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underratedandoverit · 11 months

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Maybe One Day You'll Become That Star (2/5)

Kip has never wanted anything more in his life than to study magic and become a real wizard, no matter what it takes, no matter the hurdles he has to overcome to achieve that dream. So when a chance to study under one of the most prestige wizards in the country rises, he's more than ready to jump on it. But could it be that there's something else he finds himself fascinated with, even more than the magic itself under the apprenticeship of this intriguingly odd wizard…?

Kip Sabian/Orange Cassidy (eventually). Slow romance. Modern with magic AU.

Chris Brookes is mentioned a few times. We'll be seeing Best Friends and Penelope (and probably actually Chris too) in the next chapter or two woo ~

On AO3 here

Hi sorry its been a hot second. Hopefully the next one doesnt take like a month and a half to finish lmao.

Just establishing the full setting for this story, talking more about Kip's background (which we'll see more in the next one, for both of them really) and what this whole thing means to him. I'm absolutely not projecting any recent personal life failures into this and his feelings lmao what are you talking about.

Also how can one say a chapter is about them having breakfast and then write almost 5,2k words with barely any breakfast having in them ajsndkjansd

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate @unlikelywrestlingfan

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He hated this. He truly, truly hated this.

His hands fidgeting, Kip stared at the all too familiar door in front of him. He was here, back again, for another day, this time very unwillingly and with even lower expectations than yesterday. Honestly if Kip could have just skipped out on this entirely, he would have. He had no will or want to talk with Cassidy again after yesterday, after how he had acted, how things had gone down. After the fool Kip had made out of himself right there in front of him.

And yet he was forced to come back, just to humiliate himself some more.

At least this time Kip kind of knew what to expect. He knew who to expect, specifically. Not that it made him any less nervous or anxious about being here, but at least it was something. Or so he hoped.

Kip’s hand hovered over the doorbell, hesitant to actually press it down to alert someone about his existence. Unlike yesterday, he had actually read the signs on the door, making sure he was aware of the opening hours of the store, being aware of the fact that he was here way before anything was supposed to be open. In his stressful state yesterday he had entirely ignored the signs to the point where he honestly hadn’t even understood that the ground level of the building was a store, Kip had just mistaken it all for the residence of the wizard, when in fact it seemed to be that it might have just been both.

He was here so early he wasn’t even sure if anyone was awake yet. Would he be disturbing Cassidy if he announced his desire to visit via the doorbell already, or should Kip wait until the store was actually open, and try to handle his business with potentially being disturbed again by other customers and making even more of a fool of himself?

Kip’s fingertip circled around the doorbell, the man biting his lip as he tried to gather the courage to push it down. The worst would be if nobody answered, just like he thought yesterday, and he would just have to come back later. In the best case scenario Cassidy knew what he was here for and the whole ordeal would be over even before it began, which would be what Kip wanted. He just wanted this over with, to get on the first possible train back home and forget all of this ever happened. He was tired, disappointed mostly in himself, ready to give this up and never try something stupid like this that Chris suggested ever again. Kip should have known that since getting into the school he dreamed of didn’t happen, there was no way this was going to work out in his favor either.

And yet.

Brows furrowing, Kip pressed the little button down, hearing a soft buzz coming from it. He held it down for a moment before letting go, stopping to observe if he had created any kind of commotion inside. Despite the street around him being very quiet still in such early morning hours, it was very hard for Kip to hear anything going on inside. Maybe the walls and windows were reinforced, possibly even with magic, due to the man living here, or he was just too anxious to fully focus with all of his senses to figure out what was going on inside.

The more time passed as Kip stood there waiting, the more excuses he was making for why he wasn’t being let inside. Maybe Cassidy was just so fast asleep that he didn’t hear the bell. Maybe the great wizard was so hard at work that he couldn’t come to the door right away. Maybe the bell was broken and there was no sound inside the house at all. Maybe there was just nobody inside at all. It couldn’t be because it was still so early and he wasn’t taking visitors, or that he knew it was Kip and Cassidy had just decided to let him wait to teach him a lesson.

No, couldn’t be any of that. Absolutely not.

Kip knew he couldn’t leave without handling his business here one more time, so all he could do was wait. What seemed like minutes passed him by extremely agonizingly, so slowly it felt almost like he was stuck in a dreamlike state, with no escape other than just waiting it all out. Kip wasn’t sure at all how much time had passed by when he finally, actually much to his surprise, heard the door lock click open, shortly afterwards the door opening ever so slightly, a familiar face peeking at him through the small crack.

“Um, hi --”

“Oh. It’s you.” Kip wasn’t able to deduct from his voice if Cassidy was disappointed or surprised to see him, but the emotions definitely felt to him like they were from somewhere in either of those two categories. “Hang on.”

The door closed again before Kip could respond, hearing some rustling through the door. A door that Kip assumed was held shut tight with magic seemed to just be closed with locks any common man could bust down with enough determination, much to his surprise. Kip didn’t think much of it though as soon enough the door opened for him again, the familiar blond in the doorway now motioning him inside. Almost as if he had anticipated Kip to arrive sooner or later. Not wanting to leave him waiting, Kip stepped inside, hearing Cassidy to proceed to close and lock the front door to the store again behind him.

Even if he wanted to leave now, there was no way he could without making it into a ridiculous hassle. Great.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

The blond just shrugged, walking past Kip as he headed towards the back of the store. Cassidy looked tired, the plain t-shirt and sweatpants clearly telling that he had just gotten out of bed, and Kip didn’t blame him. It was very early hours, the man was probably busy to the very late hours of the night having to handle the store and whatever else wizard business there was for him to do afterwards. And here Kip was, making him get up way too early just to deal with his nonsense, as he just couldn’t wait just a little bit longer to handle his business during open hours instead.

“It’s fine. I needed an early start for the day anyway,” Cassidy muttered, running a hand through his clearly messy bedhead, eyes scanning the desk as he kept looking for something. Kip carefully walked closer, knowing the exact spot where he had left the notebook that he had come back to look for. He could feel a slight panic rising in him though as that corner of the desk was now empty, his belongings having clearly been moved elsewhere without his approval.

“I might have taken it upstairs…” Kip looked up at Cassidy, the man clearly looking for the same item as he did. He was now definitely panicking inside, knowing that not only his property had been touched and moved around, but that it was more or less lost and had also been in the hands of the wizard standing in front of him. Cassidy looked over the table once more, shrugging a little before his eyes lifted up to Kip, the man trying to keep himself together to the best of his ability at least from the outside.

“Would you like breakfast? I was about to make some anyway.”

Breakfast? At a time like this? Kip wanted to just get this over with, he just wanted what was his and to be on his way. Honestly, breakfast was the last thing in his mind right now.

But before he could reply anything back, the clear, rather loud rumbling of Kip’s stomach made it very clear that he had skipped breakfast to be here as soon as possible. He admittedly hadn’t eaten much last night either, being too stressed out and anxious about missing his precious notebook and how this whole thing had gone down to focus on eating, let alone sleeping much, so now that Kip stopped to even think about food for a split second, it was very obvious that he was actually really hungry.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

Kip just looked away from him, pretending to be scanning the shelves on the side of the table instead, it being almost painfully obvious to both of them what he was actually doing. “You can keep searching if you want. I’ll let you know when everything's ready.”

Kip just nodded his head a little, from the corner of his eye seeing Cassidy spin around on his heels, heading towards the door leading to the backroom. As soon as he passed through it, Kip allowed his eyes to fall back to the table, not having to hide the embarrassed blush on his face anymore. As if things weren’t bad enough already, now he had to deal with all of this. His precious belongings misplaced, him making a fool out of himself over an offering of food…

The thought only now slowly creeping back into his mind now that he was alone.

Orange Cassidy was offering him breakfast.

This wasn’t how Kip had envisioned any of this going. No, he was just supposed to come in, take what was his, and be on his way out again. He was literally supposed to be on the train home right now, not standing in this shop again at an hour like this, waiting to be called up for breakfast. This was quite opposite of what he came here to do, but unfortunately for Kip, he felt completely powerless to do anything about it. He couldn’t leave without the notebook, and since Cassidy obviously wasn’t willing to help him to look for it, this was all he could do.

Wait, accept the invitation for breakfast, and hope he didn’t throw up out of the nervousness of the whole stupid situation he had put himself into.

Kip’s gaze slowly focused back on the table, looking it over once more. Maybe the notebook was still somewhere in here and he could find it and just let himself out without a hassle. With slightly shaky hands he pushed some items around, lifting a few papers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar leather covers that belonged to him.

If it wasn’t so important to him, Kip wouldn’t have been back here, he had to try to remind himself of that. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just walk away from this and pretend like nothing had happened. At least not before he got back what was his.

It took him a moment to realize someone was calling his name. His head snapped up, eyes widening a little as he recognized Cassidy’s voice coming from somewhere past through the open doorway leading to the backroom, the same way he had disappeared earlier. Kip abandoned observing the desk, quickly rounding it before approaching the door, almost frightfully peeking inside, not really being sure what he was expecting to see on the other side. Much to his surprise it just seemed to be like a normal storage room, only with a set of stairs on the other end of it leading up to the second floor.

“Kip?”

He could hear the voice clearer now, noting that it definitely belonged to Cassidy. Kip cleared his throat quietly before croaking out an answer.

“Ye-yeah?”

“Do you want coffee?”

Kip carefully proceeded into the storage room, approaching the stairs. “Uh, yeah, sure?”

Cassidy didn’t reply anything back to him, but Kip could hear faint footsteps coming from the top of the stairs, walking away. As he got to the bottom of the stairs and peeked up, there was nobody there anymore, signaling that Cassidy had probably returned back into the kitchen. Taking in a deep breath Kip pushed himself on the move, carefully climbing up the stairs to the second floor, eventually ending in what seemed like an entrance to a living room.

He was honestly a bit taken aback how normal everything looked compared to the store downstairs and the occupation of a man that resided here. Just a couple of half empty bookshelves, barely alive plants on the side table, couch and a few armchairs for some rare guests by the looks of them and how untouched they looked. To Kip’s eyes this place looked like it was barely lived in, which probably shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did – this was still a world class wizard he was thinking here, a man that surely had his hands so busy all the time that he didn’t have much time to just lounge around in his apartment doing nothing, despite what his odd and rather off putting looks were telling to Kip at least.

Kip’s thoughts were derailed as the sounds coming through the second open doorway nearby caught his attention, his eyes shooting towards it. As he was pretty sure there was only one person apart from him occupying this floor at the moment, he figured it must have been the kitchen, knowing Cassidy had gotten up here to make breakfast. Kip walked to the doorway and peeked inside, confirming his suspicions as he easily recognized the room in question indeed to be the kitchen, watching Cassidy fidgeting with the toaster with the coffee brewing in the coffee maker next to him.

Looking around the room from the doorway, Kip’s eyes widened a little as he noticed the familiar leather cover bound notebook sitting on the small round kitchen table in the corner of the room.

“Do you want eggs?” Kip barely heard Cassidy’s question as he stepped inside the kitchen, eyes fixated on his prized belongings sitting at arms reach away from him finally. Almost stumbling on his own feet Kip hurried to the table, Cassidy glancing over his shoulder towards him as he didn’t get a reply, a small smile gracing his lips as he watched Kip pick the notebook into his hands, looking at it with a victorious smile on his entire face. Kip quickly flipped through the pages, letting out a relieved sigh as everything seemed to still be intact, tightly pressing the notebook against his chest as for the first time this morning he could feel some sort of peace taking him over.

“Kip? Eggs?”

He finally snapped into the real world again, eyes shooting towards Cassidy as the blond raised a questioning brow at him. Kip just barely nodded, realizing he was standing in his kitchen still being offered breakfast. He had prepared himself for it, but also he just wanted to be out as soon as he got his hands on the notebook again, so now Kip was stuck between having to decide what to do about all of it. Cassidy nodded back at him, but clearly noticed the thought process running through Kip’s distressed mind, offering him a quick smile.

“I’m not forcing you to stay. You can leave if you want.” Kip just stared back at him, trying to push the idea of how Cassidy seemed to be almost able to read his thoughts out of his mind. “The breakfast offer still stands though. I wouldn’t want you to be on the road while you’re so hungry, but it’s up to you.”

Cassidy turned back towards the counter without waiting for a response from Kip, leaving the other man just looking at him for a moment, before glancing between the notebook in his arms and the back of Cassidy. This was what he wanted, and Kip was more than ready to leave and not be part of his life anymore, but at the same time, the breakfast offer was tempting. If for nothing else, he really was hungry…

And this would be a really good moment for him to possibly probe the wizard’s brain a little over a cup of coffee.

Kip turned towards the table, carefully pulling a chair for himself. He felt slightly awkward trying to make himself home like this, even after being told he could just stay and eat. Sitting down, he lowered the notebook on the table, flipping it open as he started to scan the pages of notes he had written down in it, trying to find something he could bring up with Cassidy.

His attention was quickly captured by something else though as Kip saw something move from the corner of his eye, glancing towards it and stopping to stare as he watched with widening eyes as two coffee cups floated from the drying rack, carefully landing on the counter next to Cassidy. Kip watched the blond glance towards the sink, with a lazy flick of his wrist towards it snapping the faucet open, making Kip jump a little.

He just stared, mesmerized, as Cassidy controlled and commanded his entire kitchen from a single spot entirely silently, with just looking at what he wanted and simple movements of his hands. Few more dishes from the cabinets and drying rack set themselves up on the counter next to him, waiting for breakfast items to take them over. With ease he filled glasses with orange juice, opening and closing the fridge door, all of that and more without ever taking a single step inside the kitchen until he was ready to actually serve the breakfast to the table for them both.

With two plates in hand, Cassidy turned around, walking up to the table, placing one of the plates in front of Kip and the other across the table from him, taking a seat on the chair over there. Kip was still looking at him with such curiosity filled wide eyes as Cassidy continued with a couple more lazy wrist flicks, basically ordering the coffee and juice he prepared earlier to float to the table as well.

Kip jumped a little as the first cup passed him by as it approached from behind, Cassidy barely faltering at the sight, only a small smile tucking the corner of his lips for a split second, not long enough for Kip to even notice it. As the cups and glasses landed on the table, shortly afterwards they were followed by forks for each of them, Cassidy finally settled mofe comfortably on his seat, eyes landing on Kip across the table.

Kip carefully reached for the fork that had landed on the table next to his plate, almost too afraid to touch it, giving it a small poke as if to make sure it wasn’t going to float away. He finally took it in his hand after making sure it was a real fork, next very carefully poking the scrambled eggs on his plate, before shooting a look finally towards Cassidy.

“All of this is so… Incredible!”

Cassidy chuckled at him quietly, his hand reaching for the coffee cup sitting on the table in front of him, Cassidy taking a small sip from it.

“I’ve never seen something like this! You don’t even use a wand or anything to cast your spells with, everything just… Works here!”

Cassidy took another sip of his coffee before sending Kip a smile.

“I can let you in on a little secret.” Kip’s eyes lit up as his whole being perked up, the man leaning over the table a little, clearly more interested in what Cassidy had to say than the breakfast he was offered despite being very hungry. “Everything in this room is enchanted. All the furniture, the dishes, whatever food items I bring in, I enchant them all to be controlled with just…”

He trailed off, not being entirely sure how to explain it all. By how it looked like to Kip, this was one of the few times he actually had to explain how all of this worked to someone else. Instead Cassidy opted to just look across the room at the fridge, with a quick flick of the wrist opening the door of it and bringing out a little carton of milk. Kip watched in clear awe as this happened, the carton floating to the table and being set down between the two of them on it, before Cassidy flicked his wrist again, closing the fridge door.

“You know.”

Kip nodded his head slightly, eyes fixated on the milk carton on the table before slowly drifting back up to Cassidy’s face, watching the tired but content smile on his lips as he continued to sip on his coffee. Kip hated to admit it that while he had been aware of the kind of fame Orange Cassidy’s name held on it, he actually had no idea what kind of magic he was able to do and how he made it work. Even now he was still kind of unsure, and his way of commanding his kitchen wasn't really giving Kip much to go on with guessing either. Most of the information he could have used beforehand wasn’t available to him, or it was extremely vague when he got it in his hands.

Especially when most of that came from Chris and the information he had was mostly through hearsay, which was more or less extremely unreliable. Honestly, Kip was surprised what he got from Chris had led him this far in the last two days.

“If you have any questions, just ask away.” Cassidy’s voice snapped him back into reality, Kip blinking at him a few times, only now realizing that the past few moments he had just been directly staring at the blond. Quickly averting his eyes a soft blush flashed on his cheeks, Kip hoping that him suddenly remembering that he was still holding a fork filled with scrambled eggs was enough to hide it from Cassidy as he was suddenly very interested in the contents of the plate in front of him again.

Of course he had questions, very many of them honestly. And it was probably very obvious to Cassidy as well, considering that he allowed Kip this time at the breakfast table to ask them.

“Or not. Whatever you want. I’m not holding you here against your will or force you to talk. We can eat in silence too if you want.”

Shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth, Kip’s eyes glanced at the open notebook sitting next to the plate on the table. He had had the idea to ask Cassidy a couple of things before he got distracted with the magical aspects of the kitchen being on display, but all of a sudden being put on the spot about it like this, Kip was in complete loss of words, every single question ever leaving his mind, leaving it just completely blank.

Cassidy clearly took this as a sign that Kip just wanted to have breakfast in silence as he shrugged, digging into his food while Kip just kept silently staring at the open pages of the notebook, slowly chewing on his eggs. He wasn’t sure if they tasted really good because he was so hungry, or because there was magic involved in making them, but it surely was some of the best food he’d had in a while, the thought further distracting him from the task at hand.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cassidy’s voice broke the silence after a while, making Kip curiously glance up at him again. “I took a look through your book last night. I was trying to find out if it had any of your info on it so I could return it in case you didn't come back for it and I might have… Flipped through a few pages in the process.”

His words slowly registered with Kip, his eyes widening as he realized why it finally made sense that Cassidy seemed to know his name despite Kip never officially introducing himself to the great wizard. The next thing that popped into his head was the realization that Cassidy had seen some of his notes, some of his studies, the practice attempts that he had written down for himself to come back to later. There was a reason this whole notebook was so important to him that Kip had come back for it after the huge embarrassment the day before; it held his entire life with attempting magic between its covers.

“You’re not trained, are you?”

Kip slowly shook his head, averting eyes with Cassidy again, this time more out of shame than anything else. It was probably obvious to him since the very first meeting of the two yesterday, with Kip’s cluelessness and ignorance of everything around him being most likely a dead giveaway. Of course someone of Cassidy’s standard would see that from him straight away, and even if the question wasn’t presented to him in a mocking manner, Kip was sure had been chuckling to himself last night, flipping through his precious little notebook, just finding him trying his best with what he was given and what he really wanted extremely amusing on top of it all. Asking himself what this hopeful but stupid little boy was even thinking, trying to make his way into the world of magic like this.

“No, I…” Kip stared at his plate, pondering over his words. He had originally come here, to Cassidy, for a reason. They didn’t let him into the prestigious school he really wanted, citing that he wasn’t ready, that he wasn’t capable of doing what they demanded of him, that they couldn't teach him, that he wasn't ready for all of it. All Kip had tried to do by himself was some level of a failure, never resulting in anything bigger than a couple of parlor tricks that not even really Chris appreciated that much. Everything he had detailed down in the notebook was important, but even more so it was about his failures and him trying to learn from them. “I’m… I’m not.”

Cassidy hummed quietly at his response, focusing his attention to his coffee again to give Kip some breathing room as his eyes left the Brit for a moment. Kip audibly inhaled, his fingertips drawing along the letters he had handwritten on the page he had open, carefully rereading the words he had written for himself when he had been preparing for the entrance exams that turned out to just be another failure for him.

“But I… I’d like to be.”

Cassidy nodded, twirling his cup in his hand, watching the dark liquid in it swoosh against the inner sides of the cup as he did so. Kip’s eyes traveled further down the open page, his hand stopping following the writing on it as it slowly disappeared under a messy black scribble, brushed over the rest of the text in a clear showcase of frustration. And if that wasn’t enough to drive home the point of how he had felt at the time of getting the news, surely the big bold ‘NO’ on the next page with nothing else written on it was saying all that it needed to say.

“You probably figured it out already,” Kip muttered, honestly a little bit embarrassed that he was bringing up the obvious at this point, “But I’m here to… To ask…”

“For an apprenticeship, right?”

Kip nodded, glancing towards the blond from under his brows, spotting Cassidy mirroring the gesture back at him. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”

Silence fell back into the kitchen, Kip’s hand slowly closing the notebook before resting on top of it. Cassidy observed him for a moment before carefully nodding towards his plate. “Please, eat something. Before it’s all cold.”

Kip glanced between the notebook and the plate in front of him a few times. Truth to be told he wasn’t really that hungry anymore, all this talking had definitely put him into more of an anxious mood again, effectively ruining what had been his appetite mere minutes before. Still, he obliged, picking up the fork as Kip continued to poke his eggs, one hand reaching for the toast set on the plate next to it.

“Can I be honest with you?” Kip nodded, though he was sure Cassidy was going to keep on going with that thought no matter what he would have answered. “These schools… They are pretty much only there for the value of their names. Sure they teach well and a lot of high class witches and wizards graduate out of there, but… I’m not a graduate, for example.”

Cassidy shrugged as Kip once again looked up at him, the blond offered him a little smile. “And yet you are here. Asking for help. Instead of going anywhere else, to anyone else. You found your way to my doorstep.”

Maybe Chris had made a mistake. Maybe Cassidy wasn’t the big highly regarded wizard that he had been made out to be, maybe he was just some lowlife lazy bum handling a little magical shop downstairs whenever he felt like it. He sure did look the part, and it would be on par with the kind of people Chris was familiar with. Maybe this whole thing was just an elaborate ruse to make Kip look even more ridiculous than before.

But while these thoughts ran through his head, at the same time, there was just something about him that made Kip not believe those words, his own words. He might have looked unconventional and weird, he might have had a sassy sort of attitude you wouldn’t expect from a man of his status, he might have looked much younger than what Kip had anticipated…

But still something about Cassidy just screamed at Kip that he wasn’t lying about this one. That this truly was him, the great wizard Orange Cassidy, the greatest you could find from this side of the country.

“If you’re willing to learn, I’m willing to teach you.”

Kip’s head snapped up so fast he almost dropped the fork from his hand, wide eyes looking back at Cassidy across the table, the blond only offering him a smile as he sipped the remains of his coffee.

“Y-you are?”

“Of course. After all the trouble you’ve gone through to get here, why not? I could use another pair of hands around the house and the store.”

Kip carefully lowered the fork from his hand, trying to breath in to stop himself from shaking at the sudden turn of events. He looked up at Cassidy, taking in a deep breath.

“…Why? I’m just… A nobody.” Mentally Kip was beating himself over the fact that the self doubt was still crippling him like this, but at the same time he couldn’t help but to wonder if this was really it. It seemed so much easier in the end than he had imagined, almost laughably so. Cassidy just continued to smile.

“Every great wizard starts from somewhere. Rarely anyone is a master of their craft immediately. And I can see how much you want this.”

Kip could feel his cheeks getting hot again, but he just quietly nodded.

“Besides,” Cassidy chuckled a little as he lowered the coffee cup from his hands to the table, crossing them in front of him as he leaned a bit over the table, as if to try to drive his point home for Kip better. “I can sense something in you. It’s not strong yet, but it’s definitely there. Something… Magical.”

#fic #fic: maybe one day you'll become that star #setting: modern with magic au #character: orange cassidy #character: kip sabian #ship: orangekip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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koolkat9 · 2 years

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Hetalia Polyship Week 2022: Day 1

@hetalia-polyship-week

Prompt: Musicals || “Thank god that I’m not you”

Rating: T

Ship: GerFrukPort

Word Count: 1243

Author’s Note: This is based on an au we discussed in my gereng server where engportfra are actors all pursuing set builder Ludwig while also being in a throuple themselves. Also, I like to think Francis uses he/they pronouns so I switch between those pronouns.

Curtain Call

The wings of the stage were buzzing with energy, for in a mere few hours, the curtains would rise, and the open night would commence. Ludwig put the final nail in the window frame he had been working on. At least it had fallen apart during the dress rehearsal and not the actual show. He just had to oil the wheels on one of the moving set pieces and check the other two to make sure they were still in working order, then they’d be good to go.

Hopefully, with the show coming to an end, Ludwig would finally be free of all the confusing feelings that had arisen during production. The thought was both a relief, but it also kind of hurt. To have three actors pursuing you definitely was overwhelming and made Ludwig’s job a lot harder, it was nice to be the center of attention for once, and over this time, he got to know his three suitors; he would miss them when they all went their separate ways.

He’d miss Arthur's nagging. Although it was annoying at times, it was nice to know someone cared enough to bring him water and make sure he was eating. He’d miss the way Arthur’s eyes would light up as he tried too hard to hide his smiles behind scowls. And most of all he’d miss the subtle compliments and flirty remarks that would rival the language used by poets of the past.

He’d miss Francis’s affection the most, he thinks. The way they’d hang off Ludwig as if it was the most normal thing in the world, how they would always greet him with a warm embrace and part with one even warmer. He’d miss the way Francis’s curls framed their face perfectly, always appearing so soft to the touch (but Ludwig would now never know if that was true). And though he was often overwhelmed by Francis’s forwardness when it came to flirting, he did appreciate the food they made, and he’d be lying if he said Francis’s compliments hadn’t boosted his confidence ever so slightly.

Lastly, he’d miss Afonso’s calmness. The way he could remain relaxed yet level-headed during even the most stressful situations and the way he would comfort Ludwig in the carpenter’s own stress. He’d miss the sweet, gentle nothings Afonso would occasionally whisper when Ludwig was burnt out and needed the pick-me-up. But the most he would miss the rare sight of Afonso focused: tightly knit brows, spark in his eye as he looked over his scripts, pulling any and all information to boost his performance.

As Ludwig pulled away from the last squeaky wheel, he came face to face with the three actors who had been consuming his thoughts.

Arthur was dressed in a fiery red coat that just reached his knees, with golden stitching along the edges. Golden chains and earrings, striking red eyeshadow, and dark eyeliner accented the outfit. A leather corset wrapped around his middle gave the otherwise fearsome look an alluring aura. To top it all off, a pirate cap adorned with pale feathers. An outfit befitting of both a seductive yet dangerous pirate captain.

Francis in turn was fitting in a frilly blouse and a pale blue coat that reached the floor. It was as if the stars had been taken and threaded into the fabric itself with the way it glittered with every small movement. His hat was a greyish white, decorated with dried flowers instead of the traditional feathers. He was dripping in jewelry and gems: earrings, necklaces, bracelets, all of which matched Francis’s eyes. The sparkly look was complete with purple eyeshadow with a hint of glitter. He looked like royalty despite being a mere pirate captain.

Afonso was dressed in a nobleman’s coat. Darker green vine patterns wrapped around the torso and sleeves, meeting with the silver stitched pattern on the edge of the collars and cuffs. His hair was tied back by a matching ribbon, giving a clear view of his face. His natural features were amplified by simple makeup instead of the brightly coloured blends of Arthur and Francis, yet he was nonetheless beautiful. An elegant nobleman if there ever was one.

Ludwig felt his whole face burn seeing them decked out in their costumes. All he could do was stare, unable to form a coherent thought in their presence. It was as if he was back to the very first time the three had begun flirting with him.

Francis’s giggling shook Ludwig from his daze. Arthur shoved the Frenchman. “What?” Francis asked with feigned offense, “He probably thinks we look pretty. So much so he’s been left speechless.”

“Or he’s thinking: ‘thank god I’m not you,’” Arthur shot back, gesturing to the other’s costume. “You’re going to melt under all those damn frills.”

“Aw are you concerned mon amour?”

Arthur’s face turned bright red, but if looks could kill, that glare would have ended Francis on the spot. Luckily before things could escalate. Afonso stepped between the two. “Now, now, meus amores, we have more important business here right? We’re going to scare him off like this.”

Wait… ‘mon amour’ and ‘meus amores’? Ludwig may not have been well versed in French or Portuguese, but he knew Italian well, and those sounded like…

“So…” Afonso went on, “I don’t know if you’ve realized what we’ve been trying to do, but with us parting ways soon, we’ve decided to just come out as say…”

“We love you,” Francis continued.

“All of us,” Arthur added.

“Romantically,” Afonso concluded for clarity.

So they did fancy him. It was quite obvious to everyone (including Ludwig) that these three actors had liked him romantically, but hearing it laid out so clearly still made Ludwig’s head spin. Perhaps part of the shock came from the fact that it appeared all three of the actors were dating as well. “Wait…Are all of you…”

“Together?” Francis finished for him, “Yes. Yes, we are.” To prove the point he took Afonso’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know sooner, it’s all over the tabloids,” Arthur noted.

“But what we are trying to get at is that we want to invite you into it,” Afonso explained.

Ludwig awkwardly opened and closed his mouth, trying to find what he wanted to say. It was a dream come true. Over this production, he had fallen in love with all three of them and couldn’t bear to choose only one of them. But with this revelation, he could have it all, and everyone would be happy.

“Love,” Arthur spoke softly, stepping forward to put a hand on Ludwig’s arm. “You don’t have to make a decision now. You’ve got time to think. We just wanted–”

“I’d love to,” Ludwig blurted out. His blush surely darkened as he realized how desperate he sounded. “I-I mean…I’d like that…I have feelings for all of you so…”

The three actors looked at Ludwig with wide eyes. “Well then…guess it’s settled,” Francis said with an amused huff. “Perhaps we can have dinner after the show tonight.”

Ludwig nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

“Ten minutes till curtain,” someone shouted in the distance.

“Well I guess this is farewell until intermission,” Arthur sighed.

The three bid farewell to Ludwig, giving the German the much-needed time to process everything. But as he waved to the actors as they departed, Ludwig couldn’t suppress a wide grin from spreading on his face.

#hetalia polyship week #hetalia polyship week 2022 #hetalia #hws #gerfrukport #engportfrager #hws germany #hws portugal #hws england #hws france #engportfra #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

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!

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Until You Fall Asleep

After moving in with the crew to help cure your quarantine boredom, you find a new way to deal with your insomnia.

Request: “Could you please do a Colson fanfic where you're a friend of the gang and you move into their house for quarantine so you're not alone. Colson finds out you have terrible insomnia and starts staying up to keep you company and you gradually start sleeping in his bed because it's the only place you seem to actually sleep. You start to get really close through these late night chats, watching films, sharing stuff and opening up to each other... Friendship starts to develop into something else. I need some fluff to see me through these sleepless nights! 🙏😘 Thanks!”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3487

Living with your best friends during a nationwide quarantine seemed like a good idea when you agreed to it, but after the 5th night of wandering the huge house late at night because you couldn’t sleep, you were starting to think you should’ve stayed where you were. At least at your own place, you didn’t have to worry about sneaking around so as not to wake anyone up.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice that you woke up earlier than everyone else in the house or went to sleep later. Or if they did, no one said anything.

Day five

Tonight hadn’t been going so well. You had tried showering, you hadn’t eaten for at least a few hours before trying to sleep, you turned your lavender diffuser on, you’d even tried yoga. Nothing helped, and you were left staring at your ceiling.

Frustrated and uncomfortable, you rolled out of your bed, sock clad feet pattering across your room and slowly pulling your door open. You made your way through the house and out to the pool, letting the cool night air wash over you. A deep breath fell from your lips as you began to pace around the deck, hoping to tire yourself out enough to sleep.

After a few minutes, you heard the sliding glass door open, looking up and finding Colson stepping out with a blunt in his hand. He smiled tiredly at you, “you’re up early.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what time is it?” You figured it was 4, maybe 5 am.

“Almost 7,” he looked concerned, “you okay?”

You were trying to figure out how you managed to stay up until 7 am without a wink of sleep, “yeah, just couldn’t sleep. It’s cool though. Why are you up?”

Colson lit the blunt as he spoke, “couldn’t sleep either.”

Day eight

You found yourself curled up on the couch, reading a book at 5:30 in the morning after hours of trying to fall asleep. You swore if you stayed in your room a second longer, you’d break something, so you snuck out to the TV room with the most boring book you could find.

“Do you ever sleep?” Colson’s voice surprised you, making you jump lightly in your seat. The man chuckled at your reaction, taking a seat next to you.

You pouted at his glee, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugged, “sleep is for the weak.”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from your lips, “oh yeah, I feel so strong and cool right now.”

The man laughed with you, but soon turned serious, “serious though, are you good? Both nights this week I haven’t slept you’ve been awake, and I know you don’t take naps.”

You sighed, “it’s just insomnia, I’ve been dealing with it on and off for a couple years now. It’s not a big deal.”

He cocked his head in curiosity and worry, “how much sleep have you been getting?”

You ducked your head in embarrassment, “I slept for an hour at like 3, hopefully I’ll fall asleep again at some point tonight.”

Colson frowned, “can I help at all?”

A small smile fell upon your face, “sometimes talking helps, but honestly not much else. It’s not that big of a problem, though. I’ve been dealing with this for a while, I’m used to it.”

He looked shocked, “dude, you sleep for a few hours every night! That’s a problem. I don’t even know how you’re still alive.”

“Like you’ve never gone a couple days in a row without sleeping,” you said sarcastically.

“No! I go to sleep late as fuck, but I sleep eventually most nights. You’re on a whole different level.” His tone was slightly defensive, if not concerned, “do I need to get you some pills or something? I can do that.”

Your eyes went wide, “Jesus, Kells, no. I have enough to deal with, I don’t need another addiction on my hands too.”

He chuckled, “I’m just saying it might help. I’m assuming weed does nothing?”

You sighed sadly, “it did for a while, but I think my body got used to it. I just have to wait it out until I inevitably pass out.”

“Well, guess I’ll just bother you until you fall asleep.” He relaxed further into the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Colson, you really don’t have to-“

“You won’t let me get you drugs, so I’m gonna stay up with you. It’s the least I can do.” He smiled widely, knowing he would get his way.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

Day Twelve

“You think that Captain America has the best character arc? Seriously?”

Your nightly chats with Colson had moved into his room after Baze was woken up by Colson’s loud laughter during a conversation about what type of dogs you’d both be. So, you were sat cross legged on his bed, facing each other in deep conversation.

The man tried to defend his stance to you, “okay, I know everyone loves Tony’s whole asshole to hero thing, but Captain America went from this goody two shoes to this badass criminal and he still got the girl in the end.”

You shook your head, “you’re just wrong in every way. I’m not even saying Iron Man had a better story, but literally every other character developed more than Steve. He wasn’t that badass in the end, and the fact that he went back to get the girl just proves he never really changed all that much. He was static.”

“So, you’re telling me, if we watched every single movie with Captain America in it, you wouldn’t be entertained?” He crossed his arms and leaned backwards, eyeing you challengingly.

You scoffed, “the movies are fine, I just think that Marvel has produced better superheroes with better plotlines.”

“New plan, we’re going to watch every marvel movie in order and then you can tell me that I’m right.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV across from his bed.

Rolling your eyes, you moved back to lean against the headrest, legs spread out in front of you, “you’re not right, but I’ll watch them just to see the look on your face when you realize you’re wrong.”

Colson flopped down on the bed next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you so that you were leaning into his side. A yawn escaped his mouth, “if you get tired, let me know.”

You giggled, “I’m always tired, I just can’t sleep. I won’t get offended if you fall asleep though.”

He pulled a face, “I’m not falling asleep.”

About an hour into the movie the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated differently. You chuckled to yourself once you realized he had fallen asleep, turning further into his chest, and allowing yourself to get more comfortable.

Somewhere between 4 and 5 am, you found your eyes finally closing of their own accord, unconsciousness washing over you.

Day 17

Since starting your marvel movie binges with Colson, you’d found yourself getting more sleep. You couldn’t tell if it was from the movies or from Colson, but either way something seemed to be working.

Tonight, however, even your new routine wouldn’t lull you to sleep. You tried every breathing exercise in the book, but nothing seemed to work. Colson had fallen asleep a while ago, his arm wrapped around you as per usual, so you couldn’t talk yourself to sleep.

So, you decided to take a stroll around the house, hoping the small form of physical activity would help. But in order to get out of bed, you would have to find a way out of Colson’s embrace without waking him up.

You slowly and gently grabbed his hand and removed it from your side, laying it on the bed next to you. Then, you sat up slowly, only to be pulled back into his chest, “where’re you going?”

His voice was deep and gravelly, sleepiness very evident. You responded with a whispered, “I can’t sleep, was gonna go walk around.”

He pulled you in closer to him, nuzzling his face into the crown of your head, “but you’re so warm.”

You chuckled, cuddling into the man, “fine, I’ll stay.” You tried to close your eyes and find sleep, but again, none came. Sighing, you accepted that you would be stuck in your current position, realizing there were worse things than being wrapped up in a beautiful boy’s arms.

Day 25

“I know aliens probably exist, but do you think they’d ever take one of us to study?”

Colson chuckled at your question, “like a human in general or, like, you and me?”

“Like you or me. Do you think we’re important enough to be studied?”

He squeezed your waist, “I think you are in desperate need of sleep.”

Laughing, you responded, “I’m serious! And I have been sleeping, thank you very much.”

“Okay, fine. I think if aliens ever came to Earth, they’d probably be more interested in, like, genius billionaires or really dumb people, like people from Florida.”

You slapped his arm, “don’t be mean to Florida.”

You could feel the vibrations from his laughter, making you giggle. “Fine, but my point is they wouldn’t be interested in us unless they’re really into music.”

“Darn,” you huffed.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “you want aliens to take you and study you?”

Balancing yourself on his chest, you lifted yourself up to look down at him, “yes! That would be so fucking cool.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “you’re crazy.”

“Think about it, who else would be able to say they got studied by aliens. And then you’d know that you were important to someone, even if it is just alien scientists.”

Rolling his eyes, Colson pulled you back down into him, your hands still resting on his chest, “I don’t need aliens to know I’m important.”

“Well not all of us can be ubertalented rock stars with millions of fans,” you joked, a teasing smile on your face.

You glanced up to find his eyes trained on you, holding a softer look in them than you had expected, “I didn’t mean that.”

It took a few moments for his words to get processed by your brain, but you immediately dismissed the thought that he could be talking about you specifically. More than likely he was referencing his family in general, which you could be included in.

Day 31

To celebrate a full month in quarantine, the guys had decided to throw an in-house only party, which just meant that everyone had an excuse to drink together more than normal. You were staying mostly sober, knowing that otherwise the boys would most likely break something, most likely themselves.

You watched from your place on the kitchen counter as Rook, Baze, Slim, Dre, Irv, Dub, and Colson played a round of King’s cup.

“Y/N, you have to drink,” Rook called from across the room, “it’s a six.”

“If there’s no women playing then you just skip that card, Rookie.” You called but took a sip from your cup anyways.

Colson whined, “this is boring.” You chuckled as he moved away from the table to come stand by you, the rest of the guys continuing without him. He leaned against the counter next to your dangling leg, letting you run your fingers through his blond hair, “parties are boring now, Y/N.”

You could tell that he was gone, the alcohol having almost full control of him. “When we get out of quarantine, we’ll throw the biggest party ever, Kells,” you said, letting your hand fall to rest on his shoulder. The man grasped your hand in his and moved it back up to the top of his head, silently begging for you to continue. He turned into a cat, practically purring as he leaned into you, “hey, Kells, you tired?”

He shook his head, “no, ‘m gonna stay up with you, remember?”

You laughed softly, “it’s okay, Kells. You should get some sleep; I’ll be okay for a night.”

His arms wrapped around your middle, head burying into your stomach, “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

“You gotta let me off this counter for that.” This was a side of Colson you rarely saw; the drunk, very cuddly version of Colson. Occasionally he’d cling on to you when he got really tired, but that was in the privacy of his room. Here he was hanging onto you in front of all his friends, though granted they were too drunk to notice anything unusual.

You hopped off the counter, taking on some of Colson’s body weight in order to get him up the stairs and to his room. Truthfully, you planned to leave him in his bed once you got him there, but he had other plans. As soon as you moved to walk away from the bed, he grabbed your arm sleepily, “why are you leaving?”

Running a hand along his jaw softly, you softly said, “I’m gonna go to my room.”

He whined, “you never sleep in your room, stay.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond to that, “Kells, you’re drunk, you need some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep without you.” His eyes were glazed over, making his pleading look even more appealing than normal.

Sighing, you muttered, “yes, you can. I’ll be right down the hall,” but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, hand still firmly around your wrist.

“No.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing into the bed next to him, “I’m only doing this because you need to go to sleep.” He hummed in response to that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into him, leaving no room for you to escape even if you tried.

Day 37

Nights with Colson had slowly turned into every moment with Colson. You woke up together, ate breakfast together, spent time together. You were rarely separated for long, not that either of you minded.

At some point, the line between friends and whatever lied next had gotten blurred, but not fully crossed. You and Colson were touchy and cuddly during the day as well as at night, and everyone in the house was starting to notice it.

Part of you just wanted to kiss him and see what happened, but you knew messing with a situation like this could go very wrong very fast. So, you just left it up to him to figure out where this thing would go, knowing he probably wouldn’t make the first move either.

But as you laid in his arms, listening to his midnight ramblings, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you took matters into your own hands. You watched his lips move as he spoke, wanting nothing more than to lean up and press your own against them. Of course, you would never actually do it, but it was nice to dream.

There was a lull in the conversation which was spent with your eyes dancing across each other’s face, trying to figure out what to say next. Suddenly, he blurted out, “can I get your advice on something?”

You nodded in response, a soft smile on your face. He continued, “this sounds so stupid, but there’s this girl I’ve been talking to recently and I can’t figure out if she ‘s into me or we’re just really good friends.”

You sat up slightly, perking an eyebrow up, “well what signs has she given you that she’s into you?” Your heart burned, hoping he was talking about you. It was a feeling that had been happening a lot recently whenever you were around him, which was almost all the time.

He sighed, “I mean, we talk like, all the time about everything. And I think she flirts with me, but I’m not completely sure if she’s flirting or she’s just being friendly.”

“Well, what signs say that she’s not into you?” You ask, biting your lip to hide the grin forming on your face.

Colson hesitated, “I mean, none, really. I’m just scared of messing up our friendship, you know?”

You nodded, “well, you’ll never know if you never ask her. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

He was quiet for a long time, clearly turning the advice over in his head, “I would but, with quarantine and everything, I just don’t think it’s the right time. We wouldn’t be able to actually, you know.”

Your heart fell, realizing that there was no possible way he was talking about you. It felt like every bone in your body turned to Jell-o at the realization, a lump forming in your throat. “Right, well, maybe you could invite her over to the house. Or do a cute facetime date or something.”

He nodded but stayed quiet. You fully sat up, swinging your legs off the bed. “Where are you going?” he asked softly.

Something inside of you was slowly crumbling, and you needed to get yourself out of his presence as soon as possible, “I just need to take a walk, I don’t think I’m tired enough to get any form of sleep.”

Colson let out a small “oh,” as you stood up and swiftly left the room, tears forming in your eyes.

You felt silly for letting yourself fall so easily and for thinking that he might have felt the same way. But you could’ve sworn there was something forming between you two.

And how had you never heard of this new girl? How long had that been going on?

So many thoughts swirled around in your head as you made your way downstairs and out to the empty pool deck, pacing the familiar space. You tried to convince yourself that your feelings weren’t as strong as they actually were so that this could somehow be easier, but you knew it wouldn’t work.

The sound of the door sliding open caught your attention, your eyes meeting those all too familiar blue ones. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the wall of the house. You flashed him a fake smile with a nod. “This doesn’t have anything to do with what I just-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, “I’m just restless right now, needed to get some energy out.”

He nodded, watching you cautiously, “I’m actually super tired, so I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you in a few?”

You nodded, knowing full well you had no intention of getting back into his bed, “yeah, goodnight.” You turned your head to the ground, studying the cement below your feet.

The door opened and shut, but when you looked back up, Colson was still standing outside, watching you. “I don’t know why I said that. There isn’t a girl in quarantine. Well, I mean, there is, but we wouldn’t not be able to see each other.”

Your head was spinning, trying to make sense of whatever he was saying. He kept talking, “I got nervous and chickened out and then you left and I felt like an idiot.” You looked up to him, confusion evident on your face as he continued on the borderline of rambling, “so I’m just gonna throw this out there and whatever happens, happens.”

You stared at him blankly, not fully processing his words or what was happening.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me? Or, like, whatever kind of date we can pull off here?”

Your eyes went wide in shock, the rollercoaster you had just been on emotionally twisting your mind. You didn’t speak for a few moments, making Colson nervous, but you finally got out a stuttered, “yes.”

He sighed in relief, “god I feel like such a teenager right now.”

You came back to your senses, narrowing your eyes at him, “do you realize the emotional turmoil you just put me through? I feel like I’m crazy!”

He chuckled, moving towards you, and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I know, I’m an asshole. But it was worth it, right?”

“I was literally rethinking my entire life out here,” you pouted, leaning into his touch.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes, “look who’s all Mr. confident now.”

The vibrations of his laugh shook your own body, “well, you said yes. This would be a completely different story if you had said no. Then I would be the one rethinking my entire life.”

You smirked teasingly, “I could always change my mind.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, “shut up.” His lips met yours, one hand reaching up to softly hold your jaw. You melted into the kiss, your arms moving to wrap around his neck loosely.

You pulled away slowly, a smile spread on your face, “this almost makes not being able to sleep worth it.”

Tag list:

@bakerkells @elviablo @iambashfulperson @sunflowerbebe107 @crystalbaby12 @stormrider505 @ticketstomydaydreams @mvrylee @daddyavesxx @pettyvxbes @prettydreamboy

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #colson baker imagine #colson imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker fluff

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makeste · 4 years

Text

some follow-up thoughts on BnHA 285

1. “at that moment...”

you guys. I still can’t get over this. just -- guys. this is Kacchan telling the story.

he’s not the first character to narrate, mind you. characters like Twice, Tomura, Ochako, and Kirishima have all narrated in the past. but it’s always been past-tense narration of their own flashbacks, or else present-tense narration explaining their thoughts (e.g. Twice in chapter 115). Kacchan himself has done present-tense POV narration before. but this isn’t that. this is past-tense narration of an event that’s happening now. this is the future Kacchan narrating the present day Kacchan’s story.

has any other character done that, aside from Deku himself?? am I just crazy overreacting here, lol. idk but either way it’s cool.

2. “...there were no thoughts in my head.”

there was a post yesterday talking about Kacchan’s big moment at the end of this chapter being a little disappointing because of it being an automatic “my body moved on its own” save on Kacchan’s part. the argument was basically that it made the moment less meaningful because of it being a subconscious thing rather than a conscious decision on Katsuki’s part.

but I disagree! for me the “my body moved on its own” is actually way more impactful. and rather than describing it as “subconscious”, I think the word that fits better in this case is instinct. first of all, even though he says there were no thoughts in his head, we know that’s not exactly true, as we can see for ourselves the images that were flashing through his mind. I’m just gonna list them out:

“I’ll even surpass All Might and become the best hero out there.”

“why was it me who put an end to All Might?”

“I made a pledge! I will achieve absolute victory, every time! we’re taking this 4-0, no casualties! the strong don’t settle for anything less!”

“I’m not gonna lose... I can’t afford to stay a loser!”

“you... you looked like you needed saving.”

thoughts about what it means to be a hero. what it used to mean to him, and what it means to him now. thoughts about rescuing others. about saving to win. thoughts about his failures. thoughts about him and Deku. and last but certainly not least, vivid memories of a moment when he needed someone to save him, and Deku was there.

he has these thoughts, but he’s not aware of himself having them. it happens too fast for him to be able to process. but all the same, his body isn’t just moving here of its own accord. it’s simply that in this instance, it’s not thought that’s driving him, but emotion. at the risk of sounding INCREDIBLY CORNY, it’s not his head that makes the decision, but his heart.

and that’s why it’s so meaningful to me. in this moment, it’s not conscious thought that’s driving him, but emotion, instinct, will. he sees the attack, sees that it will hit Deku, and he just reacts. something at the core of him screams that he can’t let it happen, and he just moves. and to me that’s even more powerful than him consciously doing the math and making the sacrifice play (though I’m not saying I wouldn’t have enjoyed that as well). specifically because it’s a moment where he doesn’t have a chance to think or analyze or panic or doubt. it’s a moment that shows us who he is when you strip all that away from him. he doesn’t have time to get in his own head; he doesn’t have time to feel any fear; he doesn’t have time to think about himself at all. he takes himself out of the equation. he sees that Deku needs saving. and the rest is pure instinct. it’s the most heroic he has ever been.

3. “even if One for All is a cursed power... at the same time, it’s...”

I was wondering what was up with this part, lol. Caleb’s translation makes it much clearer; to Katsuki, OFA is both a blessing and a curse right now. the “cursed” part is becoming more and more obvious with each new chapter. it’s putting Deku in danger; it’s made him a target; it’s destroying his body; and there are other, darker and more dangerous factors also at play that Katsuki doesn’t even know about but fears nonetheless. I honestly feel like he’s been anxious about all of this ever since he learned Deku and All Might’s secret. it’s been on the back of his mind for months now.

but at the same time, OFA is what brought him and Deku back together. sorry, am I getting cheesy again lol. BUT IT’S TRUE THOUGH. All Might’s quirk gave Deku the chance to compete with Katsuki on equal footing for the first time. it forced Katsuki to acknowledge him. and both he and Deku have grown so much on so many levels over the course of this past year, and all of it stems back to Deku receiving this quirk.

and just... fucking look at these flashbacks, though.

unless I’m reading this completely wrong, the gist of this scene is that Katsuki is grateful for OFA because it’s what lifted Deku up and allowed him to try and achieve his dream. the scenes of Katsuki bullying Deku and burning his notebook are contrasted with the scenes of Deku standing up to him and vowing that he won’t be his punching bag anymore. Deku before OFA, contrasted with Deku after. I get the sense that Katsuki feels a lot of gratitude for fate stepping in and working to undo his mistakes before he himself could finally get his act together and start atoning for them as well.

and then that last page is really interesting, because it’s like the “blessing” and “curse” parts of OFA all together in a single image. Deku is going all out against Tomura, giving everything he has, ready to sacrifice himself if that’s what it takes. there’s so much strength there (even though he looks completely insane lmao), but at the same time it’s literally killing him. mixed feelings, for sure.

4. “Katsuki Bakugou: Rising”

last but not least! so there’s quite a bit of discussion going on about what exactly a “rising” chapter actually consists of, lol. Momo is the only other character who’s had one before (at least if you don’t count the movies, and the movie spin-offs). so it’s hard to say for sure with such a small sample size, but if I had to guess, I’d say the “rising” chapters are about characters coming into their own as heroes. Momo’s chapter was all about her letting go of her insecurities and starting to believe in herself. and this chapter was all about Katsuki letting go of both his fear and his pride, and just getting the job done.

in the span of a single chapter, he lets go of every single thing that’s ever held him back. I felt like we really got a glimpse of the hero he can -- and hopefully will, if future!Kacchan the Narrator is anything to go by -- become. he was amazing. he took charge; he came up with a plan that absolutely would have worked if Tomura wasn’t LITERALLY FUCKING UNKILLABLE LULZ; and when that failed, he didn’t hesitate to make the sacrifice play. Bakugou fucking Katsuki, He of Zero Rescue Points, made the fucking sacrifice play. do you even know how much I love that you guys. I love it so, so much.

but of course, when you make the sacrifice play it tends to have the not-so-surprising side effect of getting you ALL FUCKED UP afterwards. so perhaps a less ideal outcome than he would have hoped. but he still did good. and he stopped Deku from getting murdered, and so now hopefully Deku and Shouto can mount some sort of aggrieved revenge counterattack to do their fallen friend justice. time for my other two sons to get to work! maybe Shouto can make Deku some new arms out of ice.

#bnha 285 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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allforyoumylovely · 3 years

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emma, hiii. you're taking requests, like that's the best thing ever hihi. idk why but I've had this image in my head of sander resting against robbe's chest as he robbe reads to him, while he runs a hand through sander's hair. maybe sander is coming out of a bad episode or maybe they're just relaxing on a sunday, but yeah.... maybe something like that hihi. much love to you emma <333

Cille, this was an absolute dream prompt for me, my gosh 💘 📖 I went off on a few tangents but hopefully that’s okay sfhjg. Walk, shower, read. It’s their little routine 🧡 Thank you for sending me this. Love you! Btw let me know if I should upload these on ao3 or if they should just be little tumblr exclusives?

Sander always knows when he’s fading away, when he’s turning into a shell of himself. But he never knows when he’s going to fall asleep at the wheel. Until it’s too late, until he crashes. And that’s when he loses all sense of who he is, of what he enjoys or how he likes to dress or what his voice normally sounds like. Sometimes the only indication of time passing is his alarms that tell him to take his meds and eat at set times.

Although he doesn’t reach the point anymore where he wants to be physically erased – he knows that this seemingly perpetual state of sadness isn’t definitive no matter how much his brain tries to convince him otherwise – some days all he can drag himself out of bed for is a cup of coffee and a cigarette or a few slices of tangerine, the scent reminding him of his boy, his college boy. He’ll crack open a window in the living room and curl up against the cushions in the window-seat, the hood of his black hoodie over his head, and there he’ll try weaving his way through the weeds and the tangled neurons in his thunder-stained mind to anything resembling an actual thought with a pinch of substance.

For the days where he’s more clear-headed his mama puts up little post-its around the house with simple tasks for him to do to help him feel useful and necessary. And in the mornings whenever Robbe has spent the night, Sander finds little notes from him too; there’ll be an I love you on his pillow, an I’m so glad you exist placed on his desk and I’m bringing you flowers later <3 hanging on his door. The first time Sander doesn’t think Robbe actually means the one with the flowers, but when he buzzes him in later that afternoon, the first thing he sees is a bouquet of light pink lilies cradled in his arm against the autumn brown of his jacket, the hues so lovely and gentle, just like Robbe. It’s more than Sander’s frail mind can take, and Robbe wipes away the thin streams of warm tears with his sweater paws, and they laugh softly when it only makes it worse.

Since before Robbe, Sander has been figuring out what soothes him, what makes him feel more at ease, what helps him settle back into his body and bones when coming out of a bad episode, and he has slowly built up a list of things that assist in bringing the puzzle pieces of his mind back into place.

Walks

Sander’s aunt has a golden retriever, Bella, who goes on a little holiday at Sander’s when he’s down and spends most of his days at home. In the mornings she’ll pad over the hard-wood floor to his bed and nuzzle her nose against Sander’s face until he wakes up, waiting patiently for her walk. It’s easier for Sander to get out of bed knowing there’s someone relying on him for their needs and wellbeing. He’ll take her and himself on a walk in the fog-blue mornings when the morning traffic is yet to come, and then again in the early evening when it’s still light out but the streets are quieter, enough for him to give his brain some stimulation when it feels like it has slowed to a halt. The sound of his boots against the sidewalk reminds him that he’s still part of the world, that he hasn’t completely vanished after all.

Sometimes he goes by himself, just listening to and observing the city around him with pale eyes. Other times Robbe goes with him, sleepy-eyed and rosy-cheeked in the mornings, relaxed and loose-limbed at night. He doesn’t curl his hand around Sander’s but lets it hang by his side with their pinkies brushing, open and inviting, for Sander to take if and when he feels like it. Sander will thread their fingers together always, but he loves Robbe for giving him a choice and never forcing anything on him.

Often, they find a bench somewhere, in a park or at the river, a place that isn’t too crowded but still has plenty of things for Sander to rest his eyes on. It’s only the middle of September but some leaves are already falling, lying yellow and limp on the ground, and Robbe notices Sander’s wondering expression.

“It’s probably because the weather has been so dry; they’re shedding their leaves to conserve water and energy,” he says.

And Sander instinctively inches closer, a small smile on his lips. “Clever you.”

Bella sits by Sander’s legs with her head propped on his knee, her deep brown eyes alternatively scanning the place and glancing up at him, sensing his sadness. She’s calm and curious and cuddly, reminding him of a certain someone. When Sander tells him, Robbe breathes out a little giggle, making Sander gaze at him more deeply than he has in days, at the silky curls around his ears and the blinking hoop and the crescent dimples curved into his cheeks, and he’ll quietly rest his head on the slope of Robbe’s shoulder, a few tiny clearings of blue sky starting to appear in his overcast mind.

Showers

Back at home, he and Robbe linger in the hallway for a bit, their hair messy, the scent of fresh air in their clothes. When Robbe says that his green, sparkly eyes are coming back, Sander curls a few fingers in the front of Robbe’s shirt, feeling the firm plane of his stomach against his knuckles as he mumbles, “Shower.”

Some nights Sander can’t stand the mere idea of catching glimpses of himself in the mirror; hates the way he looks with his violet circles and dull, greasy hair. So Robbe will light a couple of candles, and they’ll undress in the dim orange glow and quietly get under the shower spray. And there, with Sander’s forehead resting against his own, Robbe will wash Sander’s hair and tell him that he looks beautiful in this light, while his fingers work in small, bone-melting circles. The near orgasmic pressure on his scalp helps reconnecting Sander’s mind and body, making him press up tightly against Robbe, finally diving back into the swirling, velvety heat that licks into every cell of his being.

“Thank you for… For staying with me,” he says between hushed breaths and light kisses. It falls clumsy from his lips, sounding graver than he intends it to, but Robbe, the angel soul that he is, moulds his answer into five words of pure reassurance that protectively wrap themselves around Sander’s heart.

“I’m going to marry you.”

Sander doesn’t cry. But he’s very damn close.

Reading

This one begins one night maybe a year into their relationship. While Robbe brushes his teeth, Sander wanders Robbe’s room, taking in the familiarity of it, running a hand over the forest green sweatshirt draped over his chair, trailing the edge of his desk with a few fingertips. When he reaches his set of shelves, he sees it wedged in between a plant and some school supplies: a book of bedtime stories filled with beautiful watercolour illustrations, the cover a painting of a dark blue night sky with a full moon reading for her stars over a little sleeping village. The spine is threadbare, seemingly from the countless times of being opened and closed. As he flicks through the crinkled pages, soft lips press against the nape of his neck and the back of his shoulder.

“Are you snooping around my room?” Robbe mumbles.

“Mhm,” Sander hums. “What’s this book?”

Twining his arms around Sander’s stomach from behind Robbe says, “When I was little my mama used to read these stories aloud for me at night. She was looking through some stuff the other day and found it again.” He hooks his chin over Sander’s shoulder. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Very.” Sander glances back at Robbe with a squeezing feeling in his chest. “Did it make you fall asleep?”

Robbe smiles. “Every time.”

Sander drops his gaze back to the book, asking quietly, “Will you read for me?”

And Robbe brushes a “Sure” and a kiss behind his ear, tugging him along to the bed.

It’s something they do now: Robbe reading aloud for Sander whenever he feels low and doesn’t have many words to offer. Sander then tucks his head under Robbe’s chin, and Robbe tangles his fingers in his freshly washed and citrussy-smelling hair, scraping over his scalp in endless, soothing motions. Safe and sound, Sander listens to stories about naughty star-children, wizards flying about in rolled up rugs, and a Goodnight-ship with live stuffed animals as passengers. They flow over him like dripping streams of honey, Robbe’s voice lovely and wonderful and a little sleepy, and Sander tries so desperately to make his foggy brain hold onto the words.

Sometimes when the night air is cooling Sander’s room and Robbe feels a little cold, he’ll wear a thick hoodie to bed. Sander loves the scent and the comfy feel of the well-worn fabric under his palm, but sometimes he gets a little frowny and frustrated at having to fumble for his small waist; so Robbe pulls it off despite the goosebumps rising on his skin, and Sander presses his ear to his heart and tightens his hold around him, sharing his body heat his only job while he listens to stories from when Robbe was little. And Sander feels little too; but it’s something he allows himself. A few years ago, he didn’t dare dream that he’d ever have this with someone; didn’t think he even had this level of softness in himself.

But here he is. Here they are.

He has never wanted to be someone’s more than he does Robbe’s; it’s so clear that he belongs to him. And it’s crazy, Sander thinks. Because no matter how feeble and numb around the edges his body and mind feel, his love for Robbe is always right there in a molten pond at the core of him, and Sander could cry at the fact that his brain always lets him have that.

In the days following, when he finds that he has enough energy to send Robbe little dorky, flirty texts throughout the day, such as Bella woke me up with wet, sloppy kisses. Wish it was you or when you’re in the mood for a snack but you’re not there💔 with an attached photo of himself pouting at the open fridge, he knows that the darkness in his chest and brain is releasing its hold and taking flight.

#drabbles 💗#wtfock #cille 💗

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Afraid to Love Again

Lady Tamayo x They/Them Reader

A/N: Heyooo. Tamayo is great, but I kind of struggle writing her. I tried anyway though because I love this demon doctor lady. Be prepared for sickness, death and a dash of angst. There is a happy ending though (my delicate heart wouldn’t be able to take it if there wasn’t)! Also, it’s kinda a reincarnation/ soulmate kind of deal but I didn’t really develop that angle too much. And I can’t remember how much of Tamayo’s backstory was discussed in the manga vs the anime so just a heads up on that. It’s not super spoilery or anything (I think you could guess how that went) but just in case I thought I’d let y’all know. Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 6,939

The village had fallen on hard times. Work was scarce, poverty and disease was rampant. Over the past several months, (Y/n) had seen many family, friends and neighbors fall ill and never rise again. Those who had the strength to leave did, and many offered passage to (Y/n) as well. Though they were thankful for the offers of sanctuary, (Y/n) remained in their family home. They converted it into a makeshift hospital and began caring for the people who no longer could take care of themselves.

There were no doctors in their little village. The nearest, (Y/n) heard was days away. They couldn’t risk leaving all of these sick souls without someone to look after them, they would surely be dead before they could get back. If these people, their people, were going to die either way, they wanted to be there to make the process as easy as possible.

(Y/n) had seen more death and sickness than most. They had almost forgotten what it was like to truly live.

“(Y/n)-san?”

(Y/n) paused their movements wiping sweat from an old woman’s body, and turned to the cot behind them.

“Yes, Ichiro?” (Y/n) smiled kindly, though their eyes reflected just how tired they were.

“I don’t feel so good.” The young child coughed harshly.

“I know, I’m sorry. Let me get you some water.”

(Y/n) quickly finished bathing the old woman left behind by her family and tucked her in. (Y/n) suspected she’d be dead before the next morning. The rattling, gurgling breaths were just about the only sign that she wasn’t already gone.

(Y/n) put the rag in a basket to be washed for later, then they retrieved some water for the sick boy. They made their way through the sea of moaning people waiting for death, checking in with the more lucid villagers as they went.

(Y/n) was caring for thirty-seven people in their ancestral home and they did so alone. Any healthy people that remained in the village avoided the plagued building at all costs. It was hard work, keeping all of these people as comfortable as they could. But compared to the seventy people they had started with during those first weeks of winter, it was much more manageable.

“Here you go, drink as much as you can.” (Y/n) spoke softly, helping the boy sit up to receive it.

He took a few sips before spluttering, excess water slipped down his chin. He sniffed and held his throat, curling back into himself.

(Y/n) skimmed their hand over Ichiro’s burning forehead and watched him struggle forlornly.

How much longer would they all have to live in this hell?

(Y/n)’s question, however rhetoric, was answered the next night.

(Y/n) groaned between blinks of sleep. They had fallen asleep while standing, again. The noise that so rudely awakened them sounded like someone was rattling the door of the main entrance.

Who could it be at this hour? Weary travelers? Surely they had a fair choice in vacated homes already. No matter, (Y/n) figured once they caught the full blast of the smell of death permeating the air they would retreat quickly enough.

They approached the door sliding it open with little preamble. Even if the smell wasn’t enough to deter the unwanted guests, surely the look of utter despair (Y/n) wore would scare them off.

“I’m afraid if you came searching for lodging, I cannot take you.” (Y/n) spoke, barely perceiving the two people before them. “There are, however, many empty homes you have passed by that you are more than welcome to help yourselves too. I would recommend to be on your way quickly, sickness is rampant here.”

“That is why I’ve come.”

(Y/n) allowed themself a puzzled face, finally looking at the woman and her stern looking companion more carefully, taking in the delicate beauty of the stranger before them.

“I’m a doctor.”

(Y/n) suddenly felt more awake, staring at the woman with unrestrained hope and awe.

“Really?” They whispered, as if afraid this was all just a dream or a sleep deprived hallucination.

“Are you doubting her?” The young man spoke up sharply.

“Yushirou.” The woman warned, leveling a look at her companion that immediately shut him back up. The woman turned back to (Y/n). The soft, empathetic look in her eyes made (Y/n) feel weak. The softness of her voice as she addressed (Y/n) again made them feel fragile, all the while they shook like a leaf.

“Allow me to evaluate your sick. I’ll do everything I can.”

“Please,” (Y/n) nodded, making room for the pair to enter their home turned sick ward, “even in my wildest dreams I never thought anyone would actually come for us. I’ve tried so hard to save these people, but I am no doctor.”

The woman came forward, gingerly taking (Y/n)’s shaking hands in her own. (Y/n) noted how cold they were but still held on to the offered hands like a lifeline.

“You’ve done well with what you have, your kindness is immeasurable. Sleep now, and leave the rest to us.”

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, suddenly feeling as if they were about to collapse. Just hearing those words was like a weight was dropped from their aching shoulders. The woman caught them before they could fall, the young man, Yushirou, let out a strangled noise of displeasure but stayed back.

“You may call me Tamayo.”

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was still dark. They assumed they must have only slept a few hours. At least, they thought so until they noticed a crack of sunlight shining between the curtains.

(Y/n) held their head in their hands and grimaced. They couldn’t even remember the last time they had slept in their own bed before now. They didn’t even remember how they got there. They sighed. It didn’t matter, they needed to get up and see how everyone was doing. They had already been negligent long enough.

(Y/n) noticed as they walked through the halls that all the curtains were drawn. They found it odd. The curtains were always kept open regularly, (Y/n) couldn’t be bothered to deal with such minor details in the grand scheme of things and they wouldn’t start now. They left the curtains closed and continued on their way.

“What are you doing up already?”

(Y/n) turned, shocked at the clear and present voice. It had been a long time since they heard someone who sounded so strong and healthy. They turned and saw a grumpy boy staring sternly at them.

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, holding on to the wall as a dizzy spell passed through them.

“Tsk, get back to bed. You clearly aren’t well.” The boy said.

“Yushirou? Did you find any— oh, awake already? You should rest more.” (Y/n) turned back down the opposite side of the hall and saw the woman who had been in their restless dreams the night before.

“You’re... You’re real?” (Y/n) asked, mostly to themself, peering at the woman with blurred vision.

“Yes,” Tamayo smiled sadly approaching (Y/n), “you don’t need to worry anymore. Yushirou and I are taking care of things. Please, rest.”

“No, wait. I want to help. Please, teach me everything you know.” (Y/n) pleaded, sliding to their knees as they gave out.

“Like you could help anyone like this. You were already way past your limits before. Stay out of Lady Tamayo’s way.” Yushirou stated harshly.

“No need to speak in such a cold manner, Yushirou.” Tamayo scolded lightly before coming to kneel at (Y/n)’s side, rubbing their back. “How about this, you rest until you are back to full health, then you may observe my work. Is this acceptable?”

(Y/n) frowned, but nodded in agreement. “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course. Yushirou, help our host back to their room please.”

Yushirou readily complied, easily picking (Y/n) up and retiring them to their room.

“And stay there this time.” He grumbled.

(Y/n) fell back asleep almost immediately and when they awoke once more, another day had come and gone. They felt a lot better, just hungry. So they got up and made their way back down the hall to see what was left of the foraging they had done a couple days prior. Hopefully, Tamayo and Yushirou were well versed in the plant life of the area and got some more.

They stopped at the sick ward first to see how things were going. Yushirou wasn’t around, but (Y/n) saw Tamayo whispering to a sick man. Whatever she had asked him, he shook his head looking a tad uncomfortable. (Y/n) moved closer and Tamayo turned, like she could sense their presence and offered a tight smile.

“You look much better. How are you feeling?” She asked.

“As good as I can be. How have things been going here?”

“I apologize, we lost three while you slept.” Tamayo informed solemnly.

“You don’t need to apologize. It means the world to us that you care to try at all.” (Y/n) replied, sincerely. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t have very much in value. Not many people would work like this for no incentive.”

“You must be one of them.” Tamayo’s eyes softened, “you could have left, but you stayed with them. You have a kind heart.”

“...Thank you.” (Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck and looked away, feeling heat gather around their cheeks.

“I just realized I don’t know your name.” Tamayo said. “How rude of me to not ask sooner.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t exactly been conscious most of the time you’ve been here.” (Y/n) let out a dry laugh, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Just (Y/n)?” Tamayo blinked.

“If I can call you Tamayo, please call me (Y/n).”

“Very well, (Y/n).” Tamayo smiled. “I have a few more people to visit with at the moment. Would you care to observe?”

“Yes, I—“ (Y/n) stomach growled before they could finish speaking, they held onto their gut, abashed.

“Oh, you haven’t eaten? You should have told me, we must keep you healthy. Come,” Tamayo guided (Y/n) to their own kitchen where Yushirou was watching over a boiling pot.

“Yushirou, when the broth is done give (Y/n) a bowl please.” Tamayo asked.

“I just finished it Tamayo-sama. I’ll get on it right now.”

(Y/n) slurped down the broth with vigor and thanked Yushirou profusely, making him blush and turn away. They fed the rest to the sick. (Y/n) had asked Tamayo and Yushirou why they hadn’t taken any for themselves to which Tamayo replied that they had already eaten not long before (Y/n) had woken up.

After a long day of absorbing any teachings Tamayo had to share, (Y/n) was sent back to bed for the night much to their dismay.

“But, I slept just recently! I can still help!” (Y/n) frowned as Tamayo ushered them back to their room.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but humans are supposed to go to sleep every night. Yushirou and I have everything under control.” Tamayo assured.

“You guys need to sleep sometime too you know.” (Y/n) retorted.

“Don’t worry, we rest in turns.” Tamayo spoke. (Y/n) couldn’t explain why, but they felt as if Tamayo was being a bit deceitful with her words. However, they let her be for now and went back to bed without anymore fuss.

When (Y/n) woke up the next morning, they were surprised to see that some of the people looked much better already. Of course they were still quite ill, but (Y/n) felt hopeful for them. Unfortunately, the man, Jiro, that (Y/n) had seen Tamayo talking to the day before had died sometime in the night. A few others seemed to be not far behind him in that aspect. Still, (Y/n) worked hard and learned everything they could about the medicines Tamayo crafted and how to distribute them.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) asked one night before being sent back to bed by the motherly woman.

“Yes, (Y/n)?”

“I was just wondering... what made you come through here? Our village hasn’t had outsiders since last spring, if even then.”

“I was simply looking for somewhere quiet to practice my craft. We were passing through when we realized this village was a little, too quite.”

“Mm, yeah... well, you’re welcome to stay. You can even live here forever if you want, I don’t mind.”

“That’s a rather, bold, offer.” Tamayo replied after a short pause. It was then that (Y/n) realized how that may have sounded and got embarrassed.

“I mean, because— sorry if that was weird. I just, it’s nice having you and Yushirou-san around. I can tell your both good people, you know? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“You didn’t,” Tamayo had a far away look in her eye, but she still reached out to pat (Y/n)’s arm in a gesture of kindness, “I appreciate the sentiment, but it will be best for all of we take our leave once we are done here.”

“I see,” (Y/n) tried to keep the disappointment out of their voice, “we’ll just have to make the most out of the time we do have.”

“I suppose. If that is what you wish.”

Over the next several days (Y/n) noticed several odd little behaviors and happenings in their home. They went out one morning to gather certain plants and herbs for Tamayo and when the came back, they noticed a piece of paper with a strange symbol drawn on it that they had never seen before. They questioned Yushirou about it since he was the first one they saw upon returning.

Yushirou scoffed, saying it was a healing symbol and told (Y/n) under no uncertain terms that they shouldn’t look at it, much less even think about touching it. (Y/n) promised him they wouldn’t and backed away into the kitchen with their basket of herbs and a bead of nervous sweat running down their chin.

They also noticed how neither Tamayo or Yushirou appeared to ever eat or sleep when they were around. Even when (Y/n) made something as light as tea, they were refused by both travelers.

Another oddity was that Yushirou always yelled at (Y/n) for peeking through curtains to see if the sun was shining. For some reason, he and Lady Tamayo did not seem to be fond of the sun. Perhaps they were just light sensitive or burned easily. They both seemed to be very fair skinned. (Y/n) was often sent off alone on errands during the day as well. They didn’t complain though, they were happy to help in anyway they could, even if the doctor and her assistant were a bit odd.

Stranger yet was how Tamayo would speak so softly to the deathly ill who showed no signs of recovery. The soft lilt of Tamayo’s voice was not what (Y/n) found strange, they were quite enamored with its dreamlike quality. It was the soft urgency in which she spoke so quietly that always left (Y/n) curious. They only witnessed such events a few times, but they always had ended with the recipient of Tamayo’s whispered words dead mere hours later.

(Y/n) didn’t fault Tamayo for such coincidences. The good doctor probably knew who would die the second she entered the room that first night. (Y/n) figured she was just giving them some form of solace in their final hours to help them find peace.

It was one night where (Y/n) had woken up with a painful thirst for water when things became... complicated.

“We need to think about leaving soon, Tamayo-sama.” (Y/n) heard Yushirou speak as they neared the kitchen. “You have already gone past your limit of resistance by a few days.”

“I’ll be fine, Yushirou. Soon there will be a good handful of people who will have their strength back. (Y/n) still has much I can teach them... we mustn’t leave just yet.”

“The blood here is diseased and of poor quality, even if you could get some without anyone noticing, it would not be filling enough to do much good. Please my lady, let’s keep moving to the next city like we planned.” Yushirou stressed.

“I can’t Yushirou, not when these people need help that only I can adequately provide. I can go a little longer...”

(Y/n) stood still in the hall as they listened in. Tamayo needed blood? For what, a transfusion? They took a deep breath and entered the room.

“If you need blood—“

The air was suddenly knocked out of their lungs as Yushirou came forward with inhumane speed and knocked (Y/n) hard into the back wall.

“Spying? Why couldn’t you just keep your nose away from where it doesn’t belong!” Yushirou hissed, tightening his hold.

“Yushirou!” Tamayo warned, coming up behind him, willing him to loosen his grip, “don’t hurt them.”

Yushirou clicked his tongue in agitation and allowed (Y/n) to slide to the ground in a fit of gasps and coughs.

Tamayo knelt beside them and checked them over with a worried frown.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). You aren’t hurt are you?”

(Y/n) took a moment to catch their breath before answering, “I, I don’t think so.” They coughed again, “Damn Yushirou, you are a lot tougher than you look!”

Yushirou growled, but upon seeing the stern look Tamayo leveled at him he backed off and looked away, almost sheepish. He looked more like a scolded guard dog than anything else.

Tamayo turned back to (Y/n) looking forlorn, “How much did you hear?”

“You need blood or you’ll have to leave.” (Y/n) answered honestly, “If you need blood, you can have some of mine... I don’t know if it’s the right type, but if it’s what you need, I’ll be more than happy to give it to you.”

Tamayo shook her head. “(Y/n), I don’t think you understand what you are offering.”

“It’s my blood, I’ll offer it to whomever I please,” (Y/n) staggered back to their feet, “and I want to give it to you. You don’t even need to tell me what for.”

Tamayo scanned (Y/n)’s face before closing her eyes and turning away. She walked towards a nearby window and pulled open the curtains, allowing the full moonlight to glide over her skin and flowery kimono. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, clearing their throat they turned to look out the window as well. The young doctor was bewitchingly beautiful and (Y/n) could not risk missing whatever Tamayo had to say.

“Before you commit yourself to this decision, you must first understand what I am.”

“Tamayo-sama!” Yushirou called out only for Tamayo to raise her hand to call for his silence.

“...What you are?” (Y/n) cocked their head to the side, confused. “You look like a normal person to me.”

“That’s what makes a lot of my kind so dangerous.” Tamayo sighed, her eyes still trained on the moon, “Monsters in human skin. Although there are many who wear their sin in grotesque and prideful ways.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but it’s not like all humans are great people either. Like how Ichiro’s parents left him here after he got sick and still haven’t wrote back like they promised. Even if you are different from humans as you are claiming, I can’t say that your any worse than the people I know. In fact, I’d say you’re better than a lot of the people I know.” (Y/n) tried to explain.

“I’ve done more evil and unforgivable deeds in my time on this earth than I could ever atone for. Even as I work to do better I know I can’t take back all the harm I’ve caused.” Tamayo shook her head and turned to (Y/n), cupping their cheek with a chilled hand, “I’ve aided in more atrocities than you have years on this planet. Do not let what you’ve seen of me in these short weeks fool you.”

“Okay, so you’re committed to believing your evil and irredeemable, is that right?” (Y/n) grasped the hand at their cheek, holding it in their own, “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to believe that. I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’re obviously torn up about it. I can’t say someone who was pure evil would think twice about that.”

Tamayo pulled her hand away, cradling it close to her chest and turned back to the window with a slight tremble before whispering, “I’m a demon, (Y/n). I’ve turned Yushirou as well. We get by on blood these days but before then, I have killed and devoured many humans in five hundred years. Tell me now you don’t find me repulsive.”

“I don’t!” (Y/n) spoke immediately and resolutely, surprising the demon doctor and Yushirou to an extent with their resolve. “I don’t know who you were or what you were going through back then, but the Tamayo I know is kind enough to stop in some nowhere village to take care of sick people she doesn't even know while expecting nothing in return. I can’t say my word means very much in the grand scheme of things, but I don’t think you’re a monster. Monsters don’t mourn over their victims. I think you’re a good person Tamayo, worthy of my blood if you’ll just let me give it to you.”

The determined look on (Y/n)’s face made Tamayo feel as if she’d seen a specter from her past. She felt tempted to reach out again but held back, afraid of what, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell. (Y/n) took her silence as a hesitation and insisted once more, bearing their arm up to the crook of their elbow.

“Take what you two need. Please don’t make me try to do it myself.”

Tamayo closed the distance between them quickly and held (Y/n)’s arms as if she was frightened of them doing something dangerous to themself.

“Yushirou, please get the phlebotomy kit from the travel bag.” Tamayo asked softly.

Yushirou nodded. Though he was not particularly fond of how close his master was to the human, he was glad she would finally be getting some sustenance.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” (Y/n) tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“You can revoke your offer whenever you wish. If you want us to leave you may ask us to do so without fear. I promise you.” Tamayo said, nothing but sincerity in her tone.

“I’ll keep it in mind, but I’ll do no such thing. Now, I hope you don’t think it rude of me for drinking some water myself first before I get you your... beverage. It was the whole reason I was walking through in the first place.” (Y/n) said as they walked across the kitchen and fetched some water.

Tamayo’s lips curled ever so slightly into a wisp of a smile aimed at (Y/n)’s back as they drank.

***

Now that (Y/n) knew they were sheltering a couple of demons, the strange behaviors they had noted prior made more sense and they took them in stride. They loved teasing Tamayo and Yushirou about the quality of their blood. Often making Tamayo flush faintly or earn a quick jab to the chest from Yushirou that was probably harder than he should be hitting a fragile human.

They kept the knowledge of their species to themself, not wanting to stress the sick or endanger Tamayo in some way. They had since learned that the strange papers that were littered around their house were actually some kind of warding seal that Yushirou could produce to keep their presence hidden to outsiders. If all that Tamayo had told (Y/n) about the realness of demons held true, they were surprised that they hadn’t encountered them sooner. Perhaps the constant scent of death and decay had kept them at bay, figuring there was no fresh flesh to tear into.

However, that was all changing now. Of the twenty-six remaining villagers, twenty-five were making marked improvements in their health and many could even walk about the the house without being too fatigued. (Y/n) had smiled so brightly when they saw Ichiro slide out of bed one morning that they had brought a hand to their mouth in delighted shock. They couldn’t remember the last time they had smiled so earnestly. Tamayo had surprised them, taking their hand away from their mouth.

“Let your joy shine through. The light you have to share could lift anyone’s spirits. I know it has lifted mine, so don’t hide please.” Tamayo said kindly.

“Right!” (Y/n) laughed sheepishly as heat crawled up their neck. They were sure Tamayo could hear the blood rushing through their system but thankfully she was polite enough not to comment on it.

“(Y/n)-san, can you take us outside?” One of the other young children asked.

“Mhm, only for a little bit though. Don’t want to over do it now, do we?”

“Tamayo-san, do you want to come?” Ichiro asked hopefully.

“Tamayo-san is very busy. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to read you a story later. Won’t that be nice?” (Y/n) smiled, saving Tamayo from having to come up with an excuse to avoid the brightness of the spring sun.

A small group gathered and slowly made their way outside, blinking hard against the bright sun stinging their eyes. Still, they felt overjoyed. Many never thought they’d make it through the winter so they took in the scenery before them with a range of emotions.

When they returned, (Y/n) helped everyone get settled again. As they did, they noticed Tamayo speaking quietly to the young woman in the corner cot. She had been fighting against the illness for a particularly long time and had been getting worse as of late. Keeping the interaction in mind, (Y/n) made their way to the kitchens to see if Yushirou needed any assistance with lunch. Now that everyone’s appetites were returning they had to produce a bit more than they had in the past.

When everyone was fed, (Y/n) had managed to find Tamayo alone. The doctor had found the old ceremonial tea room and enjoyed the space, so naturally (Y/n) had given her permission to do with it what she liked. (Y/n) knocked and announced themself, waiting for Tamayo to beckon them in before entering.

“(Y/n), does someone need something? Do you need something?” Tamayo asked, momentarily pausing in her herb crushing to look up at them.

“No, everything seems fine right now. Although Kotori does not appear to be doing well at all.” (Y/n) sighed, kneeling across from Tamayo. “...She’s going to die, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Tamayo nodded solemnly. “I gave her medicine to dull her pain, but she’ll be dead before the next morning. There is nothing more I can do for her.”

“What do you tell them?” (Y/n) asked, “I mean, I’ve noticed how you talk to the dying ones before they pass. What do you say to someone who’s dying like that?”

“Many times they already know the end is near and have accepted it. Many are relieved to know the fighting and pain is almost over for them. What I offer them... is a second chance at life.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed in concentration before shooting back open. “You offered to turn them into demons, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be, only if you don’t have someone to look out for you and remind you who you are. I would be there for them as I was for Yushirou of course.” Tamayo assured, though she looked guilty. “You must think it cruel of me to offer this cursed existence.”

“Not at all. Many people fear death. I can especially understand it from a perspective of those who have yet to truly live. As long as they can remember their humanity, I don’t have a problem with it.” (Y/n) smiled, “I’m sure with you to guide them they would be just fine.”

Tamayo blushed and got back to work, grinding her herbs.

“Though I’m surprised, has no one taken up your offer since you got here?”

Tamayo shook her head, but a small smile pulled at her lips, “No. I’m content with their choices though. I think they were all very brave choosing to face the unknown.”

“Speaking of unknown,” (Y/n) mumbled between their fingers as they watched Tamayo carefully scoop her powder into a jar before moving on to the next herb. “Everyone will be more or less back to full health soon... are you still planning on leaving?”

“(Y/n), we’ve already discussed this,” Tamayo frowned, “I was never meant to stay here.”

“But you could.” (Y/n) said, an almost frantic waver in their voice, “you taught me a lot about medicine and how to be a physician, but you’ve quite literally have hundreds of years more experience than I do. Not to mention everyone here loves you, I love you—“ (Y/n) tried to shut themself up but it was too late. As made evident by the roundness of Tamayo’s eyes.

“Oh (Y/n), I’m sorry.” Tamayo said, the pestle held in between her fingers shook.

“Don’t be sorry, just, stay?” (Y/n) stuttered. “You can forget the last part if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“This just further proves that I mustn’t be here.” Tamayo put the pestle down and covered her eyes with her hands.

(Y/n)’s heart ached so much they felt compelled to rub the the spot in an attempt to soothe it. “Is the idea of me loving you really that awful?” They asked, a watery chuckle falling from their lips.

“(Y/n), it’s not that simple.” Tamayo tried to explain, but (Y/n) was already getting up and heading out of the room.

“It’s fine. I’ll try to stay out of your way. Stick around a bit longer for the sake of the village is all I ask.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for an answer. They went to their room and felt numb the rest of the day.

They were jostled out of their upset thoughts by the sound of pounding feet drawing closer and before they could react any further, Yushirou barged in practically foaming at the mouth. (Y/n) was not intimidated by the display however.

“Would it kill you to knock?”

“What have you done to upset Tamayo-sama?” He seethed, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“I’ve momentarily burdened her with my feelings. Don’t worry, once you get on the road again I’m sure she’ll feel much better. And you’ll have her all to yourself again, you must be thrilled.” (Y/n) bitterly informed.

“Don’t speak as if this is no large matter, you’ve left Tamayo-sama very distraught! What did you do? Why was she crying?”

“Crying?” (Y/n) asked, the information chilled them like a sudden torrential rainfall.

“Yes! Now what did you say to her you mongrel? Spit it out!” Yushirou growled, grabbing at the neck of (Y/n)’s clothing to shake them around a bit.

“I kinda... told her I loved her?”

“You what?!” Yushirou bellowed with rage and envy befitting a rival.

“I’m pretty sure you heard me the first time.” (Y/n) still had the gall to tease the demon knowing full well he could think of ten different ways to kill them with one hand tied behind his back.

“You idiot! Don’t you know what she’s been through? And you just think you can say such things and be on your merry way? Honestly, a goddess like her should not have to shed tears for such insolence!”

“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) grunted. The hold Yushirou had them in was very uncomfortable.

“If I tell you, you must never bring this up to Tamayo-sama, and you will apologize right away for your unsavory actions. Do you understand?”

“...yes.” (Y/n) nodded tentatively. Yushirou let go of them and they rubbed at their tender flesh where he had dug in.

“Tamayo-sama was ill once as well,” Yushirou began, observing the books (Y/n) had strewn around the room with a bit of disdain for the mess, “when she was human, she was desperately searching for a cure that would save her from an agonizing death. Then, as fate would have it, one day she met a man who promised her a cure for her ailment. What that man did to her turned her into a demon. It was true that Tamayo-sama was freed from the pains of her illness, but at the cost of everything she held dear. For you see, the man had not explained what she would become and with no way to control herself, she had killed and devoured her husband and children.” Yushirou crossed his arms tightly, “Do you understand now? Can you imagine what that must have been like?”

“I had no idea.” (Y/n) looked down at their feet.

“Yeah, then you come in and— argh! What are you still hanging around for? Go apologize already! You’ve already waited the daylight away, get moving!”

“Okay, I’m going! I’m going!” (Y/n) batted the angry demon away and jogged down the hall. They checked every room until they made it to the sick bay.

They asked around and quickly learned that Tamayo had gone out for a moonlit walk. They thanked the patients and quickly made their way out the door, shutting it tightly behind them.

They looked out from the engawa, scanning the scenery they saw no sign of the demon doctor. Deciding the nearby forest was their best bet, they hopped off of the engawa, bare feet against the grass and dirt, and jogged into the woods.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) called for her, searching around for any clues to her whereabouts.

They traveled deeper still, teasing the edge of the deep woods where not even the sun could shine through on the brightest of days, much less the soft reflection of the moon. They heard a rustle.

“Tamayo?”

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the neck and arms scrape to attention. Their heart was beating frantically as the noise drew closer. It couldn’t be Tamayo, she surely would have called out in return.

Then, (Y/n) screamed.

They couldn’t remember how they had ended up on the ground. They blinked sluggishly up at the moon only for it to be blocked moments later by a blurry figure. (Y/n) swore they saw swirls of colorful flowers dancing at the corners of their vision. (Y/n) winced and gurgled. Why did their chest hurt so bad, what was this pressure?

“(Y/n), please, tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?” A muffled voice cried, confusing (Y/n).

They tried to take in another breath but it just felt like they were drowning. The voice sounded farther away, but no less pleading, mixed with far away screams and angry yells. Neither of which sounded like they belonged to the figure before them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

‘For what?’ (Y/n) wondered, the pain had faded greatly. Whatever was happening, it was better than the pain. Perhaps they could go back to sleep now.

And so, they did.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was to the soft brushing of knuckles against their hair which was almost immediately drowned out by a ferocious hunger. They bent to snap at the fingers but something had kept them restrained. (Y/n) struggled and growled, the need to tear into flesh was, all too fittingly, consuming them.

“(Y/n), take a little at a time. Control yourself.” The voice beside them gently urged, presenting (Y/n) with a tube. They were highly uninterested at first until the further end of the tube was released from a pinched grip and allowed blood to flow down to their waiting mouth. It wasn’t fresh or hot, but it was better than nothing. After a few minutes of stopping and starting the thick slide of blood, the figure took the tube away all together, causing (Y/n) to growl and hiss with displeasure.

“You will need to learn to pace yourself, the sooner you do, the better.” The soft voice informed, not that (Y/n) really understood them.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure how long this had gone on, but they learned quickly not to bite the hand that feeds you, even if it was only aged blood on the menu.

Then slowly, they felt their brain working overtime. Apparently, there was a lot of information hiding under all of the bloodlust, and (Y/n) thought maybe, just maybe, there was a part of themself that detested those desires for human flesh and bone.

Then one night, it was like a fog had finally rolled out of (Y/n)’s mind and they struggled against their restraints for a whole other reason.

“How did I get here?” They yelled, breathing heavily though they had no real need to breathe at all anymore.

(Y/n) heard the soft patter of footsteps on the matted floor out in the hallway. They were honestly surprised they could hear such a slight noise to begin with.

The door slid open and Tamayo stood there, observing them nervously.

“Tamayo!” (Y/n) sighed in relief, “Where were you? All I remember is going out to look for you. How did I even—“

Tamayo was over in a flash, resting her forehead against (Y/n)’s with her hands cupping their cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, “I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t speak for yourself. I should have just tried to make your passing quick and comfortable, but I was selfish. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/n) winced, thinking back hurt, but with that last ‘sorry’, they were back in the moonlit woods, bleeding out with Tamayo above them and Yushirou dismantling the low level demon that had jumped them.

(Y/n) leaned their forehead up to meet Tamayo’s more firmly since their arms and legs were still tightly bound.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I forgive you.” They rasped, drawing more tears from the demon doctor.

“I couldn’t lose you. Not again.”

“What do you mean?” (Y/n) asked, puzzled.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, (Y/n)?”

“I think it’s a nice idea, to be reborn as something new.” (Y/n) shrugged as best as they could.

“When I first came to this village, something pulled me to this old house, and it wasn’t the smell of death and ruin. Something inside me told me this was where I needed to be,” Tamayo ran her thumbs along (Y/n)’s cheekbones, “it all led me to you and though you are unique from any other person I have met in all my years roaming this earth, I feel like I knew you life times ago.”

“I feel like I felt something similar.” (Y/n) whispered, “Something about your eyes just felt so familiar. Do you think...”

“Yes and no,” Tamayo smiled sadly, “I believe my husband had a hand in bringing you to me. You may have the same soul but you are still you’re own person with unique experiences. I like seeing little reminders of him in you, but I’m also growing very fond of who you are on your own.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell me before?” (Y/n) asked.

“Because I was afraid and I had every right to be. I almost lost you again.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tamayo raised her head to brush a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead, “Forgiven.”

“...Do you think you could maybe untie me now or...?” (Y/n) asked with a goofy smile on their face.

“Oh, yes, I should do that. So long as you promise to tell me if you ever feel like you’re losing yourself.”

“You have my word, my lady.” (Y/n) replied, leaving Tamayo a bit flustered.

“So, how is everyone?” (Y/n) asked with a stretch, sitting up from the bed.

“They all left for new opportunities in the southeast. I apologize, but Yushirou and I thought it best if they believed you had died. A bear mauling.” Tamayo’s nose crinkled very subtly, but (Y/n) easily saw her displeasure.

“Don’t worry, I understand.” (Y/n) said with a melancholic smile. They leaned over hesitantly and kissed the faint wrinkle of Tamayo’s nose away, making the doctor fall forward to bury her head in (Y/n)’s collarbone.

“I worry that you’re too understanding.” Tamayo commented shyly, earning a laugh from (Y/n) and after another moment of stillness, (Y/n) spoke up again.

“Where is Yushirou anyway?”

“I’m in the kitchen and I can hear ever word you say you blood sucker!” Yushirou yelled, making the doctor and the new demon jump at the volume. “You better get travel ready soon, because you gobbled up the last of our blood supply!”

“Sorry!” (Y/n) called awkwardly, snorting only after Yushirou replied with a handful of sounds that made no sense, but got his grumpiness across.

“Don’t feel too bad. It’s a process Yushirou has endured as well. He was no less needy and feral than you were when I changed him.” Tamayo said.

“Needy and feral,” (Y/n) groaned, “I wish you didn’t have to see me like that.” Tamayo chuckled lightly, raising her head from (Y/n)’s chest to look into their eyes making their breath hitch.

“That hasn’t harmed my image of you at all,” Tamayo kissed their cheek, “you are still the sweet,” a kiss to the other cheek, “selfless,” a kiss to the nose, “person you were before this.”

(Y/n) tentatively raised their hands to cup Tamayo’s cheeks, noting the pale blue hue of their previously clear nails as they did so.

“Forgive me if this comes off as needy, but could I kiss you?” They asked, barely above a whisper.

“Please.” Tamayo responded quickly, pulling in (Y/n) from the back of their neck.

Soft lips glided together, occasionally leaving their target to land sweet pecks elsewhere before diving back in. When they finally drew apart, resting their foreheads together, Tamayo smiled brightly. It was a feeling she hadn’t had since she was human all those years ago.

#kny x reader #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #lady tamayo #lady tamayo x reader #tamayo #tamayo x reader

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merlin goes missing, and they find him in chains, looking blank:

Stories of the great power of Emrys have been spreading. But Merlin is still young, and though powerful, control alludes him, from time to time. What happens when those who crave power for themselves take that control from him? By force?

Part 2(final part)

TW: Graphic ish descriptions of violence/blood.

(This was requested a while ago, mind control being broken by the power of friendship)

Merlin was meant to be on a three day trip to gather some rare herbs for Gaius.

The former manservant thought that it was quite ironic, how “herb picking” had been one of his most often used excuses (after “the tavern”) for where he disappeared to when he was still hiding his magic, but now he was Court Sorcerer, Gaius actually made him do it.

This just meant that no one immediately panicked when he wasn’t back by sundown on the third day.

All knew how capable Merlin was. None of the Druid advisors had been sent a message through the link, and an irate dragon hadn’t shown up asking for help.

Meaning he probably just got lost or distracted; lost track of time. He’d be home by noon the next day, prattling on about something he’d seen, or someone he’d spoken to.

Gaius would give him a raised eyebrow and Arthur would punch him in the arm and he’d be all indignant, insisting that “I can look after myself, and honestly Arthur, I was only gone an extra half day, no need to be so panicked.” with a smirk.

When he still wasn’t back before sundown on the fifth day, The Gang started to really worry. They gather in the council room, just the nine of them (the five knights, Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, Morgana) to try to come up with some sort of explanation, or if needed, a plan.

Morgana speaks first, and the uncertainty on her face heightens the anxiety in everyone:

“I’ve tried looking for him, sensing him, but I can’t feel him at all. Like he’s completely disappeared from the world-”

At that, Arthur interrupts her, panic showing on his face, and his voice shaking:

“You don’t mean?-”

Morgana widens her eyes at the meaning the others had taken from her words:

“NO! No, not that, if he were... dead, I would feel that. I would be able to find his… I would be able to find him, and feel a sort of echo, feel the recent effects he’s had on the world around him. But I don’t, I just feel…. nothing. Like he never existed in the first place.”

Everyone looks extremely troubled at that. Morgana wasn’t nearly as powerful as Merlin, but he had been teaching her, and she was getting stronger. If this feeling of absence worried her, then it worried all of them.

Gaius speaks up after a few moments of silence:

“We could ask the Druids? They have a strong, permanent bond to him. It may help in finding him. If not…”

Arthur nods firmly as he replies to the room:

“If not, we track him down the old fashioned way. We managed before, we might just have to manage again now.”

The others nod at that, determined to not let Merlin down.

(Not let Merlin down again. None of them (other than Gaius, Lancelot, and Morgana of course) had reacted all that well to Merlin’s magic when they first learned the truth. And whilst that was years ago, and Merlin claimed to have forgiven them all immediately, they still felt guilty for the way they’d treated him in those first few hours/days.)

As it turns out, the three Druid advisors were equally worried, and had been in the process of hurrying to the council room to inform The King of the severed tie between themselves and Emrys, just as Arthur had decided to call for their presence.

The whole gang had to quell their panic, and remind themselves of Arthur’s words. They’d managed before, they would manage now.

At first light the next day, Arthur and the knights rode out. Morgana was left with the crown, with Gwen and Gaius as advisors to stay and support her.

The King tried to insist on leaving one or two of the knights behind as well, just in case, but they weren’t having it, and Morgana’s reminder of:

“Merlin is incredibly powerful, Arthur. If someone has been strong enough to subdue or hurt him, then you’ll need all the help you can get.”

-he reluctantly allowed all five of them to come.

Gaius had provided them with the directions, so they could start their search where Merlin was supposed to be, and go from there.

After a full day’s journey, they arrive at the first of two clearings, just before nightfall. After a thorough look around, they found that Merlin had in fact been there, but he left peacefully, and they found no sign that anyone else had travelled through recently.

So he hadn’t been taken from the first clearing. Arthur and Gwaine had wanted to push on through the night, the second of the two clearings was only a few hours away, but Leon gave them a stern look, and with support from the others, insisted that they rest for the night.

They could wake early and continue in the morning, but the horses (and the knights) were starving, and tired, and needed rest. They would be no use to Merlin at all if they turned up dead on their feet.

Elyan tried to volunteer for the first watch, but Arthur insisted he take it. No one really argued with him, they knew he wouldn’t sleep well anyway, not with Merlin missing, and potentially hurt.

Elyan did however wake up a few hours later (a pure coincidence, it definitely wasn’t because he asked Percival to cast a low-level enchantment that would wake him (I like to imagine that once things had settled, Merlin tries to teach the lads a little sorcery. Arthur is hopeless, as are Lancelot and Elyan, but Leon and Gwaine aren’t toooo bad, and Percival is fairly alright)) and insisted that The King get some sleep.

He didn’t like to do it often (Arthur’s head was already big enough) but Elyan did use a little flattery to his advantage:

“Come now, My Lord. You’re the strongest of all of us, and it’s your orders we follow, how can we expect to win if our leader can’t walk or think straight?”

Arthur mumbles something about how “Flattery won’t get you anywhere in court, Sir Elyan.” But dutifully allows himself to slip into a fitful rest.

As promised, they rise and pack up just before first light, choosing to eat whilst they ride out just as the sun rises over the horizon.

The second clearing they reach, tells a much different story to the first. The knights slow their horses down, and stare on in barely concealed horror at the scene laid out before them.

Merlin’s horse lay dead to the side of the clearing. They had clearly killed her deliberately so that Merlin couldn’t escape if he freed himself. That could be the only explanation. She wasn’t wearing her saddle, and was still tied to the tree: Merlin wasn’t riding her when the arrow was fired.

The ground was scorched almost entirely, and a few trees had been uprooted, with the remaining standing ones bearing scorch marks and sword scars higher than naturally possible.

Merlin had obviously fought back, but the small puddle of blood next to his dropped herb bag tells them that he had been injured before the fight even began. Whoever took him? Knew who he was.

After a moment of shocked silence, Arthur starts barking orders:

“Percival, check the horse and the herbs, try and figure out how long ago this happened. Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot, have a good look around, try to find anything discarded by his attackers; we need to figure out who took him. See if you can learn how many there were, and how they attacked, we need to know if they themselves are magic, or if they just know how to fight magic. Me and Leon will check the surrounding areas to find out where they went. Leave your horses at the edge, we don’t want to muddy up any tracks.”

Everyone wordlessly nods, and they go about their tasks quickly but thoroughly. No wants to make any mistakes here, Merlin is incredibly important to them, and they couldn’t risk going in to this blind.

They work in silence, and once Arthur and Leon return from their scouting ahead thirty minutes or so later, they gather the horses once more and huddle at the edge of the clearing.

Arthur looks to Percival expectantly, and he reports his findings quickly:

“Going by the carcass and the herbs Merlin had already cut, this happened maybe four or five days ago? Considering he was obviously still picking, and not just dawdling-”

(he gestures to the bag that he had picked up and attached to his saddlebags)

“-I’d say he was taken in the afternoon of the second day.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at that, that was five days ago. Hopefully they hadn’t travelled too far, and weren’t still travelling, otherwise it would take far too long to track them down.

He looks to Lancelot next:

“We found two bodies, average, plain armour, and it didn’t look like anything had been taken from them after they died. One of them did have this in his pocket-”

He looks grim as he says this, and hands over a very crumpled piece of parchment. On it, there was a rough sketch of Merlin’s face, and the Pendragon crest. It was rough, old, clearly drawn from memory, but there could be no mistaking who it was.

Arthur looks angry at that, but tucks it into his saddlebag before gesturing for Lancelot to continue:

“I don’t think they used magic, at least not combative magic-”

He gestures around the clearing, at the scorch marks:

“All of the blows seem to be extending out from the middle, from where Merlin was stood: he fought back with magic, but they used normal weapons.”

Lancelot looks to Gwaine, and he wastes no time in telling the group what he found:

“There was a broken off arrow shaft next to Merlin’s bag, someone shot him. I couldn’t find the head, so it’s still in him most likely, we need to be prepared to clean an infection when we find him-”

Percival interrupts him:

“I had a look through his bag, there’s a lot of useful stuff in here, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Gwaine nods and lets out a sigh of relief before continuing:

“The arrow shaft stunk, and his blood was funky. I’m guessing they soaked it in mandrake or something to knock him out. Otherwise he would’ve decimated this lot. They would’ve only had to avoid his attacks for two or three minutes at most before he passed out. And even then, he wouldn’t have been all that coordinated.”

Everyone worries at this. Every new bit of information just tells them that whoever took Merlin knew exactly who he was, and what he was capable of.

Elyan speaks up next:

“Going from the tracks, I’d say there was six or seven others, not including our two corpses. They were spread evenly around the clearing so he could only attack at one at a time, all they had to do was aim one good shot, and wait it out. They may not have used magic to attack, but they must have hidden themselves somehow: there’s no way that Merlin wouldn’t have felt them coming, we’re in the middle of a forest, this is his domain.”

Arthur hums thoughtfully and nods, before speaking to the group:

“I agree with your assessment of seven other attackers. Me and Leon found a large group of tracks, from multiple people, coming from the North, but they split up and spread around the clearing about a quarter of a mile out. No has any idea who they were?”

Everyone shakes their heads, and Lancelot speaks once again:

“No. The armour was non-descript, the weapons left behind were nothing special. They had no tattoos, nothing of value on them, no defining marks, sigils, or crests. Nothing. Either they were randomly hired mercenaries, or they were clever enough to not carry anything that could identify them, or their masters.”

Arthur growls in annoyance and nods once again. The Knights all gather their horses and follow Arthur and Leon’s quick pace out of the clearing, towards the tracks they had found.

At Arthur’s instruction, they split into two groups, one following along about 10 feet to the left of the tracks, the other, the same to the right.

They needed to be careful, the group who had taken Merlin were obviously well informed professionals, and would know that it wouldn’t be long before someone came looking. They didn’t want to run into any traps or ambushes by following the exact same path the kidnappers had.

The Knights follow the trail for another couple of days, taking few breaks, and spending the majority of it in silence; not even Gwaine is being talkative.

A few hours into their tracking, there was another battle arena (though much smaller than the last).

They didn’t stick around for long, it was likely that the mandrake had worn off quicker than expected, and Merlin had tried to escape. Once they saw Lancelot turn pale as he picked up a bloody rock, they hurried their horses along the trail even faster than before.

It was around noon on the third day since they left the second clearing, that they notice the tracks getting significantly fresher: the kidnappers (who had been on foot, meaning the knights were making good time anyway) had slowed down; they must almost be there.

That evening, they finally came across what appeared to be a rundown farm. The roof of the house was caved in, and there wasn’t even one fully intact fence in the whole property. A large barn further to the back of the area however, was in good condition.

The tracks went all over the overgrown farm, but focused mainly around the barn (going no further than the edge of the property) and the Knights could see the flickering light of a fire glow through the gaps between planks of woods.

They tied their horses up a few metres in to the treeline. Normally having horses during the attack would be useful, but they were at least a four days journey from the capital (on horses, closer to two weeks on foot), and depending on the state Merlin is in, he may not be able to walk it. They needed to leave the horses undamaged and with energy enough to flee if they had to.

Arthur sends everyone off to scout the area, learn what they could, and they gather once more about five minutes later, hidden behind the rundown house to avoid being spotted.

Leon speaks first:

“I got as close as I could without being seen, there are about twenty-five men in there. I didn’t recognise any of them, and none of them had any identifying marks, but there was one man who was clearly in charge. Larger than the rest, had nicer clothes, a large key on a chain around his neck.”

Arthur perks up at that:

“Might unlock whatever is holding Merlin. Did you see him?”

Leon sighed and shook his head grimly:

“No, but the fire lit only the middle of the room, I couldn’t see in the corners or along the edges.”

Percival speaks next, quickly adding what he had learnt:

“There’s no one else in any of the other buildings, and no fresh tracks leading away from the area. Merlin must be in there with them.”

Leon hums in agreement before continuing:

“They weren’t... drunk. But they are drinking. It might be worth it to wait for a few more hours so we have more of an advantage. There’s only six of us remember, we-.”

Gwaine shakes his head roughly, interrupting:

“We can’t wait. Who knows what they’ve done to Merlin, but if they’re celebrating, and he isn’t fighting back, then it’s bad. We need to get him out of there as quickly as possible.”

Arthur hums thoughtfully as he thought through their options. Both of them had valid points, but the attackers wouldn’t go through all of this trouble just to kill Merlin, so he shouldn’t be in any imminent danger, and as much as he wanted to rescue him as soon as possible, they had to be careful.

He looks up at the group and replies confidently:

“We wait until the sun has disappeared completely. It should be no more than half an hour. That gives us the cover of darkness, and gives them time to lose a little more of their wits.”

Gwaine seems like he wants to argue, but a pointed look from Lancelot calms him, and the group go through the motions of checking their armour and weapons, preparing themselves fully for a difficult fight.

After spending the time preparing, and discussing their options, the group decided that the best plan was for them to split in to two.

Arthur, Elyan, and Gwaine were to rush through the large door at the front, and Leon, Percival, and Lancelot would sneak in through the small door at the back.

There was no way they would be able to hold on to the element of surprise for long, and it would be a difficult fight, but hopefully the first group would be distraction enough to allow the second group to kill at least a few people before they realised what was happening.

That, unfortunately, is not how things go.

After one last firm nod from Arthur, the group splits and heads as quietly as they can to their designated entrance. The King takes a deep breath before gesturing at Elyan, who pushes the door open with force, allowing Gwaine and Arthur to rush in without hesitation.

Elyan joins them, and they make a point to look at the enemy, so as not to draw attention to the other three sneaking in behind them.

It takes only a few seconds before Arthur realises something is wrong. None of the men seem angry, or even worried in the slightest, and as he spies Leon step silently forward to slit the throat of the man closest to him, he understands why.

Leon takes three steps fine, but on his fourth, he hits an invisible barrier, and is thrown back violently. He hits the wall with a crash, and falls to the floor, unconscious from the blow to his head.

The leader of the group glances briefly behind him before looking back to Arthur, amusement on his face. Arthur covers his confusion with anger, but before he can demand an explanation, the leader begins to speak:

“Looky here, boys! Kidnap one sorcerer, get six of Camelot’s finest knights free! That’s a pretty good deal if I do say so myself!”

The rooms breaks out into laughter, and Elyan takes a step forward, speaking in a dangerous tone:

“Well unfortunately, our sorcerer was not for sale. So if you would, we’d like him back.”

The leader chuckles once again, and the knights have to stop themselves going for an attack. Leon was just about starting to stir, and Lancelot stands protectively in front of him, waiting for the knight to right himself again.

“I’m not so sure he wants to be returned, good sir. I think you’ll find that he’s quite enjoying being under my service-”

He raises one hand and grips the ancient looking key that’s hanging around his neck, and looks to a darkened corner of the room before speaking again, louder this time:

“Isn’t that right, oh sorcerer of mine? Come here.”

The knights have to hold in a shudder at what they see.

Merlin, or what looks to be Merlin, judderingly walks out of the dark corner towards the key-holder. His left shoulder hangs oddly, and they can see the blood staining his clothes and dripping from his hand, leaving a trail on the floor. His feet drag across the ground, and his head nods and sways, like he is desperately trying not to collapse into unconsciousness. A wound on his temple still slowly seeps blood, and his hands shake.

He had a thick, metal collar around his neck, and two matching circlets around his wrists. Thick chains, the length of his arms, attach the cuffs to the collar (so that he still had full mobility, but all three circles of iron were connected), and as his body sways, the knights can see the skin beneath the metal has been rubbed raw, to the point of bleeding in some places.

But what was most striking, was the permanent golden glow of Merlin’s eyes, and the blank look on his face.

The golden colour didn’t quite match up to it’s normal hue, and seemed duller, sickly, somehow.

The knights stare on in horror as their friend, clearly not in control of his own actions, finishes his disjointed journey to his new master.

Arthur glares viciously at the man as he growls out:

“What have you done to-”

But before he can finish, a resounding thwack echoes around the room as a gauntleted hand connects with the side of Merlin’s face.

The other bandits laugh as Merlin’s head rocks violently sideways. His head is angled towards the floor for just a moment before he looks back up at the leader, the blank look not having left his face, despite the blood now dribbling from his mouth and the dark bruise already forming on his cheek and jaw.

Gwaine lets out a growl, but before he can take a step forward, the leader speaks once again, a horrid grin on his face:

“Be a dear and subdue our new guests, sorcerer.”

Without hesitation, Merlin sidesteps the leader, giving him a direct line of sight to Lancelot, Leon, and Percival. He waves his hand at them, muttering something under his breath, and the three of them gasp as they lift off the floor, and go flying across the room towards the other knights.

Arthur only manages to widen his eyes in surprise before he’s bowled over by Percival, and before the group can react, they find themselves unarmed, and kneeling side by side; lined up in front of the leader, with Merlin’s hand extended towards them.

The bandits begin laughing once again, the leader the most uproarious of them all, as the knights struggle to break free from Merlin’s grasp.

Arthur is the only one who holds still, not resisting, as he tries to get Merlin to look at him, but the sorcerer isn’t paying any attention. It almost seemed like Merlin just... wasn’t present. His body was stood in the barn, but his mind, his soul, were elsewhere, not even looking upon this earth, let alone stood in it.

Merlin’s blank face looks to the leader, and he doesn’t react at all as Arthur yells at him:

“Merlin! This isn’t you, he’s controlling you! You have to take back con-”

The leader interrupts him, his hand still gripping the slightly glowing key, as he directs himself to Merlin:

“Oh do shut them up, sorcerer.”

Merlin looks to the group once more, twisting his outstretched hand slightly. The knight’s voices are ripped form them suddenly, and silence permeates the barn for only a second before the bandits continue their laughter.

After a few minutes of the knights being unable to move or make any noise, the leader speaks up again:

“You know, sir knights,-”

He smacks Merlin again, in the same place as before, and the knights tense even more at their friend’s non-reaction:

“-I had thought, that the most fun part of having a pet sorcerer, would be the magic, and don’t get me wrong, it’s great, but-”

This time he aims a punch to Merlin’s abdomen. The Warlock bends over slightly, and takes a step back, before righting himself again, and returning to his original position:

“-I have discovered, in fact, that the most fun part is actually having a living punching bag, who can’t die as easy as the normal peasants and commoners I lay my hands on.”

He grins wickedly once more as he takes out a small dagger. The knight’s eyes all widen and they begin struggling even more against their magical bounds, as the leader drags the blade along Merlin’s outstretched arm.

The cut isn’t too deep, but it’s long, and bleeds enough for infection to be a definite worry.

Merlin’s head wavers slightly and his lip twitches, but he otherwise doesn’t move.

The leader looks to an almost tearful Arthur, and slowly, ever so slowly, pushes the blade into Merlin’s uninjured shoulder, as he grins:

“I wonder, sir knights, how much he can take.”

Arthur looks back to Merlin and sees him flinch, his face seeming more strained. Arthur hates himself for thinking it, but the more pain this jackass inflicts... the more aware Merlin seems to be becoming.

The glow in his eyes flickers, but only momentarily, and Arthur feels the ability to speak come back to him. He holds his breath for a moment, hoping that it’s just him (or that the others had the same idea as him). He lets it out a moment later when none of the knights make any noise.

He needs to pick his moment, wait until Merlin is most aware of his surroundings, before he tries to reach out to him.

It’s a difficult situation, a mix of not wanting Merlin to have to suffer, but also knowing that there is no way the knights could take him on. Not even with no other attackers to worry about. Not even with Merlin at partial strength. The only way for them to win this, is to get Merlin to come back to them.

The Knights watch on with horror, glares painted on their faces, as the leader removes the knife and steps away. He wipes the blood off the blade on Merlin’s clothes harshly, the pressure on his wound making the glow of his eyes flicker once again.

The arsehole looks to the rest of the grinning bandits, and yells:

“So, boys! Shall we see what our new pet can do? We have some lovely new test subjects after all!” A cheer goes up around the room, and the knights take in nervous breaths. They know what Merlin is capable of, and though he doesn’t show off his magic regularly, they’ve seen him angry, seen him when he has the least control of his magic; and right now, he has zero control. The only thing they could do is hope that this mercenary didn’t have a very vivid imagination.

At the bandit’s cheer, the leader turns around to sweep an assessing gaze over the knights. He hums thoughtfully, before waving his arm in Percival’s direction:

“He looks like a big guy, looks like he can take a lot. Break his arm for me, sorcerer.”

The others look to Percival in fear, but his only reaction is to take a deep breath, and clench his jaw.

Merlin tilts his head slightly, and moves his outstretched arm to be pointed at Percival. Arthur sees him swallow, and his hand shake slightly. He’s fighting it. The sorcerer stands still for just a moment, staring at a resolute Percival, but at the leader’s yell:

“DO IT!!”

-he closes his fist, quick as lightening, and a snap sounds out. Percival makes a pained face, but makes no noise as his arm hangs at his side.

Arthur casts a quick look at him, and is grateful for the lack of blood and odd angles. Merlin had managed to break his arm in the least damaging way possible.

Percival’s breath evens out, and he shakes the daze from his head before looking right at Merlin and saying:

“It’s alright, Merlin.” Arthur tenses slightly at that, but the bandit’s seem to be too drunk to notice the broken silence.

The leader bellows out again:

“Aw, well that was a little anti-climactic. Hmm... what about him-”

He gestures at Leon, who is now only slightly dazed, before continuing:

“-knock him out. Properly, this time.”

Merlin’s outstretched hand moves once again, pointing at Leon. Merlin hesitates for even longer this time. His hand shakes violently, and the glow in his eyes dulls (only slightly, but permanently this time) as Leon gives him a small smile, and nods at him.

The leader snarls before aiming a violent punch to Merlin’s side, before screaming:

“YOU ARE MINE!! STOP HESITATING YOU BEAST!″

This time, Merlin pulls his hand towards himself quickly, and Leon’s body tips forward. His head smacks off the floor with a sickening thud, and he doesn’t move from his place crumpled on the floor.

The others panic slightly at this, not being able to see Leon properly, but Arthur holds in a grin. He’s seen enough knights be knocked out to know that Leon was still conscious. Merlin had deliberately held back, cushioned his blow. There was no question that if he had really tried, Leon most certainly would have passed out, which means that Merlin is somewhat in control of his strength, if not his actions.

Arthur is grateful that Leon has the sense to lie still and keep his eyes closed. In order to remain convincing, The King plasters a sufficiently horrified look on his face as he looks from Leon to the Leader.

The man gives a satisfied hum, and turns to Lancelot, a loathsome smirk on his face:

“You, my friend, are far too calm for my liking. Let’s change that, shall we?”

The bandits let out yet another cheer (And Arthur is pleased to see that the majority of them are incredibly drunk at this point. He just needs Merlin to focus long enough for Arthur to grab the key) before he continues:

“Choke. Him. Out. I want to watch the life drain from his pathetically noble eyes. I want to see him panic as his breath is stolen from him. DO IT!”

Fear flash across Lancelot’s face, before he schools his features again. Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan do not manage to hide their panic at all, and Leon takes in an unnoticed deep breath from his place on the floor.

Arthur looks a tad worried, but this has got to be it. He knows how close Merlin and Lancelot are, there will be no better chance to try and break him from this pig’s control, he only needs a moment, and he can see Leon subtly preparing to pounce as well.

Merlin moves his arm to be pointed at Lancelot, and the knights can see their Warlock flinch slightly as Lancelot speaks a shaky smile on his face:

“It’s ok, Merlin, it’s not your fault.”

Merlin’s hesitation earns him a smack on the back of the head, and a second later, he turns his open hand to the ceiling. With that motion, Lancelot raises from the floor.

His hands go to his throat and his eyes widen a fraction as his feet kick, looking for purchase, but finding nothing.

Arthur gulps as he looks between Lancelot and Merlin, waiting for the last possible moment before he jumps into action.

The knights, thrash slightly trying to reach Lancelot as he begins to audibly choke. His legs kick more violently, and his face turns red, his eyes shut tight.

He manages to opens his eyes just a fraction, looking to Merlin and letting out a choked, barely audible:

“I... trust you... Merlin.”

Lancelot’s eyes close once again as his thrashing slows and he loses the last of the air in his lungs.

Arthur stares at Merlin intensely, and the moment a tear falls from his eye, he yells:

“Merlin, look at ME!”

The leader lets out an outraged yelp as Merlin drops his hand to his side, whipping his head around to stare at Arthur. Lancelot drops to the floor with a thud, and begins taking in sudden, deep breaths. The glow disappears briefly from Merlin’s eyes, and in that moment, he lifts a hand to his head, whispering “30 seconds”. The moment his fingers touch his temple, he crumples gracelessly to the floor.

Leon finally moves, jumping to catch Merlin before his heads makes contact with the floor and at the same time, Arthur leaps at the outraged Leader, tackling him to the floor roughly.

Percival moves to Lancelot, and quickly drags him, using his good arm, to the side of the room so that he can catch his breath. Gwaine and Elyan tackle the men who had been standing closest to them, and take their weapons, before moving quickly to stand above Arthur and The Arsehole (still wrestling on the floor).

Both of them hold their blades to his throat, and at his momentary hesitation, Arthur finally lands a good punch to his jaw, properly dazing him.

Arthur rips the chain from his neck and staggers back, leaving Gwaine and Elyan in front of him, not moving their weapons from the man’s neck.

All of this had happened in around five seconds, the knights following Arthur’s signal smoothly and in tandem (exactly like he had trusted they would), and the rest of the bandits too drunk to react quick enough.

The bandits had finally gathered themselves, and have their swords out and pointed at the gang, but before they could move forward, Elyan speaks:

“Take another step, and we’ll cut his throat.”

Arthur knew that that wouldn’t hold them for long. No honour among thieves, they didn’t care if he died because it just gave way for a power struggle, allowing one of them to come out on top as the new leader.

He glanced down at Merlin and Leon again before looking behind him to check on Lancelot and Percival. He counted in his head. Twelve seconds to go.

Elyan and Gwaine pulled the stuttering leader up by his clothes and drag him back. Gwaine stands behind him, his sword held across his throat, as Elyan takes his weapons from him and then moves to stand by Gwaine’s side.

Six seconds to go. Arthur isn’t really sure what he’s counting down to, but he trusts Merlin.

The bandits begin taking slow, drunken steps towards the gang once again. They may be pissed, but they also still vastly outnumber the knights, especially with Lancelot coughing his lungs out, Leon with at least a minor concussion, and Percival with a broken arm.

Three seconds... Two... One.

As the Arthur’s mental countdown reaches zero, he turns his head to check on Merlin, at the same time as the sorcerer opens his eyes once again.

His eyes shine bright golden once again (though still not quite normally), so brightly that Leon and Arthur have to shield their eyes for a moment. That moment is all it takes for the bandits to take action, and they surge towards the gang.

Gwaine pushes their leader into them, and his large form knocks two of them over. Gwaine and Elyan are the only ones who have weapons, so they hold off the first of the attackers as best they can. Percival picks up a still struggling Lancelot, and Leon and Arthur grab an arm each of Merlin. The five of them rush outside, and once Arthur yells back at them, Gwaine and Elyan turn and follow them. They shut the door quickly behind them, and Lancelot is dropped the floor, Merlin left standing blankly, as the rest of them throw their collective weight against the door. Percival speaks first, holding his broken arm to his chest, and bracing his shoulder against the middle of the door:

“Why isn’t... ugh... why isn’t he doing anything??”

Lancelot looks up from his place on the floor, and staggers to his feet, leaning on (a still blank) Merlin for support. He taps his face slightly and squeezes his hand, but still the sorcerer doesn’t react. His hand brushes against the cold metal of one of the cuffs, and he looks back to Arthur, still coughing lightly:

“He’s still bound! Please tell me you managed to hold on to that key?!”

Arthur nods, and Lancelot stumbles over, pressing his weight against the door with the others as another shove is felt from the other side. They wouldn’t be able to do this for long, the bandits were becoming more and more coordinated.

Elyan speaks up:

“We don’t have... no time to uncuff him, you’re in control Arthur just tell him to kill them or knock... or knock them out!”

Arthur looks angry at that, and shakes his head violently:

“No, I won’t take that control from him. I won’t.”

Leon yells next, his words slightly slurred, but understandable:

“You have no choice, Arthur. Just something simple!”

Arthur growls, and huffs as another, much harder shove hits the door. The gang almost stumbles back, but they brace themselves against the door once more, and Arthur shouts:

“Fine! Merlin, protect us!”

Without even a second’s hesitation, Merlin raises his hand towards them, and then pulls towards him. The knights all find themselves flying away from the barn, but land on their feet a few feet behind Merlin.

The barn door opens with a crash, the first three men falling forward, but quickly being trampled on by their... co-workers... as they escape the building. Before they can make it far however, Merlin throws up his other hand, muttering something under his breath, and all of them are stopped, frozen in place.

Merlin keeps his hand stretched out towards them, and the knights hear one of them go “oh shit” under their breath, as the realisation crosses their faces.

The Warlock’s face remains blank, and after a few moments of the knights catching their breath, Arthur steps forward hesitatingly:

“Merlin?-”

Merlin tilts his head slightly, but doesn’t turn to look at him and Arthur gulps, and moves around to stand in front of him. He holds the key in one hand, and grips Merlin’s arm with the other, he speaks over Merlin’s shoulder to the others:

“I don’t see a keyhole or anything. How do I get this thing off him?!”

The knights shrug and move forward, examining the iron from a distance. Gwaine speaks first:

“Well, Merlin would know, right? Ask him.”

Arthur frowns slightly, he is really not liking this, but none of them have seen anything even slightly similar to this before:

“Merlin, do you know how to release yourself from this?” as he speaks, he shakes one of the chains, and hears the bandits behind him begin squeaking in fear.

Merlin still doesn’t look directly at him, staring straight ahead, eyes still glowing, one hand still outstretched, but he does give a slow nod.

Arthur gulps once more, and takes Merlin’s lowered hand. He presses the key into his palm, holding his hand over it and quietly says:

“Do it. Take it off.”

Merlin mutters something else, forcing the barrier he had placed around the bandits to stay in place. He closes his hand around the key, and without looking, touches the end of the key to the cuff on his other wrist. A hole opens up in the metal, and he pushes the key in, twisting only slightly before the cuff falls off his wrist entirely, still dangling by the chain attached to the collar.

The glow in his eyes instantly dims a bit, and he takes a staggered step back. He shakes his head slightly, and the key swaps hands. He does the same to the other cuff.

He falls to his knees, shaking, and the knights step forward to support him. He slowly lifts the key to the collar, and the same thing happens a third time. As the collar falls to the floor, the glow in his eyes flashes it’s normal, healthy colour, before disappearing entirely.

His blue eyes find Arthur’s momentarily, just long enough for Arthur to smile at him and nod. That’s all the convincing that “everything is ok” Merlin needs, and he promptly passes out, slumping forward.

Arthur just about catches him, and looks over his own shoulder panicked, thinking that with Merlin unconscious, the barrier would disappear.

It would appear that Merlin had thought of that, even in his state, and the barrier stayed in place, leaving Arthur and the knights to let out breaths of relief.

Now everyone has had time to catch their breath, and Merlin was free, they had a moment to realise how furious they were.

Gwaine looks ready to slaughter every man there, and every person they’ve ever spoken to, and even Lancelot looks pissed.

Arthur gathers Merlin up in his arms, carrying him bridal style and looks to the others:

“Grab our weapons from inside, quickly, we need to get out of here, I don’t know how long that's going to hold, or how long Merlin will be out. We need to get him to Gaius, and bring that... thing.”

He gestures to the set of cuffs still sat in the grass, and Leon steps forward to pick them up. Elyan and Gwaine stand guard in front of Arthur and Merlin, (still being the only ones who are actually armed) and Lancelot and Percival rush around the group of bandits, still frozen in place, and through the door into the barn.

They come out not even a minute later with everyone’s swords, and hand them out. Merlin begins to stir, and Arthur spares him a quick glance before gesturing back towards where they left the horses.

The group huddles together, Arthur with Merlin protected at the back, pointing their weapons at the bandits as they shuffle back, moving as quickly as they could, not daring to move their gazes from the kidnappers.

Merlin stirs once more, but settles quickly, probably still a while from waking up, and the group reaches the treeline before they begin to pick up the pace.

They finally reach their horses, and Gwaine quickly helps Arthur load Merlin up in front of The King, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder.

Leon wraps the cuffs in a spare tunic before shoving them into a saddlebag, and the group takes one last look behind them, before galloping back in the direction of Camelot.

If they went by the crow flies, instead of detouring to those clearings, they could be back in three days, instead of the four and a half it had taken them to get here.

They ride through the night, trying to get as far away as possible, not taking any breaks, and only stopping to make camp a few hours after midnight.

Elyan splints and wraps Percival’s arm, Leon drinks plenty of water and tries not to pass out, and Lancelot coughs the whole journey, but other than that, there seems to be no lasting damage or serious injuries.

They have little food left, but (despite no one being willing to admit it) they were all a little shaken, and none were prepared to leave camp to hunt or forage for anything more substantial.

Merlin had stirred a few more times, and opened his eyes briefly when Arthur laid him on his bedroll, but it didn’t last long, and he was passed out again shortly after.

The King massages some water down his throat, has Elyan help him with digging out the arrowhead, and follows Percival’s instructions on which of the herbs Merlin had gathered would help best with pain, infections, and larger wounds. The arrow and stab wounds were stitched and thoroughly cleaned, before Arthur moved on to the less serious wounds: checking his jaw to see if it was broken (it wasn’t, thank the Gods), and dressing the burns and bruises on his neck and wrists. The head wound wasn’t serious thankfully, only requiring a thorough cleaning, and two stiches.

Leon takes the first watch with Arthur, on account of not being allowed to fall asleep just yet, but there isn’t much conversation as they watch their friends toss and turn, obviously not sleeping too well.

Gwaine takes over from Leon around two hours before sunrise, before informing Arthur that:

“If you don’t go to sleep, I’ll put you to sleep. And then we’d have to double-ride two horses. And that would slow us down even more. So. What’s it gonna be, princess?”

Arthur grumbles minimally, but he knows Gwaine is right. He doesn’t move from his spot however, choosing to lay down right next to Merlin.

Gwaine simply raises an eyebrow, (and wakes him before everyone else in the morning) at The King’s position.

Arthur has one hand gripping Merlin’s wrist, and the other splayed out against Merlin’s chest, his Warlock’s pulse, and breath, just under his fingertips whilst he slept.

They get back to Camelot when expected, around three days later, just before noon.

Leon’s concussion had cleared up completely by the time they had got there, and Lancelot’s throat wasn’t quite so irritated. Percival’s arm was still broken of course, but with the help of some medication they had brought with them, the pain hadn’t been too bad.

Merlin had woken up a few more times across the journey, but was far too exhausted to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, and despite his grumbling, he admitted that it would be best for him to continue sharing a horse.

He managed to get some food in him as well, which the knights were relieved at, and the herbs must’ve been very special, because the infection in the arrow wound was almost gone by the time they got him to Gaius, and they had managed to avoid infection in the stab wound entirely.

Speaking of Gaius, he fussed to the extreme when Merlin hobbled in to the infirmary, supported by The King. After double checking all of his wounds, and forcing a mixture of gross tasting potions down his throat, he had him asleep on one of the patient pallets whilst he checked over the others.

He set Percival’s arm with magic, gave Leon a potion for the headaches he would be having for the next week or so, and gave Lancelot a special tea mix to help with his throat.

The moment Gaius relaxed, Arthur did too, trusting the physicians assessment of his friends. Elyan had scurried off to find Gwen and the Lady Morgana, before joining Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Lancelot, for much needed naps in their own quarters.

Once everything slowed down a bit, Arthur presented Gaius with the chains and key, and explained to him what had happened.

It was late in the evening at this point, so they spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb Gwen or Morgana, who had both fallen asleep in their chairs at Merlin’s bedside.

“His eyes were bright gold, but they looked... wrong? Like slightly the wrong colour. He was almost completely blank, barely reacted to pain, and just.... stared. Into the distance. Like he had no awareness of his physical surroundings.”

Gaius looked concerned, but not so much so that it worried Arthur:

“Ah. That would explain the severed connections with Morgana and the Druids, his consciousness was locked away, pushed far too deep for anyone to find him. What else?”

Arthur looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet as he continued, recalling memories from the previous days that he was sure would haunt him as he slept:

“Well... he hesitated a few times, when he was told to... hurt us. Like he was fighting it. But when he was hit or yelled at, it looked like he sort of... re-set? And he would do whatever he was told.”

Gaius nodded:

“Yes. Merlin is incredibly powerful, but so are the enchantments on these chains. He would have fought against it viciously, but the sudden noise, or pain, would’ve have shocked his system into obeying without hesitation. I’m guessing that’s how you broke him free?”

Arthur glanced briefly towards Merlin, before nodding, and replying even quieter than before:

“Hmm. I waited until he looked most... unsure, most hesitant, then yelled at him to look at me. His eyes cleared for just a moment, he whispered “30 seconds” , then knocked himself out somehow. We got the key thing, held off the bandits for 30 seconds, then he woke up and I...-”

He clenches his jaw and looks away at this, letting out a harsh breath at the memory. Gaius pats his hand a few times consolably as he speaks:

“You did what you had to my boy, you didn’t take advantage, or force him to do anything he wouldn’t have willingly done anyway. If anything, from the sounds of it, you were far more merciful and forgiving than Merlin would’ve been.”

Arthur huffs a weak laugh at that, and Gaius smiles, before saying:

“I’m hesitant to analyse these chains until I know more. I’ll talk to the Druids tomorrow, and wait until Merlin’s strength returns before doing anything. You best get some sleep, My Lord.”

Arthur looks up sheepishly, and bites his lip not quite meeting Gaius’ eyes. The old physician raises an eyebrow, prompting him to speak:

“Would you mind if I... stayed here for the night? I can just pull out a pallet but I...-”

Gaius picks up where Arthur hesitates:

“Don’t want to leave him?-”

Gaius smiles once again at Arthur’s infinitesimal nod:

“That’s fine by me, though you’ll have to leave this room to talk to the council eventually.”

Without waiting for a response, Gaius gets up and walks away. He checks Merlin’s bandages briefly before shuffling off to what had been The Court Sorcerer’s previous room, before he had been given his own chambers.

Arthur sighs, and walks over to Merlin, standing above him. The colour has returned to his cheeks, and he looks much healthier now he was no longer covered in his own blood and was wearing clean clothes.

He sweeps the hair away from his forehead, and leans down to place a gentle kiss where his hand had been. He looks up to see Gwen looking at him sleepily, a fond smile on her face as she stares at Arthur’s blushing face.

She stands and stretches, before whispering:

“Why don’t you take my chair, Arthur? I should probably get back to Lancelot anyway, and I doubt you want to leave his side?”

Arthur nods slightly, and whispers his gratitude as Gwen gives him a quick hug, before sneaking out the door.

Arthur settles in the chair, finding a comfortable (or as comfortable as possible in a wooden chair with wonky legs) position, as he once again wraps one hand around Merlin’s wrist, and places the other over his chest.

He falls asleep after only minutes, and rests easier than he had in a week, satisfied with the knowledge that Merlin was safe and on the mend, and returned to the position Arthur thought he belonged in most: next to him.

THE END!

I dunno, I might write a part two, about the psychological effects on Merlin? Of having his magic controlled, AND of having to watch from behind his own eyes as he hurts his friends? Let me know if y’all wanna see something like that :)

EDIT: Part 2 is up! Link at the top

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out properly with paragraphs and descriptions and shit, go for it, but credit and tag me ✌

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myrandomfandomramblings · 3 years

Text

Chenford fanfic - In which Tamara gives Lucy and Tim the push they need (but only after completely freaking Tim out)

Tamara was pretty sure Tim and Lucy had feelings for each other and decided to take it upon herself to nudge them forward. She was meeting Lucy for lunch today at the food trucks and was looking forward to putting her plan in motion. However, before Lucy got there Tim did and he sat down opposite Tamara to eat his lunch and talk. She could work with that.

“I bet I can describe your ideal woman and future wife,” Tamara says bluntly a few minutes into their conversation.

Tim just rolls his eyes, “What are you a psychic now or something. Did you see my future in your crystal ball?”

“No. But I do know who you’re going to marry. She’s younger than you. Gorgeous. Dark hair and eyes. The perfect height for you to kiss her forehead. She’s smart and kind and really tough, and has never given up despite the obstacles in her path. And you already think of her as family.”

Tim was so confused he didn’t even interrupt. He was completely lost until he remembered himself as a teenager, convinced he was going to marry his high school crush. Could Tamara really think anything could happen between them? Tim thought of her as a daughter and the thought of what she was implying made him sick.

“I need some air,” he managed to say as he got up and walked away without ever even looking at Tamara. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he ran right into Lucy who was making her way towards the table he had just vacated.

Lucy was about to tease Tim for bumping into her but the words died when she saw his expression.

“Are you OK?” Lucy asked, “You look shaken.”

“I…,” he began not sure what to say, “I need you to talk with Tamara. I think she has a crush on me and I can’t deal with that. It’s too weird. I need you to set her straight.”

Lucy’s concerned expression had morphed into poorly contained laughter as Tim talked.

“What could possibly make you think Tamara has a crush on you. You know she thinks of you as a father figure. She literally calls you Dadford.”

“She said she knew who I was going to marry, then described herself.”

“She said you were going to marry a previously homeless 19 year-old, who stole a police officer’s car, then convinced the officer to let her keep the car before selling said car?” Lucy asked clearly amused.

“Not that specific but I swear she was describing herself.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“Younger than me, pretty with dark eyes and hair, tough, smart, kind, has overcome obstacles, and about this tall,” Tim finished holding his hand about level with his nose.

“Oh and she said I already think of her as family.”

“Ok I’ll give it to you that Tamara fits all that criteria but she could be describing someone else.”

“Like who?” Tim questioned.

“Angela or Nyla for two,” Lucy offered pointing at the two woman who were currently enjoying their lunches.

Tim made a face. “I guess but what would make her think I’d marry either of them. They’re like my sisters. Plus Angela’s happily married with a new baby.”

Lucy shrugged. “I’ll talk to Tamara if it will make you feel better,” she offered.

“Thank-you,” Tim said as he let out a relieved sigh. “I have to get back on patrol but let me know what she says.”

“Will do,” Lucy replied before heading towards Tamara.

“So what were you and Officer Zaddy talking about?” Tamara asks as soon as Lucy sits down.

“You, actually,” Lucy offered “You freaked him out pretty good.”

“I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know deep down,” Tamara replied.

“Which is that he’s going to marry…?” she drew out the last word into a question hoping Tamara would finish the sentence.

“You.”

“What!” Lucy exclaimed having been completely taken off guard.

“Well it’s obvious to everybody else that there’s something between you two. I was just trying to move things along. I didn’t mean to freak him out.”

Lucy was so overwhelmed that she quickly pushed all thoughts of Tim to the deepest, darkest corner of her mind and changed the subject. She was able to get through the rest of lunch without any mention of him and lucky for her the rest of her shift was busy, providing the perfect distraction.

However, when her shift ended and she left the station she could no longer avoid her thoughts and the feelings Tamara’s comment had stirred in her. Especially when the object of said thoughts was in the parking garage, leaning against his truck, seemingly waiting for her.

“Hey,” he greeted pushing off of his truck to meet her, “how’d your talk with Tamara go?”

“Good,” Lucy replied feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, “she does not have a crush on you so you can stop freaking out.”

“Good. But I was not freaking out,” Tim countered.

“You kind of were. It looked like you had seen a ghost,” Lucy teased.

“Well can you blame me?”

“No, but it’s all good now. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lucy said heading towards her car.

“Wait if she wasn’t talking about herself. Who was she talking about?” Tim asked.

“Maybe we’ll never know,” Lucy offered still facing away from him knowing that if she turned around her flushed cheeks would give her away.

“I can tell you’re lying. Out with it Chen.” Tim demanded in his best TO voice.

Lucy turned to face him but kept her head down and eyes fixed on the floor.

“She was talking about me,” she finally said barely above a whisper.

“You? Oh?” Tim finished then trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. That actually made sense. When he had thought of Tamara, or Angela or Nyla as his future wife he had felt kind of grossed out but when he thought of Lucy he felt different, hopeful?

When the silence stretched on Lucy felt the need to fill it and hopefully break some of the tension.

“Crazy, right?” she offered finally looking up from the floor.

“Is it?” he asked meeting her gaze, “I mean we already kind of act like a couple. We’re each other’s emergency contacts. You are the first person I want to talk to when something happens, good or bad. We spend at least half of our time off together. Whenever I’m in a crowded room my eyes always look for you. There’s nobody’s opinion I value more than yours. For heaven’s sake I was buying a new Bbq brush the other night and I kept thinking “which one would Lucy like?’

Lucy let out a short laugh before speaking around the the lump that had formed in her throat. “I really don’t care about Bbq brushes,” she admitted, “you on the other hand I care about a great deal and the fact that you think of me when you’re buying things for your house means a lot.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Tim quipped cutting through the heaviness of the moment with their familiar banter.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she laughed “but now that I know tough guy, Tim Bradford does sappy speeches I’m going to need more of that in my life.” A playful smile appeared on her face as she stepped forward and took his hands.

“I think that can be arranged,” he offered before tenderly placing a kiss on her forehead. “But you can’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to protect.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but since her head was currently rested on his chest. Tim didn’t see. “If what Tamara said is true it seems everybody already knows. They saw right through your hardshell to your gooey centre. You should just embrace it.”

“Fine,” Tim relented, “speaking of Tamara it seems we might owe her some sort of thank-you.”

“Let’s see how the first date goes first,” Lucy teased pulling just far enough away from him to meet his eyes. “We both have tomorrow off so I’m thinking a midnight stroll along the beach. I hear the bioluminescence is currently beautiful. And I think it’s a full moon tonight. We can stop for food on the way. There’s this great little taco truck that’s open late.” As Lucy talked they made their way to Tim’s truck and he opened the passenger door for her. “We should probably grab Kojo too. He’s already been alone all day. If we’re lucky we might even catch the tail end of the sunset. And if you’re really lucky there may even be some skinny dipping involved.” At that Tim raised his brows at her but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought. He missed listening to her ramble. And as she continued about grabbing towels and letting Jackson know not to worry when she didn’t come home tonight. It reminded Tim of the countless hours they had spent shoulder to shoulder, just like this. Her musical voice filling the shop while they patrolled. That was over a year ago now and although this felt familiar it also felt different, new, exciting. But most of all it felt like home.

#chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #tamara collins #the rookie

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

Text

Shy (one-shot)

Synopsys: She’s shy. He likes her. She likes him. But every time something gets between the ex-Winter Soldier and the cute lab rat that works with Stark. The team has had enough of the pining.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffffff

Warnings: swearing, as per usual, nothing else really. Just some cute lil fluff I wrote (also this is defo not my best work :D)

Word count: 3042

It was a seemingly ordinary day when the ex-Winter Soldier’s life changed forever.

Bucky’d plopped down onto the sofa with a disgruntled sigh, making Steve smirk and divert his attention from the show on the TV to his friend.

“You know, she likes you,” Steve said to Bucky as he sipped on his coffee giving him a side glance.

Bucky just grumbled and crossed his arms, mind still reeling on the absolute failure that he had experienced earlier that day. It'd been a trainwreck of a mission. No lives lost, but he'd made an absolute fool of himself by making a few bad calls. “Who?”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, as if,” he snorted. “I mean I know she likes me, but she likes everyone. There’s not a single mean bone in her body.”

“No, I mean,” Steve huffed placing down the cup before he spilt some of it on himself, “she likes you. As in she might want to pursue a relationship with you.”

Bucky was choking on his spit the second the word ‘relationship’ came out of his friend’s mouth. Y/N? Liked him? As in more than a friend? He’d be lying if he said that thought didn’t send him over the Moon, but it seemed like such a far reach, especially with the interactions they’d had, that he had to give Steve a glare, especially with how she didn’t even give a single sign she might be into him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the expert on flirting and getting it on?”

“Wow.” Steve put a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “That’s a low blow. I might’ve not had any game when I was skinny, but let me tell, you after the serum th-“

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Bucky interrupted his rant.

His friend broke the eye contact and paused, chewing on his bottom lip before deflecting. “Look that doesn’t matter.”

Bucky rolled his eyes so much he feared they’d be permanently stuck like that.

“What matters is that she likes you, but she’s too shy to do anything about it,” Steve stated.

“We had a pretty good conversation a couple of hours ago.” They did. If you take saying 'hello', an awkward wave and bashful smiles as a conversation, then yes, it was very successful.

“Shy doesn’t always mean ‘incapable of holding a conversation’. Shy can mean not talking about how they’re feeling or how their day is because they think no one cares or would get annoyed with them,” Steve said looking over his mug.

Bucky was baffled. “How – why – how could anyone think she’s annoying? She’s – she’s amazing!” But that’s when it hit him - Y/N never looked him in the eye, she always apologized for talking ‘too much’, and at any point in the conversation, she always diverted the attention away from her or her troubles.

“So…” Bucky swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”

Steve shrugged. “I think if you don’t, you’ll never know what it could lead to.”

***

It was about an hour later after his enlightening chat with Steve that Bucky found himself walking towards where their resident lab rat usually stayed at when he heard muffled cursing.

“Work, you absolute piece of shit!” Y/N exclaimed each word emphasized with a harsh hit against a machine’s side. “Top-notch technology my ass!”

“Everything alright, doctor Y/L/N?” His voice was gruff as he interrupted her conversation with the computer.

Not that Y/N would ever admit it, but usually just his presence alone set her body ablaze, but this time, it was a distraction and not a good one.

“Just fucking peachy,” she grunted and slammed her hand against the computer with every uttered syllable.

“Alright,” Bucky chuckled and entered the lab. “What did that poor computer do to you, since you seem so inclined to completely destroy it?”

“For starters, it decided to shut down,” she growled at the computer, and if it was alive, it would hang its head in shame. “Then, when I rebooted it, the files were not lost, oh that I could live with, but they were corrupted. Meaning I do have them, but they’re useless, and that means I have to redo everything.”

“You’d have to redo everything if the files were lost either way.” Bucky gave her a small smile, teasing the woman as she whined.

“Yeah,” Y/N threw back her head. “But it wouldn’t be as humiliating. I mean, if they’re gone, they’re gone, but they aren’t!” She threw the screen a scowl. “The files are there, just sitting… and useless… just like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re useless." Bucky smirked at her, and she sighed.

“Please, do tell what I’m of use here right now, right this moment.”

“Company?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and that’s when Y/N realized how much she’d rattled on, how much of his precious world-saving time she’d taken up by a stupid mistake she made.

“Sorry,” she muttered, shying away from Bucky’s gaze. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my crap.”

“You don’t bore me. You could never.”

He had that love-sick look on his face as she gave him a small smile, and her eyes dropped back to the ground. Not that Y/N ever noticed, but Sam never stopped teasing him about that fucking look. The one where his eyes glimmered like stars in the night sky, and his lips involuntarily lifted up in the corners. More than once Steve had to tell him to close his mouth or someone would slip on his drool. And each time, Bucky would slap his friend on the back of his head.

“I’m not drooling,” he’d contest and go back to watching as Y/N moved around the lab, delicate fingers replacing whatever was fractured in his metal arm.

“No, saliva just generally spills out of your mouth when she’s around.”

Bucky would just grunt and say, ‘fuck off’. But he couldn’t help it really.

“Anyway." Y/N brought him out of the daydream. “Did you need anything? Is the arm acting up again?”

Although she'd never think that Bucky had any feelings for her, there was some suspicion rising in her mind. Tony was the acting engineer, but on more than one occasion he had called her up and asked if she was available to take a look at Bucky's vibranium appendage.

“Need some assistance, sweets,” the genius would mumble, and then when she would slip into work mode, he’d slyly exit the room and leave the two of them alone. And given how Tony knew, Y/N’s primary thing was chemistry and using the nanotech for cell regeneration, not engineering, it raised her suspicion level. Especially when the super-soldier came to her lab to have a check-up on days Tony was out specifically.

But she would never do anything about it. He could be standing at the altar with someone else in white walking towards him, and even then, Y/N, knowing it was her last chance, wouldn’t move a muscle to say what she felt. How could she when Bucky was the walking epitome of a Greek God while she tripped over her own feet while standing? For fuck’s sake, the man even fostered puppies in his spare time as if his day job wasn’t saving the world already how could her watching cells split in a petri dish match up to that?

“Oh, uh,” he stammered fidgeting with his fingers. “No, I uh, actually came to ask you something. Nothing work or arm… related.”

If Y/N’s heart wasn’t already beating out of her chest, she was pretty certain she’d vomit it up with the way he was looking at her. “Sure,” she whispered. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

He twisted a ring on his flesh arm. She had gotten it for him two years ago during a game of ‘Secret Santa’, which Tony promptly had added her to the list. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside for being included, but then dread settled in. What the fuck do you get a bunch of superheroes that could afford literally anything they wanted? And then she’d pulled Bucky’s name from the tacky Santa’s hat.

It wasn’t bad enough he was her crush, now she had to get him a gift he’d actually like, and she could barely hold a conversation with him that didn’t involve Avengers stuff. But from the looks of it, he had enjoyed the jewellery immensely, as any time he came over for whatever reason, he was wearing it. He liked it so much there was a lighter line of skin underneath the ring where the sun couldn’t get.

But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Bucky just froze as Y/N stared at him with hopeful and inquisitive eyes. All the things he wanted to say and ask just vanished from his brain as if he’d been put back into that horrible machine that used to wipe his mind.

“Buck?” Her voice was small as his mouth hung open like an idiot. But he didn’t even get a chance to collect himself when Bruce rushed in.

“Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Y/N I need you. There’s a problem with the cradle.”

And that was her cue. With an apologetic smile, she pulled off her latex gloves and rushed out of the room, but not before leaning back in through the door. “Hopefully I should be done in two hours tops. Raincheck on that question?”

Bucky shook his head. “You know what, it wasn’t that important anyway.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, hand reaching out to touch him, but he pushed past her and was gone, leaving the woman a bit stunned, and in all honesty - heartbroken.

***

The rest of the day she spent in utter confusion, and Bucky in self-wallowing. Y/N couldn’t understand what had changed his mind so suddenly, what she’d done so wrong, and Bucky beat himself up the whole time about choking and running away. Which is why Steve was absolutely done with it.

As Bucky sulked on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and the pop tarts he’d stolen from Thor’s stash, Steve with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Y/N in tow, all came into the room.

Seeing her lab coat swish behind her as she walked, Bucky slid down into the couch even more, as if the granite gray leather could absorb him and erase him from existence. God, how he wanted to be erased from existence.

“Hey, Y/N?” Tony drew everyone’s attention as he handed a coffee to her. “Would you mind taking a look at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s intercom system? She’s gotten a bit rusty here.”

“Umm yeah.” She nodded, kinda confused as to why she'd have to do it, but Tony was her boss, so Y/N rarely asked him much. Unless something he said was absolutely dumb. “Mind getting me a ladder?”

With a wink from Steve, Clint nodded. “Sure.”

But instead of just him leaving, all of the Avengers slowly started to ‘disperse’ throughout the living-room, before bolting towards the hallway and telling the A.I. to shut everything down.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked looking around the common room, spotting the bright fiery hair of Natasha as she rushed out of the room, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to override the lock code and not let either of them out. “Why are the doors locked?”

The smug smile she received from the assassin only infuriated Y/N more. “Tony!” she yelled through the glass, but the genius put hands over his ears and screamed back at her.

“Not until he talks to you!”

That’s when she felt someone towering over her from behind.

Two beautiful Y/E/C eyes looked up at him as Y/N turned around, confusion swimming in her irises. Bucky almost swore he passed out just from that look alone.

“Buck, what’s going on?"

The second he’d seen the group walk in, he knew what was happening. He wanted to murder all of them. Rip them apart piece by piece, but not in front of Y/N. No. He’d do that in the middle of the night, blending into the shadows and delivering slow and painful deaths to all of the conspirators.

But at the same time, this was his chance. There was literally nowhere for either of them to run unless you counted jumping out through the window and the ninety-story drop, you’d face. Which seemed very appealing to him at that moment, but Steve’s words rang through his head – ‘You’ll never know what it could lead to.” And he hoped it would lead to something beautiful, so taking a deep breath, Bucky confessed.

“Because I’m a coward…” he sighed, “and I can’t do it without someone telling me to.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared,” it came out as a whisper, and Y/N had to take a step back hurt flashing across her face thinking back to all of the times they’d spent together, while in truth Bucky’d been terrified of her.

“Of me?”

Instantly he shook his head seeing the pain on her features, and once more Bucky scolded himself. “No… of what your reaction might be.”

“Buck, you know I would never judge you. You can always talk to me… about anything.”

“Yes, but this will change things.”

“How?”

“I don’t know… that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Never. You could tell me you’re hiding a body in the tub, and I would offer you my help to get rid of it.”

And it was this firm statement that solidified his decision.

“Would you maybe,” Bucky exhaled deeply not daring to turn and look at the team that was gawking at both of them like hawks pressed against the glass, the same team that had bolted shut every door and window to prevent either of theirs escapes, “would you maybe want to go out… with… me… on a date?”

Y/N was stunned. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand went slack, and it would’ve smashed against the ground had Bucky not quickly stepped forward and caught it stepping to stand in front of her.

“You don’t have to,” he mumbled, looking at the milk infused drink. It was a light beige colour with a white foamy swirl in the middle like a little vortex that was sucking him in. God did he hope it would pull him in and never let out after what he was going to say. “It’s just that… I really like you.” There. Now it was out there. “I really like you. And not the way a friend likes a friend. I like you in a way that I want to hold your hand when we walk out together. I want to buy you coffee in the mornings and wake you up with breakfast in the bed and smooth out the hair that’s fallen on your face…”

She wasn’t breathing as with every single word said Bucky seemed to move closer. “I think I might be in love with you, Y/N…” his hand gently lifted and cupped her cheek.

She just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, shallow breaths escaping into the air as her heart beat out of her chest in a manner, she thought it might hit Bucky directly in the stomach.

“Say something,” he pleaded, blue eyes searching for an answer in Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. “Please.”

“I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back. And it wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same, not at all. In fact, when he had started his whole confession, she felt like she was about to pass out from all the love that invaded her body, but the thing is - Y/N has never been good with emotions. She never knew how to process them, how to give the correct answer and make people happy. She was shy, awkward and a recluse. And now she was supposed to come out of her safety shell. Which is why for the first time in her life, she expressed herself with her actions by leaning up, grasping onto the nape up Bucky’s neck and pulling their mouths together.

When her lips touched his, Bucky knew there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to. He couldn’t help the giant smile that bloomed on his face, as he pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arm one around her waist, the other trailing up to settle between her shoulder blades, pushing their chests together, so impossibly close an ant couldn’t crawl between the two.

It became even more of a beautiful moment when Y/N’s own lips pulled up in a smile, breaking the kiss apart, but leaving them grinning and feeling dizzy from the happiness.

“Guess we needed a gentle nudge in the right direction,” Bucky gave out a small laugh, both palms securely resting on Y/N’s hips and bringing her closer.

“I’d say it was more of a shove with a rifle at our backs,” she said, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders fingers skimming against his clavicles and making his breath stop halfway to his throat. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere… the two of us without a bunch of people watching our every move.” Her eyes flitted over to where the rest of the team stood behind the doors listening in on the two, and suddenly the heads of their teammates disappeared from the view, making Y/N and Bucky shake their heads.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, squeezing her side. “That’s probably the best idea. You truly are a dream, aren’t ‘ya?”

Y/N could only chuckle and hide her face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as her hold tightened around his middle, and he responded much the same by weaving his fingers in the hairs on the back of her neck and pulling her closer if that was even possible, burying his nose in the Y/H/C locks.

“Don’t go all shy on me now.”

“Can’t,” she mumbled back. “You make me turn into mush.”

Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “A cute mush.”

“Shut up!”

And he did by pulling her in for another searing kiss. God, how he loved his shy girl.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy @pxrrishly @parker-barnes-af @skulliebythesea @california-grown @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @belongsto-prachi @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @strangersstranger

A/N: have you ever hated your job so much so, that you can’t sleep, can’t eat and basically live in a well of anxiety? and not because of the work itself, but because of that ONE PERSON that makes it miserable? Cause I do. And I can’t wait to get away from it.

P.S. sorry for being so pessimistic, but it’s just a nightmare.

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :) P.S.S.S. if you wanna be added to a taglist, drop me a message :)

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

Jordskjelv

The Earth Shaker

Part 1 of ?

Word Count: 1885

Loki x Reader

Just a 2012 style avengers fanfic that is Loki x Reader. Sometime you just need cute fluff that is absolutely nothing more than self indulgence.

It had been a normal day, you going to work at the little cafe, serving people coffee and sandwiches, just living your normal life. Then things had shown up on the news, an attack in New York City. Aliens coming down from the sky and wreaking havoc on the city, and then you saw him and your heart stopped. The customers were all distracted so you called out on your break then and there, pulling out your phone and looking up the fight in NYC, you kept looking for any glimpse of the man with a red cape flying around with a hammer in hand.

"Thor," it comes out as a breathless whisper.

You don't care that you're in the middle of a shift, you shout to your coworkers that you have to leave and walk out the door. You needed to get to NYC, you needed to find Thor, you couldn't get there fast enough. Surely the fight would have ended by the time you even make it to the outside of the city, but hopefully you could make it on time to find Thor. Thor was the only chance you had for getting your old life back and you had missed him the last time he'd been anywhere close by.

As you get in your car and take off driving at a reckless pace you let your mind fill with memories. You'd grown up with Thor in Asgard, your name was actually Faylwyn even if here in Midgard you went by y/n. You'd run and played and trained alongside him and Sif and the Warriors Three. Then once you were a bit older you had gotten in trouble, gotten on Odin's bad side, and he had banished you to Midgard. Thor had to have not known that you were alive, else he would have come looking for you.

But it isn't Thor you care about here. You glance at the bracelet around your wrist, beads strung on a strand of black hair, intertwined with a strand of your own hair. It was all you had left of your life on Asgard, you'd been friends with Thor sure, but he was just Loki's dumb older brother. You and Loki had been inseparable, hell you'd even given each other love locks, thats what this bracelet was, you'd had to cut it out of your hair, but you couldn't just give it up. You'd put some beads on it to hide what it truly was but it was your most prized possession.

The lovelocks had been hidden, hidden under layers of your hair so that no one knew besides the two of you. You and Loki had had wonderful plans, plans to run away together, to explore the universe together, to get married once you were old enough and to spend the eons with one another. No one had known this, no one but the two of you, Odin was unlikely to allow it, Frigga had to listen to her husband, and Thor had a big mouth. No one had known the full extent of the love both of you shared for the other, but now you had a chance, a chance to find him again after 700 years of being in Midgard alone.

You had never stopped loving him in all that time, you had longed to be by his side once again, you could only imagine the pain he had felt with whatever story Odin had decided to tell of your disappearance. Now you had that chance to find him again and you weren't going to miss it for the second time. Your one and only fear was that, he might not love you anymore, after all this time that he had moved on while you hadn't.

You drive all day, the fight is long over when you reach the city, it's the middle of the night and the streets are packed with people and rubble along with alien bodies. There wasn't anyway you could continue to drive, so you got out of your car, leaving it running in your hurry, you don't care you don't need it. You look up on your phone directions to the Stark Tower, it was your best chance of finding Thor, and you begin running. You aren't fast like Captain America but you have stamina, able to run for hours and hours, going for miles and days on end.

No, you weren't Asgardian royalty, but here at least much like Thor was considered the god of thunder in ancient mythology, you were considered the goddess of earth. No, not like Earth the planet, but earth, the dirt, minerals, the ground beneath your very feet. Thor was able to fly, like the lightning and thunder, rushing through the air. You were able to run, moving with ease, being one with the ground beneath you, never faltering calm and steady.

You round a corner and the tower becomes visible, tall and graceful, pointing into the sky with lights illuminating its massive form. It's when you get close that you notice the many agents and people swarming the scene, there was no way you'd be able to get inside unnoticed. And none of these people knew who you were so they'd never let you in, you sigh, time to do something stupid, or at the very least a plan which Thor could have come up with. You slowed your pace, finding your way into an alley, then to a side door. "Here goes nothing," you say softly to yourself as you pry the locked door open and step inside.

Instantly alarms begin wailing and SHIELD agents begin to swarm towards your position. That was fine, you didn't want to hurt any of them but causing a scene would get the attention you needed. You needed to pose yourself as a big enough threat to need the attention of the heroes who had fought the aliens, any less and they'd ignore you, thinking you're some crazy from off the street. The agents surround you and you don't make a move, letting them go first. You don't want to hurt them, so you need to judge their skill first, you'd been fighting for nearly a thousand years, you'd easily be able to take them down.

The first to approach you with their gun, telling you to surrender since you weren't supposed to be here, you punch in the nose and knock them out. Seeing the ease with which you did that, leads to them calling for backup. Perfect. From there you focus, feeling a heavy sensation in your stomach as you do, slowly the ground opens up enough to sink their feet in and trap them, and one small, earthquake later their guns are on the floor.

You approach the one who had called for backup, and look them over briefly before speaking. "I need to talk to Thor, can you make that happen?"

They seem confused with your sudden loss of aggression, but nod, placing a finger to their ear as they reached out through their coms, "Director Fury, the infiltrator on the ground level wishes to speak with Thor. They have disarmed us and and have us all trapped my our feet in the floor but they do not seem to pose a threat as long as they see Thor."

You nod once and confirm, "I just wish to speak with him, I'm an old friend." With that you step back and place the door back in place, as you step outside once again, "I'll be in the park. Tell him I'm waiting."

With that you leave, and close the door behind you. Only releasing the agents from the ground once you've made it safely away. It was short and fortunately went better than planned. Now all you had to do was wait, and wait you did. It did not matter to you that it took hours for anything to happen. It didn't mater that you'd slept in the grass that night, and that the sun was rising when someone approached you. You had a chance to see your Loki again and that was all you needed to be happy.

You're awoken by someone speaking softly, "sir, I have eyes on the target." It's a woman's voice, you don't move, and continue to lay there, eyes closed.

It's when you hear the slightest sound of the grass moving that you finally do so as well, sitting up and moving to face her. It's the redheaded woman who was fighting alongside Thor the day previous. You offer a slight smile and a, "hello."

When you move Natasha removers her hand from the earpiece she was wearing, and asks, "you're the one that broke in last night asking for Thor?" It's posed as a question but you feel it's more of a statement.

"That is me, I'd just like to speak with him, I'm an old friend. My name is y/n l/n, at least that is the one you will find me under in all government records. Look me up, I don't care, just let me see Thor before he returns to Asgard," you come to a standing position and hold out your hand, "tell him Faylwyn wishes to see him, he'll know what you mean." With that you turn to walk away.

"Sorry, no can do, you're coming with me, you broke into a secure facility and took out multiple agents. You don't get to walk off right like that," she says and reaches for her hip.

You turn back to face her as she speaks, glancing at her hand before meeting her eyes again, "I'm willing to come peacefully. You don't have to tase me," you hold out your empty hands to her, "see, you can even handcuff me, just so I can speak with Thor."

Natasha looks at you, you're being genuine on this one thing, though she still doesn't trust you. She had seen the door you'd pried open, the imprints of your fingers in the metal around the latch, there was no way handcuffs would hold you if you wanted to leave. "No need, come on," she nods her head towards the tower and keeps her hand on the taser as she leads the way. You were a threat if you wanted to be, and obviously you were smart. You hadn't caused more damage that a broken door and a broken nose, and from what she had heard and seen on the cameras you could have done a lot more had you wished to do so.

You follow Natasha to the tower and in the doors, around some corners up an elevator and through the hallways to a more private and secure room.

"Wait here," she says as she opens the door for you, letting you in before closing it behind you. Once again, you wait. This is still your best chance, you had no other way to contact Thor, thanks to Odin's being pissed at you even after 700 years. The All-Father could All-ways hold a grudge.

Eventually the door handle jiggles before opening, and you look up, meeting the eyes of the tall blond, the Asgardian armor covering his body and the red cape over his shoulders. He looks at you in shock and says, "Faylwyn?"

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki fanfic #MCU #mcu fanfic #MCU fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu x you #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki friggadottir #loki laufeysdottir #genderfluid loki

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fandomfindings · 3 years

Text

Pick Up

Pairings: (Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Warning(s): Cursing, Audacity

Summary: The first time you pick up your daughter from daycare leads to a misunderstanding between you and the staff.

A/N: (DN) = Daughter's Name

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"Can we go get ice cream when you pick me up, daddy?" Your daughter asked, kicking her little legs against the booster seat that kept her small body in place in the car.

Kuroo chuckled. Of course, the child was already looking forward to a sweet treat after school. "You're going to have to ask mommy princess; she's picking you up today."

"Mommy's picking me up?" (DN) perked up at the thought, removing her gaze from the window and to the back of her father's head.

"Mhm," Kuroo mumbled lightly. "I have to go on another business trip, so mommy's bringing you to daycare and back home all week," your husband explained thoroughly.

"Yes!" (DN) exclaimed, obviously excited for the change of events. Kuroo was usually the one to take her to and from school, for it fit better with his work schedule than your own.

"You're not going to miss me?" asked Kuroo, feigning hurt, as he looked between his daughter in the car's rear-view mirror and the road.

"I'll miss you, daddy, but mommy never picked me up from school before! I want her to meet all my friends and teachers, and she can see where we play," Your daughter began to ramble about all the things she was excited to show you, all the way until the two had reached her daycare.

Kuroo helped the child from her booster seat and then the car, taking her small hand into his significantly larger one.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll call you for bed, okay," Your husband said once inside the building, down on one knee to be eye level with his child.

"Okay, daddy. Bye, I love you," (DN) said, grabbing her father's face with her small hands and placing a kiss on his forehead, an action she picked up from exchanges between you and your husband.

Kuroo smiled, reciprocating the action, his big hands taking up almost all of her face. "I love you too, kiddo."

As a worker took the girl to her class, Kuroo called out to her one last time, "Be good!"

"Yes, sir!" your daughter yelled back, turning around to wave her father goodbye.

Kuroo stood, ridding his suit of any dirt that may have stuck to him while he was on his knee. He was about to leave when someone spoke up to catch his attention.

"You're very good with her," said one of the workers. Kuroo often saw her when dropping off or picking up your daughter. They made small talk now and then, but he couldn't even remember the poor lady's name.

"I would hope so," Kuroo chuckled awkwardly, not sure how to respond to the supposed compliment.

The worker laughed back, almost too much in Kuroo's opinion considering the remark wasn't very funny.

"Yeah, I respect you for taking such good care of her, especially since," The woman began but was interrupted by the ringing of Kuroo's phone, a unique ringtone he had in place just for you.

As soon as he heard the tone, Kuroo didn't hear the rest of what the employee had to say. Unbeknownst to him, it was about him being a single father, which wasn't true by any means.

"Yeah, babe?" Kuroo answered, turning to leave the building, completely forgetting the previous conversation, too excited about hearing your voice.

"Bye, Mr.Kuroo!" shouted the lady, trying one last desperate attempt to get his attention.

He gave a simple wave of his hand back before leaving the building entirely.

"Who was that?" You questioned, hearing the voice even through the phone.

"One of the workers at (DN)'s school," Kuroo explained, uninterested. "How are you this morning, my love?" he asked, changing the subject to something he was actually interested in, you.

"Babe, let me tell you!" You exclaimed, getting ready to rant about your morning thus far, causing Kuroo to chuckle.

The rest of your day went off without too many more hiccups. You met Kuroo for lunch just before he left for his business trip. There you gave final goodbyes to your dismay, but you knew you would see him soon.

After work, you headed to your daughter's daycare, excited to see her cute little face again. Once there, you parked and headed inside to a front desk as Kuroo instructed.

"Hi, how are you?" asked an employee as soon as you reached the desk.

"I'm alright, and you?"

"I'm well. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, I'm here to pick up (DN)," You stated using the sign-out sheet Kuroo had also instructed you to do.

"Kuroo (DN)?" The worker clarified, verifying your name after you completed the sheet.

"That's her," you smiled at the mention of her name.

"Of course, I'll get her right away."

"Thank you," you said politely to the retreating employee. As you waited, you pulled out your phone, seeing a picture from Kuroo looking bored in a meeting. Grinning to yourself, you replied with some words of encouragement.

"Are you her nanny?" asked a sudden voice. You looked up to see it was the other worker who was at the desk. You hadn't paid much attention to her since she didn't address you when you first arrived.

"I'm sorry?"

The woman asked again, "Are you (DN)'s nanny?"

"Ha no, I'm her mother," You replied, thinking it was funny that she thought so. Looking back to your phone, you were about to send a joking text to Kuroo about being the 'nanny', not finding a reason to continue the conversation.

Unfortunately for you, the woman continued it anyway, "You're her mother?" questioned the worker skeptically.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure I'm her mother?" You asked, voice rising in volume slightly, almost appalled she would ask such a thing. The employee nodded, not daring to ask you again. "I'm pretty sure, considering I've raised her since she was born. Would you like to see her birth certificate?" You challenged.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to call Mr.Kuroo just to verify," said the woman picking up the phone before you could even say anything.

"Mr.Kuroo? You mean my husband."

"Your husband?"

"Yes, my husband. (DN)'s father," You simplified, hoping the words would sink into her seemingly thick skull.

"Yes, hello?" Kuroo answered the phone, confused. He had (DN)'s school saved in his phone, but they never called him before.

"Hi, Mr.Kurro, I'm sorry to bother you. I know you're a busy man," the woman said apologetically, her tone and demeanor changing as soon as Kuroo answered the phone. She even had the gall to twirl the phone cord like a lovesick teenager. It made your blood boil. "I just wanted to let you know there is a woman here claiming to be (DN)'s mother."

"That's my wife," Kuroo answered easily, knowing you were heading to the daycare straight after work. "Is there a problem?"

The worker was a bit stunned, her view of the man changing instantly, she didn't know he was married, how embarrassing. "No sir, not at all," She replied, stuttering out a bit towards the beginning.

"Good. Please refer any further calls or concerns to my wife, please," Kuroo said before immediately hanging up the phone, needing to get back to his meeting.

"Yes, sir," the employee responded despite the lack of your husband on the call.

The woman looked up to you, mouth slightly ajar as if she was about to say something, but nothing passed her lips. Before she could say anything, hopefully, apologize for her behavior (DN) made her appearance.

"Mommy!" exclaimed your daughter's voice as soon as she saw you. Leaving the grasp of the other, more likable employee, she ran towards you, wrapping her small arms around both your legs.

"Hi, sweetheart!" You exclaimed, matching the child's energy, sinking to her level to wrap her in your arms. "How was your day?" You questioned, taking the time to glare at the lady who dared to question your role in your daughter's life.

"It was great! I went outside with my friends, and we read that book that you and daddy read me at bedtime." said the girl. "I even got to point at the pictures for the rest of the class."

"That sounds lovely, baby." You said, standing up and taking your daughter's hand. "Why don't you tell me the rest on the way home?"

"Can we stop for ice cream?"

"Did you get a green sticker today?" You asked, walking towards the exit of the building.

"I got gold!" Your daughter corrected the pride evident in her voice.

"Whoa, a gold! I think that calls for extra toppings."

"Yes!"

In a sickly sweet tone, you turned back to the unkind worker and said, "You have a good day."

You spent the rest of your day spending time with your daughter. After getting ice cream, you two went to the park for a bit and then home to get her cleaned up and ready for dinner. You cooked a meal both of you enjoyed to cheer you up and keep (DN)'s spirits high, though that was rarely a problem.

At bedtime, Kuroo called as promised and listened to your daughter rave about her day. You two read her to sleep, per usual.

Now it was just you and your husband, and now you were ready to talk about the altercation at the daycare. You had filled your husband in a bit via text, but it was nothing like a good old rant.

"It was fucking ridiculous! She's my daughter!" You yelled, pacing the large room you and Kuroo shared."I shouldn't have to explain myself to her. Who does she think she is?"

"I know, darling I think she was just trying to make sure you weren't trying to abduct a child," Kuroo tried to reason to calm you down.

"Bullshit. The other worker verified me. I'm on the emergency contacts list. They have my picture!" You explained, listing off the reasons why what the worker did was disrespectful and honestly unprofessional.

"Do you know what I think it is?" You rhetorically asked.

"What's that, love?"

"I think she likes you. She was obviously flirting during that call earlier."

Kuroo, genuinely not knowing this information asked, "Was she?"

"Yes! Blatantly so. She wasn't even trying to hide it, and I was right in front of her. Me! Your wife!" You shouted, trying to piece together what the woman was thinking, but it was honestly giving you a slight headache. "Did she not see the ring on my finger? The ring on your finger? The audacity of that bit-"

"Alright, alright, hey, calm down."

"Uh, it's just so upsetting," You said, mood going from anger to dejected. "Am I not in (DN)'s life enough? Do I need to do more?"

Kuroo sat up in his chair, staring at the phone as if he could see you. He should've video called you instead. "Hey, don't talk like that; you do plenty," Kuroo said firmly. "I just so happen to be the one who drops her off and picks her up. That's just how our schedules work. We're both busy, love."

"I know. You're right," You agreed, not being able to deny how busy you two are. "Maybe I should start doing drop off or pick up," You suggested. "I'm her mother, and they need to know that."

"I'm sure they do by now," Kuroo teased. "We'll talk more about this when I get home, okay."

You groaned, realizing he wouldn't be home until the end of the week."Can't you come home now?" I need you after such a rough day."

"I wish I could. I do," Kuroo said sadly. He really did wish he could be there for you right now. He'd prefer being in bed with you over some hotel room any day. "You know I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yeah, I know."

You two sat in silence for a bit, both of you too tired to carry out much of a conversation. However, just the knowledge that both of you were on the phone was enough.

After a while, Kuroo spoke up."Go get you some beauty sleep," he said, knowing you would need the rest. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine," You sighed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

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A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this imagine as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was so much longer than I originally intended but I won’t complain because I love how it turned out in the end. And honestly there’s no such thing as too much Kuroo. Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Lots of Love <3

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pepperpills · 3 years

Text

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: hi guys, I'm changing a little my posting method. at first, I was afraid the chapters were too big and decided to divide them in parts and post a new part everyday (as long as there was a part to post), but it kind of affects the reading, so I will be uploading a new complete chapter every tuesday, hope it is better for you!

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2)

Part II – The Lord

The day after The Harvest, when you were designated to work for Lord Heisenberg, was a long one. Not really exhausting as you spent most part of it turning from one leg to the other waiting for someone to activate the bridge to the factory.

You were deadened by a miscellaneous of emotions battling to gain domain over your brain. You couldn’t stop thinking about waving your mother goodbye as the sun conquered the sky, shortly before being surrendered by the stormy clouds.

After the speech at the Chapel, you wanted to wander around a little bit, maybe hunt, thinking that it probably was your last walk on those landscapes, yet, you didn’t want to get late on your first day, so your feet lead the way past Heisenberg’s gate, close to the church. It wasn’t even lunch time when you reached the end of the road, facing the factory chimneys and the hell lot of metal discarded in its front yard.

You had completely no idea how to call someone or if you should, as far as you knew, the lord lived there alone and you didn’t think it would be a great first impression if you simply started yelling his name, so he could do that bridge thing.

Thus, you waited. Placing your bag on the ground, you stood there for what seemed to be two entire hours. Then you got tired and sat, your corselet holding your oxygen levels. After a while even being sat was annoying, your legs tingled and your stomach hurt, once you completely forgot to bring any food with you.

That would be a great time for the Duke to make an entrance. As one of his most loyal clients – maybe you sneak once in a while, claiming possessions of one or two crystals –, sometimes you two shared a meal and Gods, he was a good cook. But it wasn’t his week at the Village and that wasn’t his store’s place anyway.

When the day light began to fade and the clouds grew heavier, you started worrying about getting wet. To divert your mind from that thought, you left all your belongings at the end of the road, not too close to the border, so hopefully they wouldn’t fall in the water below, and explored the ruins, studying the bricks that build those structures, absolutely bored, not even anxious anymore. At that point you could think about a thing or two to say to that idiot Heisenberg.

What would happen if he didn’t open the gate? Could you just walk away and live your life? Well, that didn’t sound like a bad plan, if just you could reach the forest first… The first water drop popped in your hair, the rain it announced didn’t take long to join it and a few moments later you were soaking wet, cold to the bone, contracting every muscle.

Suddenly, as you were about to curse Heisenberg’s name, a gear sound rose, it sounded old, but well-oiled and was really loud, louder than the rain and thunders and made you and the crows jump, they flew, you stayed as there was nowhere to go. Approaching your dank belongings, you saw a firm, modular, sand-coloured bridge forming in front of your eyes. Its movement was smooth comparing to something that big. You were genuinely impressed and would like to ask a few questions about how that works.

This surreal vision absorbed you for a few minutes after it was done, you didn’t feel the rain chastening your skin anymore. To be honest, at that point you realized where you were at and what you had to do, after an entire day in standby.

Your own brain didn’t really wake you up from that hypnosis. Oh, no. What made your heart rate rise again was a sudden, strong and frisky voice coming out of nowhere. You looked around, moving your head way too quick, making a spray of water with your hair and saw no one, but his words were most certainly there, echoing in your mind, making your entire body feel warm.

“C’mon, honey pie, we ain’t got all day.” He said, demanding, and then laughed.

Great, a madman, you thought. You weren’t sure, though, if you blushed intensely due to what he just called you or because every cell of your body felt enraged with that joke, it was you who had been waiting for him, you who would be forever wet, because he left you in the rain. You wanted to walk to that factory and tell it straight to that son of a…

Shortly, you understood. It was a test. You took a deep breath, grabbed your stuff, which made a humid sound, and walked resiliently to the factory’s gate. He wanted to see if you were a spitfire and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“She walks.” He giggled, the voice of the wind, and then opened the gate.

Was he doing it with his mind? You knew that Lady Beneviento had some sort of effect on people’s brains, hallucinations they said, Lord Moreau could turn into a giant fish, Lady Dimitrescu had impressive long and strong nails that could tear anyone apart. What could Lord Heisenberg do, really? The villagers talked about he being one of the strongest lords, if not the strongest of them all. He had some power over metal, but you didn’t know exactly how it worked.

Anyway, you stepped in his front yard, facing the absurd, yet fascinating sea made of his discarded toys. For Gods’ sake, you even saw a war tank half buried in the dusty soil, you couldn’t even imagine how he had that and why he would so easily neglect it. There were ripped off motorcycles, destroyed cars, metal pieces with a huge variation of sizes and shapes and a ton of mechanical parts just lying there as a good old scrap heap.

Home, you thought sarcastically and smiled. So, when the last factory doors finally spread open to you, you faced the interior with a smile on your face even though you were miserable due to the storm. Carefully, you came inside just to be greeted by a puff of heat and sweet smoke, really welcoming at your state. The warmth certainly came from all the machinery working there somewhere, making a metal orchestra that never shut off. The smoke, well, it was coming from Heisenberg’s lite cigar.

He came from above, as a god like being, building stairs with metal parts right in the mid-air and climbed them down. You had never seem such thing and it was breath-taking; you were hypnotised for a moment there, silently dripping on the grimy ground, actually cleaning it a little.

He had some sort of waddle on his walk, nothing tawdry, though. Karl Heisenberg looked like an authoritative, impulsive and humorous man and he was, above all, having fun with you being there as if you were his new pup and you sure were.

“Oh, look who finally made it!” He greeted, on the ground, standing three steps away from you, the smoke so dense it made your eyes water, yet reassuringly hot with a tobacco scent.

Heisenberg took off his spectacles, just then you realized he was wearing them inside the factory. Besides that, he was dressed exactly the same as the day before, it didn’t seem he’d showered or so. Nonetheless, now you could see his eyes, his multi-coloured greyish blue abysms staring straight at you for sure this time.

All you felt able to do was stare back, almost not blinking, taken by those soft colours on a rough man like him. You thought you would be scared, although, you were honestly intrigued. You noticed another scar crossing his cheeks and nose and wondered how it ended up there, feeling all of a sudden tempted to reach it with your index finger, gently sensing the cicatrized skin.

“Good evening, sir.” You found yourself saying to be polite, breaking the motionless aura that sunk you in contemplation.

It was bizarre, but you weren’t cold anymore nor angry, you had the grip over your own posture again, your corselet helping you to keep your back straight. You were confident.

“Good evening, Y/N.” This you weren’t expecting, almost broke you. Why would he bother to memorise your name?

You remembered what Miranda said about being solicited by one of the lords, that made you shiver, exactly like the one you had before, only this time you could also smell the iron all over, not only taste it. The scent in the closed atmosphere of the factory had a light, almost undistinguished, aroma of the night, the fresh breeze and dry grass, maybe brought by you, however, most of it was rusted metal, motor oil and tobacco. It wasn’t unpleasant, just uncommon to what you were used to.

“Guess you found less transparent clothes.” He said next, circling you, studying you and your reactions.

You noticed he also smelled like the factory as if he was part of it, or it was, indeed, himself. You closed your eyes and the iron taste emphasized, it felt like you were licking a ring, you head spined.

“It is tradition to wear them at The Harvest.” You defended yourself – and your pure intentions.

You don’t know why, but you felt your cheeks burning, actually, parts of your body that would usually pass unnoticed had lite with the tension in the air and you just hoped you could be alone, devouring some food to calm your nerves.

“Horseshit!” Heisenberg raised his voice, coming through his pressed teeth. “They just make you wear those slutty clothes so my sisterAlcina can see all of her new pups’ assets.” Heisenberg mocked, laughing madly.

“Oh.” You couldn’t think of anything better to say, you never thought of that.

At that point, you were thinking about yourself, your dress and how you felt pretty wearing it. Did it count on the selection? You felt slightly ashamed, Heisenberg’s breathing was too close to your left ear, but you wouldn’t dare to move or your noses could collide.

“Surprised?” He questioned, maliciously. You didn’t answer immediately, you were too aware of how your boobs were trying to escape the corselet’s dictatorship. “I asked you…” He bellowed “are you surprised?” he finished in a lower tone.

“Y-yes.” You finally said. “Never thought of it.” You looked at the ground, discovering a puddle where you were standing.

“You sound like an outsider.” He ruminated, more to himself than to you.

“I kind of am.” You confessed, thinking about the cabins. “I am from the cabin people.”

“Hm… Interesting.” He glanced at you, head to toe, you couldn’t help feeling heated as you never felt before. “Sorry about the rain.” Heisenberg shrugged. “I am a busy man.” He justified, mischievously, remembering you of the anger you felt back at the bridge.

The lord left you alone for a second, walking past through a curtain. You followed him into a small improvised office area with photos all over a wall, it pictured the Village, the lords’ lots and Mother Miranda, a big poster of her right in the middle. It had a knife scratch on it. Maybe Heisenberg wasn’t a family’s man after all.

You were regaining your confidence as he was distracted with the pictures – or you thought he was, unable to really see what he was picturing –, you were seeking for a good ambiguous thing to say about waiting so long for that sort of reception, however, he was quicker and made you gasp, almost choke.

“Take ‘em off.” It was an order said firmly. The way he looked at you, as if he was some kind of authority, gave you the chills.

“Them?” You innocently asked, placing a hand on your belly, trying to breathe.

“Your wet clothes.” He explained, pointing to your entire body.

“All my clothes are wet.” You insisted, flushing heavily.

He took his very own overcoat off and handed it to you. You hesitantly accepted it, not knowing exactly what to do with his eyes on you.

“For fuck’s sake.” He turned away, chuckling.

You waited half a second to be sure he wasn’t secretly looking, you didn’t know if there were cameras in the room, so you started undressing. It wasn’t a very easy dress to take off, you couldn’t reach the laces on your back, because of that, you had to ask for his help.

“Can’t even take off your own clothes, kitten.” Heisenberg mocked, as his adept hands slowly, playfully, untied the laces.

His touch was warm, he slipped his hand and you felt his calloused fingers on your skin, your body hair immediately responded husking and an electrical current flowed through you, lightening your eyes, reverberating to your core. He also felt that and some other things that made him put away his hips, but once you were facing the entrance, you couldn’t see his reaction and only heard a small movement of boots.

Lastly your dress fell to your feet and you covered yourself with his bulky overcoat, feeling better as you inhaled his aroma so intensely you almost fainted with those mechanic flavours petting your skin and his body warmth heating you.

“Now, enough chit-chat. Your duties.” He broke the silence as you finished tying the fabric belt around your waist.

“Yes, sir.” This time it was him who took a deep breath, seeming a little bothered somehow like he could use some time alone.

He had been a lonely man. You didn’t hear other people, well, living people, in the factory the next days and realised it was only you and him. It must have felt weird having someone around after years of living like an eremite. Even with all the jokes and that cheap charms, the view of him tilted to the investigative board gave you the impression that it was a bit too much having you there all at once and decided to put your rain resentments aside ang give him a chance and some space.

“I need some cleaning. I am expanding some experiments and I need to use a new wing for it, but it’s really messy.” You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he had a grin adorning his scarred lips.

“I will do it.” You said, a little disappointed that this was your choir and surprised you were expecting something more… Dangerous? Exciting maybe?

“Of course you will.” He was leaned on the office desk, not even looking at you anymore, suddenly sold out. “One more thing.”

“Yes? What is it, sir?” Heisenberg shook his head making his grizzly hair dance as if getting rid of a thought. It wasn’t clear if he was still having fun or being disturbed by something.

“There is only one bed in this factory.” You turned stone cold with that announcement, abruptly conscious of all the blood running through your veins.

A secluded part of your mind, a usually quiet one, whispered a thought: It would be good to see where his blood is running to.

“Unless you want to sleep in a stretcher.” He added, laughing vigorously, giving you the chills again.

“Oh no, I will take the bed.” The answer came easily as if it was always there.

You took your wet clothes and belongings after he told you how to access the bedroom and you left him alone to it, whatever it was.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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storiesofsvu · 3 years

Text

Drunk Carolling

Rafael Barba x fem!reader Warnings: language, flirting, kissing, alcohol consumption

Rafael sat in his apartment, half full glass of scotch and an empty take out container sitting in front of him on the coffee table. The t.v was playing some absolutely ridiculously stupid Christmas movie he couldn’t seem to escape from no matter what channel he landed on.

Fuck he hated the holidays.

The city was cold and windy, packed full of tourists who had no clue where they were going or how to get there, harassing the obvious locals for answers. He’d have to suffer through a company Christmas party at not only the D.A’s office but likely be roped into coming to the SVU one as well by Olivia. Everyone always had their plus one, someone who was usually only mentioned but now it was confirmed that they did actually exist, and were very much in love. Young couples frolicked through the city displaying far too much P.D.A for anyone’s liking.

It all just enunciated the fact that he was still alone, not even just romantically but family wise things were getting pretty slim too. It just seemed like it was the time of year to be joyful and thankful, exuding warmth and love when it really it was one of the most stressful times of the year. Case loads went through the roof as the weather got colder, families were stuck at home more, out of town visitors causing more rising more tensions, and too drunk party go-ers ending up in not so hot situations. It was always so much easier to escape off to some lavish ski resort or disappear to an adults only all exclusive resort in the Bahamas, but his Mami had made him promise he would spend Christmas Day with her this year, and he couldn’t refuse.

He sighed heavily as there was a loud outburst of laughing from across the hall, turning the volume on the t.v up a few levels as he began to flick through the channels again. Truthfully, his neighbour (..Cindy? Cassy? God if he could remember) had come knocking on his door earlier that week to warn that she was having some old friends over on Friday. It was more out of respect for the other tenants, giving them fair warning and letting them know no one would be offended if anyone came by to tell them to keep it down, she’d also presented him with some homemade cookies as a pre-apology bribe.

The least he could do was give them the benefit of the doubt, at least wait until it was closer to midnight to complain. It was Friday night, it was the Holidays, he would do what he could to not be a Scrooge and ruin other people’s fun…even if that’s exactly what he wanted to do.

About an hour later the noise got louder as the soft music, excited talking and laughing morphed into what sounded like a home karaoke machine, pop and rock versions of Christmas carols echoing through the apartment alongside the voices of tipsy over exited women. Rolling his eyes he poured another glass of scotch, they weren’t honestly that loud, and it did sound like they were having a great time..at least someone was. He opted to take the time to finally change out of his work clothes, soaking in a steaming shower before throwing on some more upscale loungewear. He organized a few things in the apartment, tossing in a load of laundry from the week, setting aside the dry cleaning to take in over the weekend.

Essentially, he was killing time until he deemed it was late enough he could play the bad guy. He’d noticed the volume of the karaoke seemed to have been turned up, and it was just passing eleven. Pocketing his phone quickly he unlocked his door, leaving it open considering he was going all of two feet, knocking hopefully loud enough on the offending apartment’s door. He heard a pattering of stilettos on the hardwood before the door flung open, and the view on the other side…certainly wasn’t what he expected.

“Barba?” Your head tilted in confusion, the wide smile dropping from your cheeks. He could barely help but gape, scrambling over words in his brain. You were in a silver sequinned dress that barely met your mid thigh, he would say it made up for that by having long sleeves but the neck showed off much more cleavage than he’d ever seen on you.

“Whitlow?” Your name was barely out of his mouth when one of your friends, who seemed to be much more worse off half stumbled up, shooting him a glare.

“Where’s the pizza? Wait…why is he calling you by your last name? Oh my GOD! Is he one of your cop friends? Did you get a cop stripper for us?!”

“OH my GOD Ashley!” You clamped a hand around her mouth, shoving her out of the doorframe, shouting something about switching to water right as the girl he recognized as the actual apartment tenant trotted up.

“Oh shit…” She whined, “you’re here to tell us we’re being too loud aren’t you?”

“Nah, Claire, he’s not a cop, he’s a lawyer.”

“Wait you know him?”

“Yeah we work together.”

“He lives across the hall.” She gestured and you noticed the open door, there was suddenly a gleam in your eyes and the multiple glasses of champagne you’d drunk became more apparent to Rafael, the shock of him showing up wearing off.

“I..uh was going to ask if maybe-“ You cut him off with a playful whack to the chest.

“Don’t be a Scrooge! You can’t tell me you don’t have an open bottle of scotch you’re indulging in right now Counsellor.” Despite the being tipsy, and the heels, you were across the hall and into his apartment before he even realized it. “Were you seriously watching The Grinch?” You called back to him, a laugh evident on your face.

“Detective..” He gave you the best warning glare he could but before he could even process what was going on you’d scooped up the bottle of scotch and his keys from the counter, swiftly locking his door and dragging him into Claire’s apartment. Your voice was quieter as you replied to him,

“It’s Christmas…and you’re staring at my tits…I think it’s fine if you call me y/n.” You shot him a wink before grabbing a glass for his drink.

He had to admit it, it honestly wasn’t as horrible as he’d originally thought, though most of the guests seemed to be girlfriends of yours and Claire’s, there were a handful of partners scattered around the room. You stuck by his side for the first little bit, introducing him to a slew of them, a list of names he’d never remember. He felt his negative attitude slipping away as he indulged in a few drinks, exchanging stories with people that were so far from the legal world it was finally helping him escape from the work he was constantly buried in. Rafael watched as a girlfriend dragged you off back towards the karaoke machine and the two of you did your best rendition of Run Run Rudolph, dancing and shimmying your way through the entire song.

It was so incredibly different than the you he saw at work all the time, not only physically, but you were always so focussed, so determined, a hard wall up as you dealt with cases. But tonight, you sparkled as much as your dress did. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the holiday, or being surrounded by not a single member of NYPD, but the smile on your cheeks actually reached your eyes, your laugh vibrated through the room like the voice of a fucking songbird.

He couldn’t help but return the smile you gave him as you swiped a fresh drink from the kitchen, making your way over to where he was on the couch. To his surprise you softly kicked off your stilettos and plopped right down into his lap facing sideways, an arm braced on the back of the couch, just daring to wrap around his shoulders as your legs pulled up criss cross as close as they could to being underneath you. He felt his breath hitch as the movement made your dress ride even further up your legs and tried to steer his brain away from the thought of what you had on underneath it..if anything.

“You always do this Christmas karaoke?” He teased.

“Uhm…this is drunk caroling!” You shot back.

“That is…not a thing.” You gestured wildly to the room in front of you,

“Uh…it clearly is!” He laughed softly as you both took swigs of your drinks. “Can I tell you a secret?” You asked, turning your face to him, he chuckled lightly.

“Even if I say no I feel you’re going to tell me anyway.” You rolled your eyes, pinching at his shoulder with the arm on the couch before leaning in to his ear.

“I’m kinda drunk…” He laughed at that,

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He smirked, his face softly smiling at the distraction across the room that caught your attention, letting him take in your warm smile, the reflection of the lights in your gleaming eyes. Without even realizing it, his free arm wrapped around your hips, making sure to keep you steady, his thumb stroking at your hip softly.

“You weren’t really gonna call the cops on us, were you?” You turned back to him, suddenly very serious, but your words more excited and less enunciated than normal.

“No.” He laughed, “the plan was just to get the volume turned down a couple of notches.”

“Good.” You smirked, “‘cause this is the 2-5 district and those boys love me, I could flirt my way out of it.”

“Believe me…looking like that you could flirt your way out of a murder indictment.” The barely evident growl in his voice brought your eyes to his, there was a brief moment where the urge to instantly straddle him and kiss him breathlessly took over, but you were interrupted by Claire bringing over a round of Jell-O shots.

Naturally Rafael tried to refuse, but your insistence that ‘it’s Christmas! ’ won him over. Besides, how was he exactly supposed to say no when you were practically bouncing in his lap, your chest heaving directly in his eye line. The next round was tequila that you shuddered at as you swallowed, internally thankful Claire hadn’t decided to involve licking salt off someone else like she would have eight years ago. You may have been drunk, and in his lap, but the thought of Rafael’s tongue in your cleavage wasn’t one you could quite handle right now.

“How do you know these girls again?” Barba asked, washing down the tequila with a gulp of scotch.

“Sorority sisters from college.” Your voice was slightly hoarse from the shot, your words beginning to slur more than before.

“You were in a sorority?” He teased, pinching at your thigh.

“It was a long time ago!” You countered, “besides..” your head dropped into his shoulder, practically nuzzling into it briefly, “it’s nice to hangout with people who aren’t involved in the legal system once in a while.” Before he’d even began to adjust to the more than welcome feeling of you snuggled against him your head shot up in a burst of laughter and cheers as four of your friends began to reenact the Jingle Bell Rock scene from Mean Girls.

The party started to die down shortly after midnight, the karaoke replaced by a very soft playlist of music while the small amount of people were in smaller circles of conversation. You and Rafael somehow only had eyes for each other, delving into parts of each other’s lives you never would have heard if it hadn’t been for this run in. He saw the gleam in your eye, the way your hand softly cupped his cheek, thumb trailing over his lips, waiting for the ever so slight nod of approval before you ducked your head to his. The kiss began soft, but the alcohol was quick to take over, your tongue delving into his mouth, moaning over the smoky taste of the scotch, his hand tighter over your hip in attempt to tug you closer to him. Part of him felt like he should be ashamed, making out with someone on the couch of somebody he’d just met, feeling like he was back in high school. But the other part of him could barely wrap his brain around the fact that he was actually kissing you, that you initiated it, that you wanted to kiss him. A small giggle escaped your lips when you departed, your foreheads staying together briefly, a chaste kiss shared before a shout through the room caused you to jump apart.

You scrunched your eyes before you even opened them, the pounding in your head already evident before you even had to deal with the sunlight. Fucking Claire. As much as you loved her holiday parties, you always forgot they could all still go hard like you were barely 22, and you rarely drank more than a glass or two of wine.

The bed you were in felt miles more comfortable than you were used to, the heavy duvet wrapped tightly around you. You peaked one eye open, you were facing a bedside table, it appeared your phone was plugged in. Okay, you’d at least remembered that. Grabbing it you scrolled through notifications, there was nothing important, so you pushed up to sitting, grumbling at the spinning in your head. It was then that your brows furrowed in confusion. The bedroom layout was exactly like Claire’s, but opposite, and impeccably organized and clean. You groaned at the fact that you were still in your sequinned dress, Claire may have given you the guest room, but no pyjamas? She better have gotten some good dick last night to make up for it, you thought.

You found an new toothbrush in the en suite, thankful to brush your teeth, splashing some water on your face as you did you best to fix the remnants of makeup on your face, tugging your false lashes off, sticking them to the back of your phone.

Padding out to the main area of the apartment you were convinced you must still be drunk, it felt like you were in Claire’s apartment, but everything was backwards. The layout was the same but little details… you weren’t awake enough to notice were different. You were surprised she was able to clean the place up this much quickly, not even noticing the lack of a Christmas tree in the living room. You knew you needed water, opening a couple of cupboards, finding only plates and bowls, moving through the kitchen until you found one with cups. You briefly heard the door opening, but the voice echoing through the room was certainly not the one you expected.

“Glad to see you’re alive.” The A.D.A teased, a smirk on his face as he placed a bag and coffee tray on the kitchen island. You jumped, nearly dropping the glass in your hand before shutting the cupboard.

“Barba?!” Suddenly the very blurry events of the late part of last night came flying back to you, “Oh…fuck…”

“Hey..don’t neglect that water. I needed more than normal when I got up. Your friends are ruthless.” You gave an awkward laugh, filling up the glass before moving to the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“Thank you. I-uh…sorry? Thank you?” You stumbled over words, “You..really didn’t have to come hangout last night. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He tossed a breakfast sandwich across to you, “We were both pretty drunk last night. If you wanna indulge more, that’s fine. If you wanna pretend it never happened, that’s more than fine.” You gave him a weak smile as you unwrapped the food, taking a small bite. “What I don’t want is for you to show up drunk at my door a year from now when Claire’s fed you too many Jell-O shots begging me to fuck you.” You nearly choked on your food, taking a sip of water as the flush took over your neck and face, hating that you felt so vulnerable.

“Did we…?!”

“No!” Rafael quickly shot back, “Though you pouted like a petulant toddler until I agreed to your oh so important Christmas Cuddles.”

“Oh my god…” you buried your face into your hands, tears of embarrassment burning into your eyes, “I’m so sorry Barba. I should’ve known better than dragging you into that party.” Seeing the tears in your eyes, the way you avoided his gaze he moved his way around the island slowly.

“Hey…” his hand softly grasped your arm, “you have nothing to be sorry about, I was just as responsible as you. You may have kissed me, but I kissed you back. And I would do it again.” Your eyes shot up to his at that, your breath catching in your throat.

“I-really?”

“In a heart beat.” He waited for your eyes to dart to his lips before ever so lightly kissing your lips, loving the way he could feel the smile of your lips against his. You giggled softly, the warm feeling of his arms around you ever so welcome. “Now…how about you finish breakfast. I’ll lay some comfier clothes out for you and you can shower. I felt a world better after one, and..” he sighed heavily, “if you didn’t have plans today, we can watch some stupid Christmas movies.” You outwardly laughed at that,

“My only plans for today were to be hungover as fuck and watch as many horror movies as possible.”

“Horror?” He quirked a brow.

“Yeah…Christmas is overrated.” You pecked him gently, “Thank you…”

“For what?”

“Making sure I didn’t get murdered last night?” You countered, taking another bite of your breakfast.

“I may have had some unwell intentions..but I’m not one to take advantage. I wanted you to be safe.”

“Well…if every guy out there was like you I guess neither of us would have jobs.” He laughed slightly. You groaned as you jumped off the stool, “Shower?”

“Bedroom, right side.”

“Thank you.” You kissed his cheek softly, following him down the hall as he tugged out some comfy spare clothes for you.

If you had been surprised when Rafael had popped up in Claire’s doorway the night before you were even more surprised that he was not only letting you shower, but laying clothes out for you. When you padded your way out to the living room, he had a Gatorade waiting for you, Netflix pulled up to the scary movie section, letting you choose the first one. You were even more surprised at the way he threw an arm around the back of the couch, encouraging you to curl up against his frame. You knew there had been some flirtation…and a very hot kiss…exchanged the night before, but you’d thought they were strictly booze fuelled only to never be spoken of again.

As it turned out, as the day went on the two of you ended up buried deeper into each other’s arms, the occasional jump scare having you hiding your face in his shoulder despite seeing the movie a million times. Since Rafael had bought your late breakfast, you were the one that ordered dinner in, any awkwardness of the previous night fading away as you tucked into some Chinese. A few beers in to try to hit the hair of the dog to help both of your hangovers had you easily laughing over everything.

By the end of the evening, you knew you had to head home, as much as you wanted to cuddle up with him again, you needed your own apartment. You flushed at the way he walked you to the door, reassuring you to keep the clothes as long as you needed. You flushed even harder when he asked if he could take you to dinner the following week, giggling and avoiding his gaze before his hand cupped your cheek. Your breath hitched out a yes before his lips met yours softly, a smile evident against them. He asked for you to text him once you got home and watched you until the elevator doors shut.

It was safe to say that this year..you both certainly had gotten your Christmas wish.

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