#show me the businessman I do not care if it's a stick figure with a cigerette saying YALL

[brbuttons]

Some BS2 sketchbook stuff from the other week. Because stylising characters is hard. ✨

[ledenews]

Santorine: Presidential Debate a Miscarriage of Politics

Sometimes I think I’m living in a dystopian film, in a warped society where we send warriors out to fight our battles for us, and the winner of this one-on-one combat chooses which set of ideologies will prevail until the have two warriors face off again. The fact we are doing this today, with a couple of geezers standing up in front of our nation making outlandish claims makes me pinch myself to make certain I’m awake. Is this really happening? Is this the best our nation can do? The competition is macabre at best. We all know there are two competing schools of thought. Big Government and Huge Taxes vs. Limited Government and allegedly lower taxes. Two completely different types of governance. With each side sticking to its guns, there is no compromise, just a bit of wiggle on taxes, and it’s back and forth every few years. So, we spend a lot of money figuring out the most tax advantageous way to arrange our lives until the current tax cuts expire. Talk about not being “fair,” but we always punish our best and brightest, don’t we? Aspirational America is no longer about the brightest and best but instead about the most politically connected. I’ve been told that I say that “Trump is a New Yorker” too many times, and maybe it’s how he acts. The TRUMP brand has always been about shiny and bold, and just a little “over the top.” Like the man. But that is how you need to roll when you’re playing in the city that never sleeps. On Thursday night for the presidential debate, former president Donald J. Trump had his businessman’s face on, including that look of incredulity that each of us has when we are faced with an excessive load of untruth. The non-stop lies coming from President Joe Biden were nothing short of incredible. The Trump “you’re full it of” face was on for most of the two hours. It’s obvious that Biden has never been in a grocery store or had to fill up the family car in recent months. The costs are staggering due to inflation, and wages have not kept up. The average family really does not care that some obscure employment metric is three-tenths of a percentage point better under him than it was under Trump. Of the excuses from the left trying to justify Biden’s performance, one sticks out in my mind –  “Biden has a cold.” Really now, after a week secluded at Camp David to prep for this, a mere cold took down the leader of the free world in a debate? Thank God we weren’t in the middle of multiple international conflicts and domestic unrest caused by inflation. Or are we? I think it’s obvious that we need a brawler in the White House for a bit. A troubleshooter who’s not afraid to take on the entrenched bureaucracy. Someone who has done the job and has had time to reflect on his “Wins-Losses-Ties” from term one. Someone who clearly calls it like it is. Much like physicians, the best ones usually have really poor bedside manners. When I look at a politician, the litmus test is always, “Would I like to have dinner with that man?” I think an incredibly interesting conversation would be had breaking bread with Donald J. Trump.  Sure, he’s a bit of a braggart. That goes with the territory (another way of saying ‘He’s a New Yorker’). He connects with the common man, and that makes him seem much more real. The debate was a demonstration of two old men, one with words and the other with mumbles (from a person who is clearly not as sharp as he once was). The debate proved that Biden is completely incapable or leading the greatest country on the face of the earth, and that Trump has reached the limit of what one human should have to endure as far as attacks and untruths. In pugilist terms, when it was obvious that Trump had Biden bloodied and beaten, he didn’t let up. In normal times, he would have. Continuing the fight served no purpose, save for one. The former president needed to get some of those frustrations out, and he did so by showing no mercy. In retrospect, I don’t blame him. I hope the political operatives who organize such things know better than to subject the American people to another one of these spectacles. It was, in every way, disgraceful. Unless the Democrat Party decides to risk blowing itself apart by replacing their presumptive nominee at the last minute, this is the pairing for the general election. We know what we have to deal with in November and I’ll be passing out clothespins that may help with the stench in the voting booth. Is it possible that, maybe, we are getting the government we deserve? Read the full article

[hannahsmusings]

Jackson

*Jackson didn’t even know what to do with himself as he watched the car disappear, standing at the door for far too long, unable to move his feet, believing that if he refused to move maybe you’d change your mind and come back, but he knew once he closed the door to the manor, he’d have to face reality and realize that you were gone, probably forever* *he shivered, the brisk winter wind hitting his bare arms since he was only in a short sleeve shirt, not realizing how cold he was until now, finally succumbing and heading back inside, his head hung heavily as he quietly closed the manor doors, the house feeling freezing even though he had the best heaters money could buy, knowing it had nothing to do with the mechanics of the house, and all to do with the girl who just left it* *he moved on autopilot up to his room, knowing he needed to get back into his proper mindset, his body going into fight or flight mode and he always chose fight, that mask coming down as he stripped off his comfy clothes and stepped into the shower, figuratively washing away that persona you helped pull out of him, letting the hot water scald his skin as he scrubbed, refusing to let his emotions win anymore, he just couldn’t, he needed to be strong and brave and a cutthroat businessman, that was who he was meant to be after all*

*Matt didn’t know if he felt relief or anxiety when he read your message, you having not reached out at all to any of his other messages and he was starting to worry that you were officially ghosting him forever, so he couldn’t help but feel a small pang of hope when he saw that you said you were coming ‘home’, hanging onto the hope that maybe that meant this was still your home, with him* *he didn’t sleep a wink, knowing he looked a right mess, but he didn’t care, he was a nervous wreck over what happened and knowing he needed to apologize and win yo back, hoping you were coming here with an open mind and heart* *he hears a call pull up out front and he rushes to the large window in your living room that looked out onto the street, seeing the same car from the night before that came and picked you two up, tamping down the anger that was associated with the memories, rushing over to the front door as he saw the driver getting out to open your car door, wanting to help, wanting to show you that he still cared for you, hoping it wasn’t too little too late* *he opens the front door and walks down to the car, his hair sticking up and there being large bags under his eyes, in just a t-shirt and some sweats, not minding the bitter cold, it being obvious from his disheveled appearance that he hadn’t slept properly* Hey… I got her.. *he goes to open the door before the driver can get there, his eyes widening a bit at the cold, icy stare he received from the older man, him being all smiles the night before but it was clear he was not a fan of Matt after the altercation from the night before* -Matt

*Martin didn’t dislike anyone but after the night before, he didn’t even want to look at Matt nevermind leave you alone with him, he had grown quite fond of you since meeting you and he knew how special you were to Jackson* *he opens the car door for you, giving you a soft and kind smile as you step out, looking into your eyes as he speaks, low enough for only you to hear* Call me if you need a ride, okay? Anywhere, doesn’t matter. I’m just a call away. *he pats your shoulder warmly before stepping aside so you can walk up to your home, throwing one last cold glance at Matt before returning to his side of the car* -Martin

*the driver doesn’t let up on his icy stare causing Matt to take a step back, watching as you climb out of the car and thank Martin, lowering his eyes as Martin whispers something to you, knowing the driver was Jackson’s staff and therefore he was anti-Matt, probably whispering praise of his boss to you* *he waits for the driver to move away from you before finally glancing up and looking at you, you still in that dress and he couldn’t help the way his stomach tightened and clenched, not sure how he’d cope if you were to end things while wearing such a gorgeous gown* H-Hey Hannah… thanks for coming back… 

___________________________________

*the closer I got to Matt and the further I got from you caused my chest to ache and anxiety build, knowing I was about to have some difficult conversations and I felt emotionally drained enough already* *it felt like no time at all before we were pulling up at the house, looking out the window and feeling a pang of pain at the thought this place was no longer my home, sighing and about to open my door before I see you come out, eyes widening at how dishevelled you looked and stomach twisting with guilt at the fact you looked so down trodden and I’d kissed another man last night, feeling sick to my stomach and wondering whether I should come clean* *sees you approach to open the car but Martin was already doing it, looking up at him as I step out, and his words giving me such reassurance, feeling the warmth of fondness as I offer him a small smile, really appreciating it as I rarely felt like I had someone looking out for me* Thank you Martin. For everything. *murmurs softly, wondering if I’d ever be brave enough to call him for help, usually handing everything alone* *steps away from the car and finally looks up at you and expecting to feel something close to longing or love but instead it was absent and that told me everything* Hi. *murmurs softly, sighing a little as I wrap my coat around me, looking away rfom your intense gaze* Let’s go inside okay? *i head up to the door, watching Martin drive off before letting myself inside, seeing so many of my things in this space that made it obvious that we’d really made a home together, knowing it would all go after this conversation*

[mysticmelove]

Christmas Surprise

(Jumin x MC)

.

Though he may have been a cautious man in most instances, it didn’t take long for MC long to figure out Jumin had little caution when it came to their romance. Maybe it was the new feeling of being understood in his love - and so should have been expected. Maybe this was just the pure self-assurance of a millionaire on a high. Either way, he was a lot more confident with their quick-paced relationship than she’d expected. Of course she’d stayed at his place for that week as support, who wouldn’t have? But then he’d invited her to spend Christmas with him and, no matter how much she wanted to shift the thought, she couldn’t deny how serious things were becoming. A considerably fresh couple spending Christmas together? Alone? Jumin really wasn’t giving her the chance to question his affections. Still, MC couldn’t help but remain curious as to why he had chosen her: the businessman who could have anything he wished but instead chose to spend his afternoon running gentle fingers through her hair.

Early evening had set in and the various lights and candles in the apartment only fuelled the intimacy that Jumin was aiming for. He’d thought about the correct way to go about things excessively leading up to the day and now he felt as if he didn’t even need to think. They’d exchanged gifts, with a very strict rule on ‘no more that two each’ as instated by MC, but Jumin could only feel as if he hadn’t spoiled her enough. She’d insisted on cleaning up after they’d eaten and then they’d found themselves on the couch, his left hand occupied with a fresh glass of wine and his right soothing through her hair. It felt so incredibly peaceful to just sit in that comfortable silence they had created but he had little faith they’d both stay awake. He’d bask in that feeling for years to come if he were given the chance but he’d done enough thinking to know he should stick to the plan. MC sunk further into his side, causing him to hum as his hand slipped down her arm. “My love?”

Shifting once more, she reached her hand across her chest and intertwined her fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” she said ever so quietly: “I’m trying to stay awake but it’s just too comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” Jumin was quick to retort. He placed is glass down on the table just within his reach, using his now free hand to create naive curls in her hair. “Surely I’m not the most pleasant surface to be laying on. A pillow would be much more suitable for you.”

“Of course,” she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, “but you’re very warm and cosy nonetheless.”

Jumin watched as she propped herself up to his height, her eyes glistening like tiny stars in the dim light. “I’m not sure if I would describe myself as cosy.” She giggled at his muse and he was all too aware that his gaze had fallen to her lips. If he kissed her now he wouldn’t have made it through to the end of what he had been planning: he was weak in her hold and this he knew as much.

It only took a second for MC to realise she had lost him to his own thoughts. His gaze, as strong and commanding as his words, could show only glimpses into all the things that crossed his mind. With care she swept stray strands of hair from his forehead, the motion enough for his eyes to train themselves to her delicate fingers. “Jumin…” she began in adoration only to be stopped by the contact of his lips to her knuckles. She continued at the prompt of his raised brow: “Thank you for having me today. It was a lot nicer spending it with you and Elizabeth than in the apartment.”

Naturally he grew closer, her lips still doing their best to tempt him. “Don’t thank me. I’d spend every holiday with you given the chance, my love.” MC’s cheeks had grown rosy, her smile as innocent as the first time he’d laid eyes on it, and it had spurred him into motion. With care, he returned her hands to her own lap and stood from where he sat, stretching his limbs subtly as he did. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t have made it a few steps before she’d sprung up after him. “I’ll get us some cake. We’ve been sat here so long, I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Jumin was blocking her pathway in an instant. “No.” His body had created a barrier between her and any path around the penthouse, his hands floating at her waist-side in his panic. “I just need you to stay here.” His eyes shifted to the floor and she watched him pinch his bottom lip between his teeth. “…I don’t mean to be forceful. We will have cake shortly, I have to take care of something beforehand however.”

At the feeling of her soft touch on his upper arm Jumin relaxed, his eyes trailing back to her and a smile adorning him at the sound of her understanding tone. “That’s okay,” she grinned, “I shouldn’t have been in such a rush. You can cut the first slice for me afterwards.”

“Perfect.” His hands finally found themselves on her waist, confidently this time. A kiss was placed upon her forehead before he would take his leave from the open room, disappearing down the corridor towards his office.

His palms were clammy as he took is lead back to where he hd left her sitting. He desperately needed to release the tension from his upper back and neck. “MC.” Her head whipped around like that of a meerkat at the sound of his voice - he feared that his anxiety was too present in his conduct. Curiously, she hummed and her eyes trailed his path around the open floor towards her. “Stand with me for a moment, please.” Jumin held out a hand to her. He held his breath deep within his chest, still trying his hardest to play it suave with the gorgeous woman before him.

“What’s up?” She questioned him, brushing a stray cat hair from the shoulder of his sweatshirt. MC wasn’t even looking at him and yet he had managed to fall in love at first sight all over again.

Jumin cleared his throat, tightening his grip on her one hand, “MC, you make me feel like the luckiest person alive when I am around you.” She blushed, her eyes averted and trying to hide the embarrassment. Jumin wouldn’t allow her to go unseen. “Your words make everything clearer to me and I have never loved so much, nor felt so loved, than when I am with you.”

In that second things had clicked within MC’s head and she was too overwhelmed to make a response but to tear up and pout.

Jumin began his descent, trying his hardest not to be too amused by his girlfriend’s inability to find her words as she became the one to hold on tighter to his hand now. “I know it hasn’t been very conventional or very long,” he continued as he rested on his one knee and reached into his back pocket. “And there is so much more I wish to know about you, which means I’m desperate to spend as much time with you as I possibly can.” His hand finally emerged from his pocket, as expected a small black velvet box in tow. “So MC, my love, will you marry me?” Jumin’s eyebrow tilted up as he opened the box, on display the small band she had joked with him about a month prior when talking about her fairytale of a dream.

She had obviously lost her words for just a second too long when Jumin’s smile had turned into one of concern. She reached to cup his cheeks at once when she had noticed, singing her delight: “Oh god! Yes! Of course I will marry you. I’ve never met someone who I can love as much as you, Jumin.”

In giving her reassurance, MC had also ended up on the floor; her forehead was practically pinned to his until he had retreated to place the jewels upon her finger. Jumin murmured a ‘thank you’ mere inches away from her skin before finally planting that kiss he had been savouring on her lips, cradling her neck softly as he did. When they had parted there were insatiable smiles between the both of them and MC wouldn’t dare let go of his fingers she had laced her’s so haphazardly with. Jumin kissed at her knuckles once more, though this time he was sure it would never be bare again, and humoured his now fiancée: “Would you like to celebrate with that cake now, my love?”

[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!

[superlocktvd]

KinnPorsche

On April 2nd lives changed, we finally got KinnPorsche after almost 2 years of wait. At that point episode 14 seemed like a dream so far away and today as I write this I am forced to think where did 3 months exactly go. In these three months I have seen this fandom grow leaps and bounds. The tag alone on tumblr has come from 4k to 40k. 

These 3 months I have witnessed one of the best made Thai dramas not just in terms of being BL but in general. The production value, the acting, the screenplay, the cinematography have been nothing but chef’s kiss. I am neither a film major nor do I know details or intricacies of filming but the stage KinnPorsche was and how far it has come and the roar it has caused across the globe is result of the hard work the entire team has put hence I don’t wish to complain even if I wanted something else or wanted something more or felt I wish they had shown this too. To critique is one thing, to complain is another at least for me.

Special thanks to Mile because man you need guts to invest a figuratively large sum and dive into something you are doing for the first time alone on the feeling that this is something good and will work. No wonder you’re a businessman. 

I have seen a lot of complaints and negativity too but honestly I wonder if its worth to crib over if the other option was that I never would have gotten the series. Hence I don’t really care that much about small loopholes or if someone feels the story is that or the character should have done something else. At this point I would love if I had episode of them eating so really it doesn’t matter to me.

KinnPorsche has set a standard not easy to match much less surpass, of course there will come a time where some show will be at the same level or above but I don’t really see it happening soon at least if there is an independent production (not taking into account Netflix because they have money money).

KinnPorsche not only introduced me to these wonderful actors but also how kind the people are in real life. Mile and Apo are truly the definition of, “Why should I lower my standards when such men exist”. I have come to appreciate little details of scenes and how so many small things add up to large intentions. The metas have not only opened my eyes and expanded my vocabulary but also allowed me to view the content in such a different way than before. It has helped me appreciate how much work gets put into every scene and when every cent is being counted how much more important it becomes.

KinnPorsche is a fandom that even with tonight’s episode has fair share of content coming through in the upcoming months. Things will slow down yes but I I am fairly certain those who have enjoyed the series will stick maybe little less active but definitely here for whenever this fandom needs backing and support.

I have so many more thoughts but for now that’s all I can type without getting emotional so, Lastly, I am grateful for those who followed me in these last few months, appreciated my thoughts and were riding alongside this roller coaster. Let’s end it on high note and hope for the new announcements and content to come through. For now it is the last KINNPORSCHEDAY!!!!!!!!!

[tenthgrove]

yess thank you for letting me ask you about the lore >:3c so I have to get my absolute favorites outta the way first— what kinda lore and thoughts do you have for sorbet or gelato ( <- before they get together and the earlier years of them getting together if you need a specific period ) I have to also ask are you ok if I go down the “line” and get your thoughts in other asks about the rest of the la squadra babes? Thank you sm 💖💖 I hope you’re having a wonderf day/evening

Ah! Now this is one of my absolute favourites! Apologies to anyone who has already heard me ramble about my Sorbet and Gelato backstory ad nauseam on multiple occasions, but this is really an area where I can't help myself. Besides, this is my opportunity to go more in depth where I haven't before:

(Note after writing this: It's stupidly long. I'm sorry I just can't help myself with these backstories. I couldn't decide what to leave out so I decided nothing.)

(Also please feel free to ask me more lore questions because I love doing this)

We'll begin with Sorbet, born in Naples in February 1967 if you follow the canon timeline (although by default I write in modern AU so move the dates 20 years later). His situation at birth was absolutely dire, the eldest child of an incredibly vulnerable woman and one of her clients as a sex worker. Sorbet's mother was by all means a decent woman but her severe mental illness and drug addiction made it impossible for her to be a good mother, which of course had a bad effect on Sorbet growing up. After Sorbet, she had 5 more children, all through clients, and Sorbet was saddled with much of their care.

Though he loved his siblings, Sorbet was pretty much done with this life by age 12 and was easily swept up by older boys from the local street gang, who paid him well to peddle drugs when he should have been in school. This was a very underfunded neighbourhood so nobody questioned his truancy, and within the next couple of years he had stopped going to school entirely. Shortly after this, having acquired sufficient money through his crime involvement, Sorbet left his family to stay with his new friends, moving between them on a regular basis. He also discovered his sexuality around this time and dated a few male friends, though none of these relationships got very far.

By age 16, Sorbet had earned a reputation in the street gang for skilled and passionate violence, and was selected by the ringleader to commit the group's first planned murder, in exchange of course for a lucrative reward. Sorbet accepted, succeeded, and became the group's de-facto assassin whenever needed. He continued to hoard considerable money for the remainder of his adolescence, though continued to be functionally homeless since he didn't see it necessary when sofa-surfing was suiting him fine.

Before resuming with Sorbet, let's explain the life that Gelato came from. Gelato was born in October 1967 in St. Petersburg, Russia, (Note- I previously used the city of Minsk, unaware that this is in fact, in Belarus) to an upper-middle class businessman and his Italian wife, a distant relative of French Monarchy. Gelato's relationship with his parents was rocky from the start due to the fact they would have preferred a girl after three successive sons, but any parental love they had for their youngest child broke down entirely after he was diagnosed with both Autism and ADHD at age 5, in an evaluation intending to find the cause of some behavioural issues that were really, just a response to emotional neglect.

When Gelato was 13 he, his parents, and two of his three brothers (the eldest was already an adult by this time and elected to stay behind) moved to Italy to escape some allegations of corruption in the father's business. They moved to a rural village in North-West Italy where the community was very middle-class and quite stifling for Gelato, who had enough social rules to remember in the familiar, economically-diverse city he grew up in. His behavioural issues got worse and began to include things he would later regret, such as attacking and stealing from younger children, and things he would absolutely not, like attacking and stealing from teachers. By this point the family had largely written him off as a failure, revering instead their academically successful, well-behaved older children, which absolutely contributed to the spiralling cycle of behaviour issues Gelato faced.

Then, at age 17, Gelato failed a crucial exam and was expelled from high-school. His parents kicked him out on the spot, and with no other family in Italy Gelato had very few options on what to do next. He recalled, however, one older friend having links to a street gang in Naples, and decided to see if this boy might have a route out of destitution for him. Indeed, the friend did know of a man in Naples needing assistance within the gang, but could offer no help in getting Gelato there. Seeing no other way, Gelato walked the whole journey.

Arriving in Naples, the friend's associate announced that the position Gelato was after had been taken, but taking pity on his distress, informed him of another friend who needed someone to look after an unlicensed bar that served as one of the group's main meeting points. He agreed to arrange for the small apartment above the bar to be given as payment.

Gelato accepted, but although he had now solved the problem of homelessness his life was still incredibly miserable. For one, with his pay being the apartment he had to rely on measly tips to get by, which rarely left him with enough to eat let alone anything else. Additionally, as an outsider with little understanding of the way gangs work Gelato was an easy target for abuse, and was treated like absolute shit by the bar's patrons.

By this point in time, Sorbet had just turned 18. He was, incidentally, in the same gang Gelato had joined, and a regular at the bar he worked in. For a good couple of months they took no notice of each other, until Sorbet came to be in a coincidental feud with one of the men who was violent to Gelato at the bar. When Gelato witnessed the two of them in a fight, he made the spur-of-the-moment decision to join in on Sorbet's side, knocking the patron unconscious and leaving him too afraid to visit again. For his trouble, Sorbet gave Gelato a portion of the money he looted from the fight's loser, and flirted with him lightly before going about with his evening. Unknown to Sorbet, he had just sent Gelato falling head over hills in love.

Gelato found out about Sorbet's sexuality from other patrons and, delighted, attempted to flirt with him the next time they saw each other, but his attempts came off very poorly and Sorbet actually thought he was being insulted. Angered, he dragged Gelato into the cellar to demand what was going on. Gelato, terrified, admitted having a crush, which Sorbet found to be the sweetest and most genuine thing he'd ever heard. While he couldn't promise a relationship, he did agree to show Gelato more attention in the future. But, it was only a matter of days until Sorbet found himself loving Gelato back.

This whirlwind relationship continued happily for three weeks, Sorbet greatly improving Gelato's situation through his saved money and helping him fend off the abusive patrons. Gelato, in turn, offered Sorbet a permanent place to stay in the apartment, which he accepted. Sorbet was in the process of moving his things, and they had plans to refurbish the place to make it actually habitable.

But then, everything came crashing down. One night the bar was subject to a surprise raid by the police, operating by the false assumption it was empty. Sorbet and Gelato attempted to flee but were caught, and in a panic, Gelato shot a policeman dead. Rushing to his defence Sorbet killed two more, but a fourth escaped to tell the tale. The couple knew they were screwed. Running to the headquarters of their gang they begged for protection but were informed the small group simply could not save them from a charge this serious, and gave them only a single night of shelter to plan their next move. Gelato, who remember had never committed anything more serious than minor ABH before, had an absolute breakdown over this predicament that night, and whilst comforting him, Sorbet devised a blood pact with him to stick together no matter what came.

Over the next few days, Sorbet and Gelato fled north, avoiding the police through Sorbet's skills as a criminal and Gelato's very convincing Russian tourist impression. They were almost at the French border when Sorbet awoke one night to find Gelato missing behind him. He chased his tracks to the driveway of a rural house, a tearful Gelato clutching a knife at the shut door and trembling. He informed Sorbet that he had intentionally led him to the village where his family lived, with the intention to break in and kill them as revenge for the years of abuse. Sorbet warned Gelato that this would not be good for their attempts to flee, but said he understood fully and would help him if this is truly what he wanted. Gelato agreed, and together they broke into the house and slaughtered Gelato's mother and father, additionally killing one of his brothers after he woke from the noise. The other brother, the youngest other than Gelato, was spared, as Gelato felt his role in the abuse had been comparatively more minor and he did not deserve to die. This of course, left another witness.

The massacre in the village was quickly linked to the one at the bar and Gelato was promptly identified from a comparison of DNA found at the scene to his surviving brother's. Sorbet, a known criminal, was identified soon after. Not only were the pair now known but the police figured out what their plan was and informed the French police as well, making things exponentially harder for the couple.

They made do for a while by hanging low and keeping on the move, living off money stolen from the parents' house. Eventually however, they needed more, and began making deals with local crime organisations to carry out assassinations in exchange for money or temporary shelter. While Sorbet was already a pro at this, Gelato found himself a fast learner, and soon realised he shared Sorbet's adoration for the act of killing. He felt as though he was finally coming to meet his true self.

Though the assassination deals were lucrative, they did not help the couple keep a low profile and the attacks from police were relentless. Several times, they barely escaped capture. All this was not good on their mental states, and after two years, Sorbet knew it needed to end. He and Gelato returned to Naples in the hope their old gang might reconsider protecting them, but they were met with a surprise as their old gang had been completely overtaken by Passione. Even still, the new mobsters had heard a lot about Sorbet and Gelato's exploits and agreed to get them an audience with a local Capo, Pericolo, who was impressed by the men's skills and moved by the sense of honour suggested by their love for each other. He agreed to initiate them into the gang.

Soon after this, Sorbet and Gelato recieved stands which, although not very powerful, assisted them greatly in the art of assassination. Soon, they were natural choices for Passione whenever a hit needed carrying out in the Naples area. At some point a few years in, they befriended a man named Prosciutto who had been recently forced into Passione due to his heritage. Prosciutto was also funnelled into assassination jobs and, with less of a reputation for impulsivity than Sorbet and Gelato, was the one given the order to form a new assassination squad when the need arose, around 1993 if we're following canon.

(Note, I hc La Squadra was created by Passione in response to a real life government crackdown on the Italian mafia around 1992-93, in response to an incredibly scandalous series of assassinations. In such a climate, it would make sense for Passione to want to consolidate an elite squad of its best hitmen, do avoid future problems.)

Due to personal commitments Prosciutto did not want to be the captain, so attempted to give this responsibility to Sorbet, a request the boss promptly denied. Prosciutto was, however, allowed to add Sorbet and Gelato to the team's ranks, cementing the three of them as the first members of the team.

Prosciutto would, soon enough, find another person to give the title of captain to, but that's a story for another time.

[lovelyirony]

hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??

Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best. 

That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds. 

(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.) 

Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with. 

…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible. 

It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come. 

-

When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.” 

Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy. 

-

It’s an odd strategy. 

Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.” 

“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick. 

“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.” 

They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is. 

“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?” 

“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.” 

“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?” 

“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.” 

“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.” 

“Okay asshole, any recommendations?” 

“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.” 

Rhodey looks at the menu. 

He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake. 

“You traitor.” 

“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-” 

Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs. 

- 

Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping. 

Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t. 

Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him. 

“You think you broke a racing record with that?” 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?” 

Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.) 

“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?” 

“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?” 

“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.” 

Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief. 

The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments. 

Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind. 

- 

The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer. 

Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to. 

(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.) 

It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone. 

It was...bad. 

The problem is this: 

Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military. 

But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back. 

He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair. 

“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.” 

Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair. 

“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?” 

“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.” 

“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?” 

“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!” 

Tony stares at him. Really stares at him. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey. 

They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying. 

But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight. 

- 

Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying. 

And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed. 

He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could. 

He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast. 

Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt. 

“You’re...up,” Tony says. 

Rhodey turns around. 

“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.” 

“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?” 

“Omelet.” 

“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.” 

“You want one?” 

“You gonna make me one?” 

“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?” 

“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?” 

“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.” 

“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning. 

Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone. 

“You sleep okay?” 

“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.” 

“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.” 

“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.” 

Rhodey stares at Tony. 

“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?” 

“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says. 

“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says. 

“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?” 

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.” 

Tony looks at him. 

“You’re really honest.” 

“I try to be.” 

“I love that about you.” 

Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice. 

“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.” 

“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh my god, do not.” 

“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?” 

Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem. 

- 

There’s an...understanding. 

Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session. 

Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat. 

“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.” 

Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice. 

He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going. 

- 

The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there. 

He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified. 

Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...

He’s knocked unconscious. 

-

When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out. 

And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.” 

Tony smiles a bit at that. 

- 

Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. 

And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke. 

Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.) 

This is nothing. 

But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out. 

“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers. 

“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters. 

“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.” 

“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.” 

“No she wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah she would!” 

“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.” 

“Shit.” 

Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs. 

He’s kind of embarrassed. 

Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that. 

Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it. 

He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it. 

- 

They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it? 

It can’t be...

It is. 

Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already. 

Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to. 

- 

Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa. 

“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-” 

“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.” 

“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says. 

“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases. 

“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.” 

“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.” 

“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?” 

“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles. 

Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand. 

“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?” 

“...I’ll think about it.” 

(They don’t get a new bodyguard. 

No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things. 

Rhodey finds it hilarious.) 

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[cara-terra-pace]

RICH NEIGHBORS PART 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Part 1 THE GABRIELING

-wow does Lila get absolutely C R E A M E D in this au.

-almost makes you feel bad.

-almost

-since we got Mr Felix “I don’t need friends. They disappoint me” Agreste here, you better believe this girl gets exposed faster than you can say “Watermelon Kids”.

-(I mean Felix quotes that vine all the time to his FRIENDS so it sorta doesn’t apply but whatever you get what I mean.)

-Lila lies immediately about Marinette. But she obviously doesn’t know it’s Marinette, because Marinette goes by Marie Mêler, and not Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

-it’s actually kind of funny because Noel Bulles (I’m going with Nino’s brother’s name being Chris, not Noel because I needed a name and Noel was the best one so) or Nino Lahiffe also overhears her bragging about being best friends with him, just as he had said about Marinette.

-“oh Marinette Dupain Cheng and I are besties! Us and Nino Lahiffe, we’re like this!” She grins, crossing her fingers to signify how close they are.

-Oh heck to the no!

-Marinette is now becoming angry and that’s not good, so Felix decides “hey, I’ve met Dupain Cheng and Lahiffe before, and they are almost never in the public eye. It’s basically impossible for that to be true. But if you want to continue trying to make this class your sheeple, be my guest. You’ll see what happens when you do.”

-silence

-And the entire class kind of explodes

-everyone realizes that, hmm, yeah that’s a bit suspicious.

-there was no reason for Felix to lie about that, because they know that this 17 year old that acts like some 30 something businessman literally could care less about the class liking him.

-They immediately are more cautious of Lila’s words, and when she starts talking about Jagged and his cat, that really brings it home.

-they ignore her.

-they aren’t mean to her, since that’s just not anyone’s style. Chloe went to homeschool a few years ago, and that’s the only real “bully” they had.

-but they don’t take anything she says seriously. Lila eventually realizes that the lying is not working. So she just stops talking as much, moves to the back of the classroom without prompting, and plans her next move.

-“that wasn’t too bad!” You say, forgetting that there is more.

-Watermelon kids and their reveal!

-Marie is Marinette Dupain Cheng?!

-Noel is Nino Lahiffe?!

-Lila, who hadn’t really talked in weeks except to attempt to gain some sort of sympathy, paled immediately when she was confronted with it on Monday morning.

-“this is proof that you were definitely lying. You should be glad Felix stopped me before I put that video of you on my blog.”

-Alya Cesaire everyone!

-she has a blog where just writes about different attractions and news in Paris. She figured getting such a scoop from the best friend of two never seen in public rich kids would really jump start her blog.

-Felix and Adrien stopped her, Adrien being nice and calm about it and Felix telling her it would be idiotic to post the interview without sources.

-and she listens, bc even though she’s still hopeful that Lila is telling the truth, it does sound a bit too good to be true.

-Alya is still best friends with our baby Mari.

-it’s different than in canon but they hang out at Alya’s a lot, sometimes when Mari stays at the bakery she’ll invite Alya over, and basically they are inseparable

-Alya isn’t really into romance, at least not for herself since she’s trying to kickstart a career, but when she sees the budding romances between Mari and Felix and Adrien and Nino

-Madamoiselle Matchmaker at your service.

-but enough of my girl Alya

-lets get back to the WATERMELON KIDS

-they are both so awkward after the reveal.

-people in class are all starry eyed and it’s weird because okay, they were both nice and well known in the class and throughout the school

-BUT THIS IS NEXT LEVEL

-Mari basically sticks close to her friends because when she gets overwhelmed, they help her out a ton.

-Nino tries to be chill and it’s not working.

-but the thing is, now people either try to become best friends with them for the benefits, or they insult them because they’re rich kids

-and, yeah it doesn’t really bother them.

-sticks and stones, you know?

-but then someone insulted Alya, saying she’s a suck up and she’s just hanging around the group so she can get a scoop and expose their secrets and stuff.

-and Mari and Nino actually go off.

-that is their little baby reporter friend who can definitely take care of herself and doesn’t need to play dirty to get good news and be a great reporter thank you very much

-they can handle being insulted themselves, but touch their friends and family and it’s game over.

-Alya finds it very sweet

-she does remind them that she can take care of herself, but thanks them for backing her up

-Emile Agreste

-woah where did she come from???

-there’s a movie premiere in Paris and she’s attending and Adrien is like !!!

-Felix is just kind of... standoffish when she’s in town??

-he’s just bitter that both his mother and father are distant and his dad’s assistant is more of a mother figure to him at this point.

-btw, Nathalie is so done. She sometimes cries in her office, which sounds really sad until you learn she is just leaning her head on the wall and crying as she bangs her head.

-ma’am please take a month off and take a vacation

-but she can’t because she loves the boys too much

-she’s emile’s best friend, and so when she gets kind of mad at em for being gone so much, everyone’s really surprised.

-she’s walking into the premiere with a tablet in her hands and Emile is like “wow I missed you and Gabe so much!!!”

-and Felix and Adrien are RIGHT THERE LIKE-

-and Nathalie just snaps

-“obviously not enough to actually take a break. Felix, Adrien, it’s time to go into the theatre. Your father won’t be joining us, he didn’t deem this important enough to attend in person.”

-mari and Nino are nearby and OH DO YOU NEED SOME ICE FOR THAT BURN MADAME AGRESTE

-what was I talking about?

-oh yeah, back to fashion.

-that’s Marinette right there, making new designs.

-she does special celebrity commissions and gifts herself, but they have tons of other designers and seamstresses helping with the actual mass production of lines.

-Mari’s first fashion show is a collaboration between DC and LE. They provide the runway music and have live up and comers, and Mari does the same, with smaller designers presenting their lines before Mari’s and her’s being the final and the crown jewel.

-she jump started a lot of careers that way, both in the music and fashion industries.

-the watermelon kids are on every teen magazine

-they are huge in America

-both of them traveled there to just get a better feel of American culture, fashion, and music and wow

-paparazzi

-EVERYWHERE

-Nino meets some American singers and convinces his mother that an American location would be good for the company

-Marinette does the same, insisting that it would be full of profit

-it works and the summer following the reveal, Marinette, Nino, Alya, and the Agreste Twins all go to America.

-which will be elaborated on in Part 3!

This whole thing was sort of a mess lol

I jumped around a lot but most of these were the first ideas that popped into my head and it was a lot of fun to create.

(Note: if you guys want to be tagged, just let me know and you’ll be added to the taglist!)

Taglist: @animegirlweeb

[imagineredwood]

Request:  Miguel fears his girlfriend will leave him because of what everyone says about him and the cartel (u know all the illegal stuff he has going on but hasn’t really shown that part to her yet)

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x reader 

Warnings: Talk of crime 

Word count: 1.6k

***Bitch i’m in a Miguel mood lately  👀 Or in other words the default @breanime​  mood ***

“Everything ok, Mikey?”

Miguel looked away from the view of mountains and over toward his best friend. Nestor wore a look on concern as he walked toward Miguel where he sat outside on the patio bench. Miguel forced a smile and nodded.

“I’m good.”

Nestor gave a nod of his own and came to sit down beside the cartel leader.

“Right. Now I’ll ask you again and then this time you can be honest.”

Miguel looked back over at Nestor to find the man smiling. Miguel couldn’t help but to do the same and shake his head. He looked back over the mountains and the smile slowly slipped off his face.

“I just don’t know what to with her.”

Miguel’s response was vague and anyone else may have been confused as to what it meant, but not Nestor. He was well aware of what Miguel was referring to.

“What do you think you should do?”

Miguel stayed quiet, thinking.

“I know I should let her see the truth. Let her know who I am and let her make her own choice instead of letting her lead a life of lies. That much I know. But,”

Shaking his head, Miguel tried to look for the words to put his thoughts together. Nestor, who sometimes knew him better than he knew himself, finished for him.

“But you worry that if you let her see the truth, she’ll run.”

Miguel didn’t need to tell Nestor that he was right.

“All of the shit that people say about me, my family, I know it gets to her. I just tell her that they’re jealous. That they’re upset about how I run my business. Imagine how she’ll feel if it comes to the surface when we’re already too deep? How is she going to trust me if I continue to build our relationship off of secrecy and half-truths?”

Miguel huffed and Nestor leaned over, placing his hand on the back of his best friend’s neck and squeezing gently.

“Then slowly introduce her to the truth. You’re doing good, Mikey. Day by day you’re going more legit. Be honest and show that you’re putting in the work to do things right. That will mean something to her.”

Miguel nodded and looked back over at Nestor, smiling once again.

“You always do know how to make me get my head out of my ass.”

It was Nestor’s turn to grin this time and he did, shrugging.

“What are friends for?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Hello, mi reina. You look beautiful.”

Your smile warmed his heart as you walked through the doorway, into his house. It was dim, the lights low, no natural light coming from the outside as it was already passed sundown. He was dressed down, or at least as dressed down as a man like Miguel could be. He was wearing plain black trousers and a white button-up, the top two buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I thought you said casual?”

He smiled and leaned down, gently pressing his lips against yours as his arm snaked its way around your waist. He kissed your lips repeatedly before speaking softly against them.

“This is casual. I wanted you to be comfortable.”

Pulling away, he took your hand in his and spun you around slowly.

“Stunning.”

You chuckled as he released your hand and walked into his home while he locked up behind you. As soon as you took the first few steps in, you took a deep breath, your stomach growing.

“Mmm.”

Miguel was back by your side already, taking your hand back in his once again and grinning, leading you over into the kitchen.

“I figured I’d cook instead of us having to go out.”

You grinned as you looked over the pasta he had made, the aroma of olive oil and garlic throughout the kitchen. The timer on the stove began to beep and he looked over at you, grabbing one of the bright white plates he had laid out next to him.

“Just in time.”

While he served, you went over and shut off the timer, turning back to him placing one plate down and grabbing the other.

“Can you grab the wine, my love?”

You walked over to the wine cooler and picked out your favorite as well as two glasses from the rack before making your way back to where Miguel stood. As you got closer, he grabbed both plates of pasta and grinned.

“Let’s go eat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Dinner was done, dishes and kitchen clean. Now you were sitting together, a new glass of wine in your hand as you watched the rain come down through the large windows. Miguel was sitting with you, a comfortable silence as he softly massaged your shoulder. Looking back at him, he seemed somewhat far away and you pouted, turning your body so you could face him instead of the window.

“You ok, Miguel?”

He smiled and nodded, leaning toward you to press a kiss to your forehead. You may not have been together for a long time, but you knew him well by now and you could tell he was lying. Turning your entire body to face him now, you gave a reassuring smile.

“You know you can tell me, right?”

At that, Miguel swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to continue being with you, to fall in love with you and create a life together, but he knew he was going to need trust for that. Lying to you and keeping the truth away wasn’t going to do help. With a sigh, he shook his head and looked back at you, a look of discomfort on his face.

“I worry that in time you’ll find that being with me isn’t what you want.”

You looked at him, blankly for a moment as you tried to figure out what he meant and where he was going with it. Feeling like he had dragged it on for long enough, Miguel cut the shit.

“Everything that people say, there’s truth to it. I know you know better than to think that I’m just some businessman who got lucky. I know you know what the story behind my family is, but you’ve never seen it. I do my best to keep it away from you. You hear the words, but you don’t see the dirt. You’ve never been touched by it. And I worry that when you finally are, this isn’t something that you’re going to want.”

He motioned between the two of you and the closeness you shared, shoes off and relaxed.

“I’d love to continue on this ride of oblivion and naivety, but the truth is that there’s a lot of dirty shit that is attached to my name and I need to know if you’re in for the long haul. I can see it on your face, the irritation, the uncertainty, the fear when you hear what people say. But it’s one thing to hear it and another to live it. I’ll understand if you leave, I will. I can see from where you stand that it isn’t something easy to deal with. But having you in my life has been a blessing. One I didn’t know if I was going to have once I took over the business after my father. And I want to know how long you plan on sticking around so we can plan and do this right before we both end up getting hurt.”

He was aggravated, you could tell by the tightness of his voice. He was being vulnerable, speaking of feeling fear and uncertainty, two things a man like Miguel tried desperately to make sure no one ever saw. You knew it was taking a lot for him to bring this up and wear his heart on his sleeve like he was. You had been thinking about the status and future of your relationship too, but even with as understanding as Miguel had been with you, bringing up such a sensitive topic first wasn’t something you felt like doing. Now that he was laying it out on the table, you felt you had the freedom and permission to speak freely.

“You’re trying to go legit, right?”

Miguel simply nodded.

“So you’re trying to turn things around. You’re trying to make things right, better. You’re taking what was left to you and trying to adjust it so that it’s as legal and safe as possible. That stands for something. I know it isn’t going to happen overnight. I get that. All I want is honesty. Do the right thing as often as you can and I’ll be here every step of the way. I understand if you feel that’s something that you can’t do, but then,”

You motioned to the space between the two of you with a wince.

“I’ll always care for you and be there if you need me, but I’m not sure that we’ll be compatible for the future.”

Miguel nodded, understanding perfectly. You had taken things much easier than he had anticipated and he was more than grateful that you had agreed to talk about it. Your mature but honest approach solidified that you were the right woman for him and if you were willing to understand where he was coming from and not only respect but encourage his growth, affording you the truth was something he could definitely do. With another single nod, Miguel reached forward and held the back of your head. He brought you closer to him, pressing his lips to your nose, laughing softly as you wrinkled it under his lips. When he pulled away, his eyes held a newfound fire in them and he spoke to you earnestly, making a pledge.

“I’ll tell you the truth. Anything you want clarified, just ask. I’ll tell you what I can.”

The smile on your face brought a smug grin to his and he stood from the sofa, holding his hand out to you.

“Now. Come try the cake I had custom ordered for tonight.”

Miguel taglist  @ezekielreyes 

General taglist  @piccasoe​

[tereishqnachaya]

Ya know I wouldn’t mind Do San being all offended at Ji Pyeong’s frankly quite accurate assessment of how unfit DS is in the cut throat world of startups ONLY IF i ever got the feeling that JP has been crossing the line with DS. What does DS even HAVE going on for himself except his brilliance as a programmer? Personally and professionally the man has done nothing that would warrant him a second glance. His own father has given up on DS ever achieving anything. I suppose it’s all “sweet” and “romantic” that a man who is approaching 30 is only NOW figuring out what he wants in his life cuz he fell in “love” with a woman who he wants to impress but that’s all fantasy.

Ji Pyeong represents a person of the real world. An orphan who had no other option but to start playing the big game before he even turned a legal adult cuz he KNEW that he had no other option. It was either risk it all or be resigned to a life of being a nothing and a nobody. And he chose the former. Why would someone like Han Ji Pyeong even bother about someone as sheltered and idealistic like Nam Do San????????

ALSO. Ji Pyeong is NOT a teacher whose duty is to nurture the talents of his students. He is an investor who cares about which venture will bring the most profit. Samsan Tech on its own has got nothing going for themselves. Yes, they won the CODA tournament. It’s a big deal. But the importance of CODA was reduced in ep5 itself when two of Samsan’s former classmates turned up and they showed them that they have been winning at this brilliance game for much longer than them. So...why should we care for Samsan?

Sure, the way JP treats DS is harsh but again, what has DS done for JP to give him respect? DS continued to prove time and time again that he is a stubborn man who is SO used to his own narrow little world that he hasn’t even learned basic social skills. The fangirls can find it cute. JP isn’t a fangirl. He is a man who has struggled his entire life to earn a respectable position for himself. He more than others know that respect is to be EARNED. DS has yet to earn that respect for himself. Being all sassy with JP ain’t it.

JP was quick to be impressed by Dal Mi’s way of thinking all based on her one pitch about a potential business plan. Because to him, Han Ji Pyeong the investor/businessman, it WAS impressive. It was a new, exciting way of using technology that could potentially benefit a lot of business i.e. it will turn up a profit for the ones who invested in the technology. DM has the brains and the personality to get people on her side. She used her brain to impress JP with one pitch, she used it to get Sa Ha on the team, she used it to impress a room full of potential CEOs.

Nam Do San had to be cooed into thinking of approaching a new way to crack the program.

In the idealistic drama world Nam Do San would be the hero. The underdog who just never got the appreciation and support he needed to become the hero. But when you put in Nam Do San with people who have been in the world for a longer time than him, who have learned the machinations of how the industry work, have learned to make near estimate assumptions about the success and failure rate of an idea/person because they have the EXPERIENCE...and NDS sticks like a sore thumb. His own best friends are not entirely happy about the way he does things!

NDS has lived his life like this: I am smart and brilliant and only if the world gave me a chance~ I’ll prove it to them!

vs. how Han Ji Pyeong has lived his life: I am smart and brilliant and I will FORCE the world to notice me because I am going to prove myself regardless of whatever I have to face.

So...really, who makes for a better hero here????

NDS is motivated to do things and take on challenges only if he is forced into doing so..only if he is pushed enough to do so..right now he is being pushed to do it cuz HE IS IN LOVE WITH A GIRL. take her out of the equation and he’ll be back in that small room of his. isn’t that what it means?

such a long post just for me to say: Nam Do San should be THANKING Han Ji Pyeong for giving him the chance to even get close to getting recognition. The girl he fell for wouldn’t have spared him a second glance if he was Nam Do San, as he was. All of HJP’s criticism of NDS have only proved to be for NDS’s own betterment. But what does HJP get in return? Some thankless sass from a guy who can’t even crack a code on his own without someone pushing him to try a different approach? HMPH.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Holding On for Dear Life Pt3

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Hvitserk/OFC Warnings: Medical, Illness, Sexual Content Rating: M Length: Multi Chapter Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for the header

Catch Up Here

“I have decided that I hate your brother.” Emmer declared.

“Which one?” Hvitserk raised his eyes from his phone.

“Ivar,” Emmer groaned, flopping down on the couch beside Hvitserk.

“What did he do now?”

“He's been texting me all week. He's mad at me, because you said you wouldn't go on that stupid date.” Emmer chuckled, “told you that you should go.”

“No.” Hvitserk shook his head, putting his phone down before he sent Ivar a rather nasty text.

“Then tell him that you lied, we're not together, and to stop texting me.”

Shaking his head, Hvitserk sighed. If that would actually work, he would do it.  Ivar was relentless when he wanted something, his brothers often blamed their mother for that. Ever since Ivar was a small child, he was never told “no” and meant it. As he grew older, Hvitserk seemed to be the one to tell him the two letter word the most.

“You know that is useless, but when I see him,” Hvitserk smirked, “I will tell him that you said fuck off.”

“Fuck you.” Emmer shoved him in the arm, laughing when he nearly fell over.

“I mean here? In the living room? What if someone saw?” Holding a hand to his chest, Hvitserk gasped.

“Why are we friends?”

“Because you will never find another person as amazing, fantastic, or handsome as me.” Hvitserk continued to laugh.

Emmer rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. No matter how much she joked, Hvitserk would never be replaced and they both knew it. Snuggling into the fleece blanket on the couch, Emmer snickered and laid over with her head on Hvitserk's lap. Closing her eyes, she hummed happily.

“Seriously, why don't you go and Ivar will stop terrorizing us all.”

“Because, I don't want to, and Ivar needs to learn that he isn't the boss of everyone.” Hvitserk gently ran his hand over Emmer's arm.

“You Lothbrok men are impossible.”

“We are, it's a trait that had been passed down through generations. From our ancestors, all the way back to when our family were fierce and ferocious Vikings.” he snorted at his own attempt to be a master story teller.

“Sure, sure. Of course, Vikings. And my family lived with King Henry VIII.” Emmer snorted.

“Could be possible.”

“Unlikely, but sure why not. Who told you that you were Vikings?”

“My dad.”

“Of course he did.” Emmer giggled. Leave it to Ragnar to come up with an elaborate story about his family's history. Anything to make himself seem interesting and slightly more important than his brother. “How are your parents anyway? Alfred asked me about them this morning, I just told him that they were doing fine. I guess I really haven't seen them in a while.”

“Mom is still mad and dad is still attempting to sow his seed in foreign fields. Same old shit.” Leaning forward, Hvitserk reached for his glass of water. “So yeah, they're fine. Mom is trying to get us together this weekend, for dinner on Sunday. Do you want to come?”

Emmer scrunched up her nose, gently shaking her head side to side, as if really weighing the outcome to her next words. “Eh, sure.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Unless, you're asking me because you think it will be a good chance to show Ivar that we're actually together. Then no.” She tilted her head, looking up at Hvitserk with innocent eyes.

“I was just thinking it would save you from cooking.”

“Then I shall be there. What time?”

“I'll pick you up.” Hvitserk left the details vague, mainly because he wasn't sure that this was even a dinner open to friends. Ah well, he'd tell his mother that Emmer was coming right before they arrived. Aslaug was always happy to see Emmer, anyway.

If Emmer was present, then whatever bullshit his family was going to be thrown into, would be mild. They behaved better when there was someone to watch them. Not that Emmer would care. She would never judge, but she enjoyed watching the Lothbrok drama unfold. They were way more entertaining than her own family.

Her parents were divorced and hadn't spoke to one another since she was seven. They were never together and it seemed like both sides were happier that way. Whatever.

“Anything I should bring?”

“Yourself.”

And the biggest bottle of the strongest alcohol she could find. That went without saying.

“Aww, well then I think I can manage. Oh, what about some of those flowers your mom likes? The purple and pink ones that I got her for her birthday?”

“If you want.”

“I'll pick some up this week. Also, do I need to dress up or can I come casually?”

“Casual is probably best. Hell, come in your pjs for all my mother will care.”

Emmer's eyes lit up and her shoulder shook with a hidden laugh. “I sleep naked, you know. Are you sure?”

“Well, I've seen you naked. And so has Gyda. What's the rest of my family?”

“Ah, well, when you put it that way...” Emmer winked and burst into a fit of laughter.

“You're terrible.”

“Details.” Emmer smirked, groaning when her phone buzzed on the table beside her. No doubt it was Ivar, again. “What's it say?” she asked Hvitserk. Leaning forward to see the screen, Hvitserk picked up the phone.

“It's my brother,” He handed the phone to Emmer. “Bjorn, not Ivar.”

“Still annoying, but he signs my paycheck.” Emmer sat up, her head leaving Hvitserk's lap, in favour or reading a text from Bjorn.

The eldest Lothbrok child, via Ragnar's first marriage, Bjorn had set the bar for the rest of his brothers. With the exception of Gyda, who could burn the world down and Ragnar would still insist she was the greatest child in the family. Everyone lived in the shadow of the great Bjorn Lothbrok. A former athlete turned businessman, he ran his own company in partner to his uncle, Rollo.

Emmer had taken on a job with Bjorn, because it allowed her to work at her own pace, even when she wasn't feeling the best. Bjorn took into consideration that his Online Marketing Director – unofficial title – would have days where she wasn't up for an office job, or even weeks where she may not go further than her couch. He never put pressure on Emmer and was rather fair with the hours he expected her to work each week.

“Mmm, I have said nothing, but your dad isn't going to be happy.”

“Why?”

“According to these details that Bjorn has sent me, it seems your uncle is buying part of Bjorn's share in the company. Didn't your dad want Bjorn to sell that to Ivar?”

“Probably, fucked if I know.” Hvitserk grumbled. He stayed away from business. He preferred to work two jobs, making ends meet. His first job was a cook at a brunch cafe downtown. When he wasn't there, he worked part time coaching youth league football. The odd time he would coach one on one.

“I guess we will find out soon enough.”

“You will probably know before me, but if this comes up during dinner, we're sneaking out the back.”

“Deal.”

No strangers to dodging dinner drama, Emmer would sit around all night watching the family implode, if Hvitserk would let her. The typical Lothbrok dinner drama started with Ivar and Sigurd in a fight. Or when Ragnar invited his ex wife and didn't tell Aslaug. An argument over business would be far less entertaining.

Hvitserk loved dinner with Emmer's family. He had yet to dine with them and witness a fist fight before the food made it onto the table.

The first time Emmer had ever been to dinner at the Lothbrok's, she had witnessed Bjorn and Ubbe in a fist fight during dessert. Someone thought it was a good idea to tell everyone that Bjorn's ex wife had been sleeping with Ubbe. Never had Emmer been so delighted to witness a fight. Odd, but she enjoyed the chaos.

Currently Bjorn was separated and Ubbe was divorced. Although, it would be amusing if Ubbe was sleeping with Bjorn's new girlfriend. Who was Emmer kidding, Gunnhild was way too smart to fuck Ubbe, while dating his brother.

“Should I make brownies?” Emmer glanced at Hvitserk. Hvitserk shrugged. “You know, for dinner on Sunday.”

“If you want. I mean, you can make them right now. If you want, I won't pass up on brownies.” Hvitserk laughed, tapping his hand against his shockingly taught tummy. How he stayed so lean, was the world's greatest mystery.

“Or, you could make them and I will dictate how.”

“No, I'd probably burn the place down.”

“Says the man who works in a restaurant.” Emmer sat up. “Does your boss know this?”

“Shh,” Hvitserk held his finger to his lips. “It's supposed to be a secret.”

Brows raised, Emmer nodded lightly. “Ah, got it. Your secret is safe with me.” Shoving her shirt sleeves up, she stood, stretching.

“I'm touched.” Hvitserk leaned back on the couch, covering his head with his hands. “You're the best.”

“Am I, or do you only say that when you want something?” Sticking out her tongue, Emmer teased him.

“Always. You know it, don't be difficult.”

“Sure, sure. I am going to make brownies, then I am going to reply to Bjorn. After that, I need more details on who is coming to dinner Sunday.”

The guest list had zero impact on Emmer, her attendance, or the dinner. She only wanted to know, to sit around the rest of the week trying to figure out who would be the first to cause drama. From Hvitserk's knowledge she had the usual suspects. His parents, siblings, Emmer, family friends Floki and Helga. Bjorn's kids, would possibly be there, and that was it.

Sunday morning, Emmer woke earlier than usual to bake a pan of brownies. Not wanting them to be too hot when she arrived at the Lothbrok's. Dinner was at three, which meant Hvitserk picked her up around one. Aslaug would surely lecture him if he was any later.

Despite Hvitserk's insistence that this was a casual Sunday dinner, Emmer put a little effort into looking somewhat decent. A comfortable a line dress, loose enough to fit a pair of men's boxer shorts under neath without showing. A free swinging pouch was nerve wracking for anybody. Emmer would not be caught in the middle of dinner feeling like she was literally about the lose her shit. A light snicker at the latter thought, she swept a quick bit of lip gloss on and she was ready.

Brownies in hand, flowers, and a small bag with extra clothing – just in case, Emmer met Hvitserk at the door before he had a chance to come in.

“Wow,” He whistled softly. “I feel under dressed.”

“You look fine, besides it's not like this is even that fancy. I've had it forever.” Emmer rolled her eyes, locking the door behind them.

“I know,” Hvitserk shrugged, he had been with her when she bought the poppy red dress. “but you still look lovely. I may need to change.”

“What's wrong with your jeans and shirt? You look good. May wanna fix your hair a bit, but you look good.” Emmer led the way down the hall.

Ragnar and Aslaug lived about an hour outside of the city, a small village, where most of the families were well off or pretending to be. Nobody drove anything cheaper than a range rover and every house had a front gate. This had been the house they'd moved into after Hvitserk had left home. Although they kept a room for each of their children, just in case.

The first time Emmer had came to visit, she'd nearly lost her eyes from their sockets. This house was massive, the yard looked like something from a posh magazine, and inside was elegant but cozy. Stepping inside always felt like walking into a country cabin.

“Mom? Dad?” Hvitserk called walking into the house. Gyda's car was in the drive, along with Sigurd's. There was no screaming or yelling, which meant Bjorn or Ubbe were bringing Ivar.

“Hvitserk?” Aslaug called out, hurrying into the entrance. “Oh, Emmer!” Her face turned from anxious to calm and relaxed. “How lovely to see you.” she hugged her son's best friend. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Emmer hugged the tall woman, pulling back to hand her the flowers. “These are for you Oh, I love your haircut.”

Hvitserk rolled his eyes at the exchange. Leave it to Emmer to butter up his mother.

“I wanted you to know, that I have several dishes set aside just for you.” Aslaug accepted the  flowers and smiled warmly.

“Oh, you didn't have to do that.” Emmer smiled, thankful that Aslaug had tried to make her life a little easier. Sometimes eating food that she didn't have a hand in making was a nightmare. Limited diets were a hassle that nobody should ever have to endure.

“Non sense, Hvitserk said you were coming and I wanted to make sure you had a choice.” Aslaug gave her a tight one armed hug. “I made it all specific, no need to worry about running into something that you can't have.”

“Well thank you, really. I appreciate it.”

“So, mom, anything you need help with?” Hvitserk reminded them that he was still present, not that they seemed to notice during their little bonding session.

“Get yourselves a drink, make yourselves comfortable, and that is about it. As soon as everyone arrives, we're going to eat.”

Following his mother to the kitchen, to find a home for the brownies, Hvitserk didn't take long to return. Emmer had been here enough to make herself at home, with or without Hvitserk by her side. The second he had disappeared, she'd headed straight for the living room, finding Gyda.

“Emmy!” Gyda approached with open arms. “It's been way too long.”

“Tell me about it.” Emmer hugged Gyda tightly. “You need to come visit, more.”

“I know, I've been so busy.” She rolled her eyes, “and then there is baby sitting Ivar. I swear to god, I am going to beat his ass some day.”

“He's been driving me nuts, too.” Emmer shrugged.

“He told me that you and Hvitty are back together? I am going to need all of those details, because I am all for this.” Gyda winked and smiled.

Biting her lip, Emmer glanced at her feet. “Uh, well as far as Ivar is concerned we are. Something about Hvits not wanting to go on some stupid date. Anyway, if Ivar asks, we're madly in love.”

“Got it.” Gyda laughed at the situation. Leave it to Hvitserk to come up with an elaborate lie and drag everybody around him into it. A gift he had inherited from Ragnar. “I won't say a thing.”

“He needs to get over himself and worry about his own life.” Emmer winced. “Sorry, I know he's your brother.”

“Details, look don't worry about it. As much as I love him, there are times when he is a pain in the ass.” Shrugging, Gyda dismissed the conversation about her baby brother. “So, what else has been going on?”

Escaping the kitchen, Hvitserk wandered through to the living room, the house had more rooms than two people ever needed. Whatever, his parents were happy – or some shit like that. Checking his phone, he paused and lifted his head in time to see his dad attempting to sneak out the side door and into the garage.

“Hey dad,” Hvitserk gave him a short nod.

“Hvitserk, I didn't know you'd arrived yet. Have you seen your mother?” Ragnar clasped his hand on Hvitserk's shoulder. Giving him a short bro type hug.

“Yep,” he nodded, shifting from one foot to the other. “So, what's new?”

“Same shit, you know how it goes.” Ragnar shrugged, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “Ivar said that you and Emmy are back together.”

“Uh,” Hvitserk rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, she's here, you know. She was heading to find Gyda.”

“Good, good. I'm glad she's here. You know, I wasn't surprised you'd get back together. You need to hurry up and marry her already. Make an honest woman of her.” Smirking, Ragnar slapped Hvitserk on the shoulder. “At least one man in this family needs a stable woman.”

“It's not like that and I don't know that she'd be up for that. Anyway, where you off to?”

“On my way to pick up Ivar, apparently your brothers have better things to do than drive him around. Want to come?”

“Not particularly. But, don't let me keep you. Have fun.” Hvtserk waved as he walked away.

Leave it to his father to try and force his kids into something as big as marriage. Ironic, coming from Ragnar, seeing as his marriages had both fell apart. Aslaug refused to sign the papers, which was the only reason they were still legally together. Whatever, Hvitserk didn't want to try and figure that out right now.

He loved both of his parents, despite their downfalls.  

As suspected, Emmer and Gyda were cozy in the den. Curled up on either end of the plush sofa chattering away, while Sigurd sat in the corner playing with his old guitar. Seeing Hvitserk first, Sigurd acknowledged him brother with a slight head bob. Returning the nod, Hvitserk bee lined for the small bar in the corner.

Mixing a gin and tonic, a vodka and soda, and cracking two beer he handed Sigurd the gin first. Sauntering over to Emmer and Gyda he held out the  beer. “Ladies.” he  passed them over, before grabbing his drink.  

“Hey Hvits.” Emmer smiled moving to make room.

“Looked like you ladies could use a drink. Dad is on the way to get Ivar.”

“Thank you.” Emmer  kissed him on the cheek, she smiled sweetly. If Ivar thought they were together, she was going to sell it.

“What was that for?”

“For being you.” Emmer wrinkled her nose, leaning into his side. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck. God he smelled good. “Selling it for Ivar, whenever he arrives.” She whispered and giggled. Hvitserk nodded and licked his lips. “So,” she leaned back giving him another kiss, this time on the neck. “How does that sound?”

“Like you're about to get us into trouble,” Hvitserk took a drink and swallowed hard. “But I like it. I think it's doable.”

“Guys, can you two do this elsewhere? I don't need to see you sucking face.” Sigurd groaned.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk flipped his brother off.

“Boys,” Emmer wagged her finger at them, in a mock sternness. “Don't make me separate you.”

“Sigurd, stop being such a pain in the ass.” Gyda stood, dropping herself onto the arm of the chair where Sigurd sat. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek hard. “One pain in the ass little brother is enough.”

“You need to stop treating me like I am five.” Sigurd groaned, laughing when she ruffled his thick red hair.

“And you need to mind your own business.” Hvitserk quipped, sticking out his tongue.

“You two are morons. But I love you both, anyway.” Gyda sighed, taking a drink of her beer. “Come on, Sig. She nudged her brother in the shoulder. “Let's go see what trouble we can get into, so these guys can suck face without making you vomit.”

Once they were alone the lovey dovey act would dissipate faster than Ivar in a genuinely good mood. Giving Hvitserk and Emmer a wink, Gyda guided Sigurd out of the room and around the corner.

@danceyreagan​ @gearhead66​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​  @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ ,  @smutgoblin​ , @nickysurfer28​ , @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ , @lif3snotouttogetyou​, @akamaiden​, @laketaj24​ @neeadinghugs​, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly​, @ilvebeenabad​ , @naaladareia​, @tephi101​ , @sdcyumyum​  , @imgoldielikehawn​ , @sparklemichele​ , @titty-teetee​  , @smolasianwinterbean​  , @sweetvengeancee​ , @capitanostella​ , @ateliefloresdaprimavera​ , @branflakes82​ , @lordavanti​ , @vvigilantes​  , @angelswannawearmyredshooz​ , @kawennote09​ , @bluearchersstuff​ , @lisinfleur​ , @fumblingthroughchaos​ @pebblesz892​ , @angelaiswriting​ , @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​, @unacceptabletatertots​ @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone​, @captstefanbrandt​, @writingfromasgard​, @happydaysandersen​, @letowolfie​, @alicedopey​, @beautifulramblingbrains​, @equalstrashflavoredtrash​, @rosepetals-flyingbirds​ , @ivarswickedqueen​, @oqueequesentes-borboletas​, @sodanova​, @groovyzombiellama​, @therealcalicali​, @rekdreams-fandom​ @grungyblonde​, @nevlahhh​ , @natalie-reader​, @ivarlothbroks​, @lol-haha-joke​ , @medievalfangirl​ @fictionbanshee​ @thisisabigmaze​  @ethereallysimple​ @emilie1993​  @mariaenchanted​ @grav3yard-gh0st​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​

*I am operating on an old tag list, if you wish to be added/removed, please let me know*

[petri808]

The Perfect Pair

@twinstarsweek​ Angel/Demon prompt. Slight Cloak & Dagger reference

Was it weird that a demon could get bored doing demon things? Katsuki didn’t really care that the other demons teased him, frankly he didn’t give two fucks about what anyone else thought. He loved causing some havoc and sure killing despicable humans that deserved to die was like sport. And why not, hastening murderers, rapists, the pure dregs of human existence onto a fast track train to perdition gave him a real buzz. But that didn’t mean he was like the others who enjoyed the ruthless killing of anyone good or bad.

There were a few ways to get out of their realm which were like jobs if you will. To be summoned by a human… he hated this. You could break the rules and leave without a job, but the hell hounds would be sent to drag you back… and they never failed. A higher-ranking demon could assign you a job, such as unleashing a plague or to collect a human that is deemed too inherently evil to live any longer. And the final option is to be hired directly by an angel. Even though this was necessary to maintain the balance, many demons only took this option when no other work was available.

Call him crazy, but Katsuki was tired of being under the leader’s thumb and desperate for a change.

So, one day as he peruses the job board, he notices a new posting that sticks out like a sore thumb from the rest. The pearly white piece of paper with filigree gold corners signaled its source— An angel. His blood red eyes narrow in on the description:

Kind of vague but intriguing, especially the permanent part. Did it mean if he did a good job, it might keep him out of Tartarus for a long period of time because that was certainly enticing? Katsuki rips the paper off the board. ‘Contact Izuku, huh?’ He grins. Time to find out just who this angel was.

Human’s only had a measly understanding of what lay beyond their corporeal world and none of the supernatural creatures bothered to correct their misunderstandings. Creatures existed for different purposes. Aside from angels and demons, there were elementals, lost spirits, and a multitude of what the humans called gods. Each of these had their own realms where they dwelled like layers stacked upon one another, yet invisible to the corporeal world.

For demons it was Tartarus, angels inhabit Sion, and the other realms lay in-between. But the purpose of angels and demons are closer to the Chinese belief of yin and yang, to keep a balance in the corporeal world. The animals are easy to deal with for those creatures followed the basal instincts of life and death. Humans on the other hand were an offshoot of evolution that has become a bit problematic. In the beginning they followed the rules but over thousands of generations, has forgotten how to maintain a balance with the world around them.

Because of their loss of direction, angels were tasked with coaxing humans back in line. Those that refused are the ones the demons stepped in to deal with. A job was simple enough as long as they worked together… and there in lies the problem. It was rare for an angel and demon to get along for more than a job or two. Eventually their opposing natures caused friction. Katsuki knew that but figured what the hell, it was worth a shot.

He follows the directions on the flyer and finds Izuku at a small cottage in Sion. Their realms were so different from each other’s. Tartarus felt despairing, shadowed, and their homes bitterly heated. But Sion was full of blinding hope, and the homes looked warm and inviting. Even as a demon Katsuki had to admit it was a lot nicer to be there instead of his own home.

It was strange as he stood on the angel’s doorstep. There was a peculiar comfort washing over him that he’s never experienced before. Katsuki shakes his head to push away the weird sensations, chalking it up to the realm’s positive energy. He knocks at the door and stands back, not knowing what to expect.

When the door opens, out pops a smaller green-eyed male with the biggest smile plastered on his face. So, this is what an angel looked like? His skin was a touch luminescent, yet Katsuki could see freckles on the guys cherubic face. He wore all white, ‘no wonder the humans depicted angels in white,’ had tiny horns peeking out from messy green hair, and a pair of fluffy white feathery wings folded neatly behind his back. All in all, the guy was kind of cute.  

“Hi! How can I help you mister demon?”

Katsuki holds up the flyer, “you looking for a partner?”

“Oh yes!” the angel opens his door all the way, “please come in.” He gestures towards a living area, “have a seat. Are you thirsty?”

“Nah, I’m fine, just wanna know what’re you looking for. And by the way, the names Katsuki.”

Izuku takes a seat opposite the demon. “It’s nice to meet you Katsuki,” he smiles and takes a moment to scan over the demon. He’s seen a couple of them before, but it was the first time being up close. He notes the deep red eyes and the scowl that gave the man a scary disposition. Dressed mostly in black and reds, he had pointy horns that rose a few inches out of the dirty blonde hair, and a pair of leathery wings. Wow, these demons really were their opposites in many ways.

Satisfied, Izuku sits forward with his hands clasped in his lap. “Well, one of the things I do is look for people who still have good in their hearts but have gone astray and need help getting back in balance. Some are easy to work with, but others are so lost and broken, it takes a stronger push. So that’s where you come in.”

“To do what exactly?”

“Well, I guess you could say, some humans need to be scared or shown their fears in order to recognize them. That’s what you’ll help me with, then I step in to show them there is hope so they can change for the better. Basically, you’ll help me bring the human back into balance.”

It all sounded easy enough. Maybe not a lot of fun, but perhaps if the human decides to get physical, he’ll get to do some pushing back. Katsuki sits back and tilts his head slightly. “Alright, I’m game. When do we start?”

By the end of the second job, Katsuki had to admit this gig was a lot easier than he’d expected it to be. The other demons made working with angels seem like a real nightmare but Izuku was a total push over. Sometimes the guy was too damn tooth-rottingly sweet.

All the angel wanted to do was save humans from themselves and would pick some rather tough cases. He’s seen others go after little guys, such as drug users that had simply lost their way, but Izuku went for the top, targeting ruthless gang leaders or corrupt politicians. It was amusing at first that this mouse of a creature took such a route. Not that Katsuki was complaining, because scaring guys like those were a lot more fun than the weaklings.

Don’t get him wrong, Katsuki wasn’t doing this because he cared about the humans, that’s the angels forte. It was a job, he was out of Tartarus, and enjoying this new endeavor. In fact, between missions, he chose not to return to his realm. Izuku didn’t mind him crashing at his home, so he took up the offer. Sion was nice and cushiony compared to his own abode.

“So, who’s next on the agenda?” the demon kicks up his feet against the table and sits back relaxed on his chair. The pair were sitting at the angels dining table going over the next mission.

“Hmm,” Izuku closes his eyes, searching the human realm with his mind. “I see a wife abuser or a corrupt businessman.”  

Katsuki swiftly drops his legs and sit forward in his seat. He grins, “let’s get the abuser, those bastards deserve to have the tables turned on them.”

“I agree,” the angel smiles. “There’s no excuse for such behavior.”

“Perfect! I hope he gives us lip cause I’ll really make him shit his pants.”

Izuku was starting to get used to this demon’s rough personality and penchant for swear words. It was very different for an angel made of light, so he preferred to think of Katsuki’s darkness as just a way to peer into these sinner’s souls. Every human is born balanced, but as they grow are filled with both hope and despair for each challenge is an opportunity to gain strength. Some humans rise to the light and overcome, while unfortunately some give in to the darkness and are consumed.

There were legends of angels and demons who combined to affect the greatest changes in the human’s history. Divine pairings they were called, beings that not only worked together to bring balance, but were themselves the epitome of the balance in this world. And ever since Katsuki had arrived, Izuku felt an unusual connection with him. Of course, those stories were called legends for a reason because no one in this current lifetime had ever seen this special pair. But that didn’t mean the what ifs never crossed his mind.

Now some may wonder how an angel or demon could move about amongst humans and not be caught for what they were. There are human sensitives that could ‘see’ their true energy, but to the average person they appeared to be no different than any other human. It was a glamour that hid their otherworldly features, horns, wings, or their unnatural skin glow and shadows, turned off and on when the angel or demon saw fit.

Izuku’s human facade resembled a stereotypical nerd minus the glasses. Mousey messy green hair, freckled cherubic face plastered with a never-ending smile; he was too adorable to be walking around in a dilapidated ghetto type area.

“You know if I wasn’t here, someone might make you their bitch,” Katsuki teases the angel.

“I— don’t understand what that means.”

When Katsuki turns to look at his partner, his face heats up at the sheer innocence Izuku exuded. ‘Shit… c-cute...’ He clears his throat and looks away again. “It means you’d get kidnapped.”

“Oh!” the angel smiles. “That’s why I needed your help.”

Katsuki on the other hand fit perfectly in these areas. A piercing red gaze and scowl matched against his dark clothing choice caused most humans to give them a wide berth when walking on the sidewalk. He imagined passerby’s saw the pair as an odd couple because that’s exactly what they looked like. But odd or not, they worked well together, and he was starting to feel a bit protective over the angel.

He throws an arm around the smaller male’s shoulders, “stick with me and you’ll be fine mouse.”

The close contact triggers Izuku’s body temperature to rise a tad and he feels the heat surge into his cheeks. He couldn’t understand why this demon evoked unfamiliar emotions in him. Well, not exactly unfamiliar. As an angel, Izuku understood the positive emotions like love, friendship, caring, and all those that guided him. It was his affection for humans that drove him to do what he did, but he wasn’t supposed to feel these same sentiments for a demon. “Thanks,” he sputters out.

A few more months pass by as the pair racks up successful mission after mission. So far, only on two occasions did Katsuki resort to turning off his glamour in order to truly scare an individual because Izuku requested it be their last resort. It made the demon laugh when one of the men actually pissed their pants in fear. Well, they should have just listened to reason as far as he was concerned.

They would scout out their targets and figure out the best timing to approach to avoid a worst-case scenario. Izuku was meticulous at planning and that was the only thing that could drive the demon crazy. But it worked so far. Katsuki believed that angels and demons were not as immortal as the legends make them out to be. When they were in their human-glamour state, it also meant they were vulnerable. If it were just him maybe it wouldn’t bother him to push his luck, but his desire to protect this angel was over-riding his natural instincts. He didn’t want to risk Izuku getting killed.

Ugh, this was all making him soft, and yet Katsuki was too attached by this point. An unspoken connection had taken hold, so deeply in fact that the demon and angel shared a bed now. If Izuku was out of his view for too long, he would grow agitated. The angel didn’t help by not forcing them to stay cordial and allowing this unnatural affection to take root.

“We gotta go, we gotta go!” Izuku rushes into the living room one day in a panic. “Our target just acquired another batch of kidnapped girls!”

The demon gets off his chair just as the angel gets to him. Katsuki grabs his flailing arms to calm the panicking man and pulls the man tightly against his chest so he can’t pull away. “Whoa, whoa, calm down mouse! We haven’t worked out how many goons this guy has got working for him yet. We could be walking into a big shit storm!”

“But the girls!”

“I am not gonna let you do something stupid or get killed. Period. End of discussion!”

“Kacchan, we can do this!” Izuku’s eyes water and his lips turn down in a pout. “Together I know we can deal with whatever happens.”

A deep growl emanates from the demon’s throat halting the angels fight, “what part of I can’t risk losing you don’t you understand?! If 50 humans jump us, I might not be able to protect you.”

“I wouldn’t want to lose you either,” Izuku whines as the tears trickle down his cheeks. He believed with his entire soul in them. “I just know in my heart we’ll be fine.”

Suddenly, a bright light envelopes the pair, catching them completely off guard. Katsuki releases the angel in a panic that something just went wrong. Did they break a rule? Shit! It’s because he was getting attached wasn’t it? He shouldn’t be so damn attached to an angel, but he couldn’t help himself! “Shit! Shit! Shit! What the fuck!”

But Izuku stays calm. There was no pain, no sense of foreboding, or any inclinations what was happening was a bad thing. He looks over his glowing arms and realizes they were both glowing white. “Kacchan calm down.” It was his turn to grab onto the other. “Kacchan its gonna be okay.”

“Are we in trouble?!”

The angel could see the sheer panic in the red glowing eyes. Was this demon feeling true fear for the first time? But fear of what? “I don’t think so. I mean, it doesn’t feel like we are.” He pulls Katsuki into a hug. “Don’t be scared Kacchan, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“But why the fuck are we glowing?!”

“I-I think it’s because we just became a divine pair.”

“A what?”

[amazingflyingdick]

stars gone nuclear.

WHO: Dick Grayson @amazingflyingdick & Slade Wilson @terminator-deathstroke ; mentions of Damian Wayne @sonofabct WHERE: NOVA Headquarters WHEN: September 13th, 2020 WHAT: Dick is infiltrating the secret lab at NOVA Headquarters when he realizes something is wrong.

Slade: All around them, chaos. Slade couldn't tell how many people he had cut down, but Slade didn't operate with any kind of hesitation or concern. Normally, he did show mercy and normally he did have some modicum of respect. But this was like a nest of wasps. The heroes hadn't dealt with it, so Slade was going to deal with it. NOVA had been around too long to really be allowed to continue and he wasn't going to allow them to take another shot at Dick. This was what he did. What he had trained for. Death and destruction were his calling card. And if he could use it to actually care for his own this time, he would.

Damian Wayne was every inch Talia Al Ghul's child. He saw it in the way he fought, the way he could fully disengage from human life. He had said before that he was wasted with Bruce Wayne, who suppressed his natural skills at every turn and refused to let him live as he should be permitted to live. Let him use the skills he possessed from birth. Slade could teach him everything, but he was sure that wasn't a fight he would win with Dick. If he could even win this one.

Damian had a set of detonators, and Slade had the other. They had been blown and major structural damage had been done to the building. Their security was fried, and they were methodically destroying everything on top of taking out operatives.

He could hear, however, even through the din, the moment Dick arrived. He had always said he could pick his heart out of a crowd, and now was no different. He tense, flicking blood from his katana and holstering his pistol as he turned. "Nightwing," he greeted. It would be easier for Dick, wouldn't it? If Slade kept it professional right now. It was a job, but Slade wouldn't begrudge Dick his rage.

Dick: The sound of gunfire reached him even though Dick was in the basement. The walls were thick down there, and everything was muffled, but even he knew when something was very wrong. There was nothing he could do at first. He was in the middle of helping Erik get the mutants out safely. There were still more who needed to be released.

But he had no idea what was going on or who would be shooting in a NOVA facility. The possibilities set him on edge. It was no coincidence that the league was carrying out their elaborate plan at the same time. Something must have gone wrong. The thought preoccupied him, even though he managed to focus long enough to get the last of the mutants out of the building. Only then did he finally feel as if he could leave. The commotion was only getting louder.

He'd just reached the first floor when he felt the building shake. Parts of it collapsed. Stunned, he rushed through the the hallways, dodging people who were running from something - or someone. As he passed people on the ground, Dick stopped to check their pulses just to be sure, just in case he could so something to help, and he was shocked to find not one of them alive. This almost looked professional.

When he rounded the corner and saw Deathstroke standing there, he stopped cold. The slow dread in his chest intensified to near-panic. His throat felt tight. "What are you doing?" The sound of his own voice startled him. He felt disconnected from it. He was in complete shock, even denial, and he kept telling himself that this wasn't what it looked like. It couldn't be what it looked like. Dick didn't know how to reconcile with the idea.

An agent that was trapped in the doorway close to him screamed for him to help her. Blinking, Dick held up a hand. "It's all right. You'll be all right."

Slade: "She won't be," Slade answered. "Her body is half crushed." He pulled his pistol, leveling it at the woman. "It'd be more of a mercy to get out of my way and let me finish up here." He knew he was right, and he knew that Dick would be a pain in the ass regardless. He hadn't anticipated that he would do this. That he would appear. But he had, and Slade would have to deal with that. "I hadn't thought you'd show up so quickly." He had known he'd come, but Slade had half wondered if he'd get out before anyone from the League surfaced.

Dick: Dick glared at him, but he instantly moved so that he was standing between the gun and the woman. At the same time and on instinct, he withdrew both escrima sticks. "No." He wasn't going to let him just shoot her, especially if there were still a chance that she could live. "I..." What? Slade had expected him to show up? This was some sort of plan? His mind raced back to the last time they'd seen each other. Suddenly it made more sense - or less, he wasn't sure. It was impossible to understand why this was happening. Seeing Slade as Deathstroke made it ten times worse. "I was here before you," he said woodenly, his jaw clenched. "Was this the job you told me about? Is this what you were hired to do?"

It was the only thing that made sense. Slade had lied to him... again. He'd been lying the entire time. But why? To get closer to him? To get information from Dick about the league, so he would know when to plan the attack?

Slade: Slade blinked before shaking his head. "No. It wasn't the fucking job, Dick." There was no point playing at secrecy. Dick had been outed to the whole city, and all of these fucking people knew who he was. They knew enough to nearly kill him, and Slade wasn't going to give them a second chance. Therefore, it didn't matter if they heard him or not. "I knew you'd show up because you always show up. You always appear to stop things. But I'm doing what needs to be done. What I'm surprised your people haven't done sooner."

Why hadn't Wayne taken them out? They could have easily dealt with NOVA. They had Superman on their side and Bruce Wayne was balls-deep in a woman would could literally destroy reality as they knew it with a single phrase. Slade did his research and he wasn't a moron. He hadn't come to Star City to do this, and he hadn't given a shit about NOVA until they had hurt Dick. But that had made his personal. Slade wasn't going to let Dick go without retribution, and he wasn't risking King Midas not being available to make death obsolete should they manage to actually successfully kill Dick the second time around.

Dick: "Then why are you doing this??" Dick wasn't making the connection, even though he might have been able to figure it out if he wasn't so stunned by what he'd seen. He just couldn't get his head wrapped around it. NOVA had been a thorn in everyone's side for years. Even though he was aware they had some sort of involvement in what happened to him, it didn't occur to him that it would have inspired something like this. They didn't know for sure who orchestrated the attack yet. The last he heard, Tim was still tracking down surveillance. Even when they did find out who was responsible, it wasn't as if he'd want them dead.

Shaking his head, he stepped back, but still maintained the position between Slade's gun and the agent. "You think the answer is to kill them all? Destroy the building? That isn't the answer. That isn't going to change things for us, or for mutants or metahumans. That - it isn't - why? Why would you..." The information that came over the comm made his mouth snap shut. His eyes widened. "Damian?" Suddenly he moved, his palm striking the side of the gun as he tried to disarm him. "Why is my little brother here, Slade??"

Slade: "I don't care about mutants and metahumans, Dick. I'm not a hero. I don't care about the greater cause." Slade had always been a businessman, and by virtue of being a businessman, he cared more about himself and his people than he ever would about some overarching cause. In his years as Deathstroke, he had learned that most people died the same at the end of the day, and good or evil was all fallacy. He found that his way of viewing the world was more realistic. Less doomed to fail.

As the other seemed to get some kind of comm transmission, Slade reached up to speak into his own, informing Damian that the League had arrived. The kid could choose his own adventure as to what he would do next.

"He's here for the same reason I'm here, Dick. You. We're doing what your father should have done. What his precious League should have done. These fucking people shot you in the head. You're one of their own gets fucked?" He shook his head, and very nearly reached up to pull off his mask. But he couldn't. Not if he wanted any hope of walking the streets of Star City as a free man.

Dick: Dick was seeing red. He had no idea what was going on. None of it made sense to him, partly because he wasn't allowing his brain to slow down and process the information. He was already starting to suspect what the answer was and he didn't want to hear it. The woman behind him was the only one in earshot, but even if there were other witnesses, he was too infuriated to think about protecting Slade's identity. The rage and absolute devastation was dizzying and he didn't know how to channel it.

"What?" Even though his voice was almost a whisper, it was obvious that anger simmered just below the surface. "No - don't. Don't try to tell me this has to do with me. You can't possibly think this is what I want. That I would want people dead because of me. I..." It made him sick when he thought about the bodies he'd passed on his way here. The idea that he was responsible for it was overwhelming. And Damian being part of it - Damian, who had trained with him and thrived as Robin - was too much to handle.

The woman's cries had stopped. Dick felt his back against the wall and he slid halfway down it, bent over, his grip so hard on the sticks that his knuckles were white. "I can't believe you did this. How could you? Do you know what this means? Do you even know what you've done?"

Slade: Slade sheathed his weapon. He didn't need it. He'd never use it properly on Dick anyway. He watched the other sink and shook his head. "What you want isn't necessarily what you needed, Dick," Slade said, softening for him as he always did. Beneath the mask, his face gentled, not that it would matter. "I protected you. I did all of this for you. Damian wanted to do it too. I didn't coerce him or force him. But don't you see that this pandemic from NOVA would continue to worsen? I wouldn't see you in another fucking hospital bed on their account while your so-called father sat useless even for calling in your fairy godmother to fix you." He shook his head. "I wouldn't."

He moved toward him, reaching out to catch his chin. "Don't you see? I did it because you wouldn't. I did it so you wouldn't have to, and so that even your team wouldn't have to. This method makes changes, kid. I've been using it a long time."

Dick: All Dick could do was shake his head. He could feel his hands shaking, but he managed to retain his grip on the sticks. It was the only thing that was keeping him together, grounded, and he barely heard what Slade was saying. The words twisted up in his mind. "Stop. Stop. No." He couldn't listen to it anymore. "I didn't need to see them die. I didn't need to know that I'm responsible for their deaths, or that it's because of me that my little brother went back to being something he's worked so hard not to be."

His breath caught when Slade took his chin and he lifted his gaze. "Do you think that absolves me? It doesn't. I played a part in this." Even if it were a passive role, he had been the driving force behind it. He'd failed to stop it in time, or even see it coming, despite the warning signs he'd gotten from Damian. "I didn't need this. I needed you."

Slade: He hadn’t expected Dick to understand or to be grateful. Why should he be? Still, Slade shook his head, especially tripping up as Dick mentioned Damian. “Something he worked hard not to be for you, kid. Do you really think that he’s ever going to be like Batman? It’s in his blood. Literally. He’s an Al Ghul, and all Batman ever did was tell him how wrong he was. How every belief he carried was wrong. He’s worked so hard to snuff out every hint of his mother and never paused to think the kid might be better off like Red Hood. Or like me.” Slade scoffed. “Damian’s choice was his own, and it’s probably one of the first ones he’s felt certain about. You all tried to beat it out of him, but never taught him why.”

He shook his head. “And I’ll let you in on a secret that Bruce Wayne never will: there is no why. There is no moral absolutism, Dick. Anyone who claims they know greater based on morality is selling bullshit. Look at you. You won’t even let them see who you are, what you need. All because Batman forced you into something you weren’t and then threw you out when he was fucking done with you.”

“Horseshit,” he answered fiercely. “The only part you played was showing up here and doing this. I chose to make the plans, Damian chose to work with me, I swing my own fucking weapon and so does he. And we do it for the same motivation.” Because they loved him. Slade loved so few people in this world. There were even fewer for whom he’d put down his life. Dick was in a group he could count on one hand. And it was Slade’s choice. “I did this, little bird. You did nothing.”

Dick: "That's not true!" Dick insisted, instantly agitated and angry at the thought that Damian had done anything for his sake. It had been his decision too. When he'd encouraged Damian to take up the Robin mantle, it had been with the understanding that he would follow the rules required to wear the suit. That was a choice he'd made. At some point, Dick always imagined that Damian would make his own way in the world. This wasn't the choice he expected him to make, however, especially when he was supposed to be working with Barbara. With Bruce. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of it felt right. "You don't know what I taught him," he said hoarsely. "I always told him why. He..." What had happened? How had this happened?

He shook his head, but his breath caught when Slade brought up what Batman had done. It brought another wave of anger, and he pushed his hand away from his face. "No. I chose to be Robin. I wanted it. I believed in it. I believed in what he taught me. All of it." It hurt to hear those words spoken aloud. Bruce throwing him away. That had been what it felt like, even though he'd gotten more explanation in the years that followed. What he had failed to live up to were Bruce's standards. He'd made them his own and tried diligently to stay in line and to be perfect, but he would always fall short. It was an impossible expectation he'd never be able to maintain. "I put it on myself," he said dully. The anger was still there, but there was no energy behind it. Motivation. That's what he was. "Doesn't matter. What now? We all walk away from this place. NOVA rebuilds. More agents replace these. It's pointless and it doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change what will happen. This isn't what I wanted and it's sure as hell not what I needed." Pushing away from the wall, Dick suddenly remembered the woman and bent down next to her, reaching for her wrist. He didn't feel a pulse. His shoulders crumpled and he lifted his other hand to his face, pressing it over his eyes. "You threw me away, too, you know, and for what? This?" Closing his eyes, he took a slow breath. "Just... go. Go before they get here."

Slade: “If it wasn’t true, why is he still fucking killing after all these years? Why isn’t he Robin anymore? It’s bullshit, Dick. What reason do you have to tell him that he can’t be what he is? That he can’t do what he’s good at? Not everyone in the world is destined to be a fucking superhero. He’s a person, and people make their own choices. Look at Red Hood. You love him, don’t you? In spite of the fact that he’ll never be ‘good’. You love me. And I know what I am, too. So do you. You’ve always known, Dick. And you loved me anyway.”

“And he let you. You put it on yourself and he never fucking told you that this life would kick you in the ass over and over and sometimes your fuck ups are just a part of being alive.” He shook his head, looking away. “I’m a shitty father. My kids hate me and crave me all at the same time and it’s because I fucked them up. But at least I’m not so arrogant as to think that my little girl doesn’t hurt inside every time I’m hard on her. That my sons aren’t lobotomized from the effects of his death or fucking mute from a gamble I lost. I did that. I ruined them. I don’t walk around pretending I didn’t. And I’d never let them tell me I hadn’t.” Slade loved his children. He loved them so much, and he hurt them all the time. It was why he had pushed them to the Titans. They had needed them. They didn’t need him. Slade had seen that. Bruce Wayne saw nothing but his fucking agenda, and he didn’t care who fell to it.

“It’s not pointless,” he snarled. “It escalates. Prompts action. No war ever ended because the good guys sat in their ivory towers planning and never acting. Now you’ll all have to, and now they won’t think they can get away with sending an assassin after you again. I’ll kill them over and over again, Dick. I will never let them hurt you like that again. Whether you want me anymore or not, I looked you in the eye and told you I loved you. I’ve told one other person. I’m not gonna fail you like I failed her."

He caught Dick’s face again, this time pressing his masked forehead to his. “No,” he said. “I just accepted that I’d never be a good enough man for you, Dick. That I could feel more fiercely for you than I ever did for another person, and I still wouldn’t ever be what you thought you wanted. I accepted that this would probably be it for us. I’m not going to stop loving you, little bird. I didn’t for ten years. Even if it’s fucked up, it’s what we’ve got. I’m not throwing you away. You’re just cutting me loose. I understand.”

He pushed back, giving Dick one last lingering look. “The main bombs will blow in four minutes. The larger ones. Let them know if you want. Or just get everyone the fuck out.” There was a pressure in his chest and he almost wished that his heart would explode like Grant’s had. Slade Wilson was a stranger to heartache, because he usually ran on too much quiet rage or brutal resignation to let it through. But he had known from the start of all this that they’d be doomed in spite of everything. He just fucking hated to be right.

Dick: Dick shook his head. "That's not what I told him. I... wanted to show him another way to live, a way that wasn't killing, because he didn't know any other way. He'd never had a choice before. He chose Robin. I knew it was only temporary, until he made a new name for himself, and that would also be his choice." He'd made an effort not to box Damian into one way to be. Of course, that wasn't to say what happened once Bruce took over, but there was a reason Damian hadn't given up Robin. Wincing, he lowered his head, unable to argue against the undeniable fact that he loved Jason and Slade despite what they did. He couldn't think of them as bad.

"He didn't have to tell me. I learned that on my own." None of the lessons had been easy. Dick wished Bruce could have been more of a father rather than a mentor. He knew now that Bruce hadn't wanted to act as if he were replacing his father. At the time, it had felt like a rejection. Hearing Slade talk about his children and compare what he'd done to Bruce made his heart sink. It was something he'd thought about before, but only when he'd felt embittered and frustrated at Bruce's inability to emote. The way he was had cost them all. Lives had been lost to it. Dick knew Slade saw the effects of his own upbringing and had his own thoughts about it. Slade was the one who slept next to Dick at night, who dealt with his frequent night terrors, a side effect from early exposure to fear gas and Joker venom. He found himself unable to speak up and defend Bruce this time. If anything, he didn't want to undermine what Slade said about his own kids. There was truth to it, even if Bruce had his reasons. Wincing, he shook his head again when Slade said he would kill them over and over. It made him wish, naively, that NOVA wouldn't come back to the city. He didn't think they'd give up that easily, but maybe it would slow them down long enough for the league to get the upper hand. Maybe they could end this sooner rather than later. It wasn't something he could focus on right now. Not when Slade was saying things like that to him, words that sliced right through him and tore into his heart. He could barely stand to hear them.

This time he didn't pull away from Slade's hold. His eyes stayed open, even though he couldn't see him at all behind the mask. He wanted to remove it. This wasn't what he wanted to think about when he closed his eyes. He wanted to see his face. "Don't... don't put this on me," he said, almost too quietly for the words to be understood; his voice was broken. "I wanted you. I risked everything for you, for this, because I thought..." Swallowing hard, his gaze drifted down to the woman next to him. "I thought you wanted it too. But this is the only thing you really love, isn't it? The only thing you really want."

The main bombs. There were more? Shocked, he looked up at him, suddenly realizing the high likelihood that members of the league could have been killed if he hadn't gotten here first. He quickly communicated the information to Babs, but he couldn't bring himself to move. To leave. There was no way he was going anywhere without Damian. "I'm getting everyone out."

Slade: Slade shook his head. He could see the betrayal in Dick's eyes. He could see how hurt he was. But Slade had anticipated that. It didn't mean he was sorry for what he had done. It didn't mean that he believed it to be the wrong call. He had done it for Dick and he'd do it again. A thousand times over. He would risk everything, including the security of the relationship, to keep him safe. "You know what I want, Dick. I haven't lied about that. Ever."

Still, the assassin understood a dismissal when he saw one. Falling back, he gave one last long and lingering gaze to the other before turning to get out. Radioing Damian, he told him to clear out, or to report to Dick. Whatever he was going to do. There was no time to dawdle.

When he made it into the fresh air, Slade didn't look back. He only prayed as he walked that his little bird had managed to take flight as the final explosions sounded against his retreating back. He winced with the first, but tasted bitter resolve with the second.

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 21 - Fishing Trip

"So what do you wanna do this weekend?" Hiro asked Varian.

The other boy only shrugged his shoulders as he had no idea.

It was Friday and they were both walking home from school while trying to make plans for the weekend. All of their other friends were either away or busy due to Father's Day coming up. Fred was going to accompany his dad on a mission. Gogo was driving down to her father's for a few days. Wasabi had bought plane tickets to fly back to his hometown of Seattle. Karmi went back upstate for the weekend with her parents, and Megan was still grounded, but had a full day planned to butter up her dad. Even Honey Lemon was going home to spend time with her abuelo.

This left Varian feeling a little awkward. In Corona they had a Guardians Day, which was meant for both parents or caretakers in general, but for Varian it was always a day for just him and his dad to spend time together. One of the few times in the year when his father wouldn't work in the field, or go to market, or have business at court.

Varian knew precisely what a day like Father's Day meant and how special time spent with the man who raised you could be. He envied his friends, but mostly, knowing this would be the second year without his dad pained him.

In a way, he was thankful that Hiro shared his delima. Though he certainly wouldn't have wished his predicament upon anyone, it was still somewhat comforting to know that he wasn't alone.

They were a less than a block away from the Lucky Cat, still discussing things to do, when a sleek car pulled to a stop beside them. The window rolled down to reveal a man with blonde hair, a large nose, and a wide smile. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a tan floppy hat.

"Hey Hiro! Go grab your overnight bag and some sunscreen!" He joyously ordered. "Your new brother, cousin, thingy too. We're going fishing!"

Varian could only look on confused, he didn't know this man nor why he wanted to him and Hiro to go on a fishing trip with him. However, Hiro apparently did know him and was also apparently not onboard with this idea at all. He stood with his mouth a gape with a look of horror in his eyes.

After processing this terrible news, Hiro could only sputter out, "But.. but why?"

The man in the vehicle began to offhandedly list his reasons. "Because fishing by oneself isn't any fun unless there's someone else around to show off to. Because I had an awful childhood, whose own father would never take fishing, and now I'm living vicariously through you. Also, you're still my intern and for the rest of the year, I still own you."

The man flashed another wide grin and Varian began to put the pieces together. This must be Krei. Owner of Krei Tech, the man in charge of the portals that brought him here, and also Hiro's boss. Though, this new revelation did nothing to stem the confusion in his mind. He couldn't for life of him see why he was being invited along on the trip nor did he understand Hiro's objections.

"But...but...b, but…" Hiro suttered desperately trying to think of way out of going.

"No buts! I've already talk with your aunt and got her permission, reserved the campsite, and I even bought you both fishing poles!" Still grinning, he reached down beside him and lifted the new poles up for Hiro and Varian to see.

Hiro let out a wordless half groan, half whine in defeat, before turning around and slumping towards the cafe. Varian blinked and looked back and forth between the two of them unsure what to do. Krei waved to him cheerfully, clearly excited for the upcoming trip, and Varian numbly waved back before deciding to follow Hiro and pack his own bag.

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

Varian found himself enjoying the fishing trip more than he had expected. The first day was spent mainly getting there and setting up the campsite. The second day was spent fishing, exploring, and just taking in the scenery.

Varian had been allowed to bring Ruddiger along, as Hiro had also brought Baymax. His pet was overjoyed to be back in his natural environment and Varian had to admit that he felt more at home here in the great outdoors than in the crowded streets of San Fansokyo. The big city was fascinating but he'd always be a simple farm boy at heart.

Krei felt much the same way. The businessman hadn't been raised in the countryside the way Varian had, but he had a great love of camping, fishing, and being out in nature. His passion stemmed from childhood summers spent on vacation at something called 'summer camp'.

Varian found he got along with older man well. They spent the ride up chatting about science and it's more practical applications, spent the trip sharing wilderness tips, and fishing out in Krei's boat. Fishing had never been Varian's favorite activity, but he now found a new sense of nostalgia for it and the praise Krei would send his way whenever he caught one helped to fuel his enjoyment of the sport even more. Plus he got a chance to show off his cooking skills after they had cleaned their catch. Not the most pleasant task ever, but Varian could stomach it much better than butchering other kinds of meat.

Hiro however did not enjoy fishing, or camping, or anything to do with the outdoors really. The other teen mostly sulked the whole trip. When he wasn't busy gagging at the worms used for bait or getting scared by the unfamiliar sounds of the local wildlife that is. Mainly he stuck close to Baymax and the tent, bored out his mind and annoyed he had been forced to come long. Varian's enthusiasm only aggravated him further and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little jealous by how easy things came to the other boy. He'd spent half a year trying to get on Krei's good side and impress him, while Varian had managed it in mere minutes of meeting the CEO.

The only time Hiro came out of his grumpy shell was at night, when they built a campfire and roasted marshmallows. Varian had never had smores before, but they were tasty, if also sticky and a little too sweet. Ruddiger however went nuts over the fluffy sweets and had to be kept from stealing the whole bag of them. Hiro didn't really care one way or the other about the traditional treat, but was more than eager to share ghost stories with the rest of the group. Gleefully recalling with gory detail about the spirit of an ax murderer who apparently stalked the woods. Perhaps it was a little vindictive of him, to try his best and scare the other teen, but Hiro couldn't help filling a little thrill whenever Varian gave a little jump or clutched his pet raccoon even tighter in comfort.

Keri was only amused by the story. He'd heard similar ones growing up at camp. He laughed at the end of Hiro's tale.

"Ha! Kids are still telling that one? Let me tell you a real horror story."

It was about tax audits.

Both boys could only shrug at each other.

"I do not understand the purpose of a 'ghost story'." Baymax observed.

"It's suppose to be for fun." Hiro informed him.

"I see; an adrenaline rush within a safe and controlled environment can be considered a pleasant feeling for some people. However I do not understand how taxes figure into that."

"Uuuuh, neither do we." Hiro admitted, "but I guess fear is subjective. Do you have any stories to share, Varian?"

Varian had to rack his brain on that one. His own life was more of a horror story then most ghost tales he knew, but he didn't want to devel into that. Instead he told a folk legend that his dad had once told him. It had been an old story from his home country; a parable about a rich man who was so greedy that he hoarded a well from the poor townspeople during a drought. Forcing them to pay him tribute lest they die of thirst, but he made the mistake of refusing water to a witch and so was cursed to become a vampire. To spend an eternity in thirst himself and to be forever alone, because he could no longer get close to other people without risking harm to them.

"And so a leader must care for his people, son," he remembered his father instructing him at the end of the tale, "He must share and give back to the community. He who sacrifices love for his fellow man in exchanged for selfish possessions, forfeits his right to live among mankind and to even be called a 'man' himself."

If only his father's words had been true. If real life had been as simple as stories, then Corona would have sided with him and not the evil king who kept the wondrous healing flower hidden away and who turned his back upon people need. But Varian conveniently left out this more personal anecdote.

"Wow." Hiro said flatly. "That's deep."

He wasn't used to horror stories having explicit morals attached to them and didn't know how else to respond. The tale hadn't been scary so much as eerie with an unnerving ending. Unlike his serial killer story, it wasn't anything you could be afraid of happening to you, yet questioning your place in the world was somehow more off putting than simple dismemberment.

The mood was broken however, by Ruddiger stealing Hiro's marshmallow off his roasting stick. It turned out to be last one as Krei had spent the majority of Varian's story battling the gluttonous raccoon over their food stores.

"I know racoons aren't 'mankind', but does this mean he's doomed to be a marshmallow vampire now?" Hiro joked as Varian got onto his pet.

"I don't know. Your robot looks like a walking marshmallow though." Varian shot back good naturedly.

Now out of food, save for leftover fish, they all decided to tuck in for the night.

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

Hiro hated the woods. He hated how unfamiliar everything was, how inconvenient it was, and most of all he hated how gross it was. He woke up irritated and sore from sleeping on the thin sleeping bag inside the tent. He couldn't find anything decent to eat for breakfast. He never stopped grumbling while he was forced to use the bathroom outside. To make an awful morning even worst, he couldn't shake the feeling of being stalked as strange animals hooted and howled. One bush in particular shook right when he pasted it. He nearly jumped out of skin when Ruddiger pop out of it holding the last of the fish in its mouth.

He groaned as he watched the raccoon scurry away and climb up a tree a little ways off from the campsite. He didn't much care for the creature, or for wild animals in general, but he knew how important the pet was to Varian and so had tried to be polite about having it around. Still Hiro's patience was wearing thin. The walking bottomless pit had eaten practically everything in the camp.

Hiro reluctantly followed after, debating if it was worth trying to get the fish back. Probably not, he didn't even like the taste of fish all that much to begin with. He stopped in surprise when an apple core fell from tree and nearly hit him. He looked up and found Varian sitting in one of the top branches, raccoon by his side, and reaching up to pick another apple off the tree.

The other teen paused when he saw Hiro. "Hey! Morning! You wanna an apple for breakfast?"

Hiro's stomach growled in response but all he actually said was, "How did you get up there?"

Varian laughed, "Climbed up here. How else you do think? Fly?"

Hiro looked up at him blankly. It was an obvious answer, of course, and he felt silly for having asked it.  

"Come on up!" Varian encouraged. "There's plenty of apples to go around."

"I..I can't." Hiro admitted sheepishly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to climb a tree." He mumbled.

Varian looked surprised by this revelation and before Hiro could do anything else, the other boy quickly climbed back down to join him.

“You never climb a tree before?”

‘Well, I did once, with Baymax’s help.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.  

“It’s not like there’s a whole lot of trees in San Fransokyo to climb.”

“Oh, well, it’s easy. Here, I’ll show you. Just put your foot there, in that knot, and place your hand here on this bump in the bark.” Varian instructed, helping Hiro find the footholds. “Now you see that groove up here, place your other foot there, and as you hoist yourself up grab that lowest branch with your other hand, like climbing a really uneven ladder.”

Hiro did so, though not without some struggling, but eventually he pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.      

“Great!” Varian cheered and followed after with practiced ease. “The hardest parts done. Now all you gotta do is swing up the rest of the branches, like so.”

Varian took off, showing Hiro the best way to navigate the tree top. Hiro followed him, mimicking the other boys actions. With great effort he hauled himself up onto the final branch and heaved a ‘wooooph’ in relief of having made it up.

His sigh quickly turned to awe though when he caught sight of the view. The early morning sun sparkled on the lake. Further out a misty fog was beginning to disperse and you could see the opposite shoreline reflected in the water like glass. Beyond that giant redwoods poked out of the canopy of trees and way, way off in the distance you just about make out the tips of blue mountains.

“Woah.” He breathed. Hiro had to admit, you didn’t get scenery like this in the city.

‘Here.” Varian handed him an apple. It was smaller than the ones you’d buy in the store, with pink and yellow skin. Hiro tentatively took a bite. It was crunchy and very tart, but edible. Not to mention it was practically the only food they had left in the camp, so Hiro wound up eating it all and started in on a second one.

“So, where did you learn to climb?” Hiro asked taking another large bite of the wild fruit.

“Oh, I’ve been climbing trees since I could walk.” Varian laughed. “We owned an apple orchard along with the farm. Also the forest is right next to my village.”

Ruddiger joined them, procuring his own apple and sitting right on Varian’s lap to enjoy his meal. Varian scratched his pet’s ear.

“Does he ever get full?” Hiro asked.

“Nope.” Varian replied, and then they both broke into giggles.

Once the laughter had subsided Hiro commented, “I guess that’s why you’re so good at this outdoors stuff. This is the first time I ever been fishing, and with any luck, it’ll be my last.”

“My dad taught me.” Varian quitely confessed. “He’d take me on trips like this sometimes. Try to teach me how to hunt and fish. The fishing is a lot better than the hunting, let me tell you. I never could fire an arrow right and I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He cringed as if recalling a gruesome memory. “But, I guess he was just looking out for me. He taught me the skills he had to live on to survive. Apparently there were no farms where he grew up, the land was always baren. I guess that’s why he prefered gardening to being a knight.”

“Wait, your dad was an actual for real knight?”

Varian nodded, “Yeah, I found his armor after...after the accident. Along with a bunch of other important stuff he never told me about.” He added bitterly.

Hiro didn’t know how to respond to that. So he stayed quiet and let Varian dictate the conversation.

“Anyways, it worked. The fishing did come in handy. I had to do a lot of that, when.. when I was on my own.” He worked his jaw as he mulled over that last confession, his eyes gazing out to into the distance, clearly not seeing the breathtaking view before them.

Hiro’s heart dropped. He had a vague idea of what happened to Varian, but this was the first time it really hit home just how messed up the other’s teen’s life had been before now. He could empathize with losing a loved one, but he had always had his aunt and his friends to depend upon. If nothing else to be there and take of him as he sank into depression. But Varian had to do everything for himself, even while battling that same depression. The idea of having to catch or scavenge for your own food on top caring for you ill father was a nightmare that Hiro could barely comprehend. A nightmare that only somehow got worse.

“Fortunately, there’s a river that runs through my village, and I could set up lines overnight and just go check them in the morning, and we had food stored up for winter. Like oats, bacon, dried peas, that sort of thing. That is, until spring rolled around and the king's guards run me out of my house.” He said irritably.”Then I just had to forage or steal to survive.”

“Be...because you stole medicine?” Hiro asked disquietly. He couldn’t imagine a world so cruel and yet to his surprise the story got even worse.

“Oh no, this was before I stole the flower.” Varian said matter of factly and Hiro just stared at him in horror. Varian heaved a heavy sigh and went on to explain. “My father was the only other person who knew about the sundrop. The king kept it hidden from everyone. I guess when he found out that my dad, was, was ‘gone’, he decided to try and remove me from the picture, so as to keep his secret safe. He made a bunch of false charges about me ‘attacking the princess’ so that no one would believe me when I asked for help or told them the truth about the flower. Then he sent his elite guard to arrest me and I had to run.”

Varian gave a little shrug and added, “I guess after that, ‘treason’ didn’t seem like that big of deal. I mean they were going to throw me in jail either way, and not many people leave those dungeons alive.”

Hiro could barely process what was being told to him. He didn’t know what to say. His stomach churned and his breath shallowed. Varian’s past was far scarier than any ghost story.

Then suddenly he felt guilty. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and his own struggles with readjusting, that he hadn’t actually stopped to think about things from Varian’s perspective. He had thus far grinned and bared the discomfort of having his life turned upside down, because, well because that's what he thought he needed to do in order to be a mature decent person. And while that was true in part, it never occurred to him that this move was yet another upset in Varian’s life, in a long, long string of seemingly never ending upsets.  

Hiro found himself so easily annoyed by the other teen, yet he really had no right to be. Varian was readjusting to whole new culture and way of life in addition to struggling with his grief and trauma. So what if he cooked weird food sometimes, didn’t always know the appropriate conduct to certain situations, or was so super confident in nearly everything he did that it made Hiro self conscious and a little jealous at times. Deep down, Varian was suffering through something that no one in Hiro’s little corner of the globe could fully understand, and the least that Hiro could do was try to be a little more patient and a little more open about letting Varian into his life.

“You know,” Hiro slowly said, trying to ease the conversation and offer a little understanding, “I never really knew my dad. I was just four when he and my mom died. It was always Tadashi who taught me things, like how to ride a bike or how to hotwire a robot. Though he never taught me to climb to tree, so I guess that’s one I owe you.”

He smiled encouragingly at Varian, who nervously returned it. Once again Varian wasn’t used to praise or acknowledgement that he anything ‘right’.

“Maybe, you could teach me more outdoorsy stuff.” Hiro offered. “And I can teach you more about more modern stuff, like how to play Mind Smith II Turbo .”

“That..that’s that video game you like, isn’t it?” Varian asked as he tried to remember what Hiro even talking about.

“Yeah!” and with that Hiro eagerly launched into a detailed description of the game.

Soon the boys were interrupted by Krei emerging from the tent. He stretched sore back and tried to reheat the leftover instant coffee he’d brought. He then promptly spit it back out in disgust. The boys tried their best to suppress their snickers. Keri spotted them anyways.

“How ‘bout we pack it up and go get tacos instead?” He asked them.

“Yeeesss!” Yelled Hiro, who was more than ready to go.

“Sounds great!” Agreed Varian. “We’ll be right down!”

Keri went back in the tent to start packing and Ruddigger scurried down after him, hoping to maybe steal another treat from the camp.

Varian stood up and started to also make his way down when Hiro’s voice stopped him.

“Ummm...Sooo how do you get down exactly?”

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

The day ended with a trip to Yaki Taco and a huge feast of fast food nachos and deep fried burritos. Rudiger was once again confined to his carrying cage, but was allowed a cup of some cheese sauce to snack on. Baymax was let out of his charger case to kept an eye on the mischievous raccoon. All agreed it was actually the best part of the camping trip.

“Say, ‘cheese’.” The robot said, as he took a photograph with his internal camera.  

The three guys sing songed the the word even as actual cheese dripped off the burritos they held in their hands, plastering on dopey grins for the camera. Then a few more pictures with silly faces to complete the set.

“Fantastic!” Krei said. “I want copies for the office.”

“Why?” Hiro asked.

“So if any clients come in I show off ‘my family’ to them instead just the photo of my mother. I love the woman but she doesn’t necessarily impress the image of ‘family friendly company’.”

“I knew there was a catch.” Hiro scoffed.

Keri looked wounded. “Hey, I told you, my employees are my family.”

Hiro rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help giving a little smile at that. He knew Krei well enough by now to know that, underneath his seemingly conviving self-serving self, he had a heart, and he wouldn’t have invited Hiro and Varian along if he didn’t care.

“Aunt Cass put you up to this, didn’t she?” He prodded.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Krei insisted and they gave Hiro a knowing wink. Then more seriously he said, “I know what it’s like not having your dad around on Father’s Day. So, I figured, why not a fishing trip? It’s better than being stuck at home while your father’s away on a business trip to Tahiti that weekend.”

Hiro raised in eyebrow. Keri had a tendency of oversharing at times.  

“Buuut, enough about me. Who wants dessert!?”