#i keep switching between love and hate so i might draw more later

[rebelsafoot]

i Love you wheelchair mabel art. i like the idea that pacifica has chronic leg pain and is nervous about using a cane or any kind of mobility aid, but seeing mabel and be bejewelled chair makes her more confident to use them

very loud correct buzzer THIS IS THE ONE ! i kind of forgot what the og ask was when i started drawing it and just went with mabel also bedazzles pacificas aids, but i might draw a followup thats closer to what u actually asked pls take this in the meantime

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 98

Chapter 98: “Starting Sound”

I like how the first couple pages fake us out by thinking the enemy is about to attack Emma & everyone else when they actually end up raiding an dummy shelter. Very thankful to James for setting up so many empty ones because this keeps Peter’s men occupied for almost two years trying to find the right one.

Y’all know you can sleep in a bit longer since you’re not bound by the GF schedule anymore, right?? Old habits die hard I guess.

Props to Ray, Pepe and whomever else normally helps in the kitchen because that is definitely a lot of mouths to feed all at one time. Also love how intermingled the tables are between GF & GP children, like it doesn’t matter where they came from, they’re all one big family.

I adore seeing them adjust to the shelter life and all the different tasks the kids take on. I’m mighty fond of seeing Oliver wear the shelter jacket & turtleneck as well! Wish we got to see that look on him more often, same with Nigel without his usual hat. But there’s no way Paula could still be recovering a month and a half later! Hell, she’s shown sitting at the tables during breakfast just fine! Ahh whatever, still cute that Zack continues to check up on her. GP trio owns a special place in my heart.

With Dominic learning how to hunt from Yuugo, I guess it isn’t totally farfetched that season two had him pick up archery so quickly. I do remember that Rossi learns morse code eventually, but I was unaware he tries to learn some medical stuff alongside Theo? At least, I’m assuming that’s what going on considering Anna & Zack are there too.

Ah.. back during ch92 I wondered why the GF kids never picked up on Adam reciting Norman’s number when they returned to the shelter, but I guess the big guy just switched it up and started repeating Emma’s ID nonstop instead. Makes sense as to why Violet seems a bit confused about it, not because she doesn’t remember Emma’s number but if that’s the same number Adam was saying the whole time back at GP.

I haven’t looked for fics in a hot minute, but I remember there were always tons about RE in the shelter library and not enough (or any) about the secret room and I gotta wonder why. Clearly they’re down below often enough during the past seven days if that GV kid knows where they are.

Well, Sonya’s correct about the first part since it’s revealed earlier this chapter that Peter killed off a handful of supporters back in 2031. Also, love how one of the tiny, surprised faces kinda looks like the drawing Shirai typical uses.

Still a more complex way to locate the secret room than how season two had it be “hidden” behind a simple, very noticable door labeled “pen.”

I despise this man so damn much.. absolutely hate him and his stupid fingers tapping away endlessly. I still dunno if this is just a random thing he does or if it’s actually morse. Can’t confirm it with season two either since the anime did one thing right and cut him out.

Speaking of morse code, I love how Emma quickly hands the phone over to Ray once she recognizes it. Sure she’s skilled enough to decipher it, but hearing morse is much different than seeing it, and there’s no way she wants to miss a single detail after waiting a whole week to hear back from the supporters, so she tosses the phone to Ray since she believes he will catch everything more efficiently than she could. And he does.

Now, I may be a total idiot, but for the life of me, I can’t remember who this hooded person might be? With it currently being March 2046, it can’t be James since he died sometime around September 2031 (if ch73 is anything to go by) and it ain’t Norman since he’s still trapped at Lambda until 2047. Perhaps Peter missed a supporter hiding amongst the Ratri clan and this is some random person but I dunno. Oh, unless this is just Smee..? I mean, the cloak he’s wearing is pretty much the same one Norman uses later on, so he could easily acquire it when they’re both at Lambda. That could be it. Hopefully.

Favorite panel/moment:

I HAVE DEARLY MISSED MY BOY CHRIS!! (& yes I noticed Gillian’s tiny head pat to Thoma. See! I knew they would get along well!)

[whenthechickencry]

Umineko Ch1. Replay 7

Switched to the Switch version, so that's why everything looks different.

This is the first time Battler steps in to argue and it's funny how he pushes the direction in a wronger direction.

Though yeah he's entirely right at this point, considering you know, she can't explain that because she was in fact aiding the murderer.

And this unwillingness is what's going to lead to 4 episodes of Battler struggling to understand anything until it's too late

Guess she can't keep pushing without drawing suspicion to herself, even if she wants to.

Eva felt a little bit too safe just because she's an accomplice and it definitely bit her in the ass later, Rosa's a bit more careful about this next chapter.

I imagine red flags blaring on her head as soon as Eva heard that

To be fair that is indeed mostly correct! Even if you are really grasping at straws here

Getting second thoughts about becoming an accomplice and your motives behind that decision, Eva?

You are definitely a big enabler of the worst of Eva's impulses, Hideyoshi, though you can definitely see how much Eva appreciated her family despite her faults and how that grief will end up destroying her post-1986

A bit of foreshadowing at how much Maria is ignored by her mom

You already did that Battler!

I remember this mystery seeming so impossible for me when I first played... but the answer really was as easy as the door was never locked at all. Of course, I didn't get the hint that the narrative lied to me at the time, so, it felt a lot harder than it was!

Interesting how the only 2 people to see the butterflies in this episode were Shannon and Kanon - and how this one happened right after the scene where Kanon discovers a "locked room" - I think you are supposed to look at how this scene couldn't possibly have happened in reality and look at previous scenes with Kanon

This monologue being given by Kanon is very interesting, Kanon defeating Beatrice seems to represent a 'defeat' in Yasu's mind of what Kanon is saying, that they ARE furniture and the death of the last bit of resistance they had in carrying out the plan.

Yeah I bet she's laughing her ass off at how she's gonna prank everyone

He definitely tries to, at least!

Aw, wouldn't have minded seeing these 2 bond a bit more

Jessica tagging along was probably a bit annoying for Yasu!

Seems Natsuhi is a little bit relieved they will be able to pin Kinzo's death on something else, though also alarm bells should be ringing in her head about how the culprit is probably a servant here...

Yes! Follow that line of thought Battler, whose corpse wasn't seen very well?

It's more like dying is what she's looking for Battler...

Also, this scene plays a new song for the Saku version of the game now and it's really good!

If Yasu is hearing this, they are probably very split between both the love and hate Jessica is showing them, huh? Though they might just see it as further proof they can't be loved for who they are as a whole - only parts of them can be.

Maria's probably right, though, even if at this point Maria told George who Beatrice is, they won't believe her.

Maria....

Huh, the gang locking themselves up in Kinzo's room was part of Yasu's plan... I guess Yasu was hopeful doing the risky play would force Battler to finally figure out what's going on

This is gonna be a recurring theme Battler, for a loooong while.

Battler actually gets the right idea a surprising amount of times in this chapter, it's just that he's unable to commit to any theory.

Seems Nanjo Genji and Kumasawa are all feeling guilty and remember their role in enabling Kinzo with regards to Beatrice 2

We are pretty close to the end now so I'll probably finish this up tomorrow or so, though the tea party might take me another day even if I don't remember it being very long.

[themultiverseinmymind]

My Drawing Process

So, finally getting around to sharing my process. I feel so bad that this took so long to finally do, but better late than never? Also, please bear in mind that I am mostly self-taught, so if I'm doing things funkily, that's probably why.

This is gonna be a long post, so I'm putting it under the cut.

First step is gathering references. This takes… So. Much. Time. Because it never feels like I can find the ideal one for what I'm picturing in my head? (Also, because I end up distracted and gathering ones I don't need, but the ADHD is strong in this one.) I usually end up using multiple references for various aspects and kind of Frankenstein-ing them together (like, one might involve the initial placement of two figures hugging, but then I'll find another to place an arm differently, or to help depict a different body type than the first reference. Oftentimes this involves using the "perspective" feature of "transform a layer or selection" on Krita for positioning a reference.)

I tend to keep different linework in various bright colors to help myself differentiate between them, keeping several separate layers, and later merging (and ideally labelling) them. For example, I'll have several hair layers as I add details and whatnot, and will only combine them into one layer once I'm satisfied with how everything looks. Linework involves a bunch of redrawing for me as I play around with things to get them to look the way I want, so I make a bunch of copies as I tweak different lines in case I bork something up and need to revert to an old copy (I'll periodically go through and delete old copies as I improve said lines.)

This is the point where I'll color my lines black, though if it's difficult to differentiate between certain lines, I might leave certain lines colored until the flat colors are done.

Next is getting my flat colors done, usually taking from the original color-scheme if it's fan-art of a non-original character. I usually keep a little labelled swatch like the one in the upper right.

Then we get to the fun part that I hate and love in equal measure: shading and highlights!

I'll usually start with adding pink-ish tones to the areas that have the concentration of blood-flow- cheeks, tip of the nose, etc. (Though, I don't think I did with this one, so I don't have an example to show, oops.) Then I'll move onto shading, following a reference typically for a basic idea of where the contours need to be, but a lot of this ends up being intuitive. I like to use a combination of the wet paint brush, the soft airbrush, and the basic blender- often setting it to a lower opacity as I blend/soften edges and switching the eraser setting on and off. I try to move my brush strokes in directions that follow the shape of the contours themselves - as if it were a 3d model (does the way I'm describing that make sense? I hope so.)

I like to play with different filters on the layer setting to get the color/concentration I want for this - "Shade - IFS Illusions" gets used a lot, though typically set to less than 50% transparency and often in combination with another lower transparency layer or two, I play with layers to get the looks I want.

Post-blending:

Then adding extra details- in this case, slight creases and stubble, etc.

Then highlights- I love using the "Luminosity/Shine SAI" layer filter for this- gives it a nice glow. Same as before, I might have several layers for highlights, at various transparencies to achieve a certain look.

Then I'll add more details, usually focusing on things like clothes.

Then the background. I do not love doing background stuff, but I am very grateful for finding FizzyFlower's Essential Brushes- it has sooo many helpful brushes.

Annnd that's about it. I hope it was helpful and not too rambly.

[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!

[insomniamamma]

Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.

Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.

         "You did this on purpose."         "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--"         "You don't have a right hand,"         "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations."         "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm.         "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins.         "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception.         "You sure?" Asks Ezra.         "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade."         "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--"         "No."         "No?"         "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."

        Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring.         "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.

        Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do.         Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.

        He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled.         "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"

        Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab?  He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him.         "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you.         "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

        You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid.         Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest.         "Hi Ez,"         "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder.         "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer.         "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes.         "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?"         "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?"         "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-"         "The wrapping was mutual-"         "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head.         "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch.         "Tickles."         "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him.         “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.

        "She's late," says Ezra.         "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board,"         "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair.         "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you.         "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair."         "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee.         "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her.         "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully.         "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though."         "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile.         “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big.         "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something."         "I look forward to it," says Ezra.         "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug.         "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit.         "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee.         "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs.         "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit.         "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee.         "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra.         "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?"         "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about."         "Hmph," says Cee.

Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12

[backtoyuta]

NCT 127: at a frat party

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

❁ [Taeil] Introverted confidant; Taeil is the guy you go to to seek solace in when you're not really feeling the vibe. Maybe the music sucked, the drinks weren't having an effect on you or it was too rowdy, whatever the problem was you could always sneak away or locate him somewhere a little quieter and just observe the mess from a distance. He'll laugh appreciatively if you took the initiative to sneak some snacks or drinks laid out and ruffle you hair playfully to thank you, making astute remarks about how drunk his friends are and groan about how he'll probably have to carry one of them home later. It's likely that you'll both be stuck with the task of making sure everyone gets home safe, shove bread in someone's mouth in hopes of it helping somehow even if you're not totally sober yourself. Maybe he gets really into the party once in a while, and when he does he benignly encourages you to let loose yourself and join in the fun, however it's almost always a guarantee that you'll end up taking a breather from the noise together in the garden, the part of the living room that isn't occupied, in desperate situations a random storage cupboard (Everybody got the wrong idea with that one) (No, you never quite lived it down). It's a nice feeling to see his expression perk when he finally sees you, the quick hug you always exchange, the knowing glances when your social batteries are already dying and its time to dip.

❁ [Johnny] Life of the party; Being the extroverted king he is, Johnny is the guy you might end up holding onto his sleeve for most of the night, figuratively. The guy that knows everyone, he'll happily adopt you if you look like you feel out of your depth and kindly make you a drink and usher you towards a group to try and let loose. Being with Johnny means a lot of attention, being introduced to people here and there and him playfully picking on you during drinking games, volunteering to make a fool of himself when someone dares you to do something a little too outrageous. Johnny is the comfort you need whilst simultaneously the reason for your death because drunk Johnny means a lot of shameless flirting and eye contact from across the kitchen counter, as well as keeping you close to his side and out of reach when someone else tries the same thing on you. At some heinous hour in the morning the rooms are considerably emptier, discarded cups everywhere and chiller music is humming from the bluetooth speakers, you could kid yourself that it was just you two even though you're sitting in a pool of people. His arm swung casually around your shoulders, "Did you have a good time?" Falling from his mouth slightly slurred and giving you an affectionate squeeze and a lazy kiss to the top of your head when you nod your head yes.

❁ [Taeyong] Hangover mum no. 1; We all know Taeyong has his maternal vibe going on, but lest we forget he too is a guy in his mid twenties looking for a good time. That being said, he wasn't surprised when Johnny dropped you off to his charge, the smell of alcohol radiating off of you, your appearance looking a lot more fragile from what he remembered when you first arrived that evening. He was incredibly patient, letting you rest in his bedroom while you sipped your water, salty pretzels at the ready for when you got the munchies and if disaster struck, he didn't judge when he pushed your hair back for a tactical chunder. He would assure you that you weren't keeping him from his friends when it had been a little while, and would keep a close eye on you when you rejoin the group, just a cup of lemonade in your grasp as a means of preventing a relapse. He's the guy that doesn't pressure you to join during drinking games, is perfectly content to give you his hoodie and let you sidle up to him as means of comfort and just observe everyone else admitting to disgusting truths during Never Have I Ever. At the end of the night he walks to your pace, will listen and hum attentively at any drunken musings that fall out of your mouth he knows you'll regret telling him tomorrow.

❁ [Yuta] King of the drinking games; Yuta isn't the type to shy away from a good time, and he's always front and centre when it comes to lowkey humiliating himself in Ring of Fire, truth or dare, or any of the classics. His confidence outweighs the most disgusting things he's admitted to doing, the embarrassment of what someone dared him to do and you've never seen someone chug a drink with so much gusto. Always manages to come up with the most evil questions, hitting right where it hurts and you dread when his turn rolls around again and his gaze lands on you. He's impressed when you take up his dares with dignity, or admit shamelessly to any hidden tattoos or piercings. If you caught his interest, will switch on the scorpio and keep his gaze trained on you for the rest of the night, will try and pry any information out of you by keeping you included in conversations and will 100% invite you to his room when the party is over. His demeanour reads as chaotic, he thrives being around his friends, but you somehow manage to unlock that calmer more intuitive part of him when he catches you outside the bathroom to check that he didn't go too far during one of the infamous games being played in the living room.

❁ [Doyoung] Hangover mum no.2; We've all seen the sweet and caring side of Doyoung jump out before, so if you're on your merry way towards being wasted he can't help but intervene to make sure you're ok. Don't be fooled though, he doesn't really have the patience of Taeyong, so expect a whole lotta tough love. He won't hesitate to flick you on the forehead when you get a little too in his face, though he deliberately doesn't do it too hard. Inadvertently gives off the impression that you're a nuisance as he scoffs and sighs at you weeping over a packet of crisps, has to later make a point of assuring you that "you're fine, you should just know better". There's an air of fondness that lingers when you settle down a bit and start to enjoy yourself at a more acceptable level of tipsiness and he insists that he walks you home. "Begrudgingly" hands over his jacket when you complain about being cold even though that was his plan all along, and takes mental notes of all the ridiculous drunken comments you make so he can torment you with them later.

❁ [Jaehyun] The guy who may or may not be responsible for your death; One thing about Jaehyun, he's the guy who's terrible at mixing drinks. Don't look at Johnny, he won't help you, when you asked for sex on the beach expect anal on the rocks because Jaehyun knows jack shit about ratio of alcohol to mixer. Don't worry too much, as much as it's his fault for accidentally getting you trashed, he takes as much responsibility for looking after you and making sure you have a good time. Lowkey turns into a frat boy cliche, the hat is on backwards and he's already tugging your arm to coerce you into being his partner for beer pong. He drinks most of the cups whenever you lose to make up for the terrifying concoctions he had you drink earlier and celebrates over excessively when you win by wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and lifting you in to the air slightly. His harmless nice chad vibes make for good company and there's the tingly feeling of chemistry when he laughs loudly at your jokes, eyes turning into little crescents and dimples popping, he watches proudly and thinks "that's my girl" when you make all his friends laugh with you.

❁ [Jungwoo] Level 300 clinger; whether you're moving between groups, leaving to get more food, or shifting to get a better view of the beer pong table, Jungwoo will find a way to squeeze in next to you some way some how. You can always feel an arm ghosting around your waist or around your shoulders, or hear his giggle right there beside your ear. After spending so much time on your feet, you both eventually flop on the sofa, a tangled mess of limbs whilst you try and catch your breath. People keep asking if you're together because of the excessive physical contact, and you hate how he thrives at you scrambling awkwardly for an answer to convey that wasn't the case while he just smiles innocently, making no effort to debunk the comments. There's a high chance that if either of you end up staying over in the other's house, he'll make sure he'll consensually sleep right there next to you, talking randomly about any topic that crosses his mind until you fall asleep. The mornings involve laughing at each other's bed head until you tune into your hangover's, sharing the one bottle of water while scrambling for painkillers and nagging at each other for not cutting either of you off when you went too far.

❁ [Mark] Lightweight; to keep it short and simple, Mark Lee proved himself to be a bit of a lightweight from the get-go, and now here you were, the room dim and bass thumping while Mark laughs loudly at whatever Johnny was saying and you haven't even been there for an hour yet. Mark is the guy that is kinda hard to keep track of, you thought you saw him in the kitchen but now he's messing around with Haechan in the garden and each time you regroup with him he's even more drunk than before. He always finds you eventually, maybe you were taking a load off at the snack table, munching crisps and replying to texts when a lanky arm swings over your shoulders and Mark's smily face is way too close to your line of sight asking if you're OK. If he feels he's neglected you for too long he overcompensates by ushering you to his current group and making a point of pulling a fold out chair right next to his, his laugh dominating the conversation even if the joke wasn't that funny. When the night draws to a close, he settles down, the lack of people taking a toll on his energy and that's where he engages in conversations way too deep for a frat party and way too personal for just friends, though you never worried, there was no way he would remember any of this tomorrow.

❁ [Haechan] Partner in crime; That one friend who you end up hanging with the whole night, even if that wasn't the intention. Haechan doesn't fear drunkenness, it doesn't seem like he fears anything, and he'll always without fail drag you down with him. He's the guy that cheers obnoxiously when you down your shot, always picks on you in the drinking games because he loves to see you embarrassed and the one you sneak away with to try cigarettes even if it turns out you don't really like them. His famous last words are always "I'll do it if you do it" and that's the story of how you both ended up jumping into a neighbour's pool completely wasted, and now hoarding the bottle of tequila. Haechan is the guy that kind of makes you make a complete fool out of yourself, but always assures you that nobody will remember by the morning and to just live in the moment. Your favourite part of these frat parties is always looking through your photos the next day and laughing at all the horrendous selfies and videos he took before you noticed he had your phone for the last 15 minutes.

[uwuwriting]

Road trip w/ Kaminari, Shinsou and Bakugou

Request: Shinso, Kami, and Bakugou on a long trip/plane ride with their S/o? Happy holidays bb! - 🥐

I wish I could go on a trip. I need Christmas break to last longer, I’m not ready to go back to school and study for uni, I’m not emotionally capable. I hate it here.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff

Kaminari Denki

-You have a mini fight about who gets to drive at first. 

-You don’t trust him because he is dumb and bisexual and he believes that you’ll fall asleep ont he wheel cuz you stayed up until like 2 am the previous day downloading music and making playlists for the journey. 

-He gets to drive the first shift and it goes relatively well.

-You get some extra sleep, he enjoys his time behind the wheel and boom you’re now at a gas station having brunch before hitting the road again.

-Karaoke driving. 

-I think that’s all I have to say about your road trip with this guy. 

-HE will ignore the playlists with the soft songs because he needs to vibe at first. 

-Kills it with the Shakira impressions like you start wondering what would happen if he suddenly decides to follow a music career like Jiro. 

-So many bathroom stops. 

-Does this man have a prostate problem because damn.

-He can’t go for more than an hour without stopping to pee. 

-The one time you ask to stop at a gas station for a bathroom break he suggests just stopping at the side of the road and you could pee there. 

- “I do it so you can too.” 

-Denki honey I don’t have a dick to wip out…...I need essentials. 

-May or may not have taken the wrong exit at some point and you took a thirty minute detour. 

-At least you got some nice photos out of it. 

-Speaking of photos. 

-Your camera roll will be filled with selfies, stupid videos of Kami hyping himself up at a red light. 

-Races with other cars at said red lights. 

-You fear for your life most of the time, grasping the door handle like your life depended on  it because in reality it kinda did. 

-You beg him to take over and drive for a little bit but he brushes you off. 

- “You seem tired baby, let me drive for a bit.” 

- “Nope I’m perfectly fine Y/N. Gonna get us to the hotel so fucking fast.” 

- “Denki no-”

-He calms down after a while, and he lets you put on your soft playlist so you could both just vibe. 

-His hand is resting on your thigh, giving it a few firm squeezes every now and then. 

-He likes drumming the beat of the song on your skin.

-You start random conversations about anything and everything and if you’re being honest you love these types of moments. 

-There are no villains to fight, no danger in the horizon *apart from his driving* and you get to enjoy the tranquility while enjoying the ride.

-Denki starts telling you about adopting a dog and you joke that he would be a horrible dog dad. 

- “Maybe cats are better for you babe.” 

-You are no longer heroes. 

-You are just a couple going on a road trip, away from all your troubles and worries just you and him. 

-You reach the hotel later than you expected though…..it was those damn bathroom breaks!!!

Shinsou Hitoshi

-The trip is spontaneous. 

-You were both chillin in your apartment when he popped the question. 

- “Wanna go on a trip? I’m bored.” 

-You never expected him to pick a place this far away, you weren’t complaining though. 

-Road trips with him are immaculate. 

-He helps you pack your bags in no time, picking your favorite outfits out and placing them in your travel bags along with a bunch of snacks and a fluffy blanket. 

-You hit the road in less than an hour.

-It’s still dark out when you start your trip and Hitoshi insists you take a nap, get your beauty sleep while he drives. 

- “Don’t worry we won’t crash, I hope.”

-You do take a nap eventually but not for long and you wake up just in time to watch the sunrise with your boyfriend. 

-He will pull over and take pictures with the sunrise as your background. 

-He says he needs a new wallpaper on his phone and there’s an empty picture frame at his desk back at work. 

-He needs to fill them somehow. 

-Around noon he brings the fluffy blanket in the front seat, wrapping it around you so you can snuggle and possibly fall asleep again. 

-In reality he wants to take more pictures of  you with drool dripping down your chin for blackmail purposes but you will not yield !!!

-The trip is mainly filled with music and low humming coming from the both of you. 

-Though when a love song that reminds him of you comes on he will lean over and grip your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze, a blush blooming on his cheeks. 

-Makes many stops in spots that look great for photos or having an amazing view. 

-Definitely has prepared a picnic basket and before you know it you are munching down on some sandwiches he made while your feet are dangling over a small cliff you happened to come across. 

-Shares random facts about nature and animals with you. 

-Shinsou strikes me as a guy who watches a lot of documentaries and animal planet shows, so he has obtained random information and now he is explaining the mating cycle of penguins. 

-Would definitely prefer to sleep in the car and not rent a room. 

-He wants to stay outside looking at the stars for as long as possible and then snuggle up with you in the driver's seat, your head against his chest and his hand buried in your hair. 

-If you want to go to a hotel because you feel more comfortable, he won’t complain. 

-As long as he gets to cuddle you anything is fine in his book. 

-He puts on YOUR song while you are looking at the sky and invites you to dance with him. 

-Wraps his arms around your waist and slowly sways you back and forth, following the rhythm of the song as he looks into your eyes. 

-He loves capturing the moment so expect many photos to be taken and a bunch of videos of you two dancing. 

-He has his crackhead moments though so you can expect to be shoved into the water if you’re near a lake or at the beach. 

-He might draw a mustache on you while you sleep but don’t worry you get payback when he is asleep. 

Bakugou Katsuki 

-Whines while you back everything. 

-And when I say whines I mean he grumbles under his breath about this stupid shirt that he can’t seem to fold correctly.

-Anyways once you hit the road he is more relaxed than usual. 

-He keeps this tight, aggressive persona out in public you sometimes forget that this man, this amazing partner is also a pro hero who is known for his rough edges. 

-Sure, his explosive behavior doesn’t disappear when he is with you but he is a lot tamer and calm around you.

-During the car ride he makes small talk with you, sharing random events from his patrols and stupid shit his “squad” have done while out in public. 

-When he comes home every night he is just so tired that many details slip his mind as he recounts his day to you, seeing him right now a genuine smile gracing his lips as his only focus is the road in front of him really warms your heart. 

-He becomes more affectionate. 

-Hand gripping yours while he drives or his palm on your thigh, rubbing your soft skin as he hums along with the music. 

-Even if he needs to switch gears he won’t let go.

-Surprisingly he is the type to put on an audio book after a while. 

-Usually it's after your wedding song is over or soon after that. 

-Your song is like a trigger and suddenly sophisticated Bakugou emerges asking you to pick an audiobook from his collection and put it on. 

-Gets really invested in the story and pauses it every five minutes so you can discuss it. 

- “She could have escaped through the window why the fuck did she let herself get caught?” 

- “No Katsu!!! She needs to make sure the prince is alive!!” 

- “That’s fucking dumb!” 

-Let’s you take candid pictures of him and won’t complain when you coo over how pretty he looks with the sun behind him. 

-Don’t worry he is plotting to fill his gallery of pics of you sleeping. 

-When you actually fall asleep he will turn the radio down and hum softly under his breath. 

-If it starts raining heavily he will pull over and wait for it to calm down a bit. 

-My personal headcanon is that Katsuki has a car with a skylight *if that’s what its called* so he brings the seats down and you lay there admiring the rain falling onto the glass. 

-He likes talking about more serious matters when you are like this. 

-From your future to what pet your future kids could have. 

-If you get cold while waiting for the rain to calm down, he has a blanket on the ready. 

-He places you on his chest and drapes the blanket over you, enjoying your warmth and the filling of your pulse under his fingertips. 

-Might get a little emotional if a slow song is playing. 

-He is just too overwhelmed by his emotions at times like these, when he can hold you and feel the pure love and adoration flow between the two of you like water. 

-I love you��s are exchanged and many kisses. 

-When he starts driving again he is so refreshed, it’s like a completely different person. 

-Gas station stops and bathroom breaks are a nightmare cuz he keeps hyping himself up in order to go into Bakugou public mode. 

-You just want your Katsuki, the cuddly Katsuki. 

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[dorimena]

𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖊, 𝕴'𝖒 𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Todoroki Shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.8k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fluff, angst, media slander, body criticism, mentioned dieting, crying

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; Endeavor is a slightly better dad, slight self-hate, implied BakuTodo

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; this was kind of rushed, so it’s not proofread yet. I’ve taken some ideas from our conversation!

It happened all too suddenly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen all too suddenly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

If there’s a reason that justifies why you ignore the media and rightfully hate most talk shows, then what’s happening in front of you should be a good one.

Because Shoto looks like he’s about to… do nothing about it. He’s not really speaking or reacting much, simply staring at the screen with such a dull light on his face, resignation showing itself as he struggles to keep himself composed, keep himself scarce of any emotion but neutrality.

He’s failing terribly, but he wouldn’t know, and you wouldn’t tell him. It was meant to be a relaxing Thursday evening, where Fuyumi sent over some food and Natsuo ever-so-kindly sent a six-pack of beer with her to help you and Shoto unwind from such a hectic week full of arrests, busts, investigations, interrogations.

It feels like you’re somehow doing police work rather than your respectful ones, which is something you’d look into after figuring out why the media decided to suddenly talk about Shoto’s weight gain. It’s nothing new for you, for him, for your friends, for your family, for anyone who knows Shoto. Most people assume he’s picking up more mass to form bigger muscles, others simply enjoy the new Shoto, and the kids are beginning to no longer go up to him to bully him for the weird capsules around his waist, but rather to invite him to play with them.

Shoto was beginning to feel so much more comfortable in his skin, he was beginning to love his new body and the small changes that occur as he continues to slowly tone his muscles. He’s even accepted not to gain back his muscular form, simply keeping in mind the change in dynamic between him and the general public.

No one’s pointed a finger at him.

No one’s talked badly of him.

No one’s ever criticized him over his change.

Everyone was just glad prohero Shoto was fine and recovering well from his unexpected injuries.

So watching how these two talk show hosts are talking shit about his weight gain and ridiculing the way he looks in his clothes is making your blood boil.

On the screen, there are two pictures: the one on the left is a recent picture that made it on the newspaper as people thanked Shoto for saving a few kids from a terrible house fire; the one on the right is a picture from when Shoto was 16.

How could they be stupid enough to compare a teenager’s body with an adult’s?!

It’s like comparing a five year old’s drawing with a professional drawing, yet they’re ridiculing and nitpicking the professional and praising the child’s drawing.

It’s a weird analogy in your mind, but it’s the only thing that tries to help you understand why they think it’s necessary to suddenly bring up something so personal, so private, from someone?

When they switch to an improvised interview with Endeavor, Shoto shrinks a bit into the couch, leaning more into your side as you both listen to what his father had to say with such personal questions about his youngest son’s ‘recent’ weight gain.

Shoto knows his father’s opinion: Endeavour doesn’t care. But not in a ‘fuck you’ type of way, but in a ‘it’s your life, and if you’re happy, so be it.’

He’s changed quite a lot from when Shoto was younger, yet watching the way his father’s eyebrows furrowed in anger and snarl at the question had Shoto wonder if his father really isn’t bothered by his weight gain.

Slight weight gain, might you need to remind him.

But instead of listening to Endeavour criticize his son and agree with the commentaries, he yelled at the reporter for being so selfish and careless, how he’s keeping Endeavour from continuing his task of making sure recently rescued citizens are doing well or not.

And when pushed further for an answer, the older man sighs and explains how even though Shoto’s changed, he doesn’t see it in his weight, but rather his person and strength, a change in power, to which he’s proud of and only ever concerns him other than the general well-being of his son.

The talk show hosts don’t seem to be happy with the sappy response, probably waiting for the hero to maybe help feed the drama. So, they take matters into their own hands: try convincing the audience the number one prohero is probably only lying to save his image and pride.

Now that hurt a lot, seeing how they’re trying to change the context and make Endeavor into the asshole bastard of a father he stopped being time ago.

But it was enough to make Shoto stand up and walk silently to your bedroom.

You know what he’s doing, know what he’s probably thinking as he stares and scrutinizes his image in the mirror.

You mute the TV, rubbing a hand over your face as you head to the bedroom, frowning when you catch the way he subtly brushes away some tears. The more you watch, the more you feel like crying with him.

It’s so frustrating being a prohero, especially one admired by the media merely by his looks and status rather than talent and power.

He hasn’t done anything wrong to suddenly be bashed and hated on, to become such a joke and be ridiculed to the point his self-love and appreciation is thrown to burn in a trash can just so those pathetic celebrities can get a paycheck making people’s lives miserable.

Heck, there’s a prohero flaunting around about paying escorts to offer services at a party and they’re off the hook, apparently.

You can’t keep watching Shoto tear himself apart, not when it took so much patience, understanding, acceptance, appreciation, reassurance and love to build up his confidence again.

You don’t really speak, just go to the mirror and flip it over, stopping Shoto from glaring at himself, but it makes him finally let out a pained whimper, one full of dejection and hurt.

You got him quickly, wrapping your arms around him as his body shakes as held-back cries finally leave his system, doubt flooding his mind and insecurities coming back in full swing.

You manage to get you both to the bed with some awkward shuffling and lots of squirming, making sure his head is resting on your chest so that he hears your heartbeat while you brush his hair with your fingers, whispering and mumbling how he shouldn’t listen to them, that they’re lying, that their opinion doesn’t matter because they’re so unhappy and insecure about how confident he was.

How he’s a stronger person than they are for accepting and loving his body instead of succumbing to cheap plastic surgery to hide away his imperfections, which he has none.

How he’s a more beautiful person than they are for being so kind and generous to everyone that he sees, being polite and offering help where he sees they need.

How he’s a powerful person, not because he’s the son of Endeavor, but because he just carries his own influence over people, how they simply are drawn to him because of how he is and who he is personally, how naturally charming he is when he speaks and treats people.

You spill every confession, every praise, every single word you could think of to help sooth him from his hiccups, to ease him into tranquility while you both figure out how to carry on such harsh criticism about his body.

Shoto eventually starts laughing, shoulders shaking as he finishes wiping his tears. You’d be concerned, but knowing him, he must’ve associated this moment with something else.

And you are right.

“Remember when Bakugou came and bluntly told me how I’ve gained weight?”

“Yeah. You were ready to cry.”

“Yes, but I didn’t get to, because Bakugou directly told me, with no hesitation, how it makes me look healthier in an ‘odd’ way and how adorable I look. Later he threatened to feed me snacks if I ever think of strictly dieting.”

You nod, wondering where he’s getting at with this, not like it’s out of the blue.

“If a guy like Bakugou doesn’t see a problem with my weight gain, then, why did they?”

His voice went soft, quiet, as his question lingers in the air for some time before you shrug, holding him closer to your body.

“Maybe because they’ve never learned to love themselves, and you did because you’re a better person than they’ll ever be. You don’t ridicule anybody if you see a change, simply tell them about it and help them figure out how to fix it if they don’t want or like it.”

Shoto remains quiet, basking in the comforting silence as his head throbs a bit as a warning.

Pressing a palm into one of his eyes, he mumbles “do you think my father’s embarrassed of me?”

You hum, shaking your head immediately as you figure out your words.

“Your father seemed more embarrassed about how invasive these people are and how they were making him a fool rather than your newfound softness.”

You scratch Shoto’s head, playing with his hair as you try flipping the white strands to where the red strands lay.

“I think if your father were truly embarrassed, he would’ve forced you back into a diet a long time ago, or would’ve been around to monitor you. But he didn’t, because when he saw you after your accident, I heard him quietly thank the heavens that you’re safe and doing well rather than fuss about how your cheeks look fuller.”

Shoto tries to remember, but he was in the kitchen bothering his sister, but somewhat helped put the table when you guys went to visit for lunch a few months after his discharge.

But you’re right. His father would’ve done something sooner if his weight gain were an issue, but the old man didn’t. He even sent over some food and snacks from time to time, and still does, but a little less often. Whether it’d be because he caught wind of Shoto trying to slowly ease back with the sweets or because of the demand of his assistance in some missions.

You guys stay in bed, eventually falling asleep from the exhaustion of the random roller coaster the media decided to put you both in, more on Shoto than on you. But you went to sleep with a bit of ease, knowing Shoto’s at least trying to cheer himself up as well and realize the media’s opinion isn’t as valid to him as the opinion from those he loves and cares about.

But your sleep was interrupted when you heard your phone blaring in the living room. Shoto luckily is snuggling into his side of the bed, so you manage to walk quietly towards where your device sat and check the caller ID.

It’s Bakugou, and when you answer, he demands to know how Shoto is, how he took the bullshit those talk show hosts decided to spill and if he can pay a visit in the morning, wanting to check himself how the sleeping man is doing.

You’re sure Shoto will very much appreciate the hothead of his friend visiting.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Hello!

I love all your work so much and I saw that you were going to be taking a break from your Bachelor universe so I wanted to throw some prompts your way to maybe help get some other creative juices flowing *waggles eyebrows*

1) switched at birth AU

2) Everyone already knows their dating AU

3) Law and Order (SVU AU)

4) you’ve got mail AU

Thank you anon, I'm glad you like my writing!

Now that I've finished my Bach fic, I've been at a bit of a loss what I want to do next. Maybe it's because I'm all out of new ideas, maybe it's because work has been absolutely hectic, but my creative brain is completely empty. So I figured, why not try to do one of these prompts?

Here's the thing: I have never seen SVU or You've Got Mail. And I'm pretty sure Switched at Birth is also a TV show I have never seen? When I saw "everyone already knows" my immediate thought was "oh! like in Friends!" but then I remembered I have absolutely read that fic somewhere?? Like someone already wrote that for Jonsa. (I tried to find it again but have had no luck.)

So I chose switched at birth as a concept - I'm not sure if you meant the TV show or not, but I just wrote whatever popped into my brain.

A warning: this turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, and isn't necessarily Jonsa? It is if you squint. A few other notes, Alayne is a completely separate person from Sansa, Lysa is not related to Catelyn, and Baelish never knew Catelyn either. Sorry if it's confusing and/or not at all what you were looking for!

.

.

Sansa feels as if the world has dropped out from beneath her.

They all sit in the drawing room of what she can only describe as a mansion (and she knows that next to her, Father is likely seething. This is the kind of money he aspires to, but will never be able to reach. He will never have a name. Father is a Baelish, he could never be a Stark.)

She stares at the family sitting opposite and her heart sticks in her throat at the sight of them – the mother, the three sons, they all have the same copper hair that she does and she swallows against the rising tears.

This is what she could have had, she thinks as she averts her eyes, but she only manages to catch sight of the family portrait above the mantel. A father, a mother, siblings. She could have had all of this, if not for the slip-up of an overworked, underpaid nurse sixteen years ago. She could have been Alayne Stark. Instead she is Sansa Baelish.

Switched at birth.

Alayne sits with her family (that should be Sansa's family), and she doesn't look as out of place as she should. Her dark hair matches Mr. Stark's – matches the other daughter, Arya. Alayne fits right in.

Sansa sits with Father (no, not her father; the man who raised her) on the opposite couch and wonders if her Mother (no, not her mother) had known, somehow. Is that why Mother had always been so cruel to her? Why she always seemed to hate Sansa for reasons she could never figure out? Perhaps Mother had known, somehow, that Sansa wasn't hers. Sansa remembers reading fairy stories of Changelings – how the mother would know, insist the child wasn't hers, how no one ever believed her. Is that why Mother threw herself off the roof all those years ago?

“Well this is fucking awkward,” the girl, Arya, mutters, and it breaks the silence as Mr. Stark sighs and presses a hand over his face and Mrs. Stark begins to scold her for her language and impropriety. Sansa watches Alayne laugh, and she feels more than ever like an intruder. She may share the Stark blood, but it seems as if Alayne and Arya are more alike than not. And by the way the brothers are trying to hide their own laughter, it seems Alayne fits in with all of them.

Perhaps it wasn't a mistake to switch them, Sansa thinks bitterly. Perhaps the Starks are better for having Alayne.

….

She is forced to get to know the Stark family, though she does not think she wants to. She doesn't want to look at their life and wish it could have been hers – wish that Ned Stark with his kind eyes and calm voice could have been her father. Wish that Catelyn Stark with her smiles and her freshly baked cookies could have been her mother. Wish that she could have been surrounded by siblings and dogs and even two strange psuedo-adopted-but-not-really brothers that she meets later on named Jon and Theon. The Stark household is chaotic and confusing and Sansa tells herself she would have hated growing up here.

….

She isn't surprised to find that she's not sad Father isn't her real father. In fact, there's a sort of joy inside her that when she turns eighteen, she can be free of him. He is still her legal guardian, the courts have decided, but she has less than two years before she is free and they aren't actually related and so she doesn't have to feel guilty about her dreams of leaving him.

It grows inside her as the weeks and months go by – a hatred she has never truly let herself feel before. She hates him, despises him. She always has.

Catelyn Stark is insistent on getting to know her because Sansa is her daughter, but Sansa can tell that Father has no real desire to get to know his own real daughter. He does not care about Alayne – no, what he cares about is ingratiating himself into the Stark family. She wonders if the Starks can see it like she can. She hopes not – she doesn't want them to think she's only coming to these weekly meetings for their money and their name.

In all honestly, she's not actually sure why she keeps coming to these meetings. All they do is remind her that the Starks will never truly be her family. All they do is highlight how much Father cares about social climbing. These meetings are painful and every week when she finally gets home and takes a shower and gets into her pajamas and climbs into bed, she sobs into her pillow for what could have been.

…

“You know the party's inside, right?”

Sansa startles out of her reverie and whirls around, heart pounding, to find Jon Snow standing behind her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

It's Christmas and the snow is thick on the ground and she's shivering in the thin wrap that she came outside with, her coat in a closet where Mrs. Stark had taken it hours earlier.

“Are you allowed to be smoking?” she asks instead of answering and he laughs, pulling one out of the pack and placing it between his lips.

“I'm eighteen,” he shrugs, speaking around the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His hands come up and he lights it, with one cupped around the end against the cold winter wind.

“I can't imagine Mrs. Stark approves of smoking,” she sniffs, then shakes her head no when Jon holds the pack out to her in offering. She watches his mouth twitch into a smile for a moment, like he knew she wouldn't take one, before putting the pack back in his coat pocket.

“Seems you don't approve, either.”

“Well, I am her daughter.” She says it and means it to be a joke, but the words come out soft and it wavers at the end.

Jon watches her for a moment, then unzips his coat and shrugs it off and holds it out to her and she stares at it blankly, her mind not processing the gesture. He shakes the coat, like he's insisting she take it and she finally does, slipping it on and then closing her eyes at the immediate warmth of it.

“I get it,” Jon says after a while, when he's halfway down to the filter, clouds of smoke drifting up into the night sky. “I mean, not exactly, I'm not sure there's anyone who can understand... you know-” he gestures at her. “But I get what's it's like - to be a Stark, but not. They practically raised me, but I'm not... I'll never actually be one of them.”

“I used to read fairytales,” she admits, turning her face from him because it's easier to talk into the dark, snow-covered landscape than him. “About secret princesses, and the king and queen were always so happy to have their daughter back. In the stories, there was never another princess who already took her place. Who fit in better.”

Alayne is a perfect Stark, she thinks. Over the months, she's seen it – how Alayne plays football and hockey with her brothers and sisters, makes jokes that Sansa would never. She's nothing like Sansa, who always preferred reading poetry to playing outside, with perfect manners and perfect posture. Cold and reserved. She wishes she were more like Alayne – more like a Stark.

She hears Jon sigh and take one last drag of the cigarette before he puts it out in the snow. “You're a lot like Cat, you know,” he says finally, and she feels something twist painfully in her chest. “And Bran. I mean, I don't know you that well, I guess, but...”

She shakes her head because he's wrong. She's nothing like any of the Starks (though she's not a Baelish, either). Jon sighs again, louder this time, with more annoyance.

“You are,” he insists, and she finally turns to face him again and opens her mouth to argue, but he gets there first. “You'd see it if you let yourself. If you actually tried. Cat's... Cat is trying so hard. You should see how she gets before you come over. Everyone is freaking out about it but you won't even try to get to know them. And I might not get how you feel, but Alayne? Have you even tried to talk to her?”

That painful twist in her chest tightens, it swoops down into her belly and up into her throat. “I am-”

“Like I said, I can't imagine how it feels, you know? And I'm sure it's a lot, and you're allowed to feel how you feel, but the Starks are... they want you here, I promise. But if you don't want to be, if you don't want them in your life, maybe this should all stop, cause it's hurting them and I think it's hurting you. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to force it if it's not what you want.”

Her mind is blank, she can't think of a single argument, though she wants to argue. She wants to say that Alayne hasn't tried talking to her, either. She wants to insist that she is trying, but... but she's not. Not really. She's holding herself at a distance, she's already decided she doesn't belong.

“What if they don't like me?” The words slip out of her, unbidden, her voice barely a whisper. It wavers in the dark. (Her deepest fear – that if she lets them get close to her, they'll decide she isn't worth it, that they don't want her.)

She's not sure what response she was expecting, but it's not for Jon to smile – he does, gives her a little half smile and raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't know you that well yet, but so far I like you just fine. And I'm not even a Stark.”

“You seem like a Stark,” she tells him, and watches something flicker across his face and she doesn't know him well enough yet to tell what it is.

“I'm not actually related,” he says, though she already knows this. “Not by blood or anything.” For a moment he brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and he suddenly won't look at her and she wonders if she said something wrong. “We should go back inside,” he seems to change the subject and she hesitates, but then he holds out his hand. After a moment, she takes it, and follows him back inside, out of the freezing night air and into the warmth of the house. In the distance, she can hear voices and laughter, she can smell the cinnamon and pine in the air.

She could get lost here, if she let herself.

“There you are,” Mrs. Stark looks up as they enter the kitchen, and Jon lets go of her hand. Mrs. Stark narrows her eyes at Jon, then looks at the back door, like she guesses what he was doing out there and doesn't approve.

“I'm uh...” Jon starts, looking between Mrs. Stark and her, “I should get back to the party.” Before he goes, he turns back to her and she remembers she's still in his coat and she hurriedly takes it off, feeling heat high up on her cheeks as she does. “Try,” he says, voice too low for Mrs. Stark to hear. Then he takes his coat and leaves the kitchen – leaves her in the kitchen. Alone. With Mrs. Stark.

“Are you having fun?” Mrs. Stark's voice is light, but there's something underneath, a hesitance.

“I am,” she says back, wondering if she should make some excuse and leave. Wondering if Mrs. Stark doesn't want to be here talking to her.

(Try.)

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me,” she blurts out, and Mrs. Stark looks at her sharply. “I had some of the pumpkin pie, it was really good.”

It's such a stupid, nonsense thing to say, but Mrs. Stark looks pleased.

“It's a family recipe,” Mrs. Stark says, and then – a bit of hesitation - “I could teach it to you, if you'd like.”

Sansa's breath catches in her throat and it takes her a moment to say, “I like baking.”

“So do I. I could never get Alayne or Arya into it.” Mrs. Stark says it with a fond smile and Sansa feels something break open inside of her and she realizes, she knows, that she wants this. She wants to know this family, she wants to be a part of it. She doesn't want to take Alayne's place, she never could, but she...

“You could teach me,” she whispers. “Sometime. I'd like that.”

“So would I,” Mrs St- her mother, says with a smile that lights up the room.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Punish Me ~ JJK [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

GENRE: Smut, it’s just filthy smut, with a litttttllleee dash of fluff at the start and the end!

PAIRING: CEO!Jungkook x Fem!Dom Reader

WARNINGS: Dom!Reader, CEO!Jungkook, Punishment, squirting, creampie, male over stimulation, oral (M and F receiving) I’ve never written Reader as a Fem!dom before so I hope this is okay for you. Breeding kink? Use of toys, slight bondage, edging, aftercare xx

Your hands were linked with Jungkook's across the table, you were surrounded by laughter and people talking loudly over one another but it still felt as though you two were the only ones in the room. The restaurant seemed fuller than usual tonight but that was because it was a weekend instead of a weekday when you would usually come out. Fairylights were covering the ceiling instead of normal restaurant lights and the whole placed looked like something from a Pinterest board it was romantic and aesthetically pleasing at the same time.

"What are you staring at?" You giggled nervously as Jungkook stared into your eyes, something he did a lot when he was thinking about something that was bothering him. Whenever he wanted to get lost in something that wasn't his job he would do this with you, take you somewhere romantic and fancy...Not to mention expensive but that was Jungkook's taste. Being with a millionaire meant you got treated with the millionaire treatment you hated it at first but as you got closer with Jungkook you didn't care what he did as long as he didn't think you were with him just for the money. That was something you made clear when you started dating. You were there for him, not his money or the things that he could buy for you.

"Is work stressing you out again?" Your voice came out smooth and soft as you questioned him, you turned Jungkook's palm facing up and began drawing smaller then drawing larger circles into the palms of his hand while you spoke. It was something that used to calm him down, just the feeling of your skin on his but tonight it didn't look like it was working for him. He seemed to tense up more as soon as you did this which wasn't like him at all and only made you worry something was wrong.

"Yeah just work," He lied to you, he hated lying to you yet he had to keep what he was doing a secret from you, it wasn't anything bad still he had to keep it from you. He'd done everything he could tonight to focus on you tonight however everything was coming into his brain about what could go wrong, all of the what if's running minute by minute through his head.

"You know we could get dessert to go and-" You were cut off when his work phone began to ring, there was one rule that you had between you both. Outside of office hours the phone had to be switched off but maybe he'd just forgotten tonight and it was a genuine mistake. Something you couldn't fault him on since it was something he always remembered to do usually.

"One-second baby, I have to take this." Jungkook flashed an apologetic look at you before leaving to go outside of the restaurant, he was standing in front of the window you were sat at so you just watched him for a couple of moments. Whatever it was that was bothering him seemed to stress him out even more now that he was on the phone to them, his arms were being thrown up in anger and his body language was tense.

You gently placed your hand on the window you tried to give him a smile of encouragement but he wouldn't even glance in your direction. He kept his shoulders tensed up as he yelled down the phone, you couldn't hear him over everyone else talking and a waitress came over to the table when she noticed Jungkook leaving and she wanted to make sure everything was okay,

"Wine?" You glanced up to look at her then your attention went back onto Jungkook who was now hanging up the phone and mumbling to himself,

"No, I think we'll take the bill please." You knew the look on Jungkook's face. It was the look he gave you whenever he had to go into work to do overtime so you knew he was going to have to leave tonight. You could never hate him for this since his job was his life and he loved doing what he did even if you weren't entirely sure what he did for a living. Just that he owned a large company that owned a lot of smaller companies.

"I got the bill, go to work and I'll make my way home." You whispered as Jungkook came rushing over to the table with a panicked look on his face. The thought of leaving you alone on date night was ripping him apart,

"I didn't want to-"

"Jungkook, I understand how busy you are. Go, I love you." You giggled as you tried to reassure him that this was really fine for him to go but he still wasn't sure about it.

"Don't stay up late okay? I might be home later than normal." You nodded at him and he bent down to kiss you, holding you longer than he probably should have for being in public together but he didn't care. Jungkook had always loved expressing how much he loved and adored you no matter who was wrong. He wanted it known that you were his and he was yours.

"I'll see you in the morning," He whispered as he stared into your eyes, paying the waitress and tipping her for being so good that night.

"I'll see you in the morning," You whispered back to him, watching him rush out of the restaurant and in the direction of where he'd parked his car that night.

"Would you like me to call a cab Miss?" The same waitress who had been serving you asked, you turned to face her and shook your head.

"No thank you, I'll walk. The fresh air is always relaxing," She nodded as she began escorting you out of the restaurant, stopping to get your coat from the main entrance. You tipped her again even though there wasn't a need to but she'd been so kind throughout the night you saw no reason not to.

After walking around the city for about an hour you began making your way home, passing by a lot of smaller and local restaurants so you looked through the huge glass windows. Watching as other couples engaged in conversations, spoke to one another and acting like real couples. It made you miss Jungkook even though you'd seen him less than an hour ago. You missed him so much you'd thought you'd seen him in a restaurant you'd just walked past. Doubling back on yourself you stared through the window to see that it was in fact, Jungkook. He was sitting at a small rounded table with a woman in front of him, she was stunningly beautiful. Her hair was long and thick, with a natural wave to it that bounced whenever she would laugh at something Jungkook was saying to her. Her hands were touching his wrists as she spoke to him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she acted more dramatic that she needed to be but that was when you noticed it. The girl sitting with him was someone from work, you'd seen her before in all of the group photos but that didn't stop the jealously that was bubbling up inside of you even if Jungkook seemed to be talking professionally she wasn't. She was flirting with him, touching him with every chance that she got so you began making your way home while thinking of all the things you could do to get back at him for this.

When Jungkook finally got home that night it was around 1 am and you were sitting on the sofa waiting for him, you'd turned out all of the lights to make sure that he wouldn't know you were there until the last second. He let out a groan as he stripped himself out of his jacket and went to walk through to the living room when he saw your silhouette on the sofa,

"Baby?" His voice came out shakey as he was a little jumpy after he saw you sitting in the dark, he flicked the switch on to take in your appearance.

"I told you I'd be home late-" He stopped talking when he took in the appearance of you, you were dressed in the lace and mesh babydoll lingerie set he'd gotten you last week. You hadn't had a chance to wear it but seeing him earlier made you want to now. Slowly rising up from the sofa you walked over to him and grabbed him by the silk tie he was wearing,

"Where have you been?" Your voice came out in a demanding manner which made him stumble over his words as he stared at you, you'd never shown this side before and he was loving every second of it.

"I-I was out...I-I told you I had a business thing-" You cut him off by gripping onto the tie tightly and pulled him closer to your face,

"Then who was the black-haired girl?" He smirked as he realised you were jealous of seeing something, something you'd clearly interpreted wrong but he wasn't going to be the one to tell you this just yet.

"The way she touched you, and giggled at you...Was it better than me baby?" You pushed him down roughly onto the sofa and his eyes lit up as he looked at you,

"Punish me then," You smirked at him as you got down onto your knees in front of him, tilting your head to the side as you slowly run your hands up and down his thighs. Your fingers just gracing the bulge in his pants.

"Oh baby, are you sure you want that?" He nodded slowly at you, his eyes never leaving yours for even a second and you smirked at him evilly before slowly unbuckling his belt and holding it in your hands.

"Upstairs. Now." You demanded and he scrambled up from the sofa, rushing in the direction of the staircase without looking back for a second.

"Bunny, strip for me." The cute nickname fell from your lips but tonight it wasn't seen as cute, it was just a pet name that made him grow harder for you as he slowly stripped out of the suit he was wearing. You grabbed the silk tie from the bed and twirled it around in your hands watching as he stood in front of you, cock in his hand as he began to slowly pump himself.

"I didn't say you could touch," He instantly let go and you smirked as it bounced up a little and hit his stomach, watching him you pushed him onto the bed.

"Hands up against the headboard." He did as he was told so you tied his wrists together with his tie before looping his belt through it and tying him up to the bed so he couldn't touch you.

"My punishment? I'm not allowed to touch you...Come on now baby that isn't much of a punishment," He was trying to encourage you into doing more to him, he wanted you to show more of this side he hadn't seen before.

"Oh bunny boy, you're cute if you think that's your only punishment." He watched as you freed yourself from the lingerie you were wearing and stood naked in front of him running your hands over your breasts. Moaning out as you began playing with your nipples the way he would do if he was in charge.

"You looked as though you were enjoying yourself tonight baby but no one can touch you the way I can, can they?" You were kneeling on the bed in front of his cock which was standing to attention, twitching whenever you caught his gaze.

"N-No one can," He stuttered out as you reached up to touch the head of his cock, running your fingers over his slit slowly as you teased him.

"So hard, is all of this for me baby?" He nodded at you again but you didn't want him to nod, you wanted words so you ripped your hands away from his body.

"I want answers baby, you will talk to me using your words." You ordered him and he took in a deep breath,

"Yes, Ma'am." You smirked hearing him call you that, it was something you'd normally kill him for if he did it outside of the bedroom but right now it seemed to build your sense of control over him.

"Good boy." His cock twitched at the nickname and you giggled,

"Oh does my baby like being praised? Do you want me to call you a good boy again?" He panted heavily as you continued your previous actions, stroking the head of his cock as you called him a good boy,

"Y-Yes," You smirked to yourself as he answered you and spat onto your fingers, massaging it into the head of his cock as he let out a strangled moan of pleasure. He was so used to things being fast with you that he'd forgotten what it was like being teased like this.

Taking the head of his cock into your mouth you began to lick slow and small stripes on the slit of his cock, watching in 'awe' of the way his eyes scrunched together and he did his best not to buck up into your mouth.

"Such a dirty boy trying to fuck my throat when you're being punished," You hissed as he finally gave in and bucked against your mouth, you pushed his hips down onto the bed.

"Do I have to tie your ankles down too, baby?" You smirked at him as he shook his head whining out that this wasn't enough, that he wanted to feel you.

"You should have thought about that before this bunny." He hissed as you began massaging the head of his cock in your hand again, never once paying attention to the rest of his shaft as he throbbed beneath you. Whimpering and moaning whenever you spat onto him, giving him some more contact.

"F-Fuck," He groaned as you finally gave him one pump of his full length in your hand, twisting your hand just a little as well as tightening your grip to make him whimper but as soon as his hips bucked you released your hand and moved away from him.

"P-Please Y/n, I-I thought I could hack this but I can't," He panted as he watched you going over to your underwear drawer on the other side of the room. Worry rushed over you as you thought it might be too much for him so you glanced over at him, keeping up the dominating persona you had,

"Colour?" He looked at you weakly and bit his lip,

"Green." You used a basic colour system when he was the one in charge, Green was fine, Orange a warning and Red stop at all costs no matter what.

"Then I don't see the big deal bunny boy," You cooed as you slowly opened the drawer and pulled out a red vibrating egg along with some lube from the drawer walking back over to him. You could see the fear in his eyes but you shook your head at him, you weren't going to go that far tonight especially if he wasn't ready.

"For me baby, for me." You giggled at him and he swallowed the lump that was in his throat as he watched you get back onto the bed and rub your clit.

"Mmm baby you should feel how wet I am for you- Oh wait, you can't." You quipped at him while he watched you, pathetically pulling at the makeshift bondage you'd done with him. You cried out his name as you pushed the small egg into your core, you hadn't even turned it on yet and you were already a moaning mess for him. Jungkook's hips bucked automatically as you held yourself above him, turning on the vibrator as you moaned out his name rubbing your clit as you locked eyes with him.

"Ugh shit," You moaned out as you began clenching around the vibrator which was set to its highest setting, Jungkook grunted as he pulled roughly against the tie and belt. He hated when you pleased yourself right in front of him, it was one of the things you would do just to make him angry with you.

"Fuck f-feels so good!" You moaned out as you left the egg inside of you, taking his cock into your hand and pumping his full shaft this time. He moaned out in pleasure as he finally got some touches from you again,

"You wanna cum baby? You want me to make you cum?" You giggled at him as he nodded his head desperately, watching you as your eyes rolled back whenever the vibrator inside of you made you feel a certain way,

"Oh s-shit," You hissed out as you knew what was coming, you could feel it building up inside of you so you smirked. The ultimate punishment for Jungkook, he loved to feel you gush around him so you pushed the head of his cock against your swallowed clit.

"You like that? You like how wet I am for you?" He nodded at you again, not using his words but you were too lost in the feeling of the vibrations that you didn't care right now.

"I'm so close bunny," You whimpered as your thighs began to shake, straddling right above his cock as you continued to roughly run him over your clit. Moaning and whimpering together as you tried to fight off your first high of the night but it was no use. Something snapped inside of your stomach and you gushed around the small vibrator throwing your head back as your toes curled.

A small puddle dripped onto the sheets and Jungkooks groin as you looked down at him and smirked, he hated it whenever you'd squirt around something that wasn't him. It was a trick he'd found out you could do when you first started sleeping together and it was something he would do every time you had sex, he knew how intense they were and how amazing they made you feel.

"I'm the only one allowed to do that?" He grumbled at you as you began giggling, coming down from your high as you lowered the setting on the vibrator.

"What was that bunny?" You questioned, pushing the tip of his cock at the entrance of your core so he could just feel the small vibrations coming from the small egg inside of you making him whine out as he felt the sudden pleasure coming from it but whimpered as it was ripped away from him.

"Fucking feels so good." You cried out as you continued to rub him onto your clit, picking up the small remote again and turning up the vibrations to the max setting once again as you rolled your hips forward.

"Oh, shit," You breathed out as you pushed yourself flat against Jungkook's chest, running your core up and down his shaft as though you were riding him and he groaned.

"Baby please...I-I wanna touch you," He begged as you continued to moan out in his ear, kissing his jawline as you continued to hold your orgasm back. The feeling was building up in intensity again and you began whimpering into his ear,

"So fucking close again," You cried out, raising yourself from his chest as you continued to use his cock on your clit. Slapping the head against your swollen bud a couple of times until it sent you over the edge only this time it was more intense.

Your legs shook as you came around the egg, sending it shooting out of you as you squirted all over the sheets again and onto Jungkook's cock as you cried out in pleasure. A scream ripping through your throat as you continued to slap the tip of Jungkook's cock against your sensitive clit as you continued whimpering out his name, falling back against the bed.

"Jungkook," You cried out as you panted heavily not wanting to give up on punishing just yet but needing him to be inside of you, you missed the way he stretched you out.

Kneeling above him you giggled as you told him to push himself inside of you,

"Go on baby, you know you want to." You cooed as you stroked him in your hand slowly but every time he bucked his hips you told him off, pinning him down to the bed.

"Using just this," You whispered as you use one finger to trace a prominent vein on his cock, Jungkook felt like he was about to burst from what you were doing to him.

"If you want to be inside of me so badly baby, work for it." You ordered him but he sighed in defeat so you giggled, beginning to pump him in your hands slowly. Spitting onto the head as you picked up your movements, twisting and squeezing occasionally as he threw his head back into the pillows. His face contorting as he felt himself getting closer to his release,

"You gonna cum? I can feel you twitching bunny," You moaned out as you leant down to his cock, placing your tongue on the tip as you began to pump faster.

"Ugh fuck, o-o-oh shit, holy fuck." He grunted as you continued to do the same thing, picking up the pace of your hand as you drolled onto him wanting him to get as close as possible.

"G-Gonna c-cum." He grunted loudly bucking up into your hands, you could feel him twitching in your hand and right as he let out a loud moan of your name you moved away from him. Ruining his orgasm as it faded away from him,

"No! N-No! No!" He whined out trying to buck up into your hand that was no longer there, you smirked as you saw the pain of his orgasm being ripped from him spread across his face.

"What's up baby boy? I'm only edging you. I thought you liked when we edged one another." You placed him back into your hand and continued on with the same motions, this time Jungkook held back his moans in an attempt to cum without letting you know.

"Bunny boy, I can feel you twitching." You cooed out to him as you licked from base to the tip of his cock. Taking the entire length into your mouth as you moaned around him when he hit the back of your throat.

"Shit! Just l-like that," He moaned out as he bucked into your mouth, you let him off this time and began to slowly bob your head up and down until you felt him twitch again that was when you picked up the pace of your bobs and moaned around him. Vibrations crawling through his body as he felt himself getting closer until it was ripped from him yet again, he cried out in anguish as you left him without an orgasm again.

"P-Please Y-Y/n...I can't-" He was cut off when you straddled him again and bent down to kiss him, the tip of his cock just touching your entrance as you made out roughly with him.

"I'm gonna ride you baby, I promise," You whispered to him as you sat back up, he watched your core as you slowly sank down onto his entire length. Watching his cock disappear into you along with the feeling of finally being inside of you and the edging combined sent Jungkook over the edge as he came into you. Sending hot spurts of his cum coating your walls as you moaned out. The feeling of him filling you up with his seed sending you over the edge you hadn't known you'd reached as you came around his length.

"Fuck!" He growled as he felt you clenching around him tightly,

"G-Gotta milk you baby," You whimpered as you tried to stay in the character of being in control and he let out small whimpers as he came down from his high.

Jungkook's forehead was drenched with sweat and you giggled watching the state of him as you began to slowly rise and fall around his length, the mixture of your cum dripping down against the sheets as you rode him slowly.

"Baby- Baby please," He panted as he felt himself getting harder once again, his eyes rolled back as you continued riding him. Taking your breasts into your hands and rubbing them harshly.

"Feel so good, I c-can feel you stretching me out baby." You cried out as you bucked against him, his cock hitting your g-spot as you cried out his name.

"S-Sensitive," Was all Jungkook was able to moan out as you continued to slowly ride him, pulling all the way off so just his tip was aligned with your entrance before sliding slowly back down making him whine and whimper out.

"You're sensitive, baby? Does bunny want me to stop making him feel good?" He shook his head desperately as you looked down at him but you reached behind you to cup his balls in your hand.

"Words." You ordered him as you began playing with them in one hand, reaching down to rub your clit with the other all the while continuing your slow riding.

"N-No, don't stop." He panted as he looked up at you as you rode him faster this time, leaning forward as you pressed your hands against his abs.

"Holy fuck," You whimpered as you felt him twitching inside of you again, he was already so close from the edging and stimulation you were giving him so you stopped riding. Forcing yourself down onto his length as you clenched around him.

"You fucking fill me up so well," You panted to him as you bent down to kiss him, sucking on his tongue as you rose your hips, slamming them back down so he was right against you g-spot,

"I-I can feel you so deep," You moaned into his ear as you began rising and falling again, the feeling of having him pressed so deep taking over the need to punish him as you felt your own orgasm approaching.

"G-Gonna cum all over your c-cock baby, I want you to fill m-me up baby," You panted to him as you looked into his eyes, whimpering as you clenched around him again.

"F-Fill me up," You nodded at him wanting him to understand what you were saying but he was so lost in the pleasure of you clenching he didn't know what to say to you.

"Jungkook fill me up," You forced him to look you in the eyes instead of down at your core and he grunted loudly as he heard what you were saying. The words registering in his mind,

"Fuck a baby into me Jungkook," You cried out as you began picking up the small bounce in your thighs, the burning sensation was being ignored and pushed out as you were too overcome with the pleasure of him stretching you out.

"G-Gonna fucking cum." You whimpered loudly as you reached down to touch yourself once again, rubbing your clit in rough circles as you tried to focus on your bouncing as well as touching yourself.

"C-Cum for me Jungkook, c-cum." You ordered as you clenched around him while forcing yourself up and down, he didn't need to be told twice as he looked into your eyes and moaned out your name loudly. Bucking into you as he finally hit the second high of the night, cumming into you. You continued riding him throughout both of your highs as you screamed out his name. Hands slamming into the headboard as you gripped onto it to steady yourself, Jungkook moaned out.

"C-Can't stop cumming." He whimpered as you pulled off him, to see that, in fact, he hadn't stopped yet. You giggled at him, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth. Sucking softly as your hand pumped him slowly. Swallowing every last drop until he eventually stopped and was left a panting, sweaty mess on the bed.

"You okay?" You questioned as you came over to him from the bathroom, you gave him a bottle of water and grabbed some moisturiser from the bed to help with his wrists. The en-suite bathtub was running, you wanted to make sure you cared for him the same way he would if it was the other way around,

"I would never cheat on you baby," Was what he said in response to you, you glanced up at him and smiled softly.

"I know baby...I-I was just a little jealous." He chuckled at your response and cupped your face in his hands running his thumb along your bottom lip.

"I liked this side of you, princess," You felt your body heat up at the attention he was giving you and you stood back up from the floor wanting nothing more than to get into the bath with him. You were so sore and run down from your own orgasms that you were already feeling sleepy from just standing there.

"Maybe it'll come out again someday," You teased as you pulled him up from the bed and began making your way into the bathroom with him behind you.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @fluffyjoons​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @lynnthevirgo​ @moonprincessdiviniation​

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

Never gonna happen

(Looking at the art deity @cacodaemonia​ ‘s work for inspiration to help me through the next chapter of Time To Say Goodbye and I couldn’t stop giggling at this one. And suddenly this one-shot was written. Poor Mose xD )

-

The bar is crowded with souls from every corner of the Galaxy and none which one should be turning one’s back on. In the corner of the room, Mose tips the food on his plate into his big mouth while Zev’sonya leans back in her chair and takes a big swallow from her glass of hard liquor.

They are between work, and also between crews as the previous one made the mistake of heavily hinting to her how many credits they could get by visiting one of the blood farms with Mose.

So, yeah, Zev’sonya is in a foul mood and of course that means some moron has to appear and try his luck charming her.

Her initial reaction and instinct is to tell the idiot to go away before she cuts him, but one glance at his face makes her change her mind. Instead of scowling, she puts on a smile. Instead of threats, Zev’sonya nods for him to take the seat next to her.

Mose chews and watches them with a slight frown.

The idiot introduces himself as Dannian or something. He offers to buy her a drink while he does a poor job at trying to map her body with his eyes and hating her layers of clothing for making it difficult. Zev’sonya keeps her smile on and pretends not to notice.

And soon she accepts the offer from this Durian-guy to travel back to his planet with him as his guest, on the one condition that her friend got to come along as well.

While Durian-guy tries to act like he’s perfectly fine with having a Hutt join them, Zev’sonya gives her sweet smile to Mose, who returns it with a faint narrowing of his eyes in a silent question.

Zev’sonya takes the hand Durian-guy offers her and lets him help her to her feet before looking back at Mose again, still smiling. “You coming?”

Sighing, Mose puts his plate down. “Yeah, yeah…”

She knew he would. He always does. He’s the one soul she can trust.

On the ship, Mose stays in the back, in the shadows, while Zev’sonya allows the Durian-guy to cozy up to her. She giggles at the lame jokes he delivers and swoons at the lies he serves her.

The planet they land on is quite beautiful with sleek, golden buildings and a warm, red sky. The air smells like sugar. They walk to an impossibly tall tower where servants scramble to obey Durian-guy’s every whim, just like he said they would and Zev’sonya knew they would.

Mose keeps quiet and remains in the background, but he follows. 

Though, unease flutters across his face later, when Zev’sonya appears in a slinky dress that had been brought to her room for her to wear to tonight’s big dinner in the tower. He’s clearly worried she’s lost her mind.

Zev’sona gives Mose another sweet smile and lets Durian-guy place his hand on her bare back as he guides her over to the seat next to him. Mose shakes his head and eats.

It’s in the middle of the night when the door to Mose’s room slides open and Zev’sonya sneaks inside. “Mose…” She whispers.

Mose frowns without opening his eyes or getting up from where he’s sleeping on the floor. “What?”

“We have to leave.” Zev’sonya continues, keeping her voice down so no one else will hear her. “Now.”

Mose opens his eyes and stares directly at her. “What did you do?” His voice is an odd mix of resignation and wariness, but he doesn’t sound surprised. At all. Like he was expecting this.

Zev’sonya can’t help it, she grins, too pleased with herself not to. “Relax. He’s fine. I didn’t put a finger on him.”

“What,” Mose gets up and sighs, “did you do, Lorda?”

“You didn’t recognize him, huh?” Zev’sonya says as they leave the room. “Well, I did. I saw that guy’s face on a propaganda bulletin thing last month. Durian is a prince on this planet and a huge player in the slave trade.”

They pause in the shadows as two guards walk by before Zev’sonya gestures for Mose to follow, which he does, and they actually manage to sneak out of the building undetected.

“I just thought him having so many credits from his business deals, he wouldn’t mind sharing them with us.” Zev’sonya states gleefully, feeling the weight of all the jewellery and other valuables in her countless pockets. “He was only too happy to show me where he kept all his treasures. Not exactly humble or smart.”

“A prince, Lorda.” Mose growls. “You decided to rob a prince. On his home planet. Without an escape ship or a back-up crew.”

Zev’sonya makes a face. “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“We talked about this.” Mose sighs, shuffling along after her as she scouts for a ship to steal.

“You need to learn to get a little more fun out of life, pateesa.” Zev’sonya grins, then lights up as she sees a small and fast ship that is perfect for them. “Ah hah. That one.”

“What I need is to sleep through a night without having to flee for my life…” Mose mutters.

Snorting a laugh, Zev’sonya slices the computer lock on the ship’s door and it slides open to let them in. “You want a straw? I mean, since you’re set on sucking the fun out of things?”

“No, I just want to get off this planet before they start shooting at us.”

Zev’sonya gets into the pilot seat and starts awakening the ship from its slumber. It’s fairly easy and soon they are heading towards the safety of space. She glances back into the passenger seating area outside the cockpit door and grins at Mose. “See? You worry too much.”

Mose huffs, unimpressed, and merely tries to get his big bulk comfortable between the narrow path between the row of seats at opposite sides of him. Few ships are designed for a Hutt body and this small craft is clearly not.

Zev’sonya is about to reassure him that they’ll land and sell the ship and get a better one as soon as possible when a beeping sound draws her attention. She turns forward again and the smile on her face fades when she sees the multiple dots on the radar following them. “Oh.”

Mose stops fidgeting and stares at her. “What?”

Zev’sonya clears her throat. “I think he found out.”

“Here we go…” Mose sighs. “Are we in trouble?”

Frowning, Zev’sonya flips some switches and pushes some buttons, pushing the engine to the limit to reach top speed. It helps, but not for long. The dots on the radars increase their speed as well and soon they even start catching up. “I wouldn’t necessarily use the word ‘trouble’…”

“What word would you use?” Mose demands.

“Uhm…” Zev’sonya glances to the left when a warning shot is fired by the ship. “That things might get a little… interesting?”

Mose mutters something rude in Huttese.

A second shot comes dangerously close to the ship and Zev’sonya snarls angrily. They want to punish her for stealing stuff Durian-guy can afford losing three times over? Fine. But they do NOT get to shoot down Mose for her idiocy. She gets up and runs out of the cockpit, running across the seats to get by Mose to reach the narrow, circular opening in the floor that will lead her to the ship’s weapons. “Take over the controls. Keep up the speed and be ready to dodge. I’ll get on our guns.”

“What do you-No, wait, get back here! I can’t…” Mose blurts out as she goes by, but then the ship shakes as a third shot clearly comes too close for comfort.

“Do it!” Zev’sonya shouts as she climbs down the ladder and then rushes over to activate the weapons.

There are about seven or eight ships pursuing them and it is quite satisfying seeing them scatter like startled birds when she starts firing at them.

Mose is a skilled pilot, just rarely fits into a cockpit, so he keeps them going while Zev’sonya convinces the ones following them it would be wise to simply let them go. It takes quite a bit of persuading, whatever Durian-guy is paying them must be a lot, but eventually they decide they’ve chased them far enough and the risk isn’t worth it, so they turn and head back to the planet far away in the distance.

Cackling satisfied, Zev’sonya climbs back up the ladder. “We’re good.”

“You’re sure?” Mose asks, his upper torso in the cockpit as he has his hands on the controls while the rest of him is still in the passenger area.

“I’m sure.” Zev’sonya says, hopping up on the chairs to make her way towards the cockpit without stepping on his tail. “We’re good.”

“Good.” Mose replies, then sighs and slumps a little. “Because I’m stuck.”

“Really?” Zev’sonya blinks, surprised, then steps off the chairs and on to his back, ignoring his soft grunt of annoyance, gingerly walking up to where she crouches down and can see the door frame is digging into his sides.

“Really.” Mose grumbles.

Caught between feeling guilty and the urge to laugh, Zev’sonya clears her throat and heads back into the ship again. “I’ll go see if we got some grease.”

She finds some by a panel where somebody had been doing repairs or maintenance.

It takes a bit of time and effort, plus all of her might pulling on his arm, but finally Mose, after one careful inch after another, finally slides free with a loud schlurp. He exhales with relief and lets go of Zev’sonya’s hand so she falls on her back with a startled squawk.

Laughing up at the ceiling, not begrudging him a little payback, Zev’sonya revels in her smugness at their success. “I told you; you worry too much.”

Watching her, Mose shakes his head a little. “I feel so bad for the one who ends up marrying you, Lorda.”

Sitting up with a heartfelt scoff, Zev’sonya speaks with utter certainty: “That, pateesa, is never going to happen.”

There is absolutely zero chance of her agreeing to something so stupid. That kind of love isn’t real, the only one she will ever trust is Mose and marriage is for naive idiots.

Not going to happen.

Never.

[randomsnakesimp]

Day 13: villain

So, I keep escalating on this post more than my usual amount, and I've started over from scratch two times already.

My final decision is to mainly walk through each villain one by one and try to keep it short. I won't, we all know that. It's an excuse for throwing statements out there I don't want to explain.

Have fun!

So, beforehand, I'd just like to briefly state that, in general, I felt the comics were misbalanced in terms of power and the cartoon did a lot better in presenting them consistently and in a way that made the villains seem worthy adversaries. That said, for the rest of this talk, I will focus mainly on the character writing and less on the power levels, just keep in mind that I feel all sorts of fighting - physically and mentally - in general could use a level up.

- Phobos. He's the first major villain, and I already dropped a boatload on what I'd have made of his story, but let's have a look at why I do not actually like him as a villain in W.i.t.c.h. In my opinion, Phobos' main shortcoming is that he doesn't go far enough into any direction. He's too ridiculous to be a hate sink villain or perceived a real threat, but not ridiculous enough to be iconic. He's fabulous enough for it to be fanon, but it's never used. He doesn't do enough mean things for the reader to root for his downfall, but too many mean things for the reader to root for him without a proper backstory. The lack of which is a whole new minus all on its own. I personally would have him and Cedric be in rehab after their villain arc and later join the guardians' support team thingy they never had but totally should have.

- speaking of: Cedric. The pinnacle of show-doesn't-fit-tell. Don't make the omniscient narrator rave about the cruel king of lies when all said king does is simp around. Also, if you want to make a villain more sympathetic and grey, don't make everyone treat him as a villain and just alzheimer his death five minutes after it happened without any sort of consequence.

- Elyon and Vathek. I like side changes, but please try to keep them realistic. I'm not expecting full Zuko, but a bit of nuance, especially for someone as major as Elyon, would do well. Especially especially since both Elyon and Vathek seemed to enjoy being cruel or antagonistic somewhat, and seemed to carry a lot of personal anger that just dissolved. I would have gone for a more level approach, making them less intense on the villains side and less innocently sweet on the protagonists side.

- Nerissa. Somehow just never stuck with me, despite being one of the most accomplished and threatening villains. She started off promising, but then became just evil. So many things, like her connection with Yan and Hay Lin, went all kinds of nowhere. I'd have liked for her to be more of a grey villain who's specifically against Kandrakars system, and might even pair her up with Ari and (or instead of) Yua. I also somehow always felt her character was lacking just that little special something, but I can't put my finger on it.

- Ari. I loved how he was more of an antagonist than a villain, but hated his conclusion, which draws him down. He doesn't have to learn anything or grow as a parent, and only changes sides once he's handed what he wanted, despite it being disrespectful to say the least toward his child. Which is sad, as I feel he could have realistically had the necessary personal growth while staying in character.

- Yua. Is where the arc went overboard with the sudden desire to use more grey villains, as she switches randomly between being an evil man eating creature and a victim of abduction. I'd have been fine either way, but feel they should have decided on one and stuck with that. I did always find her kind of attractive and even sensual, so I feel she definitely could have given of the right vibe (either as being misunderstood as a sinful lure or being one for real) to be memorable.

- the secret agents. One of the more clever antagonists who required quite some change in tactic, but were rendered utterly boring by the solution to their threat. I think they could have been more fun as either a very serious threat weaved in with Takeda and the magical children or more comical villains who could be used for b-plot.

- Ludmoore. The book was the real memorable villain, just let the guy be an idiot scientist who failed at life. As an idiot science student myself, I can say it's so much more realistic than one would like.

- Tecla. I loved the Ragorlang idea, but the delivery was lacking. Somehow, after a strong start, it became yet another "we beat you by the actual magical power of our friendship" story. Which is a pity, because the potential of having to actually fight through apathy, overt compliance or split into two people like Uriah could have had the same theme in a so much stronger way. I'd have used her as a true threat, a woman so obsessed with her own youth and beauty that she becomes a monster more and more, with Karl having to work out of their toxic relationship as she destroys more and more of their friendships for personal gain like the world's deadliest hunbot. I'd also totally make her powers affect Phobos or Cedric so the other can rotate in panic.

- Dark Mother. Such a strong opportunity for a villain who spreads quietly from the very beginning if only she'd been planned out. And if she'd actually been consistent in her power level. Imagine a near apocalypse only the magical people in Heatherfield c 8 an see, in which everything is invaded by an evil plant being, and no one feels save. That said, while Dark Mother would make an excellent peak villain for a halfway change like a power upgrade or even the finale, everything else on that arc was the beginning of the end and should be changed.

- Takeda. Was well enough. Nothing exceptional, but rather well done and consistent in himself. I liked the way he did not get a 180° redemption but rather a more in character conclusion that showed how life can be very complex and dissatisfying. As previously stated, I'd have worked him in with the secret agents if I had used him at all. Also, I feel his research might be either set in motion by Dark Mother or include hints to her existence.

- the white queen. Was lame and unnecessary like the entire fast world. Just let Takeda interact with something we already know for fucks sake.

This is the point where I'll likely start forgetting people.

- Nihila. I liked the zodiac theme and powers, but the entire challenges thing was shit and she felt like a weird throwaway emergency plot because everything was so hasty and vague. I'd rather have given her powers to some harmless, neutral citizen who just happens to write some horoscope for a fun filler issue or two.

- the ladies. Had interesting powers but with every single one she appeared op at first only to be nerfed during the second half of the issue, and none stayed longer than one issue, making them feel ridiculous. I might have given them a full arc or made them servants of Dark Mother, as their powers of tapping into nets of some kind (traffic, electricity, magical power) seemed similar to hers.

- the Runics. Just...either make it self aware how similar they are to the W.i.t.c.h. by adding in equivalents to other characters or give them a connection to the Astral Drops. Any other approach makes them ridiculous. Also, don't have male Will fall in love with female Will, it doesn't even make sense as a joke, honestly.

- Orristurr(?). The shark king from that one issue by the sea. Just delete the whole thing, it felt like a parody of a Barbie movie.

- the evil Santa. From that Christmas special. I actually liked the guy. Christmas specials are allowed to be cheesy and on the nose with their message, and he fits right in. Just use the opportunity for character building or a bit of fluff instead of focusing on people we don't know and will never see again.

And I think that's it for the canon villains. Now, any regular on my posts will know that I would also add in Kandrakar as a villain, and I think that the Dark Mother arc would fit nicely to be the moment the guardians and their team return to Kandrakar despite everything and save the day, after which the Oracle finally agrees to a trial. It could be a nice commentary on how too much power into any one person's hand might lead to them viewing themselves and their opinions as superior and forcing their ideals on everyone. It could serve to discuss what should and should not be dictated and controlled, where using powers is infringement and where not using them is neglect.

Anyway, I've rambled on enough. I hope you enjoyed, and let me know if I forgot anyone, as I did successfully confuse myself multiple times along the way.

[korissideblog]

ohhh i'm lowkey very proud of this one <333

sillie little characters: Hiroharu [@compoundhero ] Michiko [@residentquirksupport ] and Ikuto [@the-heartbeat-hero ] <3

i didn't finish all the sketches i wanted for this fic, but i also wanted to get it out today, so maybe i'll reblog it or edit it later with the drawings <3 there are like two that i finished on time, but ahugghieisdifs whatever. it's officially midnight and i have work tomorrow <3

(also, if heartbeat-hero is reading this, thxs for reading over it for me, and i changed the ending a tiny bit so you could have something new to read <3)

“And then he’s going to put the ring on you-”

“But the ring is poisoned.” “Yes, we’re not gonna let it touch you. We’ll be there before anything happens.”

“Alright and- you can go tighter than that Mich.” Aito said, looking over his shoulder to Michiko, who was busy tying Aito’s corset.

“Any tighter and you won’t be able to breathe. You’re gonna be wearing this for longer than you think.” Michiko warned, tying the knot as flatly as she could. “Plus the dress is already fitted, if your waist gets smaller the fabric would look baggy.” Aito fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned back to Hiroharu.

“You know Jeje, I thought you would have brought me a gift.” She said, crossing her arms. “New silverware or something.”

Hiroharu closed the file in his hands as he looked at Aito in confusion. “Why would we have done that?”

“Because!” Aito said, walking to the other side of the dressing room, passing Ikuto- who’s been nervously rearranging Aito’s bouquet for the last 20 minutes- and unzipping a huge dress bag. A short but fluffy white dress spilled from it, and Aito unhooked it from the hanger.

“I’m getting married!”

______________________________________________________________

Aito was kinda spacing out a bit.

In his defense! He’d already done the walking-down-the-aisle-over-pretty-rose-petals bit, and that’s all he was really looking forward to at his wedding.

He knew Haru and Michi and Iku would be here any moment to break up the arrangement, but he had to play it cool, smiling and giggling at her groom as he read his vows.

Haruto Suzuki, better known as the White Phantom, was Aito’s target. He was cunning and malicious and a hopeless romantic to anyone who could get ahold of his list of ebooks. Aito spent almost half a year in this role-Ichika Yokoyama, for the time being- and worked a bit harder than necessary to get close to Suzuki. She just liked her cases ending with a bang, and what was more exciting than a wedding?

______________________________________________________________

Hiroharu listened intently to the wiretap under Aito’s dress, trying to time the ambush while the support team rounded the back, ready to catch any of the villains in attendance. The support team was being led by Michiko over radio as Haru focused on Suzuki.

“-I promise to always remember that you are indeed human. That you may sometimes make questionable decisions, decisions I don't agree with, like when you got a red velvet wedding cake when I asked for vanilla”

The reception laughed and Haru could hear Aito smack Suzuki’s hand playfully. At least she was staying in character.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve always been like that, headstrong and sure of yourself in ways I could never be. You’re always right in the end- red velvet is my favorite flavor, I was just worried about other people’s opinions.- and… and I think that’s why I love you, Ichika.”

“I don’t think I would poison someone if I loved them.” Ikuto huffed, trying his best to stay in his chair in case pacing would alert anyone to the ambush.

Hiroharu remembered the call well. The one where Aito told him that he found messages between Suzuki and another villain, messages describing how Suzuki knew that Aito was speaking to someone behind his back. Secret calls to Michiko and Ikuto about the mission turned into hidden calls from a lover in Suzuki’s eyes, and he was going to take his revenge. Hiroharu was ready to pull Aito out of the mission then and there but… Aito wanted to continue.

“He didn’t tell me that he knew.” she reasoned. “If the wedding goes as planned, there’ll be at least 3 villains in attendance, as well as a few people who might have information that we need! He’s not gonna kill me before the wedding, so let’s keep going!” Hiroharu hated this plan, but Aito was stubborn enough to get her way.

Hiruharu noticed a slight change in Suzuki’s voice, silently getting Michiko’s attention with a wave of his hand. The vows were about to end.

“And that’s what today is all about… it’s not about arguments over cakes or venues or honeymoons… it’s about getting past all those arguments and realizing that… that I would go through a thousand more if it means I get to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

And Aito laughs, tears threatening her makeup as she gives the signal that the ring is in his hand- it’s time to go.

______________________________________________________________

The small reception turned to face the doors of the building as the heroes crashed through it, but the entire room stood still as the scene settled.

There he was, Aito Takao, Ichika Yokoyama, the blushing bride… with a golden band on her finger.

Aito’s eyes drooped a bit, as if she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Her hands clutched weakly at Suzuki’s lapels as she tried to regain her balance, his breathing getting heavy as he tried to stand up straight. “H-Haru…?” she asked just above a whisper, nobody sure of which one she was talking to as her body leaned back and she fell to the floor, limp as a corpse.

… a corpse…

Hiroharu could… he could feel Michiko’s hand clutching his wrist, but it was like he was remembering it, not like it was happening currently. Like he was asked to describe what happened as he watched his friend collapse into a pile of lace and satin, white and cold like a dead dove. Asked to describe the feeling of loss as he felt Ikuto slump onto his shoulder, holding onto his sleeve as if he couldn’t stay upright, like his body told him to meet Aito on the floor. Asked to describe Aito, her breath shaky and pained, the last one leaving her chest like a deadly flower wilting.

Something wicked… but also delicate in it’s own way.

What Hiroharu couldn’t describe was the sound. He knew there was silence, the telltale ringing of the room as no one dared inhale, as if Aito’s death would proceed all of their own, but there was also something else.

There was laughter.

Laughter Hiroharu recognized well. Notes and melody that he could recall from his high school years, a finger pointed at him as his friend laughed at whatever trick she had just pulled.

And oh what a trick he had pulled.

Aito sat up lazily, looking up at her groom- the villain shocked and nearly shaking as he looked down at his corpse bride- laughter spilling from her lips like blood as he gazed at the man in black through her eyelashes, batting them playfully as he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, right?” He asked, one hand sneaking under her skirt. “Thought you could just kill me- didn’t wanna talk out our issues, baby?” He spat, his teeth pearly white and dangerously sharp as she smiled. From under her garter she produced a short poll, which when swung extended into his iconic golden colored staff. Aito took the ring off his finger as he stood, holding it up to Suzuki like a prize.

“I switched the rings~”

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t believe you did that.” Ikuto sighed with exhaustion, the fight was finally over, looking over the party as Michiko and the support team made quick work of arresting everyone involved. “I was so scared- I thought you died.”

Aito shrugged and continued eating the small slice of red velvet cake he somehow managed to salvage after Haru threw a guy into it. “That happens sometimes. Who’s feeding Jiji while I’m away?” He asked, as Ikuto realized that Aito really didn’t know what he did wrong, and also realized that he didn’t have the energy to explain.

“One of your neighbors. She’s like 2 doors down-“

“You got Hasegawa to feed Jiji!?” And now it was Ikuto’s turn to roll his eyes at something he saw as minuscule. “I hate her! You know that!”

“You don’t have to like her for her to feed Jiji.” Ikuto responded, his dismissal similar to Aito’s. Aito responded with her usual dramatics, shoving his plate into Ikuto’s hands as he turned to the gift table, sorting through the things that could be evidence (all of it) and the things he wanted to keep (also all of it). He held up a little envelope, and read the words on the front aloud. “Suzuki, for you and your new wife- and two bodyguards.” He tore it open with curiosity and four tickets fell into his hand. “Oh they‘re for-“ Aito gasped quietly as he read the name on the ticket, immediately holding it out to Ikuto. Before Ikuto could actually read the tickets, Aito stepped away and jogged over to Michiko.

“Mich~” Aito sang, holding up the tickets, but failing to catch Michiko’s eyes as she watched through the open doors, Suzuki in handcuffs being escorted into a large black SUV. “guess what?”

“Do you… Aito?” Michiko started, as if she was unsure about whether she wanted the answer to her question or not. “He… I know he’s a villain and he’s done terrible things but…” she leaned her head so she could see the SUV drive away. “He thought… I mean… he really thought he was going to kill the love of his life today.” she held herself, as if just the thought of it brought a coldness that would make her shiver. “I mean could you even imagine-” and then… she looked at Aito. Aito, with his droopy yellow eyes, completely unfazed by what Michiko was describing.

She knew Aito could love. She knew that Aito loved his mama, and Ikuto like a brother, and she knew that Aito loved her and Haru like best friends but… given the blank stare… she wasn’t sure if Aito…

“You dated him for half a year- Aito, he even asked you to marry him.” Michiko said, trying her best to describe her ideas in a way that Aito could understand. “That whole entire time did you ever… you know…?” Aito seemed as though he was about to respond, but paused, as if he really wanted to think about his answer.

“He… he really had a thing for poker.” she started, watching as the last of the SUV slipped behind the horizon line. “He’d play with his friends and… if he won big he’d…” Aito raised her hands gently, as if holding something delicate. “He’d buy me a dozen roses… and he’d tell me I was on his mind. That I was his good luck charm.” he laughed, recalling how silly it all sounded. “And… for just a moment… I’d forget it was all a job.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Both of the women jumped a bit as Haru came up from behind them, quickly turning to face him and forget their prior conversation. “Ikuto said Aito found something and she wanted to show us.”

“Ohh Boss!” Aito chirped, immediately snapping out of whatever mournful spell him and Michi were under. “You’d never guess!” she then held out the four tickets for them to examine. “Pack your bags! I know where we’re going next!!!”

[yurimother]

Interview: Shilin Huang, Creator of Amongst Us and Carciphona

Shilin Huang ( @okolnir​​ )is a Canadian freelance artist and comic creator, known for her long-running series Carciphona. She has a Bachelor of Music in Performance from the University of Western Ontario. Carciphona is a long-form fantasy story set in a world where demon-magic is forbidden. The series follows a young sorceress named Veloce, and the mythical assassin assigned to kill her, Blackbird.

Shilin’s newest book, Amongst Us, based on the webcomic of the same name, is an alternate universe comic that reimagines Veloce and Blackbird as musicians and girlfriends in the modern world. You can support the physical release for Amongst Us book 1 on Kickstarter today.

The first book of Amongst Us is coming soon. How do you feel about the release?

Eager and relieved!! I had worked for so long to make the web format viable for print format, as well doing all the extra drawings that were necessary--like covers--that I had to keep under wraps, it felt great to know that that part is finally done and I can release my child into the wild. I was very worried too before the launch of the Kickstarter, because though I am the one who made this story, I am not quite a slice-of-life type of person myself, and it was hard for me to see value in this mundane, not-plot-driven kind of story as a printed book. But I was very lucky to have that worry dispelled!

What drew you towards creating comics and artwork? Was it a dream of yours?

I’ve been drawing since before elementary school because I enjoyed it, and somewhere along the way, I wanted to create my own characters, and then I wanted stories for them. It was always just me doing what I felt like doing, more so than something that I aspired towards achieving consciously. If I had to analyze the allure myself, maybe it was because people and the world are so interesting, I’ve always loved thinking about their nature and circumstances, and art/storytelling was the best way for me to explore and share those thoughts.

Could you briefly walk us through your creative process for making a page of Carciphona or an episode of Amongst Us?

Carciphona is a long, plot-driven story, and so the scale of preparation required before the page eclipses the actual drawing of the page itself. [A] small moment has some larger impact in the plot, character development, and accuracy of world-building. So I usually spend about half a year or more writing out an entire volume, read it over many times over the course of the years, before I do the same thing with sketching the entire volume on the computer, rearranging pages and panels and entire scenes for best delivery, before I finally commit to drawing out each page in detail on the computer. 

Where Carciphona is like an elaborate set course where I chop up and measure ingredients and time their cooking with a careful game plan so everything can be served as they should, Amongst Us is more like an omelette that I’m making to taste. There is still planning and writing ahead of time, but each episode is much more self-contained, and I do more of the planning of the episode within the episode itself, adding and taking away details as I see fit before I feel like it reads naturally enough for me to fine line, colour, and paint.

You talk about being a self-taught artist, how did you learn to create artwork? What are some of your favorite educational resources?

While I did come across many tutorials, they were mostly short ones here and there made by my peers, so I don’t have any favourites in my mind that I can share ): . I learned by just looking at the art of my peers at the time and drawing a lot myself, thinking about what I could learn from each time I see something great, and what I could try next time to make the next drawing look better to me. When I had just started drawing digitally, the internet was quite new, drawing tablets expensive and uncommon, with no social media to share art or find resources. Over time, I did try to learn more properly by doing studies and seeking out professional tutorials, but I found that I hated it and decided that I’d rather learn and make mistakes at my own pace and be happy than to commit to effective and efficient learning and make myself dislike drawing.

Amongst Us is, of course, an Alternate Universe comic featuring characters from Carciphona. What inspired you to put your characters into a GL slice of life work?

Back in 2006, when I started drawing Carciphona, I had no plans of this frenemies dynamic for the two main characters, Blackbird and Veloce, and when the thought had occurred to me as I continue to tweak the story, canon GL relationships were still rare and rarely accepted. I was even told on many occasions by readers that they hope the two do not end up with some couples dynamic, or they will no longer be interested in the story. Ultimately, Carciphona was a fantasy story about an entire world, and I wasn’t going to risk the story’s reception over a small detail like whether or not Blackbird and Veloce sleep together, so I just played with the ideas of their relationship on the side, in paintings of many different AUs. Eventually, all that did was make me become so attached to the idea that I decided to say, screw it, I need someplace where they could be together, and I’m drawing an AU for real.

Where do you draw inspiration from for your work? Both Amongst Us and Carciphona.

I love a lot of things, feelings, aesthetics, and I eat up all of that and take it back out in the form of my stories. The inspiration is everywhere, from beautiful imagery I witness in pictures and in real life, to [the] lives of people that I hear about or experience firsthand, to the ethics and structures of professions from mechanics to medicine… In feelings, knowledge, and perspective, there’s an infinite amount of things that makes me think, and that thinking is what creates AU and Carciphona, whether or not that line of inspiration can be clearly drawn back to the root of the thought.

What are some of your biggest challenges or fears creating Amongst Us? Was there any realization or advice that helped you overcome those difficulties?

My biggest fear is always in relatability because it’s a difference between me and the reader that I do not and cannot have a solution for because it involves another person. In such a relatable genre as slice of life/comedy/romance, where the readers have more experience and therefore more varied but stronger expectations of a version of life that is relatable to them, I know that even if somehow I become a master writer, I still would not be able [to] say whether I could story that others would get or would be interested in, especially because I am aware I am an oddball when it comes to how I think, how I live, and what I value. What helped me the most was simply seeing that there were readers who did enjoy the stories for what it was, and reminding myself that I’m telling the stories to find those who might enjoy it, not to avoid those who might not. It’s a different perspective, rather than a solution, so the worry constantly resurfaces, but I hope it becomes easier over time as I am proven wrong more often!

Amongst Us readers have gotten to see Veloce and Blackbird as an established couple, and now we are witnessing flashbacks to how they first met. Where do you hope to take the series in the future?

I intend to tell both of these timelines concurrently, so as the couple timeline ended at episode 20, I intend to end the flashback at around episode 40, and then switch again at episode 60, and so on. While this kills the momentum for each arc, I made AU so that I can have the cake and eat it too--I want both their back story and a happy ending at the same time without having to wait 10-20 years for it, like I do with Carciphona’s plot haha!

What is one dream or aspiration you would like to accomplish? Even if it is unrealistic.

My only dream right now is just to finish both Carciphona and AU before my time’s up! Funny how unrealistic is specified, it made me realize that I rarely consider unrealistic dreams/aspirations as worth thinking about as they are unlikely to happen when there are so many other things I want to do that are actually possible. Most of my unrealistic dreams actually revolve around music, a profession I had left behind with an aching heart. I dream to play a concerto with an orchestra someday, or even learn to conduct, but for now, drawing my dreams out feels enjoyable and fulfilling enough a compromise!

What advice do you have for people wanting to create artwork and comics?

The true challenge these days I feel like is rarely in the work itself; there are so many readily available free resources that anyone who is capable of working hard and thinking critically will sooner or later be able to master skills they acquire to some degree. What is truly challenging is finding, and then accepting, what paths work for you. Someone might find great joy in working in a studio with a group on something big, while someone else might only enjoy drawing what they feel. Both, in this current climate, will be compelled to adhere to the standards of drawing what others want to see in order to gain recognition and financial stability, one will thrive, one will not. 

I think the most important thing to keep in mind is understanding what you want out of drawing/creating, and why. Understanding yourself is often not as straight-forward as it may seem, everyone has different circumstances that subtly motivates them to sometimes misdirect energy and misinterpret what it is they truly want. Some people need to be understood, some people want an excuse to execute, and some people want fame, money, recognition, validation. Whatever it is, and all valid, understanding and accepting your own motivations to create can tremendously help you find the path forward that is suitable for you, not anyone else, even if it might mean following an impractical path that no one else recommends.

Finally, after the release of the first Amongst Us book, what is next for you? Anything special your fans can look forward to?

My game plan through the decades has always been to just keep going. I did choose long-form projects such as the comics that I draw, and the best thing I can do is to just keep it up and reach those exciting points of the story that I’ve always worked towards, no matter how uneventful that may make my work routine sound. However, I do have a little side thing with a(nother) recurring theme that I’ve been doing here and there for fun whenever I had time, people who keep up with my social media art posts may have noticed. If I ever accumulate enough material, maybe there will be some bonus snacks for my readers on the horizon!

Read Carciphona and Amongst Us online now and be sure to support the physical release on Amongst Us book 1 on Kickstarter today. Also, be sure to follow Shilin on Twitter @Okolnir.

[theveryinsignificantpotato]

Hi! I was hoping I could request an Alastor x reader, where the reader is an overlord and one of his top competitors? I’m a huge sucker for a good rival to lovers trope, and I thought it might be interesting with him!

I did love writing this, I got a little stuck on parts so I apologise for the wait, but here it is!

My Sworn Enemy

If you told me before that I would end up here I'd probably have killed you on the spot, laughing loudly while I did. Alastor has always irritated me, and from the moment I saw him trekking through my territory, leaving breathtaking carnage in his wake, we had become enemies. Neither of us would have had it any other way, either.

Numerous arguments and all out battles come to mind when I try to devise what led me here, decades and decades of hatred continuously reminding me of why exactly I should be literally anywhere else, but I'm not, and somehow I ended up wrapped up in his arms with his kiss on my lips.

He was annoying and stubborn and cruel, and I have every right to push him away and slap him and cuss him out, but I don't.

Why not?

He wasn't placing hands on me, or being creepy or gross like one would expect from most overlords, but his kiss was chaste and innocent. Only one of his hands only barely came in contact with my cheek, as if worried for how I was going to react, and his eyes remained closed.

It was strange, when the person who once held so much hatred in your heart is now willingly showing you a more vulnerable side, there isn't quite a proper way to react.

Should I kiss him back?

We were enemies, yes, but our fights ended quite a while ago, naturally we each got caught up in other business and only regarded the other as someone to be careful around, maybe even sneer at in the streets, after so long. Fighting with Alastor was tremendous fun back in the day, but with all these new overlords to worry about, there wasn't really time on anyone's schedule to deal with a mortal enemy.

It was rather silly the manner in which the anger left, the fighting died out over the course of ten or so years, then we stopped. Another decade later, lucifer himself invites a bunch of overlords to a party (just to see the chaos that ensues, of course), and of course, Alastor was there.

I may never understand what compelled him to interact with me, but he did, we talked idly, it was pretty awkward at first, but he was polite, and after he cracked a couple jokes we were chatting like old friends. It was as if someone flipped a switch, and after years of hatred we became somewhat of friends.

From then on when we saw each other in the streets we'd smile rather than sneer, occasionally engaging in light conversation and banter in the light of a coffee shop or while bloodying the pavement on the streets. He was shockingly pleasant to be around, and was consistent in drawing out my laughter with his dumb jokes.

There is a garden just behind the Cannibal Cafe in the west end of the fifth circle, it is quite lovely considering the location, and due to its region, most of the visiting demons were of a type that Alastor was familiar with, and often scared others away (you can't die here, being eaten is not a pleasant experience), so it was pretty peaceful when he led me there. We were just talking, like always, joking about the dumb things we used to fight about, or reminiscing about the carnage we had left behind decades ago. Once he even lifted a flower from a bush and tucked it into my hair, and I couldn't hide my blush even as it died in his hand.

"How did I ever hate you?" I said with a soft laugh after tucking a flower from the very same bush into his fluffy hair so it rested between his ear and his horns, effectively making him the most adorable being in hell.

His smile seemed to soften when I did that, and he looked almost as though he was under a spell when he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

Oh right, here we are.

My moment of hesitation seems to last ages, my own mind fighting this long battle over whether or not I should push him away or kiss him back, or just plain not react at all! It's all so confusing, I find myself stressed and exhausted just by thinking, while Alastor is so warm and sweet and inviting, and briefly I wonder if he could help me silence those pesky thoughts of mine.

Then something snaps in my mind and I find myself pulling him closer by the nape of his neck and finally returning his affection, bringing my free hand up to hold his to my cheek where it had once only hovered anxiously.

He reacts almost instantly, bringing an arm around my waist while he traces my features with the pad of his thumb. He seems almost excited at this development, and has a bright genuine grin spread across his face when he pulls away from me.

What the fuck do I do now?

My mind is racing and my face is hot, but I don't look away from Alastor's eyes, red and glittering with delight, they're so mesmerizing I can't bring myself to take my eyes off them. Then his hand is removed from my cheek, only for me to take it in both of mine, holding onto it like a lifeline while I attempt to put together some sort of response to this turn of events.

"Sweetheart,"

His voice seems to dissolve the turmoil that had manifested in my mind, and I catch myself staring at him,

"I seem to have broken you," he chuckles, "do return sometime, I enjoy our talks." He hums, leaning down to press a kiss to my head

"Wh-" I blink once, twice, forcing myself from my daze, "was that real?" I ask finally, keeping my grip on his hand

He laughs softly "Which part, my darling?" He asks, tilting his head to the side while he traces his thumb gently over my knuckles.

"Uhm the part where you kissed me" I said, suddenly overcome by this giddy anxiety that followed today's events.

He hums "Yes indeed, about as real as when you returned my affection." His free hand raises to cup my own over his occupied one, and I take a brief moment to marvel over how warm this man was

"Can… can I do it again…?" I ask, a goofy smile taking over my features

He laughs heartily, "perhaps you may, if I am granted the honor of becoming your lover," He hums with an excited look in his eyes

"My sworn enemy asking to be my boyfriend?" I quirk an eyebrow, unable to hide the small giggle that emerged from my chest, "how can I refuse?"

He grins, releasing one of my hands so he can spin me into another sweet kiss, pressing a hand into the small of my back in order to pull me close while the other keeps its hold on mine.

This time I react immediately, wrapping my free arm around his neck kissing him back with an electrifying excitement. My fingers flexed against his and I could feel his content hum radiate through his chest.

When he pulls away I rest my forehead against his and we share a bright grin.

This should be an interesting new chapter.