals while hitting their tambourines hard. Josh took a while to come around but, when Jake held out a hand to get him on his feet during the next verse, Josh accepted it. They stood together and Jake drunkenly slung an arm over Josh’s shoulders. 

“TOUCHING YOU,” he sang, and then shoved the microphone in Josh’s face. 

“TOUCHING ME,” Josh belted with a beam. 

Together they finished the song in an ear-piercing scream, nearly shattering the glasses that were collecting in the booth. 

“Shit,” Josh gave Jake a pat on the back. “I forgot you could sing like that.” 

“Intimidated?” Jake arched an eyebrow at him. 

“Maybe a little,” Josh chuckled. 

“I don’t think I can go after that,” Danny admitted, tossing the microphone that Jake had dropped back onto the table from hand to hand. 

“Oh quit it,” Sam snorted. “You know you have a fucking beautiful voice.” 

“Come on, Dan the Man!” Jake encouraged him. That was enough coaxing to motivate Danny to move to the binder and pick a song. He was doing a good job hiding it but, out of all the guys, Danny had managed to sneak in the most drinks for the evening, so his head was spinning as he searched through the song selection. He wanted to sing a song that was hard, but he also didn’t want to make their evening turn into a competition. 

“Aha,” Danny whispered. 

“Four, tres, two, uno,” the backing vocals on the karaoke track counted Danny in. 

“What?” Josh cocked his head to the side. 

“Listen up, y’all, ‘cuz this is it, the beat that I’m banging is delicious.” 

“Fergalicious, definition, make them boys go loco,” Danny started to sing softly. Sure, he had grown up with the Kiszka brothers by his side and sang on plenty of tracks with them over the years, but it was still nerve wracking to sing in their presence. 

“Oh god,” Sam groaned out. “I’m out of here.”

Sam stood to his bare feet (he had ditched his shoes the second he came into the room) and started to stomp to the door when Jake reached up to hold him in place. 

“Quit being such a punkass bitch,” Jake warned him. Sam took note that Jake was starting to sound more like Oliver Reed, which was a sign that any trace of Jake was going to be replaced soon by a crazed, British lunatic. He didn’t want to get on Oliver Reed’s bad side, so he quickly took a seat back by Josh. 

Danny’s confidence was building as he got farther into the song and, before he knew it, he was whipping his head to the music, his curls flying around. 

“Fergalicious definition, make them boys go crazy,” Danny continued, “They always claim they know me, comin’ to me, call me Stacy.” 

“Hey Stacy,” Jake leaned over Josh to call out in his Oliver Reed voice. Danny had to take a brief pause from singing to collect himself since he started to laugh hard at Oliver Reed’s sudden appearance. 

“Make it end,” Sam wailed, taking his turn to cover his ears. Danny moved to his side and forced him up to his feet to give him a twirl. 

“I’m Fergalicious, my body stay vicious, I be up in the gym just working on my fitness, he’s my witness,” Danny continued while spinning a really dizzy Sam around. 

“OOOOH WEEEEEEE!” Oliver Reed sprung to his feet and hollered, squeezing his eyes shut and balling his hands up into fists. Josh stared at his twin in awe. He must have had a lot more drinks than Josh had realized. 

Sam collapsed back onto the couch after Danny finished spinning him, looking in a daze. But that didn’t stop him from downing the rest of his margarita. 

“Help me,” he whispered across the room to Josh. Josh could only shrug back at him. 

Danny and Oliver Reed were now dancing in the middle of the room, shaking their asses like there was no tomorrow. Oliver Reed even went out of his way to do a pretty impressive hair flip, even though it would have been even better if his hair was still on the longer side. The lights seemed to sync up with the song as different hues of blue, red, green, and yellow flashed on Josh and Sam’s faces as they watched their two friends absolutely lose their minds to the song. 

The room finally stopped spinning for Sam, but it was replaced with the feeling of a headache that was bound to erupt at any second. It didn’t help that the bass thumping through the speakers was vibrating his skull. Josh perked up from his seat and shot up to his feet. 

“Jake, no!” he called out as Oliver Reed lifted a foot up onto the table. “Jake, no, don’t,” Josh tried again, but to no avail. Oliver Reed let out a gruff grunt and pushed himself up onto the table, its legs shaking at the added weight. 

“WOOOO!” Oliver Reed screamed down at a surprised Josh. “I AM A GOD!” 

It was hard to focus on Oliver Reed’s hijinks because, in front of him, Danny broke into the rap part, hitting each bar perfectly. 

“All the time I turn around brothers gather round, always looking at me up and down, looking at my uhh, I just wanna say it now, I ain’t tryin’ to round up drama little mama, I don’t wanna take your man.” 

Oliver Reed, a little bit too fired by Danny’s performance, attempted to jump up and down but instead lost his balance and kicked off the table, landing on his back with a loud crack. Danny seemed entirely unbothered by Oliver Reed’s accident. 

“And I know I’m comin’ off just a little bit conceited and I keep on repeating how the boys wanna eat it, but I’m tryin’ to tell that I can’t be treated like clientele, cause they say she’s delicious,” he continued to spit bars. 

“Owwww,” Oliver Reed groaned from the floor, clutching at his side. He heard Danny finish out his verse which filled him back with life since he lurched to his feet and continued to thrash around. Josh had been on the verge of rushing to Oliver Reed’s side, but instead stopped and gaped at his brother in horror. The alcohol content in those margaritas had to be off the charts. 

The song came to a close and Danny, still feeling adrenaline from his performance, proceeded to chuck the microphone as hard as he could at the wall. They all flinched when it slammed against the black wallpaper and clamored to the floor. Since it was closest to Sam, he picked up the microphone and tapped on it a few times. 

“It’s broken,” he announced. 

Before Oliver Reed could call Danny a “fucking wanker” for breaking the mic, an employee knocked on the door and poked his head inside the room. 

“We got a few noise complaints. Someone mentioned something about the loud sound of a body dropping? Are you all good here?” 

PEACHY!” Oliver Reed hollered at the man, spraying his spit everywhere. The guy’s eyes tracked down to the empty glasses and bottles that were starting to fill their room, and then eyed the timer above the door. They had only been in there for about twenty-five minutes. 

“Fucking hell,” the guy muttered, closing the door back shut. 

“What do we do?” Danny turned to Sam, suddenly starting to feel guilty. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the twins’ birthday with his own recklessness. Sam shook his head. 

“Beats me,” he replied. He was frankly surprised that, out of the group, he and Josh seemed to be the most level-headed people there. Talk about opposite day. 

“We need to hurry before the peelers find us,” Jake whipped his head around, searching for an escape route. “They’ll never catch me alive.” 

Before any of them could stop him, Jake tore for the door, struggled to turn the knob, and then sprinted through the lobby area and out onto the street, his teeth clenched and his head down to reach Olympic speeds. 

“Man,” Sam sighed as he watched his older, very drunk brother disappear from sight. “We’re gonna have to spend the rest of the night looking for him, aren’t we?”

“No,” Josh shook his head. “He’ll be in the park hiding in a bush. This isn’t his first time running from the ‘peelers.’” 

“Do you think they’re gonna make me pay a fine for property damage?” Danny had to ask as he stared between the broken microphone laying on the ground and the decent-sized crater that had formed in the wall. 

“Not if you move to Brazil and change your name,” Josh joked. 

“Danny, we’re loaded after that last tour,” Sam reminded him. “This is the kind of shit we can pull now that we’re world famous rockstars.” 

Danny was feeling too disoriented to argue with Sam that he doubted they were that famous, so he let Sam lead the way out of the private room, through the lobby, and out the front door that Oliver Reed had just rushed through. 

While they strolled to the park to retrieve their brother, Sam placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry things kinda turned south,” he apologized. “This must feel like a shitty birthday.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Josh let out a hearty laugh. “Anytime Oliver Reed comes out, it’s a party. Hell, I’m just glad that we were able to get out and do something. And I got to hear Danny rap? C’mon, I can’t think of a better way to celebrate 27.” 

“Arr,” Oliver Reed agreed from inside a bush they had just passed. The three men abruptly stopped and then turned around to try and find where the sound had come from. Slowly Oliver Reed revealed himself, his head just barely poking above the juniper shrub. 

“Jesus, Jake,” Danny had to catch his breath. Josh gave Sam a smug grin. 

“I told you he was going to be in a bush.” 

“And a fine bush at that,” Oliver Reed declared as he struggled to untangle himself from the complex pattern of branches. “Ah, fuck,” he cursed as he stumbled around and fell back in the foliage. Josh lurched forward to help pick him back upright. “Cheers,” Oliver Reed grunted as he brushed twigs off of his shirt and pants. “Nice to see the pigs didn’t come to round you up.” 

“Nice to see that you’re still alive and well, Oliver,” Josh commented back. 

“Ay,” Oliver Reed let out a few barking laughs. “I can never die!” 

He walked a few paces ahead of Josh, Sam, and Danny, and then turned in a confused circle. 

“Where does a guy have to go to get a fucking drink around here?” he complained. 

“Back at my place,” Sam was quick to answer. “You shouldn’t be in public right now.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Oliver Reed huffed, and then started trekking back towards Sam’s Tesla. 

“Hey!” Josh called up to his brother. 

“WHAT?” Oliver Reed hollered back. 

“Happy Birthday, brother!” Josh shouted. 

“Ah, ha ha ha!” Oliver Reed let out his signature cackle. Then, he started to do a drunken jig up ahead on the sidewalk. 

“They say it’s your birthday, well it’s my birthday too, yeh…” 

“I think he had a good birthday,” Danny decided as he watched Oliver Reed air guitar and scat to The Beatles song. 

“In that case, we did good,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around Danny and Josh. 

“Right-o,” Josh agreed, grinning around at everyone. “27 feels good so far.” 

“I’m glad it’s your birthday, happy birthday to you,” Oliver Reed screeched ahead.

[bihanarms]

Chapter 9: Bound by Silence

Here is Chapter 9, hoping you still enjoy it. We're getting close to the end! Apologies for any mistakes, and feel free to share your feedback as always.

"Move faster if you don't want to lose sight of me." Krauser commanded.

I don't give a damn, (Name) thought to herself, though she refrained from uttering the words aloud. They had been trekking through the island for almost an hour, and she was struggling to keep up. The landscape consisted of constant ascents, obstacles, and rocky terrain, and of course, her companion made no effort to assist her. Even though he had warned her beforehand, the journalist had reached her limit. An hour of walking alongside a soldier who maintained an unyielding pace while she was still recovering from her injuries, an hour with a man who only spoke to her to issue orders. Well...at least he was no longer trying to kill her. Nevertheless, she doubted she would ever be able to trust him. "I thought you were used to the field" he jeered once again, as if their current predicament was an everyday occurrence.

Finally catching up to Krauser after scaling a ledge, she retorted, gasping for breath, "Should I remind you of what I went through just a few hours ago? Well, whatever..."

"If you say so. Either way, I warned you—I don't have time to waste, sweetheart." 'Sweetheart'...Go to hell. She simply couldn't stand him.

The young woman stood up, catching her breath, while her "comrade" had already advanced several meters ahead of her. She vaguely surveyed her surroundings. The night was pitch-black. In the distance, she could make out heavily guarded buildings, protected by what seemed to be half-human, half-monstrous soldiers. She considered herself fortunate that Krauser had chosen to circumvent them, preventing her from being attacked and avoiding drawing any attention. God, I’m so tired..

.

Suddenly, (Name) felt her hair being yanked forcefully as she was seized by an infected soldier. A surge of anger and profanities surged within her as Krauser seemed to have vanished from her field of vision. That son of a bitch.

She fought back as best she could, attempting to break free from the soldier's grip, thrashing with ferocity. Finally, with a desperate effort, she managed to escape the soldier's hold.

However, before she could catch her breath, another soldier, approaching from behind, poised to strike her with a deadly axe. Time seemed to stretch into infinity as the weapon bore down on her, menacingly.

She didn't have time to react, to draw a weapon from her bag or dodge the blow. It was too late. Was this how it was all going to end? Instinctively, she closed her eyes and raised her arms to protect herself as she heard the sound of the blade sinking into flesh.

.

Wait?

She felt no pain.

Slowly, she reopened her eyes to find herself face to face with an imposing, muscular figure standing nearly two meters tall. "Krau-Krauser?" (Name) stammered in shock.

"Stay back." he commanded.

She immediately obeyed, keeping a certain distance as he remained standing in front of her, his hands gripping the infected soldier's, the axe lodged in his lower abdomen. Yet, he showed no signs of pain.

.

With a swift motion, he snapped the enemy's neck and abruptly pulled the axe from his lower abdomen, still unfazed. (Name) was astonished to see Krauser save her for the second time. She was completely bewildered by this man. Why was he acting this way?

Meanwhile, he remained stoic, apparently immune to pain. He turned to the young woman and asked if she was okay. Did it truly matter to him? Unable to find the words, she remained silent, still in shock from the situation.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, slightly aggressive. "We need to keep going."

Without waiting for a response, Krauser turned away and continued on his path. (Name) stood motionless for a moment, gradually regaining her composure after the dramatic event. However, she couldn't help but notice Krauser's evident wound. She decided to address it, calling out to him before approaching and taking her bag off her shoulders.

He abruptly halted and responded in a curt tone, "What's the matter?"

"You're injured, let me have a look." she said with concern in her voice. Indeed, even though he concealed any pain on his face, the wound he had sustained was bleeding profusely. She finally found something to dress the wound in her bag, approaching him. However, he abruptly stopped her by firmly gripping her wrist. "I don't need your help, put that away." he declared firmly.

A silence hung between them as (Name) refused to avert her gaze from the towering man. Her eyes expressed unwavering determination, and her voice took on an authoritative tone. "You have no business playing the lone wolf. Let me take care of this." Despite the mystery surrounding Krauser's motivations for saving her narrowly on two occasions, it was clear to her that she had to repay him in some way, despite the peculiar atmosphere that lingered between them.

Krauser hesitated for a moment, then gently released his grip on her wrist. "Do as you wish, but be quick." he replied somberly.

.

(Name) gently took hold of his t-shirt and lifted it slightly, revealing the toned lower part of his belly adorned with scars. His wound was now exposed. Carefully, she placed her hands on his skin to disinfect and clean the injury. With each touch, Krauser winced slightly in pain. "Sorry if it hurts." she apologized.

The wounded man said nothing, unable to resist analyzing (Name)'s features that he had never truly noticed before, too preoccupied with the desire to kill each other. It was the first time her face was so close to his, and it was on this occasion that he noticed the beauty of her features, even with all the dirt covering her.

He found it amusing to see the seriousness in her expression, as she genuinely seemed concerned about his injury.

As the young woman finished wrapping his lower belly with a long bandage, she raised her eyes and finally met the gaze of the injured man.

Their faces were now inches apart, creating an atmosphere charged with electricity.

God, that’s some beautiful blue. (Name) thought, now immersed in the gaze of the former major, surprised to find that his eyes, usually filled with aggression, were now devoid of any hostility.

As they locked eyes, a new wave of tension settled between them. Their gazes delved into each other, the silent exchange prolonging the moment. It was as if the outside world faded away, making room for an inexplicable connection. (Name) felt disturbed by this strange feeling emanating from their closeness. It was as if she was rediscovering the man standing in front of her.

Meanwhile, Krauser remained silent, continuing to study (Name)'s face with great attention, still captivated by her delicate features and unique beauty, while her hands still delicately rested on his lower abdomen.

The young woman felt unsettled by this strange sentiment emanating from their proximity and suddenly regained her composure without finding the right words. She stammered, "I'm done." Stepping away from Krauser, she distanced herself, stating that it was time to continue their journey. What-just-happened?

The now tended man kept silent, simply rising to his feet to follow her, as if this silent exchange had also stirred something within him.

.

The tension lingered in the air as they resumed their march, their footsteps resonating in the tormented landscape that surrounded them. Emotions swirled in (Name)'s mind as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Impossible for me to feel anything for this guy. Doubts and questions crowded her thoughts. Or is it really-impossible? But for now, she chose to keep silent.

.

Suddenly, Krauser broke the silence, his gaze abruptly turning towards a distant point. He seized the opportunity to quickly inform (Name) of someone's presence on the horizon, one of the individuals he was supposed to eliminate. A glimmer of excitement mixed with determination shone in his eyes as he pulled out the sample he had retrieved from his back pocket. Holding it tightly in his hand, he gazed at the sample with unsettling intensity. (Name), concerned about the turn of events, took a deep breath before asking him with a worried voice, "What do you plan to do with this sample?"

He abruptly interrupted her question, responding with a cold and determined tone, "Originally, I was supposed to deliver this sample to Wesker. It contains a strain of the dominant species of the virus, but now, I don't care. I'm going to inject it to become more powerful and crush that rookie down there."

She felt her heart tighten at Krauser's decision. It really tightened. Until now, all of the major's dubious decisions had left her indifferent, and she cared little for the person accompanying her as she had only felt disgust towards him before, but she couldn't explain exactly why it had changed.

With a voice filled with concern and conviction, she insisted, "Krauser, you can't do this. You must not succumb to temptation. I know you're better than that, you have more worth than becoming a mere instrument of destruction. You have to stop all of this."

He stared at her with a mixture of frustration and anger. "Because it matters to you? All of a sudden? Stay out of this."

The young woman sighed, sadness evident in her breath, but she didn't let herself be discouraged and took a deep breath. "Jack, please... Don't do this." She took the risk of using his first name for the first time, having discovered it in the documents she had read earlier. "I know what I said earlier-"

He looked at her, bewildered, emotions swirling across his face.

He finally turned away, resigned, and quickly injected himself with the sample. "Wait for me here." Then, without a word, he leaped away with animal-like agility to distance himself and continue his hunt.

.

(Name) remained motionless, her gaze fixed on the spot where Jack had disappeared. Her mind was tormented by a mix of anxiety, sadness, and anger. Above all, she felt a profound sadness, no more judgment, no more disgust. How far would this man go? Was he broken to this extent? She found herself hoping that there was still something left of him.

Damn it, these events are really taking an unexpected turn. I don't know what to think anymore.

Finally, she sighed and crouched down, waiting for the man's return. "I have no choice but to wait for you, in any case."

[blowflyfag]

WWF RAW MAGAZINE: JUNE 2001

On Top of his Game

The More Triple H Is Hated, the More He Loves It

By Aaron Williams

Triple H knew this was his chance. For years, he had studied his craft, honed his skills, and prepared for the day when he would be given the opportunity to be one of the top Superstars responsible for carrying the World Wrestling Federation.  As the fall of 1999 approached, he knew that his time had come, and for better or worse, his performance over the next several months would either make or break his career. Looking back almost two years later, not even Hunter’s most ardent supporters could have predicted the success he has attained. From refining his character, to pulling off matches thought impossible in today’s sports-entertainment environment, to playing an integral role in the behind-the-scenes activities of the Federation, he has, in many ways, changed the way the game is played. 

There comes a point in everyone’s career when learning one’s craft takes a back seat to applying what has been learned. For Hunter, that point came in the fall of 1999. Undertaker and Stone Cold Steve Austin were hampered by injuries, and he and The Rock were given the ball and asked to take the Federation to new heights. While he definitely felt pressure of being put in such a high-profile position, he also felt that the timing couldn’t have been better.

“In the months leading up to that point, I was preparing for it to be my time,” Hunter recalls. “When the time came, it was really on myself and The Rock. I think that there was a feeling of a lot pressure because some very important people were gone and we were still expected to draw. But I work best under pressure, and at that point, there were really no restrictions to what we could do. It was full steam ahead for both of us. I don’t think there was ever a question of whether The Rock and I could do it. We were ready.”

Hunter didn’t always feel this way, and if he had earlier, he questions whether he would have done as well. Although he studied the business from the moment he first stepped into the ring, in the early part of his career he was more concerned with “Enjoying the business” rather than really learning it. 

“I was into the business, and studied it a lot, but I didn’t apply what I was learning as much as I could have,” says Hunter. “There was a point in time when I was still learning, and I just wasn’t ready to be where I wanted to be. I knew that, and I was really more set on enjoying the business. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it now, but it was more just going along and doing things. I knew it wasn’t my time, and I knew I wasn’t ready. 

“Until I was ready, I didn’t want to do it. So I spent time learning, sitting back, being a young guy in the business and enjoying all the perks that come along with it,” he continues. “Now I'm much more serious about it. Believe me, it’s a dream job and I'm thankful everyday for what I do, for the honor to do what I do. But at the same time, I’m very determined and focused and try not to leave any stone unturned.”

[“My goal is to be the one who can have matches with anybody and be able to make those matches great; to make them mean something. And when the matches are over, I want to be able to say I brought out the best in both of us.”]

Today, rarely a moment goes by when Hunter isn’t thinking about the World Wrestling Federation, and if he isn’t wrestling or working out, you can be sure that he is working on future storylines or the nuances of his character’s actions. Always searching for ways to improve the Federation’s product, Hunter spends countless hours watching matches. He understands that even though he is more in the application than learning stage, the learning process never really ends. So he watches other Superstars’ matches with a  keen eye, always asking questions that go beyond the ordinary, probing deep into the psychology and philosophy of the business.

Instead of simply admiring moves or asking just how a particular move is executed, he asks questions such as, “Why are they doing those moves at this particular time?” and “How do these moves fit in with those Superstars’ particular angles?” and “What kinds of things are the crowds responding to?”

As a result, he has earned such monikers as “The Cerebral Assassin” and “The Most Intelligent Superstar in the Business.” More importantly, he has earned the respect of his peers who admire his instincts for and knowledge of the profession, and his boss who appreciates his work ethic. 

“You can learn from everything. Even daily things like watching a movie might spur an idea,” says Hunter. “I try to incorporate everything I do back into the business, and that’s why I think people have given me those nicknames. That’s how the whole ‘Game’ nickname started. Vince [McMahon] used to say that I was the biggest student of the game. And then it came down to the point where they thought I wasn’t just a student anymore, but ‘the Game.’”

Hunter spends most of his time studying the business by himself, but he is very open to others and their ideas. He believes that no one knows everything, and they day you stop learning is the day you will cease to thrive in the business.

“Even the guy who made it all, Vince McMahon, listens and watches other people,” Hunter remarks. “I can watch guys doing a dark match, guys who maybe have had only 20 matches, and i learn from what they are doing. Learning from someone doesn’t necessarily mean you see someone do something right. You can see someone do something wrong and learn just as well.”

As a result Hunter has become an integral part of the off-camera activities of the Federation. He takes part in television production meetings, often talks to the writers, and often serves as a conduit between Superstars and the writers. He enjoys thinking of ideas that will work either for himself or others, and he’s not shy about voicing his opinion. Of course, he understands that not all of his ideas will fly: “Believe me, if they think my ideas suck, they don’t use them.”

Years ago, it would have been unthinkable to have a sports-entertainer involved in the business the way Hunter is. In the past, there was a perception–if not a reality–that it was the boys against the office. “Today this is no longer true,” Hunter says. “We’re all in the same business, and we’re all working for the same thing.” According to Hunter, today’s Superstars understand this, and his involvement in the behind-the-scenes activities has been beneficial for the entire Federation.

“I think at one point when I first started to get close to the behind-the-scenes stuff, there was a fear that I was going to have a ton of heat with the other guys. But I honestly believe that I don't have heat with most of the guys. I believe that’s because they understand that I'm just trying to help everybody. I’m not in there saying, ‘to hell with that guy, give me the push.’ I’m trying to think up good ideas for everybody. If I think of a good idea for Jericho, I push it. Also, sometimes some of the guys might have an idea, and if they don’t have a good relationship with [the writers], or they feel funny talking to the writers, a lot of them ask me to tell the writers. So they can use me in that way, and I think that’s a good thing.”

Hunter’s open relationship with Vince McMahon has also proved beneficial to the Federation, and after spending a few moments with “the Game,” it becomes apparent how much Hunter respected his boss.

“I know I’m going to sound like I’m kissing my boss’ ass but I really think that Vince is a genius. How can he not be? Look where he’s taken this business. He’s made it larger than life, he’s made it into a billion-dollar industry, and now he’s gone to the point where he’s taken over his competition. He’s won the war. Beyond that, he’s a good person. He’s interested in having quality human beings working for him and being involved in his product. He’s extremely passionate about what we do.

“Sometimes people say negative things about him, but I believe it’s because when you are a businessman. Sometimes you have to make tough decisions,” Hunter continues. “It’s not personal, it’s business. Trust me, I don’t envy his job because it’s so difficult. But as far as working with him, you can’t think of a greater honor than to sit next to probably the smartest guy in the world about this business and pick his brain about things all day.”

It’s been Hunter’s ability in the ring and in front of the camera that has really distinguished him in the past two years. One of the hardest things to accomplish these days is to remain a heel for an extended period of time. Heels do a lot of ass-kicking and trash-talking, two activities that tend to endear Superstars to fans these days. Instead of generating hatred, heels often earn the respect of today’s fans and become fan favorites whether they want to or not. 

Hunter, through his smarts, has been able to avoid this pitfall. For the past two years, he has been able to keep fans hating him, a fact in which he takes a lot of pride. 

 “It’s very hard to keep fans from liking you, and that’s something that I’ve worked very hard at. In the last two years, I’ve been one of the few guys who’s been able to do that. I’ve had a long, long run just being hated by the fans. It hasn’t been by accident. I want it that wat. I’m very in tune to when my fans start cheering at things, and I’m very cautious with my prompts in terms of what I say and how I say it so I won’t be cheered. I’m very cautious. I think about everything I do; I don’t do anything just because.”

Other accomplishments that Hunter takes pride in include his ability to take part in long-running feuds, and his ability to work in any type of match and have the and his opponent come out better for it. Observers of the business claimed that the days of long-term feuds were over, but Hunter has proved them wrong with his conflicts with The Rock, Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho. These same observers also claimed that today’s fans would never enjoy a 60-minute match, but Hunter and The Rock proved them wrong again with their epic Iron Man match at Judgment Day in May 2000.

Also, his well-documented relationship with Stephanie has provided hours of entertainment for Federation fans and enhanced his status as a great communicator. Their never-ending scheme to control the Federation has been a high point of Federation programming and if one didn’t know better, one would think they were two veteran performers who had worked together for years.

“I think that when you get two people who are very good at what they do, things work out pretty well. There are certain people in the business who you just have good chemistry with, and Stephanie and I have that chemistry. It’s no different than an opponent who you always have great matches with because there is great chemistry. There’s a good chemistry between us as far as everything we do on television. It’s easy for us to play off each other, and it worked out well.”

Life as a heel isn’t always easy. Sometimes fans forget that Hunter is a Federation Superstar, and that in real life he is a much different person than the despicable heel he plays when the cameras are on. People often confront him, and others have a negative attitude toward him. At times, this bothers him, but he’s wise enough to know that these negative perceptions have come about because he has been so effective in the ring and in front of the camera. Still, being a heel can have its advantages. 

“It's a horrible thing when you have people in your face or you’ve got people who believe you’re what they see on television,” he says. “But there are other times when you don’t really want to be bothered and just want to be a regular person. It makes it a whole lot easier to tell someone to get lost when they think you’re an ass anyway. Trust me, I love the fans, but we’re all people, and I put my pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else. Sometimes you just need some time for yourself. In my position, sometimes they expect me to turn them down, so it can be helpful.”

Despite being mentally drained at times, Hunter couldn’t be happier. After all, he’s living out his childhood dream of being a World Wrestling Federation Superstar. 

“This is going to sound corny, but I get to wake up everyday and live my dream. Being in this business is what I wanted to do. There are days when I need to get away for a little bit, but it’s very rare. For the most part I get to do what I love to do every day, and what could be better than that?”

[riftwalker-limbro]

I know I sent you numbers last night. I doubt I was the only one. I don't care, I'm dumping more rotations on you bc i need to know and it's Topical (get excitedly listened to idiot)

Does Pride exist in your verse in any capacity? If yes, how is it celebrated? And how do your OCs specifically celebrate?

you were in fact the only one and i am mentally sending you a very tight hug about it

you're tormenting me with my own limited drawing abilities so fucking much. do you even know.

well, you know that my verse is enormously self-indulgent. therefore, this post is going to be enormously self-indulgent by definition as well. if i manage to do this right it is going to be sickening levels of wholesome. you've been warned

first,

general setting exploration.

i think that all the -phobia nonsense is, well, nonsense, so i think that people in my verse should have gotten over all of that and instead everyone's just chill with each other in that regard. there's still other kinds of discourse but none like that anymore.

therefore, the part of pride's purpose that's "this is a riot, we're here, get used to it" is fulfilled. instead, in my universe, i think it'd be fun to make it more of a kind of.. celebration of all kinds of love thing. like valentine's day but less individualistic, more just the concept itself and all of its variations on the same level. idk i don't celebrate valentine's day myself or know anything about how others do bc it's just. Not That Big except for corporate nonsense around me

it should still be celebrated with parades and rainbows and music and joy and flag-waving and hugs between strangers and just-being-together because i've only ever been to a parade myself once and the atmosphere was fucking incredible. trying to recreate that vibe here with the extreme limitations of the written word is not doing it justice. i think that pride month would still be a thing and people could wear rainbow-colored things to everyday activities and functions. you know where i'm going with this

and now

the fun character-specific stuff.

(disclaimer after side-eyeing this section for half an hour: this was Harder Than I Thought what the Hell. so it doesn't explore Everyone. this is going to be on the brain for the rest of the month though.)

the one who popped into my mind immediately is verica, pre-warframe - she'd sponsor her own whole float and just spend the whole parade making music with her band on it. once she meets pule and jay they help out too - pule's running around the float and handing out freebies/snacks; jay's doing something more behind-the-scenes, probably driving the float. another image in my head immediately is either or both of the academics wearing inconspicuous rainbow items to their respective lectures/lab hours/meetings during pride month. they now both own several pairs of rainbow socks for specifically this. maybe a (bow) tie. it is so unfair that i'm completely out of drawing juice right now. i am mentally screaming at my drawing tablet

during warframe era... hm. having trouble coming up with anything for parades beyond "they would go to at least one a year with the full hyena squad" but they absolutely have rainbow paints and ribbons on board for the whole month. oh, and if only there was someone with a perfectly blank canvas of a hat somewhere. that he conveniently leaves off when he sleeps.

other assorted thoughts..

pule should get a shitty rainbow-colored paper crown.

verica should be able to make the little feather thing on her helmet change colours if she thinks about it really hard.

bruiser would go for the full body paint job. yes this is as chaotic and fun to apply as it sounds

kali learns verica's trick for Rainbow Fire. if this was a setting where people would still be nasty about it this would be an incredibly useful trick in addition to being obviously awesome

ohhh what if helver learns to do some kind of flame choreography for this specifically. i think that would be cool

[gaeilmeta]

Fallout

The police considered my car and motorcycle forensic artifacts. They were off-limits. When they allowed me to leave after that first interrogation, I found myself alone on the sidewalk trying to integrate the everyday hustle indifferently buzzing around me. What to do and where to go of secondary consequence since I had limited means to get there.

Luckily, I did have one good friend to rely on, a man who shaped metal into meaning from his home-based studio. I knew I could call him there. We had shared meals with his wife, partied together and as a foursome attended shows and events. The news of her murder sat him down speechless. I thought we had been disconnected, he paused that long before finally saying, “Where are you?” Though I was a little over an hour away, he dropped everything and showed up within forty-five minutes. Without hesitation, he drove me to the office of an attorney I had picked out of the telephone directory.

Then tossing in the roaring white waters of grief, fear, guilt and the encroaching sorrow that would soon take up residence, I was alternating between ramblings and intervals of head-in-hand trance. My pal handled the situation expertly though. He listened when I gibbered and stayed quietly close when I shut down. I spent many of the dark hours with him and his wife over the next several weeks.

With the passing of a few months and my ordeal subsiding, a shadow oddly began to creep over my relationship with the guy who had been my true friend in need, a savior in a way. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, only the sense of some subliminal metastatic blight. Instead of his steadfast companionship drawing us closer, I found myself confoundingly recoiling. Despite my better sentiments and tremendous sense of gratitude, a distancing drift was taking hold. It began with not returning a phone call here or there or inexplicably makingup lame excuses to avoid visiting. Like an airplane clearing storm clouds, it finally came to me that I was undeniably developing a measure of dread just thinking about the guy, who, for Christ’s sake, had done me a solid for the ages. Without a doubt, I owed it to the both of us to come to terms with my budding phobia.

Not a whole lot of cerebration was required once I delved into an examination of my behavior. My hero, similar to the selflessness of those who risked entering Chernobyl and Fukushima, had exposed himself to the massive radioactivity of the murder. He had bathed in the blast and been terminally irradiated with all of its toxic memories. He had become a panorama of the wretched visions I desperately wanted to dispel. The guilt and shame of my failing were devastating, yet psychologically easier to deal with than the vague spectacles that persistently hovered over his shoulder. He noticed of course. How could he not. He was too perceptive, too attuned to the shift in our friendship to miss the widening gap. He tried valiantly to reach out, but I was already too far gone, too hopelessly lost in my own madness.

When she was buried, the gathering was greater than I could have ever imagined, nearing one hundred, maybe more. I was amazed at how phenomenally many people were touched by her life, how far beyond the small, insular cone of the funneled world I occupied. Little did I then know there were even further extents to which the network reached. It took months to materialize, but my friend and I, like entangled quantum particles, had been instantly changed by her murder. More than the taking of her life, it had also demanded the unwitting sacrifice of my dear friend as well.

[simba112995]

Hey! No, you got the numbers right!

I'm Simba112995,

(not proof reading, you're not worth my time, but you are worth this message)

I'm now 28 years old, and I found this post while talking to my partner about how I was relentlessly bullied by so many of you over at TLKFAA while visiting them for a convention.

I didn't grow up in a loving home. Being autistic didnt help making friends at school either. Not going to go into it but I was heavily abused, the kind adults dont usually escape alive. The Lion King was one of my autistic fixations. I felt happy watching it and not many things did that to me growing up. Most of my life, I wanted to die. The first time I ever attempted to end my own life I waa 6. I wasn't allowed outside unless I snuck out or got lucky. I wasn't allowed to see friends outside of school and church. Add to that. I didn't really have friends because I was a weird kid. I confided in the internet like most do for an escape. TLKFAA seemed like it was gonna give me some form of hope. Lmfao no

You guys were some of the worst bullies I ever dealt with. You guys didnt want me off the site, you guys wanted me dead. You guys PLEADED for me to kill myself and would BEG me to everyday on Sketcher. I literally just didnt know how to make friends. You all seemed so cool to me. I was slammed with slurs, death threats, HATE ART, I recived actual letters in my mail threatening my life, my parents would get emails from random people doing just the same which would lead to my mom beating me with the brass end of a leather braided belt. Sometimes I'd be put outside with no clothes on and made to stand up in tempatures below freezing.

And you know what was EXTREMELY disgusting about it all? I was fucking 10-12 and you guys would acknowledge that and STILL would push.

YOU ALL FOUND IT ALRIGHT TO GASLIGHT A CHILD THAT THE ONLY WAY TO END THE BULLYING WAS BY TAKING MY LIFE.

And you know what? I actually did end up trying several times and failed because of you all. I use to pray to God that he would kill me because he messed up putting me on this planet. No one wanted me. Not even my own family. I had no friends, and everywhere I went I was just told to kill myself. Felt like an even bigger disappointment every time I failed because of you all. I'm so glad I failed. I've achieved dreams you all wanted to see fail for all of yalls amusement.

Erased Sketcher art? You all would erase mine! Would spend HOURS and Naz, Kaz(¿) and they're friends would erase mine. So, I erased yalls! Anytime I'd draw something it's get erased. I recall putting a peice of art on my DA back in the day bc I was SOOO happy one of yall would talk to me. Whenever I posted anything about how much I loved TLK, you all would just make fun of me!

And with buying a lion? For fuck sake I was TEN.YEARS.OLD. I'm 28 now. No, I do not have any intentions of buying a big cat. Ever. I got to help watch over 1 lion, and 2 tigers in an emergency situation where someone had to run off and I was legit the only person there. Incredibly irresponsible for the now closed rescue, but it was 18 years ago. The girl just sprinted away and said "watch them and dont leave", so I did. I don't fucking know why they did it, but they let me! No one believed me and thought I was trolling and I get that. Sounds like bs. But even if I was lying, which I wasn't, I was 10. But, that one moment planted an idea I'd own and be helping big cats! Again. I'm 28, no I'm not buying and fucking big cats I can hardly afford to live anyhow in this crippling economy. Plus, I dont support any of that minus legitmate rescues in safe, appropriate facilities getting the care they need.

I also remember once I wanted a white tiger with blue stripes as an OC, and you all hammered on to me because I was inspired by anither artist who drew a tiger with blue stripes. Again, followed by messages to kill myself.

I'm so glad I found this post. For years I've told people how bad you guys made my adolescent life when I was just trying to find a place to fit in. I did find that in the furry fandom, which I was also apart of then, and am even more active in now. I found a family there.

Whoever you were back then, I hope you have the life you deserve. Maybe you changed. I forgave those who bullied me ESPECIALLY on that site so I could move forward in life. I will NEVER forget you monsters. I would love to ask you questions on why you guys thought it'd be funny to make a 10-12 year old attempt to kill themselves! But if you aren't mature enough, that's understandable given how you acted.

Fuck you,

Simba112995

What exactly makes TLKFAA so special compared to DeviantArt? I understand it's for TLK-exclusive art and they do contests and all, but what's different about it? What's wrong with just posting the stuff to DA? To an outsider (not the SP ones) looking in, it might make the fandom look more obsessive than it is if they have a whole website dedicated to just fan art for the movies.

It’s where I started in the TLK fandom making it my first fandom home. Sure you’ve got your asshole drama queens and attention whores faking dying for pity parties but it’s very friendly there. I guess it might look like an obsessed fandom but it really isn’t. I haven’t run into any TLK obsessed fans there except for this one that called him Simba112995 (I think I got the numbers right). He might’ve been a troll but he was a huge pain in the ass, coloring over other people’s art when they were drawing in Sketcher, an online drawing board where people can talk and sketch and collaborate. He also claimed he was going to buy himself a lion just because he could and he pissed off the entire group of us there with his selfishness. And I think he was the same person that screamed at me for shooing my kitty out of my computer room because how are I kick a cat out of any room at all and how dare I save money from having him chew up my computer wires! But other than that child whom I hope has matured over the years, it’s really calm and peaceful. 

[fatuifucker]

mockingbird

[art cr: korusakku on twt]

soft dom dottore x sub frail! childhood friend! gn reader

SUMMARY = your condition has improved ever so slightly, so you ask your husband to have sex with you

WARNINGS = smut, penetration (reader receiving), protected sex (condom usage), praise, aphrodisiacs, belly bulge, use of dottore's real name, use of pet names "dear/dearest", prostitution mentioned as a joke, slight aftercare

W/C = 2.3k

A/N = dotto is softer here because I would think he would act this way to a childhood friend who has always supported him unlike everyone else :) this au was inspired my own thoughts but I did find these lovely creators who have similar aus (@/bye-bye-sunbird and @/fatuismooches) so check them out if you like dottore content like this! ty to my beta readers this time round (@child-of-plut0, @fluffyganyu, @xiaoflwrs despite your dislike for ttore) and ofc, merry christmas and have a happy holidays!

TAGS = @edenialucas, @fluffyganyu, @nejibot, @yumixxn, @teallapril

“Zandik, when can we have intercourse?”

It is an unexpected question, that’s for sure. One that catches the enigmatic doctor off-guard. “My, I didn’t expect such a vulgar request from my meek spouse.”

“It’s natural to possess carnal cravings towards one’s own husband, is it not?” you say, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. “And you said that you’ll have intercourse with me again when my condition betters.”

Through his bird-like mask, he sweeps over your frail frame, deep in thought.

“Your segments have done an excellent job in taking care of me,” you add. “The medicine, schedule, and diet you’ve prepared for me have also worked wonders in improving my condition. That is why I’m bringing it up now.”

Zandik’s chest rumbles as he lets out a short chuckle. “I must say, I’m flattered that you’ve been thinking of us in such an…intimate way these past few days. Or was my previous performance that exceptional that you’ve been yearning for my cock everyday since then?” You feel your face heat up like a burning candle. Smirking, Zandik turns his attention to a locked drawer, pulling out a key from one of his pockets. “Nonetheless, I admit that you’re not the only one with such ravenous desires.”

Your spouse places a vial in your hand; one that you recognise to be the familiar medicine curated just for you. Cursed with this incurable illness, you know that you have to stay indoors for your safety’s sake. There are days that even the slightest movement could cause a flare-up in your immune system, causing you to be bedridden with several tubes connected to your body. You know it’s for your own good, but the loneliness and longing doesn’t subside.

Ever since you were a child, you would draw scenarios that you wished to experience. Drawings of you playing with other kids, drawings of your family congratulating you for your admittance to the Academia, drawings of you and Zandik graduating together. Only one of those drawings became reality. Either way, it became a hobby for you to express yourself when you’re stuck in this mundane room while he is busy with his Fatui business.

The perceptive husband he is, he notices your longing for the outside work and conjures up a solution in the form of a drug that could alleviate your condition. Only for a few hours, but you wish you could have tackled him into a hug the first time he presented the drug to you. Unfortunately, the medicine has its side effects. Thus, it can’t be consumed regularly and has to be administered by Zandik himself; not by any of his clones.

You look up at your doctor for permission before popping off the cork and downing the liquid. There’s a carbonated burn in your throat, one that you can’t seem to get used to no matter how many times you ingest the medicine. But you do feel your strength ever-so-slowly returning to your muscles and limbs. Not that strength was ever ‘yours’ to begin with, having it snatched away from you the moment you were born.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“I feel more energised than when I usually take it.”

“Good, good, it looks like the enhancements worked,” he hums, looking pleased as he discards the outer layers of his clothing.

It’s shameful how your core instinctively heats up in anticipation. You haven’t seen him naked in, archons, how long has it been now? The more recent occurrences were not for carnal reasons. Rather, for simple romantic intimacy. Mere skin-to-skin cuddling to make up for the lack of sexual intimacy. This is the first time in who knows how long you’re actually going to have sex with him again.

You’ve been fantasising of this day. For you to feel better, for your health to improve so you can feel him inside you again. But now that it’s happening, it feels like a miracle, an unbelievable, lifelike dream that you don’t want to wake up from.

“As today is a special occasion, we can try a little something that I’ve been saving for a day like this.” Even with his mask on, you feel Zandik’s piercing crimson eyes staring right through you, observing the quick rise and fall of your chest as he takes off his gloves with his sharp teeth. “A little potion meant to heighten stimulation, though you’ll be more accustomed to the term…aphrodisiac.”

“Oh yes pleeeease, doctor,” your words coming out in an almost moan.

Removing the bottom half of your clothing is a breeze, thanks to your airy nightwear. It’s strange that your body is always either too cold or too hot. Thankfully, your sensitivity decided to work in your favour tonight and has chosen the latter.

A shark-like grin spreads across the harbinger’s half-covered face. You wonder if it’s from arousal. Or delight that you’ve regained some life in yourself. He doesn’t make any indication to your internal query and instead pours another vial — one containing a bright pink liquid — over two of his fingers. He presses one of the lubed-up fingers against your hole, and you feel the tension around it, no thanks to your minimal experience. You remind yourself to follow Zandik’s teachings to slow down your breathing.

Your hole relaxes, and the next thing you know, you feel the finger penetrate the opening. Your body instinctively tenses up again, but the lube around his finger makes the intrusion bearable.

He didn’t want to hurt his poor, flightless bird, after all.

It didn’t take long for him to procure the first of many blissful moans out of you. The doctor plays you like one of his many laboratory instruments; his expertise in the workings of the human body coming into play as he rubs you in your most sensitive spots. You're squirming, panting as your hands cling onto your husband's shoulders, and you feel your lower half burning hotter and hotter. With little effort, the harbinger manages to draw out a second noise out of you; a mouse-like squeak that accompanied the arch of your back.

Hot air brushes against your ear, your body shuddering as he lets out a husky laugh. "It seems that the aphrodisiac is working as intended." 

His lips — chapped and rosy pink from the Snezhnayan air — graze the shell of your ear, teeth delicately nibbling on the body part. He likes doing that; biting you, that is. When you were younger, you thought it would just be a temporary bad habit. A weird quirk of his destined to fade away after he grew up. Fast forward now, it seems that stabbing you with his razor-sharp teeth is just one of those things he isn’t growing out of.

Not that you mind this cute little quirk of his.

You're snapped out of your sentimental musings by the intrusion of a second finger. Thanks to the aphrodisiac, your hole is loose enough to accept it without too much give or pain on your end. The pads of his fingers rub against your sensitive walls, furling and unfurling his thick fingers that fill you up, aiming at your weak spots. His ministrations switch between scissoring and finger-blasting. It feels good, so deliciously good but–

"Zandik." A cold breeze picks up the timid, inaudible whisper of his name. "I want more."

Instead of a condescending laugh, the usual mockery that would be directed at any other person that dare voice out their opinion to the callous doctor, you feel a pair of chapped lips trailing kisses down your jawline. "Of course, my dear. Anything for you."

The weight that was pressing against your thigh eases off you, and you have to remind yourself to swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth when you notice the tent in Zandik’s pants.

Zandik puts on a show for his precious, sickly patient, peeling his belt and pants off his toned, rugged body ever-so-slowly. A wet patch darkens the front of his navy boxers, and your hole clenches watching him pull out his thick, hardened cock. He bites onto the edge of a condom wrapper, tearing it open with his teeth. He carefully puts it on himself, making sure it is thoroughly lubricated by the aphrodisiac before aligning his dick to your hole.

"Hold onto me, dearest."

You do as told, automatically tightening your grasp on his shoulders when he pushes himself in. You can already feel yourself clamping around the tip, but it isn’t enough. You’ve been anticipating this day for months. You need more. Sensing your lust, Zandik smirks to himself as he increases his speed, opting for shallow thrusts to get you used to the stretch. Despite the wintry environment, your clothes feel stifling, suffocating even, so you silently thank Zandik when he starts taking off your upper layers to peck and nib at the skin. Yet with your body exposed, it feels like every touch from his cold hands sears your skin, sending fire down to your stomach that’s scorching you from the inside out.

“Look.” You follow Zandik’s line of sight, right to where he’s resting his palm: on the sizeable bulge of his cock that protrudes your tummy. “It’s all the way in.” 

“Ah…it is,” you mutter, splaying your hand on the bulge.

“Doesn’t this take you back to the first night of our honeymoon?" Zandik locks his hands with yours. In the corner of your eye, the metal band around both of your fingers catches the glister of the light, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “I can never forget the look in your eyes when you realised how far I stretched this tight hole of yours.”

“I’m ashamed to admit that my memory has deceived me,” you giggle.

He cups the side of your face, leaning into you for a kiss. Both of your lips meld into one as you exchange saliva and body heat, wanton moans slipping in between kisses. Zandik snaps his hips forward, fucking you with the tenderness of a lover yet with that typical Dottore-like vigour. Even through the thin plastic around his cock, you feel him twitching and throbbing inside you. Big hands grab onto your thighs, thrusts becoming frenzied as balls slap against the plushness of your ass. A whimper worms its way out of your throat, the sensation of his cock moving in and out of you sending you into delirium.

The harbinger hears his given name pour out of your lips like fine wine, and Zandik growls at how sweet your voice sounds, calling out that accursed name. Funny. It seems that he, too, has forgotten the riveting melody that is your voice, strained with lust for him and only him. And oh, how it provokes the hungry beast within him. You’re the only one who can affect him in such a way. It’s you and only that can make this almighty harbinger give into mortal pleasures. 

"That's it. You're doing so well, my dear,” he coos, leaving a string of kisses from your collarbone up your neck.

“Wait.” Time comes to a standstill when you place your hand on the doctor’s chest. “Take off your mask. I want to see your eyes.”

The 2nd Harbinger obeys the request, revealing crimson irises that stare into his beloved’s adoring eyes. A pair of hands cusp his cheeks, bringing him forward to look into the eyes of his dearest spouse.

“Just like garnets.”

Those hands pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. Zandik calms the flutter in his chest by shoving his tongue into your mouth, pushing the muscle against yours. Neither of you spoke for a while, enraptured in the flavour and sensation of each other. Yet, the room was anything but silent, the wet and messy sounds of skin slapping against skin deafening all meaningless noise.

“Zandik, I’m close…” you mewl.

Zandik curses under his breath, his fingertips digging into your thighs. “Good. Let it all out, my dear. Don’t you dare hold back.”

Your body spasms as it reaches its peak, walls clinging onto the cock ploughing your hole as if it doesn’t want it to leave. The sudden tightness causes Zandik to cum soon after, groaning out your name into your mouth as he ejaculates into the condom. He pulls out his dick when he feels it start to soften, taking off the condom and tying it into a knot. You lay there in silence, about to shut your eyes and catch your breath when you feel something sticky slap against your stomach.

“Wha–”

Zandik chuckles, “A few more rounds with these and I bet you would look like a seasoned whore.”

“That’s not something you should say to your spouse.” You playfully pout, making no effort to take condom off you.

As much as you are raring to go for another round, the intensity of that fucking has drained all the energy out of you. You can’t even move to kiss him again even if you want to. Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself a moment of respite as the sounds of shuffling passes by you. Peeling an eye open, you see Zandik holding out a glass of water in one hand, adjusting the angle of your body with the other. He tilts the glass to your mouth, and you slowly gulp down half of it.

“Any abnormalities?” he asks after setting the glass on the table.

You shook your head. “None. I want to go again.”

“Hmm…not yet, dear.” The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh upon seeing your expression. “Oh don’t give me that look. We have plenty of time tonight after you recover.”

You grumble, knowing that he is correct as always. Although you crave his hands to touch your sex again, your fragile body is beyond exhausted. It would take a while for you to recover and catch your breath again. But like he said, the two of you have the whole night to yourselves.

[liriostigre]

hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds ��Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost:        you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

[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!

[blzzrdstryr]

By proxy

Platonic yandere!Kaeya & child!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2195

A.N.: My first time writing platonic yanderes, hope you'll enjoy.

It's an impulsive decision for the most part - taking you, that is.

Kaeya trudges through the Wolfendom forest, a couple of his underlings, Addler and Otto, following behind as they trail a group of treasure hoarders. Criminal gang must have known that knights are on their tail, there's no other explanation for their sudden fleeing, leaving an already broken camp behind and taking only the most valuable possessions.

It's raining and he silently curses, even if this will give him advantage in battle, but archons, it's so cold. Huge droplets fall on the ground with a resounding sound, drenching everything and turning the forest landscape deep into nigh impassable terrain. Mud clings to their feet, slowing the group down, as the Sun starts to set. Sky turns all shades of purple and red, dimming light throwing the last rays over the Mondstadt as the darkness settles, yet Kaeya and his group still carry forward through the palisade of tall trees.

“Sir”, Otto carefully starts: “It seems that criminals are already several miles away from us”.

Kaeya nods for the knight to continue, already knowing that it will be an ask to stop - the weather is hellish and the rain is one of the heaviest Kaeya has ever had to experience.

“With how strong this rainfall is, the gang's traces will be gone in under an hour”

"All the more reasons to push on and catch them then", Alberich replies, paying zero attention to Adler's slight trembling or Otto's teeth chattering. The group continues on their path through descending darkness, their footsteps hasting despite the clinging and growing fatigue.

Suddenly, as the knights make their way around the cliff, a slight whimper is heard. It's human enough to stop the group - maybe some unlucky civilian got in the way of the gang, maybe criminals left their injured one. Kaeya just nods to the pair, as Otto and Adler unsheathe their weapons, wordlessly understanding the gesture.

Cavalry captain takes a step into the forest pit with a raised sword, all sight and ears, light blue vision on his belt shining and flickering both in caution and anticipation. He walks slowly and quietly, like a cat, careful not to step on the leaves and twigs lying around, and then he sees you.

You are a child, all thin and small in the way that the sick are. There are dark circles under your tired eyes, and the scrapes all over your body. You look already dead. He runs up to you, as he sees your figure swaying and knees buckling, saving you from the fall. Your skin burns Kaeya as he carries you back to the knights - it must be fever then. You blink at him several times, saying something, but your voice is too small and weak to make out anything among the droplets falling, and then you stop, eyes rolling back and head lolling to the side. You blacked out.

He thinks about handing your body to either of the knights and then continuing to run after the gang into the knight, but then decides against it - heavy rain must have blurred all the footsteps they left. Adler almost fails. You escape your delirium a couple of times, babbling words about forest and rain and wolves, and Kaeya, despite his focus on the trail ahead, can't help but listen to what you say. It's childish nonsense for the most part, an incomprehensible product of the feverish mind, yet sometimes you say meaningful things - I thought I would die, I got scared of wolf howls, The rain was so cold.

Some small part of him shrinks and aches at these words, a long buried hurt resurfacing once again. Kaeya frowns and huffs as he tries to get rid of the images of the days long gone in his mind - rainy night, hunger, pain, cold, he will die here. His lips quirk and a humorless laugh escapes him - the irony is painful.

He drops you off at the church, concerned Barbara taking you to the hospital and Kaeya, after a brief report to Jean, goes home, his mind still stuck on the memories of days long past. You will be fine, he tells himself, the church has good healers and the orphanage is nearby. Once you get better, you’ll get sent there, where devoted nuns will raise to be another disciple.

You had a look of a deadman - a strange catatonic serenity was radiating off of you, as you looked at the captain with a glazed yet piercing eyes, both seeing him and through him. It’s cold, so cold, yet no one is here. There are hot tears on his face, wet tracks burning his skin. His tummy is empty and aching, cold bites at his limbs, but Kaeya patiently waits for the adult to return. Father said that Kaeya was their last hope, so sure he would never leave him to die, right?

Cavalry captain barely sleeps through the night, memories and inner demons eating him from inside. When he does manage to doze off, a vague picture of darkening forests and howling winds wake him up, a fervent chanting buzzing in his head - Where is his father? Where is his father? Where is his father?.

Kaeya comes to you the next day, as his shift ends, legs heading to the towering church at the top on their own. Barbara leads him to your bed, your unconscious form lying limply. Idol explains your health issues to him - fever, malnutrition, inflammation, common cold and slight poisoning. The scratches you had yesterday were healed, Barbara says, but the rest of the problems can't be easily fixed with a bit of a hydro.

"Then, what medicines do they need?", Kaeya asks, understanding the unspoken words. The Church of Favonius, despite the large funding it receives from the city's treasury, still lacks a lot of resources and materials. People are free to come and get cured, without having a single mora to pay, which means that most of the remedies disappear at an alarming rate - be it some herbal balm for aching joints or a simple linen bandage.

The idol rustles in the hidden pockets of her dress, taking out a pencil and sheet of paper and begins to write, the list grows as Kaeya’s eyebrows get higher and higher. There are dried Liyuen herbs, exotic Sumeru fruits, specially treated Snezhnayan and Fontaine tinctures and medicines.

Kaeya is taken aback for a second by the sheer length of the final list - most of the items will have to be ordered and shipped and despite his salary of the captain allowing such expenses, it’s still strange to spend so much mora - a complete stranger. Captain contemplates just leaving you there - nuns will take care of you, but the hurt resurfaces again and he sees another person lying on the small hospital bed - little him, scared and confused.

He ends up buying all the listed things, and despite his efforts not to, continues to regularly check up on you when he has time. Sometimes, Barbara says, you wake up from your slumber, enough to utter some confused noises and questions, but then you drowse off again, both sickness and medicine pulling you back to sleep.

Kaeya, to his displeasure, never catches you conscious in time, until he comes one evening, expecting to spend the time looking at you sleeping again only to see you half sitting on the bed. Your posture gets straight the second you notice him too, an expression of confusion and fear appearing on your face.

"Hello", Kaeya starts, slowly walking up towards you, keeping his posture small and voice as friendly as possible:"I am that knight who carried you here, remember?", he explains, seeing the further abashment on you face.

You nod at him, prompting him to continue:"So, I just decided to visit you to ask you how you got in the forest and why were you alone"

"Sister Barbara said that you came here almost everyday," you reply, voice absolutely flat and face having no expression. Kaeya looks at you briefly - it’s rare for children to speak in such a cold manner, you must have something on your mind then.

"Yes, I did" , he says in the same friendly tone.

"Just to know why I was in the forest?" , your voice betrays you, a hint of hurt seeping into it. Ah, that’s why you asked.

"Hm, of course no! I also wanted to see you get better" , he smiles at the end, leaning a bit closer to you. You mull over his words, thinking of their sincerity, and then a later second you say, with much less caution and guard up:

"Well I am better now and…" you get silent for a good minute:"I don't remember why I was there. I think it's because of the fever". Your voice becomes strangely controlled again - you lie to Kaeya, you didn’t forget anything. A part of cavalry captain swells and purrs, recognizing himself in you,

"Do you want to live with me?". He asks instead of trying to get the truth out of you. Your eyes shine and a surprised noise comes out of your mouth at his suggestion - something between a squeak and high pitched yelp.

His apartment isn't the best place to bring the child in - there are far too many bottles and not enough food - Kaeya lives off the takeout from the Good hunter and the skewers he grills when missions call him to leave the city walls. Nonetheless, you don’t look too disgusted with his living conditions, so he considers it a win, as he heads for the tiny kitchen to make you a soup.

It turns out a bit burnt in the end - Kaeya added too much wood to the stove, but you still gulp it down, not leaving anything and thank him for the meal. He makes a mental note to buy you a bed - right now you’re sleeping on a small couch, and clothes to change.

You are a quiet child, too fast to apologize for the smallest mistakes and wary of him when he’s in a foul mood - it gives Kaeya an idea why you were in the woods. Your days together flow slowly and steady with Kaeya falling into routine - he wakes up, makes a breakfast for the both of you, you eat it, as you shyly tell him about your newest interest or finding - a drawing, a strange bug, a shiny rock of unusual colour, then he leaves for work, instructing you to go to the neighbours if you have issues, and leaving a premade dinner for you. Then he comes back, now listening to you talking about your day - you were drawing again, or you played with the other kids, or you were running and catching the butterflies, the now dead insects left for him to look at.

It’s a mundane life, something that Kaeya thought will never please him. There is a large pit inside of him - it was growing and festering with years - Khaenri’ah, father, Diluc, Crepus, that fight. It’s ugly and snarling and thoroughly scorched, a part of his soul that keeps him awake and anxious and angry and sad during bad nights. The pit quiets a bit when Kaeya takes care of you - toys, foods, games, the same way he wishes he was treated as a child.

Crepus Ragnvindr was a nice person, he took Kaeya in, clothed and fed and kept him safe for years, yet there was always an invisible line that separated Khaenri'ahn from Diluc - warmer voice, higher expectations, more praise. Kaeya doubts Crepus noticed this truly tiny gap in treatment, Diluc for sure didn’t. Alberich did his best to ignore it, yet he couldn’t, this difference nagged him at the back of his mind, alienating him in the newfound home.

That must be why he does his best to spoil you - it's new toys and furniture and evening walks around the Mondstadt with you on his shoulders. Soon, a new rumour starts to travel around Mondstadt - about a stray being picked up by another stray. Amber seemingly forgives him for the incident with Collei, Jean gives him a raise the same month, for child expenses, she succinctly says, Albedo off handedly mentions Klee and her desire for friendships, even Lisa gives him a couple of fairytale books, warning him what will happen if he will be late to return them beforehand. Diluc doesn't comment on the irony the next time they happen to meet, but he sees some Dawn Winery workers looking after you, when he is busy with Favonius stuff.

Kaeya, for the first time in years, feels truly happy. He has family again - you and him this time and he's willing to smother you with affections. He buys you things he wishes he had, and teaches you the skills he thinks will help you in life - how to fight, how to lie, how to kill someone with words alone.

It's a strange love he has for you - never seeing you as you - but it's genuine and all encompassing. Kaeya doesn't want little him to suffer again.

[yeoldontknow]

Can you do it too! If you could ship your moots with any BTS member (their bias or not) what would the ships be? Also give us a small glimpse into how their relationship would look like!

omg? i swear we’re going back in time on tumblr today this is so cute. i haven’t done something like this in a looooonnnggg time but ahhh how fun!

@jamaisjoons - i’m pairing sol with namjoon for many many reasons. their relationship would be one of the most endearing and effusive relationships possible. sol needs someone to ground her, who listens to her ideas, her drive for equity, diversity, and activism, and her plans and not just encourage them but engage with them. she has the spark for a lot of things but needs a generator to keep them going - and he absolutely is that. they both love deeply, they both are clumsy. i assure you this relationship would just be so sweet.

@kth1 - taehyung is going home to maggie. i could wax poetic about this relationship for hours. the intellectual understanding here is so beautiful, but the tender way these two brighten one another’s moods by naturally being themselves is so extraordinary. it’s a case of opposite tastes attracting one another - their house a mixture of many styles and eras, but it somehow all boils down to comfort. they provide for one another, they are vocal when they’re pissed off at one another, and they come back like a sling shot ready to forgive after talking. the attraction too?? intense. everyone looking at them and waiting for them to get any of their 27 rooms in their big ass house.

@jeonjcngkook - jungkook and jords, jords and jungkook. it just makes sense. their relationship is the definition of harmony - truly the way they strive to care for one another and create balance is *chefs kiss.* they spend this relationship learning one another intimately - they are similar, but in each other they see things they can learn and grow from. their relationship is their safety net, their safe space. and together they illuminate unfound aspects within one another. everyday is new.

@yoonia - the paradise utopia that is dia and yoongi is magical. the quiet way they come together transcends language, and neither are afraid to use that language when they’re upset with one another. imagine: two people expressing anger in a way that’s like an undercurrent, a shockwave that rattles them both into silence. imagine: two people already prepared to forgive the moment an argument starts. imagine: this very fact terrifying these people, reaching for one another’s hand in the dark simply because they’ve found themselves in this space, together. that’s dia and yoongi- quiet, light lightning, with the sound thunder only in private.

@opaljm - jimin goes home to opal and finds himself adored. jimin goes home and finds himself entirely scene - a horrifying thought that somehow he can stomach because it’s her. she sees beyond all of his quirks to the sensitivity, the creativity, and draws the things he’s too afraid to say out into the open because she notices them, she loves them, and she protects them. she makes him feel safe and he helps her experience trust. and while neither of them are prepared for the immensity of those feelings, it feels right because it’s them.

@xjoonchildx - ana has fought off all 10,000 of the other latinx hoseok lovers and earned his hand. i jest - she didn’t have to fight. he fought for her. can you imagine two people with more passion? hoseok is passionate, severe, and occasionally austere. the darkness in him has always been intense, prone to thoughts of doom because he is saturn ruled. ana makes things feel a little lighter; ana makes the doom feel less heavy because she shoulders it with him. they will laugh louder than anyone else in the room the same way they will cry harder, and fight louder, and come together more violently than anyone else in the room. but that’s the only way the know how to love: with all of themselves, to the absolute limit.

@kookdiaries - jin goes home to valerie and while i’m sure this might be surprising to some, it always makes sense to me. these two people don’t have homes - they have nests. to them, home, family, food, and privacy are sacred experiences. they will create a home of legends: it will always smell of the best food ever made, it will always have the best of everything - from food, to wine, to furniture. they will dote on one another - even when they are angry, they will still hand the other the last of the meal, the last of the chocolate, a blanket to stay warm. even when they are angry they are caring for one another - terrifying, because they have never been this way with anyone else. but they transmute the difficulty together and still find a way to make it home.

pairings and relationship details are based on my understanding of each persons astrology charts. this is not meant to upset, offend, or incite anyone to anger. we’re having fun. let’s keep it that way.