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sushirrrry · 25 days

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EXECUTIVE a harry styles one-shot smut blurb; 19.3k words cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dom/sub, breath play, dirty talk.

"If they want the fucking numbers, they've got to stop being pussies and give us the fucking reins. I'm not sitting around and waiting for their stock to crash and for their stupid, fucking minions to come back on me to tell me what I already knew and told them from the start—I'm not painted out to be the biggest fucking moron, that's for certain. It's either a deal or it isn't, plain and simple. If they don't want to have that fucking conversation, it's done. Fuck them and their stupid fucking counteroffer. It's a fucking slap in the face, and I'm not even entertaining the idea."

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear, clicking on End Call before he threw his phone over and onto the wooden desk that sat perpendicular to the vicious New York skyline. His heart raced as he shook his head.

An adrenaline junkie like him fed off of the conversations like these.

His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his eyes navigated towards the contractual wreckage of paperwork that had seemed to be forgone on his desk as he pushed some of it to the side. His elbows leaned on the desk; his hands tied together as he rested his lips again them in a precocious thought.

Running the company came with a sharp tongue and a knack for knowing when it was time to push back. Harry was a mogul in all of the sense of the word—his company had grown to a gargantuan size, which allowed his position within the business to skyrocket to a level that was so without fail that he couldn't believe it sometimes.

His mouth got the better of him; in some ways, it created the effervescence of attack. It was all that he could do to keep himself from picking the phone back up and telling them to shove it all back up their ass—he refrained for the time being, until he was pushed again.

But no one usually poked the bear unless they truly believed they had a chance in slaughtering them. Mr. Styles was far too confident in his work and his business to ever let that happen.

The bear's claws reacted too quickly for the barrel of the rifle to even face him.

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Styles?"

His eyes raised to the door that he hadn't seen opening before his lips parted just a bit to answer the woman questioning him. She wore a black skirt with tall, black boots that suited the length of her legs. Her top arranged in a bit of a messy manor, but it was almost as if she had styled it that way to add a bit of flare.

Her blazer hung a bit low—practically to the mid-length of the skirt that rode up her thighs, but he wouldn't have been caught dead staring. In public, anyway.

His eyes made their assessment of her quickly before returning to her naturally, raspberry lips that took up much of her lower face. The natural length of her smile was perfectly proportioned, not that he had spent much time thinking of it, of course.

Felicity—his assistant. The one with eyes the color of the ocean that he would vacation on in the Maldives; the most piercing, stunning blue. The quiet one, a bit shy in her reservations, almost like she was the smallest fish in the ocean made entirely of sharks. Her reservations to others seemed to aid in bulldozing over her confidence, but to Harry, it was an enticing spectacle of fantasy.

A fantasy he'd promise to never share with even his closest comrades, if an NDA wasn't in place, that is.

The dark brown locks settled against her back in heaps of loose, voluminous curls as she held tightly to the phone behind her fingers.

"Am I interrupting?" She asked, her question a bit hesitant as she didn't seem to move any further forward into the large space of his office.

"No—no, you're not," He told her, "Come in, Felicity, I need to use your brain for a moment."

"My brain?" She asked him, cocking her head a bit.

That was the thing about Felicity that almost made him foam at the mouth– her way of innocence and contemplation that allowed him to see his viewpoints from her standpoint.

Harry's company was outsourcing most of the global news which meant that he oversaw several departments within. His leadership was only as good as the recommendations and guidance that Felicity was able to provide him; her devil's advocacy, her interpretation of empathy, and being able to see how interactions happened without Harry present versus the other sense.

Felicity was a practical need in his company for various reasons, not one to just make his blood boil and frantically move around his veins every time he caught a whiff of the coconut lime scent that his mind had become familiar with.

She was a calmness to him in many ways, so her presence now settled his heartbeat from the previous conversation.

"That deal we're making this afternoon, I just got off the phone with Sadler and they're folding– they're becoming weak. And it's pissing my off. They're coming to me to help solve their issues, because they know I can do it. They're , but they know we'll do it. Which pisses me off because it makes us look weak if we just say yes."

Felicity blinked a few times as she watched Harry's reaction, her legs crossed at the feeling before she held her hands in front of her and nodded.

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth before he shook his head, a few of loose curls settled on his forehead as he pushed them back and Felicity wished that he hadn't.

"I think you're going to push them to do it without the counter," Felicity nodded. "From what I'm hearing, they're folding, and they can see that what we can provide is significant. Especially in terms of the election. We can do it– you can do it."

His eyes flew to her word change, noticing that her eyes had moved away from him. The subtle blush of pink ate away at her cheeks before Harry nodded in his own satisfaction.

"Enough about me," He shook his head, "What did you need, Felicity?"

Her eyes raised as it seemed she came back to conclusion about what she had been there for to begin with.

"Oh, I just talked with Nava at PLI and they wanted to express their gratitude towards you, because they said that you helped them with understanding the fundamentals of their offer and I thought it sounded like a for-sure deal– I just wanted you to know that Nava is a yes," She nodded and raised her brows again in remembrance, "Oh! And I'm also running to pick up some coffee and snacks before the board meeting. Flat white?"

Harry smirked at the praise from her, watching it leave her lips effortlessly. He nodded a few times at her question before he rose from his chair and grabbed the tie around his neck to loosen just a bit.

Harry grabbed the paperwork off of his desk before he moved towards the door and guided Felicity to follow. "Yes, please. A flat white with cinnamon, maybe a pump of caramel? What do you think?"

The words were like a question as Felicity walked next to him through the natural, brightly lit office. Her fingers tapped away at the device before she noticed the slight edge of the spicy cologne that wafted from his demeanor as he turned his head toward her.

"I'm not a huge fan of caramel," She stated a bit hesitantly as they stopped in front of one of the offices where Harry was about to go into a meeting.

He looked at Felicity as they stopped, his eyes moving up and down as he went from her lips to her eyes as if involved in a game of ping-pong.

"What do you like, then?" His words were soft, fluid.

Felicity swallowed as she shook her head a few times and nibbled on her lip. She hummed for a moment, "Um, I prefer vanilla."

The corner of Harry's lip moved upwards. "Make it a hot flat white with an extra shot of espresso, cinnamon, and a pump of vanilla, please."

Felicity wrote it down in her notes, but her fingers almost shook with adrenaline as she felt his gaze linger on her without her noticing before she nodded. "Great. I'll– uh, I'll leave now so I can be back in time to make sure you have what you need."

Her feet started to move away before she heard the booming sensation of her name. The way that her eyes fluttered back at him made Harry almost take a step backward.

"Uh," He felt speechless at the sudden look of her, "Please get whatever you need, too." He felt the professionalism start to creep its way back in. "Can't have you falling asleep on the job, you have notes to write."

Felicity bit the inside of her cheek before she nodded. "Yes, sir."

With that, Felicity turned her back and started to head down towards the elevators. Harry turned to make his way into the boardroom where he saw the table sitting and waiting for his arrival.

The hush that fell over the crowd made him shutter every time– the power he held echoed through his conscious at every moment it could.

He only smirked as he sat at the head of the table, pulling himself to sit up and lean on the table before he looked up to see the many eyes staring back at him.

"Shall we get to work then?"

__________________

"This coffee is fucking cold."

One of the board members pushed it away after taking a small sip, as Felicity had just sat it down in front of him.

It was an older gentleman– Hank– who had worked with the Styles family for many years and been able to help SCO with their major launches with other shareholders. His entitlement was present in the room, which pressed on her ego just a bit. Her head turned towards him as she shook hers.

A woman at the end of the time made a face as she looked at the side of the cup, "Ordered a fucking latte—they even messed it up and it's cold. The coffee shop is just down the block."

Felicity tucked some hair behind her ears as she shook her head in a bit of disbelief as she tried to find the receipt that the coffeehouse had given her. There wasn't any way that they gave her the wrong order, but she didn't know if there may have been a mix-up in who she gave the coffees to.

"T-That's impossible—I just order—" But she was cut off by the man who licked over his lips and held his hand up to stop her words from even echoing in the room at all.

"Just go get some hot coffee, would you?"

Felicity's eyes blazed around the room as she noticed that the others had practically ignored her efforts of the two full cardboard contents of coffee cups that she had practically run the streets of New York to pick up. Not only were they not even acknowledging her, but they were condescending in her efforts. Yes, she was an assistant—she wasn't their assistant. It wasn't her fault that she was one person, but she knew that she had to try harder to make the best impression that she could.

"Everyone just shut the fuck up and drink your coffees, would you? Our deadline is in six fucking hours. If you can't handle a little lukewarm coffee, get the fuck out of my office. I pay too much of your goddamn salaries for you to cry like a fucking baby."

Harry's eyes moved to the nervous-looking girl who stood by the door, along the edge of the buffet that held the rest of the coffee, donuts, and bagels that had practically been falling out of her arms when she arrived.

He couldn't tell—it may have been the lighting, but her eyes looked glassy as she tried to stand with her shoulders back. Harry caught her attention before she threw herself back together and walked over towards him, leaning down to where he sat at the table.

"I can run to go get something else, I don't think it would take too long, you know. Or I could order it to be delivered?" Felicity asked, a bit cautious, he could tell. But her piercing blue eyes were practically a shade of gray as he looked at them through her thick, tortoiseshell glasses that complimented the brightness of her eyes.

His eyes fell to the way that the chapstick she always applied gave her lips the most subtle peony color—so pink, but so natural. He thought that may be a better place for his eyes to land instead of directly into her eyes, but then he panicked for a moment and turned them back to her eyes.

"That's not necessary." Harry shook his head, answering for the individuals in the room. Even if they pushed their coffee aside, Harry would have never blamed it on Felicity for any failure—it wasn't her fault. He took a sip of his own; to his dismay, it was a bit cold, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

The stature of Felicity at the door made him take in a deep breath before he caught her attention, asking her to come towards him with just a look before she was practically on top of him. Her willingness to do as he said gave him a feeling of endorphins that were unlike any he had before.

Harry looked up at her from his seat, licking over his lips softly.

"Please make a reservation for two at The Malbec tonight at nine—whether or not these jackasses are going to be done working, I sure am, and I'm going to celebrate it. Add that I would like the executive seating and the Pauillac on the table, not chilled."

She nodded a few times at his requests, adding it into her notes on her phone before she looked back at him cautiously.

"Should I be arranging a car to pick someone up for you?" She asked. Her teeth scraping against her bottom lip as she waited for his response.

Harry shook his head back at her before filing through a few papers, "Not necessary today. Just make sure that you're not off the clock yet," He nods, "In case something doesn't go as planned."

Felicity nodded at the feeling of his eyes on hers before he turned to face the table before him.

"Someone get John on the phone," Harry ordered, his eyes going towards, "Hank. I want their numbers for the day and the plan for the fiscal year. I want to hear it from their lips, the spreadsheets don't mean shit if they're just going to lie to my face. Mary, contact PLI to get their rates."

Felicity had started to make her way towards the door, back towards her desk that sat in the main office towards Harry's own private one, before Harry called her back, "Felicity, sit in this meeting, will you? Grab your computer."

Her eyes narrowed at him in a bit of confusion before he stood up and grabbed a chair from the side of the room and pulled it to the spot next to where he was, at the head of the table.

Felicity did as he wished, leaving to grab her laptop and notebook essentials that she used to keep track of his days, his weeks. When she arrived back, she could feel a few eyes on her as they talked through the deal with John. The silence in the room as he spoke over the speaker was deafening before she sat down at the spot next to Harry.

His focus on the conversation made her attention turn towards him.

Working at SCO was one of Felicity's highest honors—she felt that her confidence was gained just by being in the room with some of these people. But, at the same time, she wondered at what point this would all get to her. She wasn't like this—she didn't have the same cutthroat mindset of tearing another down to get herself to another place.

In some respects, that's what was the balance between what Harry was and what he knew that he needed. He needed someone like Felicity to sit next to him—a calming sensation that he didn't ever notice until he would garner a sniff of the coconut shampoo that drifted from her silky chestnut hair.

It was sickening at times—the way he felt about her. When he was sitting next to her now, he watched as she let her fingers grace over the laptop keys, focused in on whatever task she was working on. His eyes moved away when he watched as her teeth loosened on her lower lip, letting the plumpness of it a drawback to a straightened line of her mouth.

He shifted in his seat as he felt himself get a sensation of pressure below the belt.

When he spoke, it was with a confidence that she couldn't seem to place. It was as if he could break and make with just words alone, a skill that he had to have been born with.

As they discussed the offers more in-depth, Felicity found herself distracted from her own work as she let her eyes gently maneuver back to where Harry sat at the end of the table. Her fingers practically stopped typing as she listened to the conversation and watched as his brain work in overtime.

It wasn't just impressive; it was extraordinary.

The narrowing of his brows, the calculated glance at the table as if he could cut through it with just his sight, the determined clench of his jaw.

"Don't fucking low-ball this," Harry practically snarled as he tapped the point of his pen to his notepad. "I know what's best for this company and we don't want people who underestimate the work and quality of our services. Globally, we're ahead of the entire market– we beat out every major network in significance. If you truly want to hand us a shitty number like that, you'll fucking fall. Your company will fail, and we will continue to sit right at the top as you lick the dirt off our shoes. It's not a competition; we've already won. So, do you want to win with us? That's the question here."

There's a slow chuckle on the phone, a bit of silence, too. Felicity looks up from her laptop to watch as a few members whisper to one another before hearing John on the other end.

"Listen, it's– we understand this. SCO is globally leading, but this is an election year– how are we supposed to gain traction when the news sources from SCO are against the current climate? We just don't see the same vision right now and we need to make sure our values are aligning– SCO may not be leading once the election happens."

Harry's eyes don't dim– Felicity watches as he turns different, his focus staying on the notepad under his fingers as he takes a beat before he stares at the phone in the middle of the table.

Her leg crosses under the table, gently caressing his unbeknownst to her. His eyes falter for once, as she retracts her position when she watches him crack for the first time. She noticed that he faltered but only a small huff of his breath before she bit her lip.

"We're a multi-billion-dollar company that focuses on the current political climate at hand since we completely understand the market, unlike someone who needs to be bought out to ensure that they don't sink. If you're just sitting in the open water, we will look the other way when a shark comes by," Harry shrugs, "I don't quite understand your vision of understanding moral compasses when you're sitting on significant lawsuits and company fouls that don't seem to benefit you right now or the lying, cheating words that come from your mouth."

Felicity's eyes flew up from her place at the table, watching as she saw everyone else's down. It was an unmistakable feeling of vigor that suddenly oozed from the place of Harry's seat. His demeanor was powerful, it was penetrable.

The quietness over the phone doesn't seem to faze anyone else, but Harry's eyebrow arches at the seconds that go by before he pops his tongue into the side of his mouth with a cheeky grin that was questioning on mad.

"Looks like they just got eaten by that fucking shark, huh." He says quietly before leaning over to press onto the conference room phone. He ended the call before he watched the room continue in silence.

Another woman, Laura, sitting at one of the sides spoke up as she held her phone in her hands.

"It looks like they're countering again." It was a bit quiet, almost like she didn't want the entire room to hear as she read on her phone before looking up at Harry, who held the emotion of a bear.

"Tell them they can choke on their own spit." He bites before Felicity cleared her throat.

His eyes immediately softened at the way that she interrupted, mostly because he was a bit confused by it.

"Mr. Styles," She pipped, "I—I, um, if I may." She chews on her lip a bit before she takes in a breath. "It sounds like they're needing a bit more leverage. Maybe a bit more face-to-face interaction that will cut and garner the deal. You're going to need more than John's input; he needs more intel from other aspects to understand what their losses look like."

Harry's eyes simply rest on Felicity as he leans back in the office chair, his legs crossed—a pursed pout on his lips as he nods at her words. A trickle of egotistical pride lies beneath his chest as he stares at her for a moment.

"Set the scene for me." He tells her, before watching Felicity take a deep breath. He watches her chest fall and rise and something about it sets him into high gear.

"Your family started this from scratch—this company is bigger than just the cash flow, and it's completely understood that it's worth billions, but they need to understand that there's a larger purpose for the work that they've put into it. They're not on the same business level that SCO is—it's apparent by the way that they throw around their value system. Meet with John outside of the office setting, get him where he can be able to see that you're serious without the psychological barrier of the phone—"

"That's fucking bullshit." Felicity hears from down the table, another man making a comment about her complete train of thought that. "You really think business is about emotion?"

Harry narrowed his brows, Felicity a bit surprised but not completely. Her head turning back towards her computer.

"You need to be thinking internally for what's best for us, not babying them to give us what we want. You know they're going to fall right into our hands, we don't need to get soft on them." Mary, a woman that Felicity generously thought would at least have an understanding of her interests, seemed to shame her more.

Harry pursed out his lips as he stares at the notepad in front of him. He pushed his hands against the table to rise from his seat before he's raised, watching silently as he eyes Felicity quickly before he starts to make his way out of the room. Before he does so, he turns his back and holds onto the door before he looks at Felicity directly.

"Felicity, please meet me in my office."

She swallows down the lump in her throat; cursing herself for even making a peep. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Instead, she closed the laptop before she grabs the few belongings and makes her way out of the door.

Harry is steps ahead of her, not looking back, as they make their way to the office that sits in the north side of the larger office space.

When he walks in, he makes his way to his desk before leaning on it. Felicity walks in behind him, hesitating before

Harry notices that she hasn't fully made her way in yet.

"Come in," He tells her, "Take a seat."

Her words practically spilling out of her as soon as they reached the threshold of the door; there was nothing that she could say now that would make him keep her there, but she wanted to at least try.

"I-I know I overstepped my boundaries– I promise, I really do, I promise I will never do that again," She's holding the laptop against her chest, practically begging, "This is extremely unprofessional, but you need to know that I need this–"

"Do you know why you're still here, Felicity?" He asks, "Why you're still at SCO?"

His interrupted words make hers fall short as she stands at the door still. His arms are holding himself practically against the desk as he leans back against it.

Tears threaten her eyes as she tries to think of what she needs to pack from her desk quickly. This feels entirely too personal– he's firing her on the spot.

She shakes her head as she doesn't want to come up with an answer. Harry squints his eyes a bit as he notices the emotion that starts to creep on her face. All the sudden, he feels bad for what he's doing to her.

It feels a bit forward, maybe a bit out of his place. But he needs her to know exactly how he feels about her, and why the last assistants never stuck around.

He needs her to know that's she's different.

"It's because you're fucking smart," He tells her, "What you have, they lack. You have this– well, for lack of a better word, you're emotional. You can see beyond the bullshit and really down to the person." He points towards the area of the conference room that they just left.

"I'm not here to baby your ass or carry you through this job– you don't need this fucking job. You have so much more about you than being an assistant, okay? So, don't take what some fuckers in that office say about you and your ideas as gospel. They aren't getting it done, either– as you can see."

Felicity's demeanor loosens at his words; her knuckles along the laptop at her chest starts to loosen as she breathes in just a bit.

"I'm sorry–"

"Stop apologizing." He orders, "When you do that, all you're doing is making them right about you. They aren't."

There's a silence between them for a moment before Felicity nods a few times and bites at her lip. "You're right."

"Most of the time." He tells her, a smirk has replaced the seriousness of their conversation. "That's why I have this big office and a 300ft. yacht and they don't."

She follows with her own small, sided smirk, watching as he goes to move from his position.

"That sounded very cocky, I'm sorry." He laughed a little bit, lowering his head as he felt a bubble of laughter. Felicity followed behind, laughing a bit as she bit on her lower lip.

The tension had been cut; this overwhelming feeling of comfort had started to come across her, specifically when Harry looked back up at her and she could see the shining level of his green eyes and the deepening dimples crossing his face.

It wasn't an emotion she saw very often; it looked impossibly lovely on him.

"Stop saying sorry, remember?" She reminded him, a sheepish smile laying on her lips.

Harry moved his fists into his pockets as he started to walk a bit towards her.

It was then that Felicity recognized that his pure power and force was enough to knock her down to her knees. The way that he stood up, his suit tailored perfectly around his small hips and shoulders, she couldn't understand the feeling that had come over her suddenly.

Harry approached her, they were standing eye to eye as he searched between them both. He had been searching for something, surely, by the way his eyes moved between her own.

Felicity tipped her chin up a little bit; it was slight enough that they both noticed, but a sudden embarrassment crossed her thought at the way she had possibly invited a completely inappropriate behavior.

"Let's get back in there, yeah?" She clears her throat as she turned her head and body, moving back out towards the conference room.

Harry's fists tightened next to him at the way she moved away, and he couldn't help but shutter at what could have possibly happened moments ago.

He lowered his head before he shook it a few times, "Yes, of course," He confirmed, nodding at her, "I'll follow you back, I'm just going to," He felt himself getting hot which made him feel vulnerable to her stares. "I'll be in there in a moment."

Felicity turned, her hair falling over her shoulders before she nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

Before she was able to move out of the room, Harry caught her attention once again before he narrowed his eyes to her. "Can I—that reservation I asked you to schedule. Please move it to Friday night. Something's come up, actually."

Felicity made a motion to speak, but she didn't end up with any words. Instead, just nodding a few times, her eyes smiling back at him as she agreed to his request. "Sure, no problem."

Her smile had vanished from his view as she turned to walk back to the conference room.

When she noticed that she was out of sight, his eyes had widened just at the breath that he had been holding in. It didn't matter how big or important a meeting could be, Harry never got nervous. He was never worried about anything—he knew what he was getting himself into, and nothing scared him. There wasn't a reason to be.

Standing in front of Felicity was a feeling he had never imagined would give him a doubt; he never felt like he would be pushed away or turned away, and the feeling of dismissal was encapsulating, to say the least.

He pushed his hand into his hair as he went to sit in the chair that was pushed in behind his desk, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shook his head.

Never in a million years did he think that he would feel such a way—never like this.

"Let's get back to work, then."

_______________

It had been a few days since the encounter in his office. Harry had noticed that even the next morning, Felicity seemed to be in much better spirits. Her head was held high; her shoulders were sitting back, like she was prepared to keep her chin up for the day.

He could catch glimpses from his office, watching as she typed away or smiled down at her phone. A piece of him felt only the slightest bit of—he didn't know the feeling very well—jealous. He wanted to know more, wanted to understand what she could have been smiling at.

He knew that his job had been done a few days ago as he watched her spirits rise just at his words. Something about that feeling was missing now—he didn't understand what it was, but his ego may have been getting in the way just a bit.

Harry sat his pen down that he had been using to write out some tasks before he grabbed the pad of paper and started to make his way out of his office. The small desk that sat outside of his was taken by Felicity; a few photos and memorabilia sat to give her space a bit of light and personalization.

It didn't mimic Harry's own office very well, as his was kept more straightforward and narrower. There wasn't any photos or personalized mementos—just plain, really. But the photo of Felicity and another man caught his eye, something he had never really seen before. Something he never felt that he would have had to pay attention to, that is.

"That your boyfriend?" He felt himself saying, but an ultimate feeling of embarrassment rose as he watched Felicity look up at him quickly. It was clear that she hadn't really noticed him sneak up on her, and her hands flew to the phone on the desk before closing the screen promptly.

"Uh," She shook her head, "I—I mean, we've been talking a few months," She referenced to the phone before she looked back at Harry and noticed that there may have been a bit of miscommunication.

"Oh—uh, no, sorry," He shook his head, pointing to the photo that sat on her desk. "I was—that photo, I'd never seen that before."

Felicity turned her eyes towards the photo that sat on her desk in the black frame before letting out a breath of relief. "Oh! No, that's my brother." She laughed a little bit before she watched Harry reach out to grab the picture frame off her desk.

He studied it for a few seconds, letting his smile move up a bit before he sat it back down. "Yeah, you guys look alike. I just—it was new, so I didn't know."

Felicity bit on her lip before tucking her hair behind her ears, "No—yeah, I would make that assumption, too. It's fine, but yeah." She didn't know that he would notice that she set up the photo or not. She knew now that he paid attention; he had an attention to detail, it seemed.

The small moment gave Harry a bit of concern as he felt that there was some unresolved feeling between the two of them. He cleared his throat, holding the paper out before her as she piqued at the small task guide that Harry had been feverishly writing down.

"I have a few things that I need to get done today, if you don't mind." He had handed her the paper before her eyes ran over it a few times. "It's just a few little things, but I need to have a few suits dry-cleaned for our business summit on Monday in England—I'm flying out tomorrow morning on the jet, but we'll need to make sure that everything is taken care of for that. I believe you, myself, Laura, Hank, Daniel, and probably William will be there, so we'll need to make—"

"Excuse me, but," Felicity chuckled before shaking her head a few times. "Did you say me?"

Harry blinks a few times in confusion before he bites the inside of his cheek. Surely, she knew that she would be leaving in the morning– she had to have known that as his assistant, she would be most responsible for being on the trip.

"Uh, well," Harry blinked, "Yes, I mean. of course. You're the most vital person for the trip, really."

Felicity bit into her lip before she turned towards her notes, her eyes flickering over them as she realized she wouldn't need to send him a detailed email of their agenda– she'd be there to tell him in person. So, all this work—it didn't matter now.

"Right– yeah, of course. I'm stupid for not putting that together." She shook her head as she took in a sigh, crossing out a few notes on her pad. She turned her attention back to him before she cleared her throat. "What time should I be at the airport tomorrow, then?"

Harry bit his lip, shrugging as he felt the smile crossing his lips, "I don't know—you tell me. You're my assistant."

Felicity blinked at him a few times before laughing out a little bit, letting her head rest in her hands as she felt a bit ridiculous for feeling so caught off guard. "Right—right. I—yeah."

In the back of his head, there was a delicate feeling of intrigue that bit at the back of him. He squinted his eyes a bit as he settled against the edge of her desk. As he crossed his arms over his chest, he narrowed his attention down to Felicity until she looked up at him and felt the wandering look. All Felicity knew is that she didn't want to look at the way that his forearms protruded against the fabric of his pressed white button-down.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her, the smile on his lips tug briefly before he was letting it fully on display. "You seem a bit... caught up."

She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she looked at her computer screen. "I'm fine—yeah. I'm just—I was a bit caught up, I guess," She chewed on her lip as she realized that getting personal was just that. It was personal. She didn't want to bore him or let know too far in. Their relationship was strictly business; it seemed that she endeared him though.

Her eyes traveled back to him when he didn't seem to leave her alone and she noticed that she'd had another message.

"I'm just... the guy I've been seeing, well, on and off—he just asked me to dinner and he's picking me up from here tonight around five. We haven't seen each other in a while, he's a bit..." She bites her lip again as she tried to find the right word, "I don't hear from him often. But when we're together, everything is fine. So, I guess I just got a bit overwhelmed with it."

Harry pinches the inside of his bicep when she speaks, his smile fading just a bit. He didn't want her to notice that, though. He didn't know why, but it left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had been excited for someone who was making her wait. Instead, he shifted a bit on the desk as he cleared his own throat before speaking.

"That's—that's great," He tells her, watching as she smiles at his appreciation and acceptance, "Where is he taking you?"

"We're just going to this place off from fifth avenue, some place he said is nice. We're really just meeting for a beer or something." Felicity's eyes light up at the realization before she turns to face him a bit head on now, her chair swiveling around before she crosses her legs and faces him. "What about you, though? That reservation I made for you tonight—who are you meeting with?"

Harry's lip parted as he remembered the reservation.

He remembered the reservation he had moved to tonight, simply so that he could flesh out a few details with Felicity over a dinner with just the two of them. Of course, he hadn't mentioned it to her. It was stupid of him to think that she wouldn't be busy on a Friday evening, of course. He had wanted to talk to her about the upcoming week; maybe get a little more out of her if everything was off the record at a dinner that wasn't going on the company credit card, but his own personal dollar.

Harry shakes his head a bit before he scratches at the back of his head, "Uh, right. I—I might need to cancel that. I don't think that's going to happen anymore."

Felicity watches his expression before she seems to mimic with a bit of somber. "Oh. Sorry. Tough subject?"

When he pushed himself from her desk, he placed his hands in his pockets before he hung his head a little bit. It hadn't occurred to him that the disappointment had been a bit stronger than anticipated-- and it wasn't just because he always got what he wanted.

"Hm, something like that," He tried to explain before he changed the subject to get it off his mind, "But yeah. So, dry-cleaning and all that can be finished before the morning, yeah? If you have any questions about any of that, I'll be in my office. Meeting at one and then I'm going to leave here around five."

Giving him a warm smile, Felicity nodded her head at him, watching as he turned to his office.

Her attention fell back to her phone; falling back to the smile and giddiness that had been so rudely interrupted by a different kind of feeling—one that she wasn't so sure she was supposed to enjoy, in that way, anyways.

_______________

The black Suburban pulled up against the curb; Harry's phone against his ear as he moved towards the vehicle in a fluid motion.

A driver had opened the door before he crawled in the back seat. The call on the other end had been a business call that he was supposed to listen in on; he wasn't going to speak, just listen to the meeting of what was said. He decided it had been enough and clicked it to end before he looked up and out of the window.

His head turned towards the door before he watched Felicity standing at the curb. She looked uncomfortable as she stood and had her eyes searching for whatever it was that she was looking for.

It was a little bit past six then; the rest of the day was filled with a meeting or two before he really started to get more work, letting his head get wrapped up in taking calls and finishing off emails before he would be away from the office for a bit.

This was how they left each other on most days; his car pulled up, and he usually drove away before he could notice if she caught another ride or if she headed towards the subway. Her eyes were searching— almost like she had been waiting for something or someone but didn't want to seem disappointed. Harry could feel it in his chest—he could feel the way that she stood with her arms crossed over her chest in a bit of distress.

It had occurred to him then that Felicity had mentioned that she was supposed to be picked up around five—a full hour ago.

The rain had started just a bit, enough that she quickly looked to the sky for a moment as if to curse it.

He watched as her phone fumbled in her hands. A discerned look on her face made him halt the driver before they could start pulling away. Harry watched her, the knowing look on his face as he rolled down the window to call out towards her.

"Felicity," He stated, opening the door before he stepped out. "Come on, get in."

Her eyes looked to him, practically mortified. Her head started to shake a bit before he moved out of the car just enough that she noticed his offer was serious and that he wasn't moving. The door was open now as he stood outside of it and held it open for her.

"Let's go– it's raining." He said, squinting a bit as the rain started coming down a bit more.

It seriously took Harry a moment before he realized that it may take a bit more for Felicity to listen to him; her contemplation didn't last long as the rain started to hit the cement loudly—her papers and bag held over her head as she made her way towards the open door of the large vehicle.

Felicity's heels clicked against the sidewalk as she hurried into the back of the van, crawling across to the other side and trying to keep her skirt down as she realized he would be coming right behind her.

There was a brief pause of silence when the door shut behind Harry.

Once they were situated in the backseat, Harry looked at her for a moment as she seemed a bit out of sorts. Her eyes were on her phone as she cleared her throat.

Her eyes were narrowed down as she searched through some texts, a bit all over the place it seemed. Harry knew Felicity better than this, and her nerves were starting to overwhelm her hand, almost like she was completely unsure of what was happening right now.

"Do you just—do you mind dropping me off at fifth ave—" She had started, but he was already shaking his head.

"He's not showing up, so no. Peter, drop us at The Malbec."

Her head turned towards him at the bluntness of his tone and the way that he resisted her need. The way that he answered her was unlike he had ever spoken to her; that caught her off guard the most.

Felicity flipped through her texts once again before she scoffed out, "Harry, I have a date tonight. I'll just get a car from there—"

"No, you won't." He told her, before situating himself in the back. The way that her hair had a bit of windswept to it, the length of her lashes, the complete blush of her cheeks—it was all enough for him to generally bust at the seams.

Seeing her like that was a wake-up call as he looked away and tried his best to be a gentleman.

"I'm off the clock, so my duties are relinquished for the night." She told him sharply, giving herself a bit more voice before Harry really glared at her this time. He had never heard her speak to him in such a way, but something about it gave him a mouthful to bite from.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, I'm your boss." He told her; his eyes seemingly turning a darker color the more she stared at him. It was enough for her to scoff and turn her head out of the window as they had started to drive up towards the restaurant that she refused to go to.

Harry spoke again, this time a bit softer. "It's just dinner. No work."

It takes a moment before Felicity leans into the window and lets her head rest against the glass. The feeling of the coolness takes over before she shuts her eyes for a moment. It doesn't feel like she wants to cry, but maybe there's a bit of emotion that she can't seem to let go of.

The disappointment aspect was never good to her; that was how this always worked. Something always disappointed her. There hadn't been a moment when she felt comfortable or safe—no, really, she just wandered around in this life with so much hope. So much hope and very little pride, now.

She lived for the hope of it all.

When they made their way to the restaurant, it had started to rain a little less. It was merely a sprinkle before Peter pulled off to the curb closest and the two of them were able to get out.

Felicity was instructed that she could leave her work items in the car, bringing only her purse as Harry followed behind her. When they walked into the restaurant, her eyes widened at how fancy it was—the dim lit lights were much brighter than the sky had been at this time of day, especially when the clouds rolled in.

The host was able to take them directly to their seats—the ones that Felicity had made the reservation for. It was an intimate seat; two chair and a small table that were seated close to the window, but enough away from everyone else.

The Paulliac was on the table as instructed; the host pulled the chair out for Felicity before she was able to take a seat. The only reason she would have ever been to a restaurant like this is for a work event. The host sat menus in front of them before giving them some space.

Harry pushed his sleeves up on his forearm; the littering of tattoos on him was endearing to Felicity's eye before she looked away at the attention she was drawing to them.

"Wine?" He asked her softly, taking the bottle from the table and holding it out in a means to offer her some. She had agreed, nodding a few times before looking at the menu and the items on it. Surely, she couldn't pronounce half of them before she looked up to see that Harry had been looking at her already and her cheeks grew rosier.

Felicity felt that there was a tenseness now, like she didn't have too much to say. She didn't want to say too much and bore him, she didn't want to not say a word and feel the awkwardness that seemed to linger as they sat longer.

"I mean, since we're here," Felicity grabbed the phone from her purse as she scrolled through it, pushing her hair out of her face to tame it a bit from the frizz that the rain caused, "So, just to recap some new additions to the calendar, you have a dental appointment next Monday, a meeting with PLI at 10—"

"You said you grew up in DC, didn't you?" Harry cuts her off, his question making her turn to look at him with a solid glance before she starts to nod a few times. It was a bit unwarranted, but she decided that she would settle into it.

Felicity doesn't know why his soft voice seems so foreign from the bitter sound of his usual bite.

"Y-Yes, yeah, I grew up in Northern Virginia, actually." She gives him a solid answer before she licks her lips. Her hand moves to grab the wine glass, taking a solid sip before she places it back into its spot on the white knit tablecloth.

Harry nods at her simple answer, not necessarily looking for anything else. His head was filled with the worked he had been processing through the week, and something about this felt... warranted. He wanted this to be normal; to feel like she could see him from a different perspective, maybe, without less fear in her eyes.

Something about her makes his blood boil with a derailment—it's almost like he can't seem to read her, which makes him angry and animalistic, almost. He doesn't know why but he feels a bit shy in her presence.

Her eyes read over the menu before she clicks her tongue, "Anything on here that you would recommend?"

"You have any food aversions?" He asks, pretending to look over the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order.

She shook her head, not really thinking of anything. She knew that there were foods she didn't particularly enjoy, but she knew that if something was going to be expensive, she would put that aside to at least try.

When the waiter came by, Harry took initiate to order for the table– the two of them. He ordered an entrée, three appetizers, and a spring salad. Felicity listened as he did so, knowing that he knew what he wanted and when he wanted it.

She couldn't relate to that; not these days, at least. She didn't know what she wanted, so she pretended not to think about it most days. Instead, she recognized that not putting the pressure on it made it feel like it was enough; she had to understand that she was okay to be a bit unsure at times.

The restaurant has a crowded chatter amongst the guests, but Harry can't help but pay attention to the silence of the table instead.

"So," He pulls at the tie around his neck just a bit as he leans towards her at the table. "I'm thinking of possible meeting with PLI, in person. Like you mentioned this week, at that meeting. Something about looking someone in the eye might be the best approach and making sure everything is clean."

His eyes lifted to meet hers, watching as she took another sip of the wine. Her eyes were placed now on her hands that laid in her lap.

"Thought this wasn't a work dinner." She mumbled out, but suddenly caught herself, "But yeah– yeah, I think that would be good."

Harry pressed his tongue into his cheek, tilting his head a little bit as he heard her questioned statement. His frustration at not being able to read her was posing a threat to his mood before he shrugged a little bit, "It doesn't have to be, but you are kind of quiet, and I feel like I made you uncomfortable in the car. Or something."

"I'm not uncomfortable," She lied, "I'm– I don't know. I'm just a bit thrown by the events of the evening, and I think men are kind of preposterous right now. Please don't take that personally, and really, no offense or anything."

Harry shrugged, his lips turning downwards as he contemplated the truth in her statement, "None taken. I may agree with you, but," He licked his lips, "Can we agree that women are sometimes a bit..."

As he hesitated for a moment, Felicity spoke instead. "I would suggest that you not finish that sentence, probably. It sounds like the beginning of an HR concern."

Harry lifts a brow in curiosity from her argument that seemingly pushed her a bit out of the boundaries, "You can speak, but I can't? Don't believe that's a fair view of how you think women should live in society, is it? You want fair treatment, so I'm going to be honest with you."

"I didn't limit you from speaking, I just suggested that you should not. You can definitely say whatever it is that you'd like to say to me, Mr. Styles." Felicity shook her head a bit, tucking her hair behind her ear. The way that she said his name always made him a bit woozy.

There was a moment when Harry wasn't completely sure that he didn't see the glimmer in her eye—that he didn't see a sparkle that may have been a fleeting moment, just a quick nod to him before it was gone forever, making him look mad for even thinking it in the first place.

"I will say it, then, if you're willing to listen," Harry told her, "I think that men and women aren't usually equal—nor should they be," He paused for a moment before he watched as her facial expression started to contour with a confusion so loud that he was certain the chefs in the back could hear. "I think that we live in a balancing act. For instance, the guy that you were looking to see—sure, he's probably an asshole, but you continued to want to see him. The pendulum works both ways. Maybe you shouldn't have wanted to meet up with him."

Felicity scoffed out a breath before she took a sip of the wine again—she could feel that there was a growing fuzziness that she wasn't able to keep up with. "Oh, you're giving me relationship advice now?"

The way that she bit when she had a bit of alcohol in her made Harry's eyes turn a darker shade of green that was unable to be noticed by the dimness of the restaurant that sat in. It was much more direct than she ever had been with him before; he wondered if this was how she was normally.

"I like to think I have your best interest in mind." He tells her with full honesty, feeling a bit bare with the truth laying flat on the table.

There is a moment that Felicity feels her heartstring tug, wondering if he meant it to hit her as specifically as it did. But she clears her throat when she watches the way that Harry refills the glass of red wi the out her asking for it, noticing that he fingers tremble when he grabs the bottle.

"I— I really do appreciate it, like, what you– I mean, you probably don't remember, but just this week with the whole coffee incident–"

Felicity is cut-off, by him, but she can see that the anger peculates off of him as he recalls the incident, "I hate that they think people are below them like that. It bothers the shit out of me," She can tell that the thought bothers him; his eyes narrow down as he takes a sip of his own wine, "Yes, it's your fucking job, but it's also not worth their time to be shitty to you for something you can't control. And you couldn't be nicer, grateful, kind—"

Harry's cut off by the food coming to the table. He shakes his head at the possible embarrassment he may encounter from the softness of rambling he had started to portray about some of her highest qualities.

The dinner that came out was exceptional— nothing less of what Felicity could have imagined. It was top-tier; the wine that was paired with it made her giggle a few times when Harry would go on rants about the way that he thought some of the companies ran. He would start the conversation with, 'off the record' and she would smile about how he could keep their conversations low.

It wasn't until she had told a soft-spoken jab about how she believed that he needed to stop hiring old, white men that she noticed that his dimples were parallel on either side of his face. They lit up his features, turning his eyes the color of a southern sky.

When they had finished, Harry took the check with ease and signed his name in capital letters, as if he wanted everyone to know that he had spent the amount of money at dinner that she spent in a month of rent.

Harry placed his hand on the small of her back as they maneuvered out to the car. The street was starting to become a bit crowded, especially at the door for the wait. Harry had texted his driver to make sure they could be picked up, which again, he made sure to open the door for her as they flew into the backseat.

Felicity told the driver where she needed to go; back to her apartment that sat on the upper West side of the city. It was close to Central Park; a few blocks away, she'd say.

There's a moment when Harry feels that he doesn't want the night to end. He surely doesn't want to watch her leave— that's for sure. The car ride is spent with him catching her glances as they watch the lights in the city pass by; the honking of the cars and the putter of rain starts to encapsulate the backseat.

"Is this good for drop off?" The driver asks, looking in the rearview mirror at Felicity before she nods, agreeing with a soft yes, and starts to collect her things. The items she had brought from work were still in their place.

Harry watched as she goes to speak, knowing that it was going to be a goodbye. He would surely see her in the morning, but he couldn't bare the idea of flying across the ocean, staring at her across the seat from himself, without any words left unspoken.

"Uh," He shifted a bit in the back of the car, Felicity could see that he was looking up towards the building that she called her own. "Do you actually mind if—uh, I really have to piss."

Her eyes widened a bit before she let her own lips widen into a smirk. "Oh— yeah, please."

It hadn't occurred to her until they were walking up the steps and into the building that she may have had some underwear on the floor and could potentially have a sink filled with dirty dishes— she couldn't quite remember.

But what she did know was that Harry was following in her steps as they climbed a few flights until they reached the third floor.

"Quite a workout, huh?" Harry puffed as they reached the front door to her specific apartment.

"Hm," She hummed, "Imagine having to move all of my furniture up here. I had to ask random men on the street to help me."

Felicity digs into her purse before she's able to find the keys to the front door.

"I don't want to be super nosy," He looked around the small vestibule that they were standing in while Felicity tried to find her keys—even though the purse she held was naturally quite small. "But is there any reason you live in a place that resembles a prison?"

Felicity chuckled out a laugh before she found the small keyring and tried to put it into the lock. Her hands were a bit unsteady—the wine was holding the buzz over her as she steadied her hands to unlock the small door.

"This is what livable looks like in New York," The door swung open; Felicity moved into the tiny apartment before placing her bag on the kitchen counter. "Maybe I need to have a discussion with my boss about a raise."

It wasn't the smallest apartment, but it was exactly what she needed. There was no storage space, but there was a separate room for each need—living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. She had a small working office in the corner by the balcony that she had been lucky enough to score from this specific unit.

Harry looked around the place, his eyes feasting on every detail. "That can probably be arranged if I can be certain that you won't get mugged getting into your front door."

He noticed how lived in it felt—the opposite of the cool, modern, high-end penthouse he would resort to later that evening. Everything was painted a different color of beige, keeping the lightness of the empty place very noticeable.

There were photos on the walls, painting and portraits, there were words that resembled some of her favorite music and books. It was colorful and there were plants that were seemingly a bit out of control.

"The bathroom is right there, by the way." Felicity pointed, before Harry turned towards the small room to his left.

"Thanks." He stated before he moved into it and shut the door behind him.

It was the same reaction he had to the living room and kitchen; his eyes narrowed in on the details of the shower curtain and the small bottles of serum that sat along her sink. The way that her toothbrush was bright pink, matching the towels that hung on the wall.

There were delicate parts of her that he was certain she wouldn't have told him about because she didn't think that it mattered. But in the long run, he liked the bits of color and the pieces of art that hung next to her sink.

It was a detail he hadn't really thought about of her before.

When he had come back, he stared at her position in front of the sink. Her sleeves were rolled up as she washed a few dishes that had been sitting there. Her heels has been removed, but the jacket and the short skirt still hung from her delicate frame as he watched the way that she focused on a task.

She noticed that he was looking at her now before she gave a small smile and felt that he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

"I would offer you something to drink—I mean, I would offer you anything, but I'm not really," She looked around the kitchen. "I have coffee and vodka. And not like," She scrunched her brows together as she looked in her fridge. "Not good vodka. You would look down on me if I served you this, kind of vodka."

Harry let his smile tilt up a bit as he meandered into the small space of the kitchen. If she was offering him anything—

"You really think I'm that much of a snob?" He smirked.

Felicity huffed a little bit as she turned her head towards him, "The wine we drank tonight was $600 a bottle."

He doesn't say anything for a moment before he tilts his head a bit and shrugs off the comment. He wonders if she thinks of him differently—not for being her boss, but for having a high taste. Possibly the earlier of the two, too.

"I grew up that way, I guess. It's hard to decipher what's normal." He tries to explain to her, which makes her look at him with a mockery of a face. Her eyes roll with a smile, and he gives her a look of disdain.

She goes to respond to him, but instead he moves his body practically over top of her back to grab the vodka that sits on the second shelf of the fridge. It's a bottle that cost Felicity about $12.75 just the other week, and it has a good amount still left in it. Harry holds the neck of it in his hands before he looks at it and sets it down on the counter.

"Lemons? Juice? Anything?" He asks; taking the liberty himself to look through one of the cabinets to try and find himself a glass. Felicity stays still for a moment before she's able to grasp the magnitude of the situation.

Her boss—Harry Styles, CEO, is standing in her kitchen and trying to make himself a cocktail with her $12.75 vodka that she had bought at the bodega just a few days prior. He's perusing through the cabinets—the few that she had—before he turns to her.

"Uh, I have a bar cart." She tells him solidly, before she moves her way into the living room where the car sat. Her head is feeling fuzzy, and she wonders if adding the vodka to it will make her completely lose all faith in herself. She has a feeling it will make her say something absolutely ridiculous, to him of all people.

Felicity grabs the shaker, two glasses, a lemon from one of the small bowls that she uses for décor but also for moments like this and makes her way to the kitchen where Harry has already taken the ice trays out. When he looks back up at her, he nods back to where she came from, her eyes following his gaze.

"Go sit on the couch, let me make you a drink." He tells her, "You had a long week."

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," She folds her hands together before he looks at her with a bit of a concerned look, "I don't know if I like the roles reversed like this."

He gives her a smug smile before he turns back to what he had been doing previously; now filling up the shaker with ice before he poured a few seconds worth of vodka into it.

"You think I'm a stuck-up prick," He tells her, "Let me show you that I'm not, will you?"

The statement that he left on his lips settled in the air between them; Felicity blew it away as she breathed outwards and just nodded in place. She suddenly became a bit meek before she made her way back to the sofa where she settled into the cloudy cushions, sitting with her legs underneath of her as she tried not to flash anything from her skirt. She heard Harry mixing the cocktails in the glass shaker, shortly before coming out with two glasses in his hands.

He hands over a glass that looks solemnly... clear. Maybe a bit too clear, but she felt satisfied to know that he was trying his best to make a spot in her world. She didn't have to climb to his level, he was trying to stay at hers.

"To..." He trailed off as he held his glass up to her. The small loveseat that they sat on felt incredibly intimate all the sudden.

"To... London?" Felicity stated, "To having to be up tomorrow at five, but continuing to drink even though we can get to London."

Harry laughed at her words before he clinked his glass against hers, "To London."

The way that his accent wrapped itself around certain words held her attention briefly before she was able to take a sip of the cocktail he prepared. Strong wasn't the word; overkill may have been more like it.

"Holy fuck," She coughed softly before she felt a sting in her eyes, "That's—please never go into bartending."

A subtle look of offense took over his face as he went to take a sip of his own before he widened his eyes at the flavor of it. "Oh, shit. Yeah, wow. That—that'll do some damage."

Felicity started to laugh at his own reaction before she sat the drink down on the coffee table and watched Harry do the same.

"So, to brief then," She stated, "I believe that it's still true that you're just a stuck-up snob who can't do anything on his own, including making a cocktail."

Harry stood up for a moment but took offense to her comment. He started to remove his jacket, which only intrigued her—it meant he was staying a while longer. "Hey, to my defense, your fridge is very, very sad. There was not much I could have done to make this better. If you're going to drink vodka, at least buy a decent brand."

Felicity tucked the hair behind her ear, "I'm here to make vodka Sprite's, okay? Not martinis," She leaned against the back of the sofa, "And there you go again with being the rich snob."

It was annoying to her that he had decided to roll up his sleeve, just enough on his forearm that she was able to see the tattoos that weren't seen very often. Seldom, really. In the office, she would notice that he would be focusing on something in his office, his sleeve rolled up a bit, but that was the extent of it.

It seemed there were many more up his arm than she had initially thought, but she knew that she would never see them all.

When he went to sit down, he went to move the throw pillow behind his arm, but as he did so, he noticed something black against the white couch cushion.

Immediately, his fingers flew to the item before he lifted the lace that held his attention quite mesmerizingly. Felicity gasped at the realization before she grabbed them from his hands, absolutely mortified didn't even cut it.

"I'm so embarrassed," She finally spoke, almost trying to blame the redness of her cheeks on the strong beverage he gave her. She knew that it was the inflammation of her dignity, not the vodka.

There wasn't a word spoken before she watched that his expression changed surprisingly. He took a long sip of the vodka drink before setting it back down.

But the smile that follows from the cocktail is all she needs to see before she can smile back.

"You continue to surprise me," His words were placed with a package of slurring vocab before he swallows back anything else he'd say out of pocket, "I'm going to be very honest that I didn't imagine you as— I mean, I never imagined you in lace."

"You say that like you imagined me in something else." The words that came from Felicity weren't her own—she didn't know why she said them, but his quick rebuttal shut her up completely.

"Silk, probably," He uses his finger to touch the rim of the rocks glass that he's holding, where the condensation made a drip over the dress pants that situation themselves over his thighs, so lucky. "Or—I mean, you could surprise me even more," He went quick after a moment.

Silence. Protruding silence that is viciously capturing them in this haze of only breath that either of them can hear. It's uninterrupted until Harry leans his head back and the creaking on the sofa fills Felicity's head, rather than the idea of what's to come.

She had felt it before; the warranted tension that Harry seemed to have over her. Maybe it was her fault for leaning into it, but sometimes, she just couldn't help it. The way that he found himself taken by her was just unspoken most of the time. She was surprised that he wouldn't have pulled anything at dinner, but she could fill in the blanks as she invited him up to her apartment.

It was inevitable, she thought.

She shouldn't have done that, but should not's were not what she was thinking about as she drowned herself in the alcoholic state of the sour vodka that wafted of lemon juice and baited words.

Instead, Felicity blinked a few times, watching as he stared at the ceiling. The blankness of the pure white ceiling seemed to keep him grounded before she watched his jaw tighten.

"You're full of surprises, a lot of mystery, you know?" Harry breathed out. The tie around his neck was getting tight, but he couldn't loosen it now—if he was being honest, it was adding to the pleasure of the moment. He wouldn't speak that out, but while the tightness caused a bit of discomfort, he thought of it in other instances. "I'm not sure I can keep up with it."

There was an unresolved tension in the words he spoke, maybe even a bit of slur in them before Felicity followed suit; her head resting practically next to his as she stared at the blank white ceiling that had very little to memorize or stare at.

"What fun is a mystery if it's solved?"

He wasn't sure if she saw—he wasn't sure if she saw the way that his eyes fluttered at the thought of uncovering every instance of mystery that she kept hidden away, in this small apartment. The air was starting to become lost on them, feeling like the oxygen was being pulled as he breathed. The shakiness of his breath was caught by her when she turned her head—she wished that she hadn't.

All she could process was the way that his eyes stared upwards, lips parted in an unsure manner before she watched his eyebrows knit in a deep thought that she couldn't seem to interpret. But this pique of interest held her as she kept her eyes on him—he could feel every deep breath that she tried to mask.

"I don't know if you knew this about me," He quietly stated, "But I really can't handle the unknown."

It was then that his head turned towards her; the distance between them was much shorter than he could have thought. He didn't notice until his eyes directly moved towards the way that her lips curved in the small bow, the one that he had known so well from the number of times that he couldn't keep his eyes from her. But this was different; this held much more tension that he couldn't believe.

This time he could smell the liquor that lingered on her lips that mixed so well with the cherry of the chapstick that he knew she applied generously. He would watch the way that it slid over the lips as he sat at his desk and wondered what was on her mind.

"You're very good at getting what you want," Felicity breathed, watching as he shut his eyes for a moment. It was as if with every word she spoke, he was closer and closer to the edge of something great.

Her eyes traveled to the way that his legs sat just open—they were just waiting for someone to notice. Felicity swallowed at the idea of sitting between them, on her knees. Sitting there with her eyes laying on him; he took notice of her tense shoulders and her harbored through before he sat up just a bit. He scooted himself back on the sofa—Felicity blinked at the way that he invited her with just the flicker of his eyes.

No words needed to be spoken when the look could speak for itself, but the way that he speaks breaks the barrier of silence.

"How good am I at getting what I want?"

The heavy eyes that she held were only staring at his lips and the way that he spoke—the flicker of his tongue over the satin maroon of his lips. She couldn't contain herself, because she knew that his aura was a force to be reckoned with. She had seen it up close and personal; she knew that everything that he did was because he was in it one hundred percent.

He didn't half-ass anything—not a report, not a phone call, not a meeting, not a thought.

Everything Harry did was with the full intensive purpose of being the only thing on someone's mind, body, and soul.

Felicity trembled in the spot next to him, but her legs urged to move themselves. Her brain wasn't moving as fast as her decisions; and in an instant, her knees lowered to the spot in front of him. Her hands settling on the thick of his thigh as she allowed her eyes to hold his. For a moment, hesitation crossed his face, but she could have mistaken it for vulnerability.

The way that he breathed outwards was enough to make her gain the strength of a thousand horses—the talk that he talked wasn't as strong now, she felt a sensibility of pure radiance from her actions.

"I'd say you're the best at it, really." She let her hands settle on his thighs, but she took them away so she could drop the blazer down her arms. The tight white t-shirt settled against her frame as he watched the way that she pushed her brunette locks from her shoulders.

But his being felt incredibly taken by the way that she slowly moved—she wanted to savor every moment of this, he could tell that she was being critical, slow, and putting together each piece of herself in front of him.

That's what he thought at least, until he recognized that there was a tremble in her hand when she went to grab at the belt buckle, he barred. His hand flew to hers when she touched it; almost annoyed at himself by the look of terror that he was faced with as he knew that she had felt pushed away at that.

Instead, he pulled at her to stand up in front of him, between his legs. She did so with ease but a bit of confusion laid on her face as she stood with her hands by her side, Harry's eyes dancing along the figure—the divots in her thighs, the way the skirt just held to her so beautifully.

He let out a whimpering sound before he let his hand fall to the tightness of the front of his pants. Instantly, the pleasure trigger was pulled, and he knew what he had gotten himself into now had to be completed. It had to—he never did anything half-assed.

"Go put your heels on," He instructed her, watching as she stared at him willingly.

"A please would be nice." She tutted back, letting her lip fall into the curve of a smile.

Instantly, she knew that this wasn't a game anymore—this wasn't a fun, hushed little game of pleasure with nobody watching. She knew that the way that his eyes changed at the blink of an eye, the way that his jaw tightened at the statement: and the clear smirk on her lips faded.

"I'm not asking you," He sat up a bit, "I'm telling you."

Felicity had been used to being spoken as such; her memory fading into a moment, but her barriers kept up as she understood that her body was reacting only to the way that the words flowed from his mouth. She knew there was safety in his tone, she could see it by the way that he had stared at her with these stolen glances all night.

Instead, she followed his direction, moving back towards the door until she placed the black heels onto her feet again. They hurt just a bit from wearing them all day, she had to admit. But they made her stand taller, firmer against the fake wood flooring of her apartment. She wondered why the downstairs neighbors would think, as it became later at night.

"Come here," He told her, holding her wrist when she got close enough. He pulled her back to the place in front of him. She stood taller now, his nose practically at her bellybutton as she watched the way that he pulled her close.

Now, his hands lay on the outside of her hips, the sides of her thighs. She shuddered at the feeling, knowing that this was the first time she had been touched by him in such a manner. The musky scent of teakwood and spice drifted from the curls that settled against his forehead, she was sure of it. She could feel the heat of his breath just above where she needed him most as she stood close to him, right between his legs as he sat on the sofa.

"Do you know how many times I've thought of you like this?" He practically choked on his words, quiet, "So fucking beautiful."

She breathed out a shaky breath, holding onto every ounce of madness that she had collected over the past few moments.

"How many?" She asked him. Harry stood up, letting her take a step back as she felt the prominence of him now-- how he was a bit taller, even with her heels on. Every part of her ached—so unfamiliar to her, this feeling of need and want. It was a sensation of desperation that she hadn't known before; her inner monologue was flooded with dangerous prose as she felt his fingers cradled onto her jaw.

"More times than I'd ever be able to count." He told her, his voice deep and sharp as he pushed his hips forward. She walked backward a few steps, he followed in her lead like a waltz before he pushed her pelvis into the wall, holding it there with his own.

"You're going to be my good girl tonight, aren't you, Felicity?" His words were practically a whimper as he let his lips slide along her own; the tremble of her quivering lips made him shake in his own anticipation. "You love to listen, hm? That's why you're always taking my orders and assisting me? Getting paid to do what I say?"

It was always obvious by the pink of her cheeks and the timid ways of her soul that Harry could see right through her. From the moment she arrived on the job to the way that she completed everything task with ease; every job, every plan he needed executed, she followed in righteous order.

It made him proud, to say the least. She ran the company better than he did most days, but she didn't get half the recognition.

Until now, surely.

Her eyes nearly roll back into her head at the foul play of his words; the way that his eyes follow down the path of her lips, his thumb mapping the path down her chin before he grabbed it between his thumb and index finger.

The villainous smirk on his lips can't be seen by how close they are now.

"Does saying 'Yes, Mr. Styles' make you wet, Miss Carter?"

The question rolled off his tongue as he watched her minuscule behaviors; the way that she practically shivered against the wall made his eyes move to the way that her knees bent in just a bit.

His mouth turned up to the side as he realized that his was right yet again.

Felicity groaned in the back of her throat as she let it tip against the wall. He was practically on top of her by the way that he stood, his knee was pushing her knees apart before she was able to protest any of it. Not that she would've; she knew that it was about to turn into an evening that she couldn't have truly imagined if you had asked her just hours before.

"You're getting shy on me, again?" He remarked, but this time, it was paired with some loose kisses along her neck as he used his hand to cradle her jaw enough that she was pressing into it with ease. "What happened to that smart mouth, hm?"

Felicity ached as she breathed—her body pressured against the wall was her own doing, practically to keep herself from overwhelming herself. If she leaned into him too much, she wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." She bit her lip at the words coming off her tongue.

She could feel that the instant gratification that came from him was filtered through the stare that he barred towards her; the way that his nose brushed against the lobe of her ear as he practically fell into her graces with three simple words.

Harry groaned at the feeling of her pressed against him then; her brain sparked a few times, trying to remember how it felt before this. How reality felt. This wasn't reality in the slightest; this was a dream.

"Tell me," He urges her, "What was his name?"

She lets her eyes wash over his face as she notices that his strength and need have put him into a trance of pleasure and further need.

"Who?" She questions.

"The guy," He lets his lip gently caress right between her chin and lip. "The guy you were supposed to see tonight."

Felicity remembered how the evening was supposed to go—her interest completely lost in that game, when this one seemed a bit more daring and fun. It felt that she was seen here; like she had been stared at for quite some time, ogled, maybe.

"Uh, S-Sam." She choked out as she felt the way that his hand pinched at the small of her waist, almost like he was trying to make sure she didn't leave.

He hummed softly before he tipped her head back, the simple press of his nose moving her head against the wall. "Fucking loser."

Her mouth instantly felt his—a righteous moment of complete satisfaction bundled beneath her. It was the first time that his lips had laid into hers, moving gently against one another as they fit perfectly in sync. It wasn't too rough—just enough to know that she was in the hands of someone who knew what she was asking just by the way that his body moved. He could read her body and react to the fact that her chest may have been pressed against the wall a bit too much, so he pulled back to give her room to breathe.

The way that they flew through her bedroom door was just as shocking to her as it was to him; it made a much larger noise than she anticipated as they practically flew over the threshold and into the creamy white sheets of her—thankfully—made bed.

He landed on top of her in the heat of the moment. Their lips stayed attached through it all, almost like they were making up for all the lost time over the years. His tongue gently caressed over her top lip, which elicited quite a whine of surprise from her.

Her hands flew to his necktie, trying to loosen it before Harry grabbed her wrist—hard enough that she barked out a whimper.

"No," He told her sharply, watching as she hesitated underneath him. Now her hair was feathered out against the bedspread, her light eyes were catching every glimpse of her. After a moment, he looked at her softly, knowing that she didn't understand the game that he was about to play.

"We are going to play by my rules tonight," He told her, watching as she pushed herself up towards the headboard. He followed her lead, letting her hands rest on the back of his head as she tried to kiss every inch down her neck. "And I have a few notes you need to take, got it?"

Felicity tried her best to stabilize her breath as she was given a moment away from their lips touching to catch it. She licked over her lips, feeling her heart pounding along her chest before she nodded against the bed and the linen comforter that laid underneath them.

Harry sat up, his hair a bit of a mess, the clothes on his body were practically ripped from the front where they had been neatly tucked. The growing need for her was obvious as he felt the tip of his cock struggling beneath the waistband of his belt. The friction made it quite hard to concentrate on what his plans had been, but he knew that he had to be firm with his requests.

"First," He instructed, "The safe word is poetry."

Felicity's eyes stared at him with quiet focus as she nodded a few times to try and understand that. She hadn't ever been with someone who needed to use a safe word in any sexual act, so she struggled to wrap her brain around what that could have possibly meant. But her actions continued to nod as she wrapped her arms around his biceps to try to bring him back to earth. The idea that he had to bring it up intrigued her.

"Second," He pulled at the necktie around his own before he loosened it enough to grab and throw off of his own neck. His hands moved to place it around her own, helping to move the hair from her neck so that it could rest comfortably around her own. "I like to use props. Are you okay with that?"

Felicity felt her heart beating steadily in her chest for a few seconds before she nodded her head. He watched the innocence completely take over her face as he smirked at the all-knowing tale of it.

"Third," He bit on his lip as he moved down to let their foreheads rest along each other, "I need to hear you—no nodding or shaking your head. Consent makes me feel good. And when I feel good," He kissed her once again, a quick one this time, before his voice quieted so that it was just between them. "You'll feel even better. Okay?"

Felicity breathed in a deep breath before she tried to use the voice that had been drifting away from her. She didn't feel in her body like an echo of a voice had started to take over instead of her words. But she let out a rasp of a word, "Okay."

Harry nodded a few times, knowing that with her eyes, he would be able to continue, but only if he was able to talk her through every part of it. He didn't know her experience level or what she was comfortable with, but he knew how to make pleasure the only thing that would be on her mind for weeks. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the last time he got the opportunity.

"This is—uh," She looked at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot for starting to speak before she shook her head, and watched Harry give her a look of confusion. "No, sorry. Nevermind."

"What is it?" He questioned, hoping that something he had said hadn't scared her away. She took in a breath as she thought about how the wording could anger him—maybe it would stop whatever was happening, which she didn't want to happen now that they were in the midst of it all.

"I—uh, I mean, like, are you okay with this?" She asked quietly before pushing up on her elbows. "I—do I have like, sign something?"

Harry raised in brows in a bit of a humorous way that only made her cheeks grow red with shame at her silly question—in all honesty, it wasn't silly, but Harry was giving her a hard time about it, anyway. He bit on his lip as he felt the smile that was threatening to overcome his entire face.

"Am I supposed to be worried that you're going to tell the Daily Mail that I have a huge cock?"

"Harry!" She covered her eyes, floating back onto the comforter, "Nevermind—maybe I'll tell them it's small, though, if you don't stop being mean. I'm just trying to protect you."

"Aw," He tutted, putting his thumb over her bottom lip, but his eyes had grown a bit darker—the way that they had been a bit earlier. It was almost an illicit reaction; the way that he spoke to her, was so filthy with each word spoken that made her melt into the bed. "Dare you to say that to my face when you're choking on it," He pressed his hips into hers then, knowing that she would react to it. Hers moved upwards into him, just as he had intended, "I'm not worried about an NDA in the slightest bit."

In a teasing manner, she scrunched her nose and playfully spat back, "What if I tried to steal all of your money?"

He pressed his hands next to her head on the bed, letting her eyes look directly into his as he spoke, hoping his voice didn't falter: "You can have it all. Take it."

Something about it should have made Felicity giggle—almost like they were joking around. But there was a way that his sincerity felt more like a proposition than a source to cut the tension of their achingly needing bodies against one another.

Her body seemed to enjoy the way that he stated the smooth words, as she let her hands fall into the brunette curls that settled on the back of his neck. It didn't take long for her to pull him closer, letting her lips graze over him in such a frustrating manner. She was completely built up, her could feel the way that her thighs trembled against him.

Pushing her legs open, Harry pushed the hem of her skirt up her hips so that he could find a home between them. In doing so, flashing the baby pink of her lace panties only let his blood flow faster and faster.

"I bet you've soaked those, hm?" He tuts, pressing his nose into her cheek ask he lets his hand knowingly move to the place he speaks of, knowing that he's right. Again. "Sam doesn't know what he's missing, does he?"

The teasing was becoming a bit too much for her—waiting for his fingers to move faster, she moved her hips a bit to try and get herself the pleasure she was trying to search so desperately for from him.

Harry notices the way that she tries to squirm, and he smirks at the reaction he's giving her; knowing that within every inch of her is building up a tension that will release. It will be like a dam that overflows—a satisfaction that will be so worthy of the cost of admission. He can't help but notice, can't help but watch her need.

He can't help but know that he's going to fuck her into an oblivion so dark, the stars will be lost in space. She doesn't know that yet.

Instead of being mean, he decides it might be better for him to give her what she needs—what she's been so kindly asking him for with her pretty hips and her pretty lips.

"On your knees," He tells her, watching as she moves underneath him. She wiggles around until she's on her stomach; the necktie gets him harder as he watches it dangle from her neck like the apple in Eden. Every part of him wants to take the bite—not yet, oh, not yet.

When she does this, her back arches upwards, and Harry's knees settle on the bed as he hovers above her and watches the way that she submits to him. Every word he says she listens—he can barely handle it anymore.

In an instant, his hands reached the bottom of her skirt, pushing it up to fully show the outline of her ass in the cheeky pink lace. It's always been known to him that she would wear something so pitifully scandalous under those black skirts, but he couldn't have imagined it would be like this.

Her pretty face has been folded into the creamy duvet, waiting for the touch of him to send her into an implosion.

All he wanted was to taste her—to make all of the thoughts he had prior feel like they were significant and they were able to be adhered to. He wanted to make her feel like she was the most special person on the planet; like she could feel every inch of him, and she would be thriving in that thought for the end of time.

This may be a one-time occurrence, and he wanted to marvel in it. He wanted her to enjoy what she didn't know could be.

Harry's hands pulled at the pink lace, wondering how lucky he was to be able to enjoy this sight—and what a sight. The wetness of her folds only made him salivate; made his hungry eye a darker shade of green before he dove his tongue directly into her, licking up the mess he had already made of her.

The soft whimpers turned into moans as she practically lurched forward—the initiation hardly bearable as she scrunched her eyes at the feeling of pleasure. The warmth and invite of his tongue pressed against her, lapping her up and into a pitiful puddle. When she felt the nudge of his finger, she gasped at the feeling of him; the duo of his tongue and finger sang together in harmony like a choir of angels.

"Oh, fuck," She quietly moaned out, holding herself on her elbows as she grabbed at her pillow for a bit of leverage. She felt him hum into her, his nose gently brushing against her as he pushed her ass up to get further towards her clit which hungered for his touch, as did his tongue.

The taste of her replenished him, making his heartbeat faster as he felt the stringent feeling of tightness along the dress pants that held him in. Without letting his tongue go without, he used his hand to swiftly throw the belt from the loops of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly and without another thought.

"Fuck, you taste like I thought you would. So fucking sweet." He stated, pushing her ass out of the way when he pulled back. He threw her down onto the bed so that she would be looking up at him. The girl was fully dressed still, just with her skirt pushed up—underwear a bit haphazardly thrown to the side. The rose-colored cheeks threw him as he used his hands to pull the skirt down her thighs.

"Get naked." He ordered, watching as Felicity's hands moved to throw the t-shirt from her body as he requested, leaving her in her panties and bra. Harry threw the white button-down of his from his chest; Felicity got a bit distracted by the way that the tattoos generously scattered over his body. She swallowed back her intimidation as she held herself up on her elbows.

In a swift motion, her panties and bra were thrown onto the ground, leaving her in just the necktie like Harry had ordered for her. She hadn't even quite noticed that he had been rid of his own clothes, her eyes wandering down but not wanting to stare as she noticed that the smirk on his face was ever present.

"Think it's still small?" He asked, with a chuckle as he pulled at her knees, moving her down towards him.

"Maybe smaller than I'm used to." She played back, biting her lip at the intrigue of how he'd react. His arms grabbed at her waist before he threw himself down onto the bed.

"Ride me, then. If you think you can take it as good as you say." His words spit out before Felicity could think too much. It had been a while she had been in this situation, with a guy in her place, at least. Her hand reached over to the nightstand to grab a condom, Harry nodding in appreciation for the gesture.

Her hunger and desire for this became a bit more active as she was now in the driver's seat, moving and manipulating her body to sit across his lap. If she would lie, she would say that it was smaller than average. But unfortunately, she was taught to always tell the truth.

It was much bigger—especially as he rubbed his hand down himself, a gasp of air baiting out of his lips before he looked up at her in a state that could only resemble pleasure.

Harry rolled the condom down his length, watching as she settled into his lap. Her legs settle on either side of him before he looks up at her. The blazing fuzziness of his mind from the liquor has started to cease and is replaced with a hunger of desire for the brunette instead.

"Pretty, pretty." He tells her, watching as she looks antsy enough to move, but he pulls her down to kiss her, anyways. It's a moment that he knows he's taking away from her, but he needs some form of interaction from her. A small detail of need that overcomes him.

His hands steady her hips above him, holding his cock up to her entrance before he watches her hips move down to encapsulate him all—her movements are slow as she throws her head back in an unsurmountable pleasure that she quite practically leans forward against him to catch herself from falling.

"Fuck," He grunts, shutting his eyes just at the way that the blood moves directly to his cock at the feeling of her wetness. She's completely drenched and open and ready which makes her so sensitive and barely capable of words at this point.

Her hands steady herself, holding onto his chest as he allows her to take the lead on what she needs. But he can tell from the look on her face that she's having quite a hard time collecting herself—almost like she's quite unsure of what to do with the power that he's given her to be on top. It's not him pitying her, but him wanting her to enjoy the experience.

So, maybe, in another life, this can happen again.

"Baby," He choked out, shaking his head at the way that he knew it was the wrong choice of words, "Felicity—let me," He grabbed the small of her waist as he sat up quickly. His arms pivoted them so that he could throw them back around on the bed. It wasn't to take anything away from her, but to give to her more than she was giving to herself.

"Let me do this, yeah?" He joked with her, letting his lips kiss along hers, biting and nipping and finding small ways of showing her that the softness of him was still there even in the darkened eyes and furious gasps.

His body readjusted, his hips pushing into her in a more fluid motion. This got her to gasp, a breathy one that he liked hearing—those were the ones that were out of pure pleasure and satisfaction; ones that he felt drunk on.

In a way, this felt a lot different than before. The overhead light of her bedroom was soft; there was a significant dimness to it. He wasn't sure if it was because the room was small, but it felt like there was a intimacy that he had been missing before. His eyes tilted upwards to the paintings and lines of movie quotes that lined along her bedroom wall. There were framed simply and held color and brightness to the space, which distracted him for only a moment before he was able to lay against her.

The necktie around her took his focus back.

"I'm going to play with you a bit, is that alright?" He asked her softly, biting at his lip before he found himself pressing into her hips. His hands grabbed at the necktie before letting them start to tighten it around her neck. " 'Member you words, hm?"

Felicity whimpered out at the coax; nodding her head, "Please—please."

Harry sat up at the request, happy that she was using her words in this sense. He readied himself; thinking of what he needed to think about to try to get himself to a different place. He didn't want to cum too quickly; his cock was barely holding on as it was. The friction of her sweet wetness was enough to make him fold again and again and again.

His fist moved to grip at the knot of the tie, pushing it upwards until it hit at her chin. She raised her head, almost to give way to the pressure that it held against her. She was only briefly capable of speaking a few words, but she was taken with pleasure at the way that her breathing was manipulated.

"Breath play," Harry practically reads her mind as his hip's diver deeper into her. The feeling of her legs at his ribs, practically around his body as he feels the back of her ankle into his back. "Your words, baby."

Felicity took a deep breath; Harry moved his hand so that she could take it in more. He wanted her to feel the wooziness, the daydream-like feeling of the high that it could bring her. He wanted this moment to be special, for her to remember that she was in the most requitting love affair. That she was taken care of, adored, seen.

At the end of the day, Harry wanted to make sure that her jaw was cradled, her lips were kissed, her eyes were stared into, and her breath was taken away.

His hips snapped further, her moan sounded like a small mew before he sat up a bit straighter, loosening his hand on the tie before he grabbed at both of her hips. His hand moved to maneuver over her clit, thumb drawing a star over top of it to which she squirmed in sensitivity. He smirked at the way that she held softly against him before he let a dribble of spit land directly on her, smearing the wetness to coat her.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He stated, the blown-out pupils of them both had them reeling—he noticed he had really neglected parts of her that he had wanted to remember, but he also knew that there was a significant need that they were both needing to fill. He knew that this was just inevitable fucking from weeks—months, really—of built-up tension that they both needed to get out of their system.

"I—I want more," She nodded, her voice quiet and barely above a mumble before their eyes made contact.

He felt that she was a bit, for lack of a better word, fucked. Her eyes were a bit droopy, she may have been trying to cover up how much she really drank, but her effervescent neediness was going to haunt him forever.

"I can give you more," He nodded, "I can give you so much fucking more." His hips snapped forward, again and again and again—her headboard hitting the wall every time he did so. Their breath heavy and their eyes connected as he did so.

"Such a pretty little fuck," He lifted her leg up from around his waist before he gave her knee a gentle kiss. "I'm so hard, fuck."

The fully natured nudity of their bodies was new for him—it was usually very quick, especially when they would come to his. But this was significantly more intimate; he wanted to spend this time with her. He liked that they decided to do it this way.

She could feel the tightening of the rubber band that was about to snap. It had been building with every swipe of his thumb, the way that his tongue had gently nudged at her clit; the way he had plunged forward with every deep thrust. She was impressed with the way that he moved her body to be able to hit at her spot every single time. He had studied her, watched what she did—how she reacted.

"I'm—fuck," He pulled himself forward, letting his head drop as he fell into her touch. This was new; her hands on his shoulders, the way that they moved into his hair and down his neck. "Poetry, okay?" He reminded her softly before he kissed her lips.

What happened after that could have been a blur—to Felicity, she wasn't entirely sure if she could remember it all. His hand gripped around the tie of her neck, pulling softly so she felt a dizzy sensation.

"Fuck—fuck, Harry, I'm cumming—fuck." Her teeth bit so sharply on her lip that she was afraid it might rupture the skin; the taste of blood would come soon afterwards, but her reality was set in the pleasure kingdom that Harry's hips created for her.

It was dizzying how he snapped his hips upwards, hitting her every single time. The pressure of his thumb over her clit sent her into an overdrive; letting her walls completely break, the dam overflowed, flooding. The orgasm over taking her sent him into a state of pure shock and adrenaline, snapping his hips a few more times before he felt the absolute relief.

Her eyes shut; Harry lurched forward as he fell into the grip of her hands. It was a feeling of falling that he genuinely believed were cloud-like.

For a moment, he wondered if they would ever slow their breathing down. He wondered if the sound of her heart beating against his was real-life or just a fantasy. It may have been an orgasmic-induced dream.

The puzzle piece form of the two of them let him settle nicely into her; his nose poked at the skin of her neck, which he may or may not have left a mark or two on.

In the solemness of the air, his breathing finally evened out.

___________

"Are we cleared for take-off, Mr. Styles?"

The noise jolts him a bit, he wouldn't lie.

Harry clears his throat as he opens his eyes which have been hidden by the sunglasses that have settled on his face. He readjusts in the seat before he looks around the small jet plane that had been chartered for their adventure.

It was early, approaching on seven in the morning. His sleep had been nonexistent until that small nap that he had gotten himself before being woken up by the pilot.

"Uh," He swallows, trying to make it seem that he was more awake than he was.

"I believe that we're all here." Laura states to the pilot before she gives him a tight smile. She returns to looking at her cellphone, lowering her hands into her lap as she continues to scroll through what's possibly an email.

Harry looks around the small jet, watching, searching... wondering.

He blinks a few times to try to imagine if there's a reality where what had occurred last night was working against him—he had hoped that she hadn't been scared off, that she hadn't run away at the idea of what this weekend could possibly hold.

Not that it was going to happen all the time, certainly not. But he wondered if there could be a next time—he wondered if she would have liked that. It turns out, with the no show to the work trip that she had been informed on that—

"I'm sorry."

The sweet tone of the voice carries through the plane before he turns his body in the single chair to look at where it had been coming from. Coming up the steps, being greeted by the stewardess, a smiling face that had her sunglasses pushed into her hair—a pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt with a cardigan sweater overtop.

He watches as she takes her bag, feeling uncomfortable by the stewardess taking it from her before she gives her a tight smile and settles into walking towards the back. The plane isn't large, but it feels incredible big when he is waiting for her to approach him.

Their eyes meet and she gives him a tight smile before greeting the others on the plane. The seat directly in front of Harry isn't taken. Go figure. Her hands are full—holding her purse, a bag that most likely has something to eat for a breakfast, a coffee, and—

"Your dry-cleaning," Felicity handed the back to him before she took her seat that sat directly across from him in the small private jet that had seemingly felt much smaller as she took in how close he was to her now, "Mr. Styles."

The flicker of her eyes to his—the way that her hair had been blown dry, bouncing with curls, the freshness of her toned-down makeup to allow the texture of her skin to show with the subtlety of the glow.

Even in the early morning hours, even though he had just left her a few hours prior, even though they had both had less than a few good hours of sleep—she still looked like she was greeting him at heaven's pearly gates.

When the bag was unzipped to check that everything had been added, his eyes fell along the purple necktie that he had unnervingly left at the edge of her bed the night prior; he must had run out of the door of her apartment without it. His eyes glanced at the way that the small item drifted over the white button-down.

It was familiar, of course, because it had been the one that he was wearing yesterday when he had entered her apartment but left without it in his hands or around his neck. He cleared his throat at the sight, knowing that it was a nod to him and only him. When he sat them down across his lap, his eyes landed on her again—the casualty of her smirk was harrowing now.

"Mr. Styles, are we waiting on anyone else?" The pilot had come back towards the rows now, to ensure that everything would have been cleared for the take-off. Harry looked back at him, and shook his head without another doubt, but a solidly aching feeling in his chest as he barred the words back at him.

"No, I—I'm not waiting for anyone else, at least." He looked up at the girl in front of him, "I'm good."

The pilot got the plane ready for departure; Felicity stared at the window as she tried to take in the experience, knowing that the exhaustion that was starting to overcome her would be able to be given a final rest when she leaned against the window.

But, for the time being, she liked being able to rest in the light of Harry's stare as he couldn't take his eyes from her.

The plane, the job, the clothes, the dinner—none of it mattered when the view in front of him was something that money would never be able to buy.

____________________

hiiiii!!

happy tortured poets department day, here's a one-shot <3

just a little fun one hehe, almost 20k words is so much for me, so thank you for reading this!

love u as always

- emily

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girlboypersonthingy · 2 months

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Can you write something platonic about alastor, like tiny things he might do around people that are his way of showing care around the hotel and people around him?

Yessss I love this creepy king!!! I know he has a soft spot somewhere in him, he’s just a weirdo. Thanks for requesting! And enjoy~ ❤️

Platonic Alastor Headcanons ❣️

If he likes you, he’ll talk to you quite often. He’ll even make jokes at your expense, might even go as far as to bully you or tease you about things he knows will get a reaction out of you.

But don’t get it twisted, if Alastor didn’t like you, he would either straight up ignore that you even exist or straight up threaten you and do his best to scare you off. So the fact that he even talks to you, regardless of the passive aggressive comments, is a good sign.

Taps his mic cane on the head of those he likes. Doesn’t really like physical touch but will occasionally touch you and others at the hotel, mostly with his cane but sometimes with his big claws.

If he really cares for you, Alastor will offer to share things with you. For example, he’ll invite you into his radio tower for a behind the scenes tour, he’ll offer you some of whatever is on his plate if you accidentally interrupt his dinner (even if it’s disgusting, it’s the thought that counts right?)

Won’t hesitate to destroy someone for trying to mess with you, anyone at the hotel or the hotel itself…as we saw when he slaughtered all those loan sharks for Mimzie.

He can be very frightening when he wants to be or needs to be, he never backs down from a fight.

Although, when Alastor has a soft spot for you, he will check in with you after he goes all scary crazy on someone.

Bro be like 😈👹 *radio static and screeching* and then immediately turn his attention to you like 😇 ‘oh you saw that? My bad.’

“Oh darling! I sincerely apologize for letting you see me that way. But! As your hotelier and also the radio demon, I must step up when someone tries to mess with us. You feeling alright? Yes? Good! Off you go then.”

He’s an extremely smart and carefully calculated man so really, any show of affection, care, consideration, concern should not be taken lightly.

Will also pull those typical, polite gestures like holding a door open for someone, offering his seat up when there’s no other open seats, magically summoning an umbrella for his company while on a walk in the rain, ect.

Again, as simple as that may seem, if this guy doesn’t like you he’s gonna do the exact opposite. Slamming doors in your face, lowkey trying to trip you as you walk past him, ect.

If he happens to catch you crying all alone, he won’t leave you be until you’re feeling better and your tears have stopped. Think when he went to comfort and encourage Charlie when she was crying in bed.

He will stay beside you, either aggressive praising you and trying to up your mood with encouragement or he will be cracking lame jokes or even offering to go kill whoever made you upset.

Is actually very easy to tell if the radio demon likes you or not. Alastor lets his feelings show through his actions.

As long as Alastor isn’t threatening you, ignoring you or trying to scare the shit out of you, then he likes you :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #Alastor Hazbin #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #platonic alastor x reader

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hussyknee · 11 months

Text

This is, bar none, the funniest fucking completely unironic shit published by a legitimate news outlet:

In recent months, orcas in the waters off the Iberian Peninsula have taken to ramming boats. The animals have already sunk three this year and damaged several more. After one of the latest incidents, in which a catamaran lost both of its rudders, the boat’s captain suggested that the assailants have grown stealthier and more efficient: “Looks like they knew exactly what they are doing,” he said. Scientists have documented hundreds of orca-boat incidents off the Spanish-Portuguese coast since 2020, but news coverage of these attacks is blowing up right now, thanks in part to a creative new theory about why they’re happening: cetacean vengeance. Now that’s a story! “The orcas are doing this on purpose,” Alfredo López Fernandez, a biologist at the University of Aveiro in Portugal, told LiveScience last month. “Of course, we don’t know the origin or the motivation, but defensive behavior based on trauma, as the origin of all this, gains more strength for us every day.” López Fernandez, who co-authored a 2022 paper on human-orca interactions in the Strait of Gibraltar, speculates that a specific female, known to scientists as White Gladis, may have suffered a “critical moment of agony” at the hands of humans, attacked a boat in retaliation, and then taught other whales to do the same. Whatever the truth of this assertion, White Gladis and her kin have quickly ascended to folk-heroic status on the internet. “What the marine biologists are framing as revenge based on one traumatic experience may be a piece of a larger mobilization towards balance,” the poet Alexis Pauline Gumbs tweeted before referring to the killer whales as “revolutionary mother teachers.” Media figures and academics are expressing solidarity with their “orca comrades” and support for “orca saboteurs.” One widely circulating graphic shows a pod smashing a boat from below, above the words “JOIN THE ORCA UPRISING.” (You can even purchase it in sparkly sticker form.) Yet all of this fandom and projection tends to overlook important facts: First, these orcas are likely to be playing with the boats rather than attacking them, and second, if one insists on judging killer whales in human terms, it’s plain to see they aren’t heroes but sadistic jerks.

A shark wrote this.

The recent incidents, none of which has resulted in any injuries to humans, are simply the result of curiosity, Monika Wieland Shields, the co-director of the Orca Behavior Institute in Washington, told me. A juvenile may have started interacting in this way with boats, she said, and then its habit spread through the local community of killer whales. Such cultural trends have been observed before: In the Pacific Northwest, orcas have been playing with buoys and crab pots for years; in the late 1980s, one group of orcas there famously took to wearing salmon hats. Is ramming boats the new donning fish? Shields believes that theory makes more sense than López Fernandez’s appeal to orca trauma. White Gladis shows no physical evidence of injury or trauma, Shields told me, so any “critical moment of agony” is purely speculative. Also, humans have given orcas ample reason to retaliate for hundreds of years. We’ve invaded their waters, kidnapped their young, and murdered them in droves. And yet, there is not a single documented instance of orcas killing humans in the wild. Why would they react only now? And though recent events may fit the story of these orcas’ being anti-colonial warriors, you can’t just anthropomorphize animals selectively. What about all the other “evidence” we have of orcas’ cruelty, or even wickedness? Scientists say they hunt and slaughter sharks by the dozen, picking out the liver from each one and leaving the rest of the carcasses to rot uneaten. Orcas kill for sport. They push, drag, and spin around live prey, including sea turtles, seabirds, and sea lions. Some go so far as to risk beaching themselves in order to snag a baby seal—not to consume, but simply to torture it to death. Once you start applying human ethical standards to apex predators, things turn dark fast.

Oh no, they gleefully torment other animals for sport!! Does this species deserve to have any redeeming qualities???

Perhaps #orcauprising was inevitable. Humanity does have, after all, a long history of freighting cetaceans with higher meaning. Moby Dick is, among other things, a symbol of the sublime. The biblical whale—or is it a large fish?—that swallows Jonah is an instrument of divine retribution, a means of punishing the wicked in much the same way some have framed the boat-wrecking orcas. The whale 52 Blue, known as the loneliest whale in the world because she speaks in a frequency inaudible, or at least incomprehensible, to her brethren, has become a canvas for all shades of human sorrow and angst. Orcas in particular have long been objects of both fear and sympathy, in some cases with an explicitly anti-capitalist tint. The 1993 classic Free Willy centers on a conniving park owner’s scheme to profit off of the bond between a child and a young killer whale. And more recently, the 2013 documentary Blackfish chronicles SeaWorld’s real-life exploitation of captive orcas. The “orca uprising” narrative fits neatly into this lineage. In our present era of environmental catastrophe, Shields told me, it’s appealing to think that nature might fight back, that the villains get their just deserts. But projection and anthropomorphization are only shortcuts to a shallow sympathy. Orcas really are capable of intense grief; they are also capable of tormenting seal pups as a hobby. They are intelligent, emotionally complex creatures. But they are not us.

Someone paid this dude actual money to conclude that Orcas aren't human.

In conclusion:

#this is a White Gladis stan account sorry #I don't care if she's doing it for shits and giggles in fact that would be even better #support orca rights and orca wrongs #orca splatoon #the atlantic #capitalism #joining the war on orcas on the side of the orcas #yachts #orcas #marine life #ecology #marine animals #class war #eat the rich #anti capitalism #cetaceans #knee of huss

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whatitshouldvebeen · 8 months

Text

Johnny Slaughter x Reader

MINORS DNI

Johnny made you swear to be his alone, but he's never been faithful. After two months of neglecting your needs, you confront him.

Cut down to just the smut, read the full post here or on my ao3

Contains: abuse, angst, blood, degradation, humiliation, knifeplay, mentions of self-harm, implied cannibalism, jealousy, fingering, hate-fucking, and breeding

You remained on the couch until the door to the basement clanged open. Johnny had been down there for a while with his third victim this month, and by this point, your jealousy had you seeing red. You stood up from the couch and turned to face Johnny in the narrow hallway by the stairs. He wiped his blade off on his bloody shirt and locked eyes with you.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, you haven't been pullin' nearly as many people as I have. Losin' your touch, sugar?" He taunted, leaning against the staircase and toying with his knife.

You put your hands on your hips. "Some months I got more than you did!"

"Yeah, like that month you brought in those slimy truckers. I couldn't even stomach their rancid, fatty meat." He spat in the corner by the door. "But it figures. You have lower standards than I do."

"'Cause I'm not sleeping with them!" You yelled, your fists trembling at your side.

Johnny's smile grew so wide it reminded you of a great white shark.

"Jealous?" He purred.

Your face heated, and you sputtered. "No, I fucking hate your guts, you piece of shit! Why would I be jealous?"

He pushed off the staircase and approached you slowly, a dangerous sway to his step.

"Needin' some attention? Has mean ole Johnny been denying you?" His tone was sickeningly sweet as he stopped in front of you, making your rage feel small and insignificant in his overwhelming presence.

It was true. When you were first brought home, Johnny had fucked you and only you daily for two straight months. He was the only thing you ever looked forward to in this hellhole, but in the last few months, Johnny had been using you less and less.

And you couldn't deny the anger that swirled in your gut whenever he brought a girl home. You knew how he was; you remembered how he'd hooked you that first night, and some of those girls he brought home had that same cock-drunk look in their eyes, some even willingly descending into the basement before realizing their fate.

It ate you up inside. Johnny had sworn you to him, but he took whoever he pleased, and the jealousy was making you more irritable than usual. You probably would have brought at least two men home this past month if it weren't for your overly-aggressive demeanor scaring them off.

But you couldn't help yourself. When you got horny, you were straightforward about it. Johnny had gotten you used to being with him, and without him to satisfy your urges, you were becoming more unhinged.

So now that Johnny was inches from you, admitting he was neglecting your needs with that cocky grin on his face, you couldn't believe the surge of desire that coursed through you. You hated how your body reacted, despised the urge to close the gap between your bodies, and grab him by his slicked-back hair, mashing your lips onto his. Damn it.

Johnny leaned even closer, whispering against your ear. "I can smell your cunt, you little slut."

Your face flushed deep red, and you pushed Johnny away as hard as you could. He took two staggered steps back, which gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

That was until his predatory eyes narrowed, sending a shiver down your spine. He closed the distance between you two in one stride and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled against the wall, cracking the drywall under the force of his kiss. Johnny couldn't care less.

His hands found your shorts, practically tearing them off your body to plunge his thick fingers into your needy core. You gasped and blushed harder as you heard the sound of your wetness squelching around his digits.

"You fucking brat," he growled low in his throat, biting your lip. You whimpered in response as he withdrew from you, bringing his fingers to your lips. You parted them, sucking yourself off him greedily, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When he removed his fingers, he harshly grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You've been a real bitch lately. Are you in heat or something?" He asked mockingly.

"Shut up, Johnny," you panted.

He ignored you entirely, turning your chin from side to side. "You need fucked, don't cha?" A slow grin formed on his handsome face. "Beg me for it."

Blood flooded to your core at his words, but you tore your chin from his grip. The words 'I'd rather die' welled up in your throat, but you realized Johnny might take you up on that offer, so instead, you glared at him.

"I'm waiting, darlin'," he drawled.

Your eyes unwillingly traversed his body, and you thought about how good that muscular form under his bloodied clothes felt against you. The thirst was truly getting to you, and he looked like a tall glass of red-tinted water.

Shame flooded you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please, Johnny," you mumbled.

"What's that, doll? Please, what?" He asked, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

You gave him a spiteful look, hoping that your hate might set him on fire. "Please, fuck me," you said through gritted teeth.

"Ahh, there's my little kitten. You'll need to do something for me first, though," he said.

"Oh, come on!" You spat. "What could you need from me that you don't already get from your sluts? I'm the one who isn't getting any!"

Johnny couldn't have looked more pleased. "Jealous AND possessive. How pathetic."

Your anger grew white-hot, and you slapped him. Hard.

The instant your hand made contact with his chiseled jaw, you knew you'd made a grave mistake. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed you against the wall by the throat. You felt his blade against your collarbone, digging in, rivulets of blood rapidly staining your shirt.

"I'm sorry!" You squeaked out from between already-bruised lips, memories of the first time you'd begged for your life flooding your senses. He tightened his grip.

"Remember who you owe your life to, dollface," he snarled, pressing the knife deeper. "I like that bitchy mouth of yours, but if you ever try to hit me again, I'll end you. Understand?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks, unable to muster more than the tiniest of breaths. Yet, even as your life balanced on a knife's edge, your desire dripped down your thighs.

Johnny loved a fight, but when he fought, he always had to win. In Johnny's mind, the only true victory was taking his opponent's life. His demand meant he didn't want to kill you, you realized. He was holding himself back because... some part of him wanted you around.

Johnny's eyes moved from yours to your cheeks where tears formed salty streams that raced down to your chin, slipping down your neck and pooling against his grip.

You always knew Johnny loved tears; be they from fear or ecstasy. As light began to prick at the corners of your vision, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far.

All at once, he released you, and you fell to your knees, choking on air.

"Suck my fucking cock," he commanded. He gave you next to no time to recover before his thick length was in your face, stiff and upward-curved.

Your throat was already aching, and you could barely breathe, but you complied, taking his flushed tip into your warm mouth.

His cock was salty and musky, and your envy flared. Johnny was never yours, was never going to be yours, but you had grown to crave him, and the fact you were likely tasting another woman on his cock made you livid.

There was no woman in the world who wanted to please him more than you did, and you were going to show him that he needed you at least half as badly as you needed him.

You poured all your hate, anger, and devotion to him into sucking his cock. Johnny was a narcissist through and through, and for some fucking reason, you reveled in it. The higher you put him, the higher he brought you with him, and the harder you fell when he spurned you.

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as you forced yourself to deep-throat all of him. He let out a delicious groan. "Fuck yeah baby, take it!"

You gagged and sputtered, saliva gushing from your lips when he grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you as far as you possibly could go. He held you there, choking on spit and pre-cum, until you couldn't take it anymore and pushed off his muscular thighs, stumbling backward onto your ass.

Johnny took this as an open invitation. He knelt down in front of you and grabbed your knees, pushing them apart and slotting himself between them.

"You need this cock, don't you?" He said, using one hand to tease your clit with the slick head.

"I need it," you respond, your voice raspy.

Johnny grinned wickedly before he plunged into you, making your back arch off the floor and your legs tremble.

"Knew you were too proud to ask me on your own," he said as he gripped your hair and thrust so deeply into you that you saw stars, "so I wanted to see how long you could hold out. After all, it ain't like I wasn't getting any."

Jealousy bubbled up yet again from your core, and turned those stars in your eyes green. You needed him to know those sluts had nothing on you. They weren't form-fitted to his cock, they weren't so rabidly in…

Your mind drew a blank. In love?

No! You hate Johnny. He's your captor. Your judge, jury, and executioner.

You love him?

You really were pathetic. Tears bloomed in your eyes again, and as Johnny sunk his teeth into your already-bleeding collarbone, you sobbed out loud.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock completely filling you. "There's my girl," he rumbled against your bloody skin. You practically melted. His girl. His. But he wasn't yours. Even though the two of you were clearly sexually compatible, and you couldn't do much more in his personal life for him than you already were, he still remained out of reach.

Then, it hit you.

"Cum inside me, Johnny," you begged.

His harsh thrusts slowed. "What?" He pulled back and looked down at your tear-swollen eyes gazing back up at him so desperately. "You're joking."

You shook your head.

"Then you're a fucking idiot," he muttered, returning his attention to your neck and rocking his hips so that you felt him at every angle.

"No, I'm not!" You protested, and you felt his smirk against your neck before he gripped your hips and pulled you closer.

"You are, but I'll humor you. Why?"

He wasn't moving, he was just holding you impossibly close, planting small, bruising bites up and down your neck. You felt every inch of him viscerally, and lust clouded your mind as you struggled to articulate your thoughts.

"I- I want-" you moaned, writhing in his grasp.

"Speak up, sugar," he chided, digging his fingernails into your hips.

Fuck. Your vision was spinning, and you let your head fall back and hit the hardwood floor. Johnny didn't allow you to rest long; he took one powerful hand and gripped the back of your hair, pulling you to face him.

"I already know, so why don't ya just admit it?" He whispered, his lips inches from yours.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you squeezed your thighs around his hips. "I want your baby, alright?" You admitted, humiliation mixing ice with the fire in your core.

"Honey, there've been more women than you who've wanted that. What makes you think you're so special?"

Shame and desire in equal measure painted your cheeks, but you finally knew what to say.

"I'm the only one you kept."

He hummed against your pulse point. "You already kinda act like a mama; cleaning the house and makin' my favorites for dinner." Johnny's lips, which had traced a path along your neck, paused for a moment. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "But I thought you hated me."

"Hate you so much it reached the end and flipped to the other side, I guess," you conceded.

Johnny rewarded you by slowly resuming his thrusts, giving you the cock you craved so primally. "I hate you too, baby. I hate how every damn thing you do drives me crazy, how you make me lose control then force me to keep you safe from me."

He leaned close, fire burning in his gaze. "I hate that I can't kill you 'cause I can't imagine my life without you in it."

In that moment, as your lips met again, it was a collision of contradictions—the fierce passion that had grown in the midst of hate and chaos.

Johnny was on a mission now, and you felt it in every fiber of your being. He sat up on his knees and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss, pistoning his cock so deeply you felt the head bruising your cervix.

But you didn't care, you reveled in the pain. Johnny was claiming you, finally. All those women, and none had him like this—breeding them like the bitch in heat that you were. You moaned so loud Johnny broke the kiss with a cruel laugh.

"You hopeless little slut," he chided as he moved one hand to your back and bent toward your chest. He licked at the still fresh blood before reaching your nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sending shockwaves through you.

You gripped his shoulders and rode him harder. A low groan escaped his lips, and you felt his length somehow become even more hard before a warmth spread through your core as his cum shot deep inside you. The sensation was too much to bear and you came as well, holding onto him for dear life as you rode out your orgasms together.

When he was done, he laid you back down on the floor and stood, leaning against the wall and gazing down at you, the girl he'd chosen to claim entirely.

You laid spread-eagle on the floor, your chest caked in blood, wanting to meet his eyes but unable to move as his precious cum seeped from your abused pussy.

"Get used to this," Johnny said, as he grabbed a cigarette from his pants pocket and lit up, "you want my baby, you're gonna get it."

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tcm smut #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader

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serxinns · 3 months

Note

it’s about to be WW3 at a certain high school because reader-Chan has a crush on someone in their class! (how tf did class 1a’s nosey asses find out) and Valentine’s Day is around the corner too

(NOT WW3 😭😭😭😭 Yall be tryna cause CHAOS and I love it😙)

•your class waited all year for this day they couldn't wait for them to confess their love to you and be together forever!

•The class got a bunch of stuff for you! Small plushies, Candies and snacks you like, Jewelry and expensive gifts heck Momo got you a Huge Diamond (don't even ask how she got that) and of course their valentine cards and letters!

• Mina's card was filled with glitter slime and a pic a you and her with some of your favorite candies and treats!, Ochako filled her cards with doodles of you and her kissing cuddling, and even in cute outfits! And she bought you a cute little galaxy pen!,

Kiri filled his with cheesy Pickup lines and shark stickers! With a cute shark plush, Izuku filled his with the theme of your quirk in an all-might-themed Palestine card and he was gonna gift you one of the very rare all-might figure he flushed at the dream of you saying yes to being his Valentine and put his lips into his~, Bakugo is very confident yet nervous about today his friends questioned it but he tells them to piss off at the same time he's confident that you'll like the Valentine day card with all might theme puns even a "I may be number 1 but you'll always be my number 2" but at the same time generous about how you'll react will you be happy will you be disgusted will you friendzone him his mind swirled with thoughts"

•Everyone else cards was filled with either a picture of you or just giving you large or small gifts they waited until you walked into their classroom your classmates were eyeing each other jealously to see if their gifts were better then the others some were bickering to each other that y/n would love their gifts more then theirs4

•And when they heard you humming and opening the classroom door they all were about to leap out of their seats to give you their gifts until they saw you blushing with a gift from another student...

•they all stood in silence while they saw you walk happily to your desk putting the gift in your backpack

•They stood in silent for a few minutes until Mina was the one who spoke up about it and confronted you in a fake cheery tone mixed with vemon and anger

"Wow y/n chan! that gift looks really amazing where did you get it from"

"Oh it was from a secret admirer isn't that amazing!"

The class blood boiled so did Minas but she kept her composer "Thats amazing y/n! I really hope you find out who they are! You go bestie!" she said while her eye were twitching and with her teeth smashed together into a force smile "I really do- *Phone starts to ring* oh thats my phone! Ill be right back!

As soon as you were out of there sight It was chaos

•Everyone started yelling and screaming while aizawa was in his sleeping bag having a good sleep Bakugo was yelling and threatening anyone to come out and stop being a coward it became worse when Shoto said "Well how come it isn't you hot head" and now It's REALLY the hunger games now everyone was screaming the girls were glaring at anyone sneering while the boys looked like they were gonna start a slaughter that was until iida calmed them down

"Everyone calmed down it has seem that it was none of us that confess to y/n early then it must be the person that's not in the class" they stopped and thought about iidas words until hakagure held her hand up "But how do we know who is it" iida sighed and pulled his glasses up "It seems like we have to work together to find out who it is"

And the battle was on

•for classmates more secret admirers' letters were coming into your locker and your classmates went to investigate the bakusquad was in charge of watching you in the halls the dekusquad was in charge of eyeing anyone seeing if they were suspicious and if they seemed to like it they threaten them to see if they were the culprit but they get either scared to talk or get injured by trying to fight them

•But no matter how much they tried the envelops were still popping up out of nowhere

That was until they had a plan

•Hakagure walked around with no clothes looking for the security room with a small spy camera they borrowed from Mei and hooked it up on to her to sneak into the security room and rewind the day they 1st gave it to you she looked both ways to see that nobody was there

"I'm here" she spoke in an ear piece "Good now go rewind the tapes to 5:AM February 14th Hakagure typed in some stuff (blah blah hacking stuff) until she reached the security rooms she rewound the tapes grinning to herself that they were gonna catch the admirer but to their surprise, no was at your locker so she decided back to see if the culprit must've done it much earlier last night even but was no trace... The class glared at the results and for the waste of time sneered at the results who else could it be?!

• From now on your classmates were now being a bit overbearing whenever you went out they would always wanna go out as well and whenever you walked to class with them they would glare at anyone who took a glance to make sure you were theirs they made not found the culprit but once they do they'll give them the torture of their lifetime!

Meanwhile

•a giggle was made in a distance in the student's room he was gigging while writing a bunch of cheesey sunshine jokes in another love envelope with the end of your secret admirer and of the pictures of you Mirio had a crushed on you ever since they met he told Tamaki and seizure and they were all support into this Heck they were even helping with the envelops and didn't care for his obsession since they were obsessed with you too and once mirio and you got together they will share you...their darling their everything~ the giggling stopped when mirio yet finished another love letter and out it in the envelop placing a soft kiss on it

"Sooner or later...y/n will be mines no OURS~"

#yandere bnha #tw yandere #yandere ua #yandere x reader #tw obsessive behavior #yandere class 1a #yandere mha #tw stalking #the big three #yandere mirio x reader

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cyn-write · 3 months

Text

The Little Cecelia - Chapter 1: Friends

Summary - Every 100 years, the spirit of the Great Seven and their Rival return. Sometimes, they attempt to right the wrongs of the past, get revenge, or relive the same story, but it all is the same - only one spirit gets their Happily Ever After. Azul has always had a fascination with the human world, which only intensified once he met a human girl, Grace Trien. His desires to become a Great Mage of both Land and Sea and to explore the human world and all its wonders with the Tweels and Grace by his side, but Prince Rielle is willing to do what ever it takes to stop the little Cecelia from getting his Happy Ending.

Masterlist - Next

Pairing - Azul Ashengrotto x F!Oc (Grace Trein)

Tags/Warnings - Friends to Lovers; Bullying; Grace is Trein's Daughter; Angst -> Fluff; Self-Deperication

Notes - I have been working on this for a very long time, and I hope you enjoy it! Grace Trein is based off my Oc Grace Wilde so if you want to learn more about her click the link, but you can replace her name when reading if you want to read it as Yuu or another name. This is only the first chapter of 11, so if you enjoy this and want to be tagged or have questions, please let me know! This is also on Ao3 if you want to follow it over there. Comments, likes, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Without Further Ado: Once Upon a Time.....

Every Merchild was told from a young age how dangerous the humans were. Parents, Teachers, Elders all told tales of the vicious humans who slaughtered merfolk by the dozens and the clever traps they would use to ensnare merfolk for prizes. Landfolk were all described as hideous creatures fascinated with lifeless contraptions. They were monsters… or so the stories said.

Despite the fear, some dared to have a fascination with the beings above. Azul has always had a fascination with the landfolk and their contraptions but stayed away from the shore out of fear. But sometimes, greater forces led people to face their fears. Forces named Rielle.

Azul was minding his own business, studying a new trinket he found that morning while the twins were off hunting for lunch. It was a triangle with a rounded bottom and a cone on the top that made things look closer when peered though. It had an engraving on the side of an odd creature with four legs and fins sprouting from its back. As he looked through the cone at some fish, he failed to notice the Merprince and his gang readying their rocks.

“HEY OCTOTWERP! CATCH!” Called the red-haired prince as he signaled the attack. Azul jumped from his spot and felt the first of the rocks hit is tentacles. He accidentally inked as he swam away as fast as his tentacles could propel him. “GET HIM!”

On the princes’ orders, the merchild brigade chased him away from the reef and towards forbidden waters.

“JADE! FLOYD! HELP!!” He called out, but the eel twins were nowhere in sight. He looked for another way out, but he was surrounded. He passed the ship graveyard, the kept forest, the rock grove. He could feel his tentacles strain to keep up the pace and all three of his hearts beating at record speed, but the tyrannical prince would not give in until he saw Azul crying and crippled.

“Come on Azul think.” He grunted as he weaved through jagged rocks. Then he saw the sea floor start to incline and a dangerous idea came to mind. Rumor has it that there is a cave that use to be the home of a long-dead exiled Sea Witch and all rumors had a grain of truth. As the rocks got bigger, he saw the carcasses of sharks and whales and knew he was getting close.

“Rielle! He’s heading towards the shore!” He heard Rielle’s right-hand, a flounder named Florence call out.

“Then hurry up you guppy! Don’t let fatso escape!” Rielle called back; his voice was getting closer.

Azul scanned his surroundings and saw it, a small opening underneath a whale head. He darted for the bones and heard the bullies change direction after him. In a last stitch effort to lose his pursuers, he took a deep breath, concentrated, and squeezed himself into the hole. It was a tight fit, but he made it. As he shimmied through, some of his tentacles loosened rocks that blocked the entrance, stopping his pursuers and trapping him in the process. The hole grew larger, and he let himself stop and hide.

He hid in the larger hole and listened.

“Florence! Get out of the way! I’ll blast my way in!” Rielle called.

Just as Azul prepared to face his death, he heard the distinct voices of his saviors “In where, Princie~”

“TWEEELS!” Florence shrieked in fear.

“We playing a game here?” Jade asked.

“Oooo~ I wanna play!” Floyd retorted and all Azul could hear was chaos.

“Your highness, we need to leave! This place is way too close for comfort.” Another of the prince’s posse, Sebet if Azul was correct, said. “Besides, they’re doomed anyway, let’s leave them for the fishermen. We can play with Azul later. He has to come back sometime.”

“Fine.” Rielle sounded annoyed then decided to shout, “YA HEAR THAT AZUL! SHOW YOUR FAT FACE IN ATLANTICA AGAIN AND WE’LL GETCHA! INKING WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEMS!”

“YA! WELL NEXT TIME WE SEE YUR FACE OUTTA ALENTICA WELL BE SNACKING ON PRINCIE!” Floyd called back.

Azul heard the group laugh as they swam away.

“Azul, are you in there?” Jade called.

“Yeah, I think I’m stuck…” Azul called back, choking on his words from crying.

“Hold on Zul! We’ll get ya outa there!” Floyd called, “I think there’s another entrance over there!”

“Azul, we’ll be right back!” Jade said before the two swam away.

Azul waited a few minutes before letting himself take a deep breath. A few tears escaped his eyes as he realized his doom. He was stuck in a cave. He couldn’t get out. The twins would get bored of helping him soon enough. And if he went back home, the prince and his school were waiting for him.

‘Would mom look for me?’ He thought as more tears streamed from his blue eyes, ‘She probably thinks I’m dead anyway…she’ll just try again with dad and forget I ever existed.’

His tentacles curled in on themselves as he cried. No wonder the other fry picked on him, he was just a crybaby, that’s all he’ll ever be.

Then one of his tentacles hit something… a vial. He looked up from his spot as his tentacle picked up the object. It was thin, made of glass with a cork keeping some green stuff in it. Then another hit a different object, a rounder, thicker glass container holding a powdery substance. Ever curious, Azul moved forward and saw more vials. Somewhat intact and held different substances while others were broken and had the contents spewed around them. The deeper he went; he saw more things covered in moss with age. Then he entered a larger opening, what must be the main room. In the center was a caldron overturned and around it was different objects.

‘The stories were true… this is the witch’s layer!’ Azul’s mood quickly turned from despair to joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m in The Sea Witch’s layer!”

For once he was thankful for his tentacles as he explored the cavern. He looked into different rooms and saw bedrooms, a kitchen, storerooms and the most wonderful library! In the library there where rows upon rows of spell books. He took some off and skimmed the contents. There where books for beauty potions, translations spells, identification incantations, and even transmutation! He was pulling different books then found a peculiar one titled “Cecelia: A History.” Out of curiosity he pulled it, and the shelf began to move.

A new, hidden tunnel appeared. It was dark and lead straight up, so being the curious creature he is, he went up. His amazement pushed his caution to the side as he began to think about what could be up there: magical artifacts, forbidden spell books, long dead secrets! But instead, it led to the surface. He saw the end of the water and paused. He had never broken to the surface before… but what could be up there? He was already here, might as well take a peek.

He took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head above the water. What he saw amazed him: another living space. It was almost exactly like the one below with a cauldron in the center and a smaller set of shelves behind it filled with things. To the side was a makeshift kitchen, a bedroom, and a sitting room with furniture made from the brown, rough material sunken ships were made of. After determining that the land was also deserted, he rose higher and got the courage to climb onto the land. His tentacles moved on the dry land pretty easily and adjusted to the sudden pressure quickly. After determining it was safe, he let his curiosity take over. He rushed over to the shelves and looked at the different books and objects. He picked them up and read the different titles, some were spell books, but others were books on human society. He made a mental note to read them later after he explored some more. Then he saw a necklace. A beautiful shell necklace that seemed to glow slightly. As his hand brushed the shell, then he heard a noise.

Crying, someone was crying. He darted back to the water out of fear and hid under the waves. ‘Someone’s here… I thought this place was aban- wait… that sounds like its coming from over there…’ He swam towards a second entrance to this place. It was vertical and there was a light coming from the other side. He went through the tunnel and saw the sand make a sharp incline up. ‘The Shore!’

The crying got louder and through the water he saw a small figure. ‘Leave! GO! This is Dangerous!’ part of him screamed in his brain, but the other part recognized that crying. It was a cry of loneliness. He clenched his fist and took another deep breath “Kept it.” He told himself then rose to peer out of the water. He peaked his eyes out of the water but that was all he needed to see the most beautiful being he has ever seen: A human girl.

She looked to be around his age, skin the color of white sand, golden hair like waves fell over her shoulders and hid her face. She had on a cloth thing in a pink color more vibrate than he had ever seen with a matching ribbon in her hair. He could see her legs, thin things that had the oddest fins attached to them with thinner tentacles on the end of them. Her legs were pulled into her chest with her arms keeping them close. He had been in that position many times before. Her sobs echoed in the cavern and made his heart hurt. Next to her was a brown basket made of the same particular material that the furniture was made of. Inside it were books and cloth wrapped objects.

He watched her for a moment and a part of him wanted to swim closer. Subconsciously, a single tentacle stretches close to the girl, and it wasn’t until he saw the black limb creeping up to her legs that he noticed. He wrenched the tentacle back and it caused a splash.

“Who’s there!” The girl looked up quicker than he could sink down. Their eyes locked in that moment, and he was stunned. Vibrant green orbs starred back at him. Filled a familiar sensation that he knew all too well: loneliness.

He has no clue how long they stayed like that. Staring at each other unsure what to do. She was the one to break the silence. “Woah… you’re a.. A mermaid!”

She moved closer and Azul sunk down into the depths, his rational brain telling him to flee.

“Wait! I-I won’t hurt you! Please don’t go!” He heard her call. He saw her legs running towards him in the water and he backed-up terrified. He was about to run, but what she said next would be the words that changed Azul’s life forever: “Please… I-I just want a friend…”

‘Run… Run…’ He thought, then his pesky hearts got in the way, ‘She’s just like me…I’m already dead anyway.’

He turned around and saw her lower half in the water. The fabric moving with the waves and pale legs firmly planted in the sand. He closed his eyes and slowly rose above the water. Her eyes shined and looked over him not in fear and disgust, but amazement and wonder.

“H-hi…” She said and smiled at him. She smiled at him. Then held out her hand, “I’m Grace…Grace Trein, what’s your name?”

She looked so soft and squishy. He reached out his hand tentatively, but his nerves got the best of him and backed away. She could see his hesitation and lifted both of her hands palms out, “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, see.” She wiggled her fingers and smiled. He was still nervous and didn’t move towards her but did speak up.

“a-azul” he said in a quiet voice.

“Azul? That’s a pretty name!” He could feel her eyes studying him and prepared himself for the hurtful comments on his weight. But she instead pointed to something in the water, “Is that a Sexton!”

He looked down and saw he still had the weird contraption that got him in this mess. He lifted it and repeated the name, “Sex-ton?”

“Yeah! Sailors use it to navigate!” She stepped closer and he moved back. She noticed this and stepped back as well, “May I see it?” She stretched her hand out palm up. He saw a silver bracelet on her arm that caught his eye. She saw this and took it off, “Wanna trade for a bit? I promise i’ll give it back!”

Curiosity won and two black tentacles moved towards her hand, and one held the sexton. He quickly took the silver bracelet and dropped the sexton into her hand before she could comment. He took the bracelet from his tentacle and examined the silver base and blue jewels embedded in it.

“Wow! You’re an Oct-mer!” She said, “That is so cool!”

He was not prepared for the comment and a blue blush crept onto his face. He was shocked to say the least, “Cecelia…”

“huh?” Grace tilted her head and repeated the word, “Cecelia… is that the proper name?”

Azul nodded and kept his head down. “Yeah…”

“Cecelia… That is really pretty, I like it!” Her face glowed as she spoke, all happy and joyful. It was completely different from the face she had when he arrived. She looked at the sexton and moved it around in her hands, then lifted it up and looked through it. The curiosity in her eyes made Azul want to ask her questions like ‘where is she from? Why was she in the cave? How did she find it? Why are you being nice to me? What do you want from me? Are you just being nice to my face or to lure me into a trap?’ but he kept his mouth shut and went back to examining the bracelet. It was very beautiful and simple in design, but even more interesting was the writing on the underside of the bracelet: Grace – Our precious pearl Love Mama and Papa. He ran his hand along the writing and felt the indents swirl with the letters.

Grace broke his concentration, “I was just reading about this!” He looked up and saw her walk to the shore with his trinket.

“h-hey! That’s m-mine!” He swam forward a bit as he feared she would run off with the sexton!

Grace quickly turned around and subdued his nerves “I won’t take it, I’m just grabbing my book!” She took out a green book from her basket and sat on the shore, “come here! I wanna show you something!”

“u-um…” Azul bit his lower lip before gathering his courage. This was going against every bone in his body, but he swam to the shore, “Ok.” The dry sand felt weird on his skin, but he made it over and peered at the book.

On the page was a four-legged creature with wings, the same creature that was on the sexton. “It’s called a Pegasus! They are magical creatures from when the great seven lived.” She said and tilted the book as if telling him to take it. He took it gingerly and felt his hand brush against hers as it transferred. His curiosity took over and he started to read the passage next to the picture. “According to the book, The Hero Hercules had a Pegasus who helped him on his adventures. I was reading about it for lessons today!” She was really close to him, and he could feel her clothes brush against his skin as she held up the Saxton. “Papa says that the Gods rearranged the stars so Hercules and his Pegasus’ could watch over humanity for the rest of time.”

“Stars?” Azul asked and turned his head to look at her, only then realizing that their heads were so close. Their noses almost touched, and she looked into his eyes directly.

“Yeah! The bright dots in the sky at night!” She says and points out to the opening of the cave, then her expression changed to one of confusion and realization, “You have never seen the stars. Have you?”

Azul shook his head and held his breath. ‘She is so close to me. Why is she so close to me. Whyisshesocloseto-’

GRRRRR.

Azul’s train of thought were interrupted by his stomach. His round belly grumbled so loudly that it echoed in the cave and Azul felt his heart sank. He froze in embarrassment. He was making progress with the girl and his stomach is going to ruin every-

“Are you hungry? I have sandwiches!” Grace turned to her basket and pulled out the cloth wrapped thing. She removed the cloth and handed him a dry sandwich. It looked like the sandwiches his mom sold at her restaurant, but instead of kelp it had a sponge, beige looking holding the contents together. He looked at her in surprise and pointed to himself.

“Y-you’re giving it to me?” He said surprised.

“Well yeah,” She took out half of the sandwich, “I have other snacks to if you don’t like sandwiches, Mrs. Hellen aways packs extra so I have chips, apples, juice, and some cookies!” She held out more food and he just looked at her in shock.

“You’re not going to make fun of me?” He asks quietly. This question made her smile fall and eyebrows knit together.

“Why would I do that?” She said, she shoulders slumped a bit and she looked down, “Being made fun of hurts more than being pushed downstairs, I don’t wanna do that to anyone.”

The glint came back. The watery gaze, strained voice, tense body, the pain… it is all too familiar to Azul. “People do that to you too?” Azul asked.

“Worse, brothers.” Grace said, “Anthony and Danny always make fun of me. They say I talk too much, or ask too many questions, or am too ugly to be a girl, or make fun of me for not having magic, or worse…” Tears started to form in her eyes. She hugged herself with the food still in her hand, “Ever since we moved here, its gotten worse. Mama and Papa use to step in and tell them to stop, but Mama isn’t here anymore, Papa is always working, and the servants don’t do anything… probably because they agree with them. Eli tries to step in, but he is too little to understand.” She then shakes her head and wipes her eyes away with her forearm, “I’m sorry, I’m talking too much, its not proper for a lady to talk so much-”

“Nonono! Me too!” Azul gestures to himself, “I mean- I like hearing you talk! People back home bullied me all the time! They say I talk to much a-and call me a nerd too! B-but they also call me fat and ugly, w-which is true for me but not in your case you're really pretty-but anyway! I get it! Bullies hurt…” Azul fidgeted his fingers and tentacles as he spoke and looked down at the ground, scared to look into her eyes.

There was a tense silence for a moment and Azul thought he blew it with his new potential friend, “…you think I’m pretty?” He looked up and her face was red, she was blushing so hard and looked at him in surprise.

“Y-yeah… you are…” He was really nervous as they were still close.

Grace loosened her grip on herself and the poor sandwiches and a small smile graced her lips, “Well… I think your pretty cute,” She looked up and him and their eyes met yet again. “And, I have never seen a mermaid in real life before, but after talking to you, I think Cecelia are cooler than regular mermaids.” She held out half of the sandwich and her smile changed from small to big in a genuine manner. And a weird thing happened, her smiling made Azul want to smile. The only people who have ever made Azul smile just by them smiling were the tweels. He feels a weird draw towards her, like a string pulling them together. It was a similar tug he felt with the tweels, but something about it was different.

Grace handed Azul half of the sandwich and he took it. But before taking a bite, she raised her half. “Friends?”

Azul felt his hearts beat faster. He was in shock; ‘Sh-she wants to be friends with m-me? Th-this never happens! I have a Friend! A new human friend! That means I have THREE friends!!’ “Friends!”

“Friends?” “FRIENDS!!” Two teal heads suddenly leaped out of the water.

In the shallows of the cave water were Jade and Floyd in matching sharp tooth grins.

Azul felt panic rise in his chest as the two swam closer and crawl onto the sand. Grace jumped with half a sandwich hanging out of her mouth. “moareyou?” She said with her mouth full.

Azul’s arms and tentacles were moving frantically, “nononono, please don’t freak out, they are my friends,” Grace took the sandwich out of her mouth and relaxed her shoulders a bit. “T-this is Jade and Floyd, they a-are my friends, and I guess your friends now too since you’re my friend, i-if that’s how this thing works right?” As he spoke his tentacles moved to exclaim his point.

Grace looked back and forth between Azul and the twin’s and her apprehension turned to a smile, “I-I have three friends, I HAVE THREE FRIENDS!” She was as excited as Floyd was. Her hair and bow bounced as she jumped. Her eyes sparkled and she tackled Azul in a hug. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! YOU’RE THE BEST!!!!”

Azul stood there stunned. Her arms around him and she was thanking him for friends. She moved on to hug the twins, but all Azul could think about was her arms around him and her eyes glowing in excitement.

“YAY!” Grace tackle-hugged Floyd and the two fell in the water. Jade chuckled at the sight and beached himself on the shore.

“Seems like you helped yourself Azul,” Jade commented and plucked some of the treats out of Grace’s basket, “You even found food.”

“Seems so,” Azul replied as Grace and Floyd got out of the water.

Grace squeezed the water out of her dress and hair, Azul couldn’t take his eyes off her and it made Jade’s smile grow sharp, “A human girl… interesting,” He hummed.

Azul turned to Jade and quirked his brow, “What do you mean by that?”

Jade shook his head as Grace came over to hug him, “Nothing, just interesting.”

Azul would not understand what Jade noted until years later. On that summer’s day, Azul’s life changed. He found an abandoned grotto he now called home, he started to seriously study magic alongside the tweels using the books and artifacts now at their disposal, and met Grace Trein, a girl who would help him conquer both land and sea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @twistedcece @thisisafish123

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more characters in this scenario or these characters in different scenarios, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

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kiwifrowner · 1 month

Text

what should i do? shall i cut your three fingers or use the lying fork to eat the clementine? i was mixing pickles along with my indian gradmother, she tells me you never know taste of the food you make from your own mouth, let spark in eyes of others tell you the story. inside a gothic fiction I'm sitting on my husband's lap, his eyes gone bleak, same color tastes same, so i poke my fingers in his eyes/ i was sure pickle was made well when his eyes bled.

hunger

/ˈhʌŋɡə/

noun

• a feeling of dangerous ulterior motive. "I tell you, hunger is not a political joke"

you must be terrified of one's hunger. i have heard wolfspiders eat their own babies, because i know a poor mother shall chop her organs if her kid asked what is for dinner. my heart sweetie, my heart/ so shall she serve it on the plate and push it towards you. a boy i liked learned his first word as love and the very next word he spelled was desire and so when he learnt the third word he stopped. he had a picture book in his hand, a knife drawn along every sharp object existed. every lover of mine left one finger or toe before they leave, and i'm sick of refrigerator that looks like some experimental laboratory having preservatives of body parts and i'm sick of having one or two fingers pressed against my bread with spilling mustard sauce for breakfast just because i cannot afford a full liver because no one has found me worthy enough to have left a complete organ behind, it is always one finger or a toe. because brutality can taste of sugar when you are in wrong love, the heros in me are the villains about me. you should know the generations of howling, the generations of abandonment, the generations of grief i had to pet, made god cry.

once again inside of a gothic fiction, i am a taurus so my upbringing is to be a labour of rage and shame, my husband should be a leo for he has wolfsbane spine bone. our bedroom is slaughter corner of the house, him and i look in the Mirror of Erised, he licks my neck i feel a graze of bullet on my skin he continues, for years now i grew icicles from scalp instead of hair it scraped his clavicle. i sniff like shark does to blood, like a goldfish has been wounded a mile ago in ocean. like i can smell food. like i have to kill. like i have been hungry all my life.

070222

— muffinsincoffin, "once again inside of a gothic fiction"

#text post #poets on tumblr #muffinsincoffin #quotes #poetry #literature #modern literature #poem #dark academia #my poem #my poetry #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled ink #writing #writeblr #my writing

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bracketsoffear · 9 months

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As I'm a bit bored, I'm gonna assign a sea animal to each fear:

Eye: Barreleye fish (Have green eyes visible from their transparent head that they use to detect camouflaged prey from otherwise unseen depths. Its eyes always lock onto its prey no matter where it faces. Alternatively, just about every single reef fish with eyespots count)

Lonely: 52-Hertz whale (Trying to assign entire species to fears instead of just one case, but I can't just pass this one)

Vast: Blue whale (Don't think I need to explain this one)

Buried: Bobbit worm (Worm that hunts prey by dragging them deep into its underground burrow. A real life version of the Dune worms)

Dark: Stoplight loosejaw (A sea bogeyman; its prey can't see it, but it's adapted to be able to see and follow them in the dark. Plus it's a deep sea fish)

Stranger: Mimic octopus (I could put the anglerfish here, but there's an animal named after its ability to partially mimic the coloration and movements of other animals so yeah)

Spiral: Basket starfish (Seriously, just look at this thing. It's like Gertrude used a starfish instead of Michael to stop the Great Twisting)

Slaughter: Tiger shark (A toss up between this and the humboldt squid, but I remember that tiger sharks eat and attack just about anything they can get their hands (fins?) on)

Hunt: Orca (They strategize hunting tactics in groups, know how to use bait, hunt sharks by turning their own biology against them, and even breach themselves just to get an extra bite. That's how good they are as hunters)

Flesh: Pyura chilensis (People it this thing. Why the fuck does it look so meaty?)

End: Boneworm (Eat the bones of dead whales, fully ending the existence of something as not even their bones remain)

Extinction: Jellyfish (If the ocean fully acidifies yet is still livable, they'd possibly be the only sea animal alive. We did this, we ruined the ocean's biodiversity)

Desolation: Mantis shrimp (Tbh I'm not so sure what else to put here, but they punch so hard that the area around the temporarily heats up to be as hot as the sun's surface and can break about anything. They're also called thumbsplitters by some people because of how painful a punch from them is)

Corruption: Lionfish (Venomous fishes that appear in just about every coral reef around the world as invasive species, assimilating themselves into places that they shouldn't be as if they're naturally part of it)

Web: Cuttlefish (Look at this one using hypnosis to disarm a crab)

#asks

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deepdrownlamentt · 8 months

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hello hi beloved love of my life im sorry (im not sorry) for contributing to your masterlist turning into an alcohol menu but hear me out, tequila and phantom/specter/lumen (your horny your call whichever is the most pathetic and subsequently funniest) being jealous

the catch is that the thing that they're jealous over is so TRIVIAL like a new otome game? your pet??? your mom??????? theyre a wet sopping mess and im here for it

↬ courier, specter, and tequila jealousy hcs

content warnings: none

note: the emojis are actually dealing me psychic damage but i like writing dumb things so i will oblige........ sorry for the delay i am being slaughtered out here!!!!! get me out of uni!!!!!! i just want to vibe in peace!!!!!!

i think tequila May be a liiiiiittle ooc since i haven't . looked at his voicelines in a million years . and mine is trust 0 . but anyways i hope u enjoy !!!! xoxo etc

↬ COURIER doesn't think of himself as the type of partner that needs to constantly hog your attention, nor does he think himself so busy that he would leave you wanting. there's a certain balance to it, that much he's sure of — but he can't quite help but be disappointed if he finds something else occupying your mind when he finally has the time to hang up his coat freely and spend it with you.

↬not that he's quick to show it on his face, though. he's long since felt comfortable enough with you to drop any pretense of a fake, customer-service smile in your presence, after all. even then, it's very much clear from his raised eyebrows and confused blinks that he's rather surprised. or confused.

↬ perhaps he's gotten just a little spoiled by you — to the point that going for how many minutes without hearing the padding of your footsteps as you come over to greet him leaves him feeling a little odd. maybe you were busy! he rationalises to himself. maybe you got called away for a last minute meeting, and he just missed you on your way out—

↬ that is, until he hears the telltale little sound effects from a game on your phone you've told him about lately, and lo and behold, and his chest does a weird thing where it flutters and sinks all at once. on the one hand, he's glad it's just a game that's stolen your attention. on the other hand... it's just a game? he won't say anything, but if you notice anything for the next few days — going on more missions with you, or cooking you even more of your favourite foods than usual — then maybe the discreet little glances he spares your phone, making sure it's silent and face-down on the table, have something to do with it.

↬ it's rather preposterous to think that LAURENTINA would "stoop to so low a level," she says, that she would get jealous of something so minor. rather, she enjoys monopolising your attention, you see — and for your little predicament to steal your gaze away from her, well... that won't do, won't it?

↬ she teases you much more often, especially when she finds out what exactly it is that's distracting you lately: lingering touches on your shoulder or waist, sickly sweet calls of your name, or even her plucking your phone out of your hands with a sly little shark-toothed smile.

↬ if she really feels up to it, she might tease you more about your little distraction, too: oh? you want my attention, dear? i thought that little game of yours enraptured you much more. she loves watching the way you squirm, hearing how you hem and haw as you think of a response.

↬ of course, while she acts like she's above jealousy, she can still feel it simmering a little just under her skin — it's why her little teasing prods at you have become more frequent, though there's never any real ill intent behind any of them, and she's very intent on making sure you don't misinterpret her intentions. after all, she wants you to see what you're missing out on, not drive you away entirely!

↬ much like specter, TEQUILA claims that being jealous is "silly" — though it doesn't stop the exaggerrated way he pouts when your gaze is drawn elsewhere... at your phone, specifically. he doesn't seem the type to take it too personally, but as he jokes about oh, i didn't know your game was more distracting than me, there's a part of him that wonders what it would take to take your attention off of it entirely.

↬ there's a chance he might ask you on more dates than usual — even if it's something as simple as a late-night walk together, or chatting at the bar as rafaela prepares you drinks. there's also a chance he might be a little more physically affectionate than usual: his hand around your waist as you walk, resting his chin on your shoulder from behind as he watches whatever it is you're doing at the moment.

↬ in the end, though, the part of him that thought all of this was silly wins by the smallest, smallest margin; he might even ask you about it directly, if he gets the chance. and if you decide to gush about it, he listens with rapt attention — if you have a good time with it, then he's happy that you're happy, or something along those lines.

↬ but just for his sake, to appease the part of him that wanted to steal your attention back, it may be worth it to reassure (or maybe even tease) him a little in turn. just for the hint of satisfaction he might get for winning over pixels.

#♡. writing | burial beyond the light.#arknights x reader #tequila x reader #courier x reader #specter x reader #its not even an alcohol menu i feel like an aa counselor out here /j

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imperiuswrecked · 7 months

Note

In the ask you answered about Hickman's characterisation of Namor, you mentioned Namor's core traits, what are they?

Namor has 8 core character traits and I feel that if writers understand that then we get a good interpretation of his character; protector, honesty, respects women (he actually respects them more then men and doesn't have many male friends), doesn't use his strength to oppress people, nobility/arrogance, compassion, duality, and loyalty/respect. A couple are put together because I feel you can't have one without the other when it comes to his character.

- The protection and well being of his loved ones and people are a top priority to him, and he will do what's necessary to ensure their safety including murder or going to war, however Namor does not revel in senseless slaughter nor does he kill indiscriminately. (The only type of people Namor would harm/kill on sight are Nazis.)

- Namor is an honest character, he tells the truth even if it's a hard truth to hear. (He does engage in subterfuge from time to time if he needs to because he's a king and usually he does this if he feels it's in the best interest of his people/plan)

- Namor respects women. Full stop. He's not misogynistic, there are countless examples of him listening to women/female characters and taking their words under advisement or relying on them to help or trusting them or deferring to them. (This is hard to see sometimes because male comic writers often inject their own misogynistic views into some plots/sayings or fans take Namor as saying "Female" in referral to women characters as something misogynistic when it's just Archaic type of writing. Also I really feel that people shouldn't judge Namor on the Fantastic Four/Susan writing because he's deliberately written in a certain way in those comics and that plot dynamic that doesn't align with most of his character.)

- Namor sides with and champions the oppressed/underdog characters. He uses his strength and abilities to protect, not oppress.

- Namor's nobility and arrogance are intertwined, he is not a humble character and moments of humility are not something he expresses often.

- Namor's compassion is something others (Atlanteans) view as a weakness, however Namor would rather give his enemies a second chance rather than to kill them. Examples of this are Tiger Shark, Attuma, and Humans. (The last one is what Atlanteans judge him for the most since he tries to strive for peace with the human world until its thrown back in his face. Basically Namor's relationship with the human world is a cycle.)

- Namor's duality is the backbone of his character, like I cannot stress enough how Namor being biracial, or being of two worlds, or having 2 peoples he belongs to, are important to his character. His constant internal struggle and the external pressures of dealing with this are paramount to understanding his character.

- Namor's loyalty and respect is not easily earned but once earned then Namor is ride or die for that person.

#namor #this is also why I love #mcu namor #because he really embodies comic!namor's characterization #and both versions are awesome #imp answers

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weenwrites · 2 years

Note

Shark Anon back with the angst lets GOOO

Okay so; Predaking, Megatron, Dreadwing, Soundwave, and Knockout with a human s/o who dies in their arms, BUT- their s/o has always been really into music and sings a lot, so as they’re dying, they(s/o) sing their Robo lover a song to comfort them, and possibly don’t even get to finish.

Pain is hilarious/j

Have a good day/night!

-🦈

TFP Predaking, Megatron, Dreadwing, Soundwave, and Knockout Reacting To A Dying Human S/O Singing Them A Last Song

Pairing - Romantic Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - Death

Predaking

He hates this. He hates this feeling of uselessness as he’s reduced to being able to do nothing but hold you in his hands as you slowly die right in front of his eyes. He should’ve been able to protect you—to save you from this, yet no, he’s incapable of doing that. He can't get you to a hospital, he doesn't know anything about human anatomy to even help—he's completely helpless to you. All Predaking can do is hold you close to his chassis as you begin to sing him a final melody.

The instant you fall dead silent, it hits him harder than a punch to the gut would. If someone was responsible for your death, he'd go on a rampage to mercilessly slaughter them. If your death were to some other cause, or to natural causes he'd fall into a depression.

He visits your grave bearing gifts that he thought you'd like, and he'd leave them there. Predaking also decorates it with flowers and other nice things he steals finds. If he were to ever catch someone stealing from your grave, he'd burn them to a crisp or rip them to shreds without a smidge of hesitation.

Megatron

He doesn't want you to die—he urges you to save your strength and immediately barks orders at everyone around him to do something to save you. To—to get you to a hospital to—to get you some medical attention! Unfortunately he's so caught up with trying to save you that you're already probably half-way through the song, and he was too distracted to hear it.

But once you draw his attention to you—he was going to assure you that you'd be alright but it became clear to him that you clearly weren't going to make it—he shuts up. He completely wasted half of your remaining time with him—he should've been spending it trying to comfort you, not letting others distract him.

Once the light fades from your eyes and the sweet melody that once filled the air suddenly stops, Megatron is grief-stricken… However that grief lasts for approximately a second before he starts lashing out at the first person who talks to him. If something or someone killed you, he’d order all of his troopers to hunt whoever it was, and to have them brought back to him. Once he eventually does retire to his habsuite—which takes a while for him to do—he falls silent and mourns over your loss.

Dreadwing

He's dead silent as you start to sing to him, simply only holding you as close as he can as he listens to you sing for the last time. The two of you are too far away from any help, and even if he were to fly as fast as he could to get you to a hospital, you might not make it until then. And so he simply tries to enjoy these final few moments with you while he still can. If there’s anything that you ask of him, he’ll try his best to fulfill any final wishes you may have.

Once you fall quiet mid-song, the silence hits him harder than he expected it to. He sits for a while quietly as he slowly lowers your body to the ground before he becomes overrun with rage towards whoever killed you, but then it devolves into grief and he crumples to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he mourns yet another lost loved one.

Afterward he does visit your grave from time to time, bearing gifts such as flowers to leave there for you. And he’d sit and talk to you as if you were sitting beside him, listening to him tell you about the news and how things have been going since you died.

Soundwave

If it's a song that Soundwave recognizes, he might just start playing the backing track to that song. But for the most part they mostly just stay quiet and let you sing, cradling your cooling body to their chassis as they gingerly trace patterns over your back.

The instant you stop singing, he completely freezes up for a moment. He plays back your singing to himself while he carefully lays your body to rest. For a good while they sit there by your side, paying quiet respects, but once they get up their fingers immediately snap into fists as they decide to pay a little visit to whoever it was that killed you.

Occasionally, after your death he'll come to visit your grave, and he'll bring flowers. If they know your favorite, then they'll bring those. In general, they just bring whatever they thought you'd enjoy and they'd leave it at your grave. And usually, if he isn't interrupted, he'll sit there for a few minutes to pay his respects before leaving.

Knockout

Usually during medical emergencies he's good at calming himself down. Of course there's the occasional freak out but he swiftly composes himself so he can get straight to patching up whoever's injured. In this case he's completely shaken and in tears, trying his best to patch up whatever injury has blood gushing out of it like a river, however he knows deep down that with his limited knowledge of human anatomy he most likely won't be able to save you.

Regardless, he keeps trying, making use of whatever he can get his claws on in order to save you. And while he's at it, he's wracking his brain for some sort of plan on how to keep you alive. What can he do? Perhaps he could take you to a hospital? That's better than nothing, but where is the nearest hospital and would you survive the trip there? He doesn't exactly have any equipment on him that can help him out aside from a first-aid kit he keeps on his person at all times, but even that'll get him only oh so far.

The instant you begin singing—while he usually loves the sound of your voice and your singing, he takes this as a sign that you're accepting the fact you're about to die, and he isn't having any of that. But on the other hand it's also a sign that you're still alive... For now... The sheer panic over loosing you has his brain in a frenzy, making it more difficult for him to think of a good plan to keep you alive.

And then you fall quiet and your blood runs cold. The light dies from your eyes, leaving them dull and lifeless. And he already thought he was crying as hard as physically possible. After your death, he doesn't visit your grave. Not frequently anyway, but whenever he does there’s a 70% chance that he might cry.

#[ AYOOO A RETURNING CUSTOMERRRR ]#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp predaking #predaking x reader #tfp megatron #megatron x reader #tfp dreadwing #dreadwing x reader #tfp soundwave #soundwave x reader #tfp knockout #knockout x reader #x reader #self insert #reader insert #weenwrites

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xblackreader · 1 year

Text

My Attoye’s Kids Headcanons!

💗 They have two twins (16 a boy and girl) three triplet daughters (10) and one last son (4) 🧞

• Names:

‘Rhino and the Eel’ Twins: Tadeas and Xyanza (16)

Piranha Triplets: Yolotli, Kuhle, and Nobomi (10)

Youngest son: N’kani (2)

• info:

The triplets and Xyanza can all breathe water and air. Xyanza also has siren song.

Tadeas can not. His bones are dense and his blood can withstand deep water pressures but he cannot breathe water. So when he visits Talokan he has to only wear a mask. Tadeas wants to be just like his Father and trained hard to be able to hold his breathe for a long time and swim like his sisters but he still is jealous.

His sister has always been very sweet but a great protector of her brother and often of others. She hates bullies and does not like it when people are harmed or picked on without reason. The twins used to be attached at the hip until they started training.

Tadeas showed no mercy and Xyanza was disgusted by his indifference to innocent lives. Now they fight often (verbally and physically).

Their oldest son had the same kinda relationship with rhinos as his dad does with sharks. He loved the rhinos since he was very small.

He’s very large like his father and has long dread locs and wears rhino horns and armor like his fathers, he uses an axe that’s wider and flatter than his fathers battle axe.

But when he’s really young he witnesses a bunch of poachers kill one of his favorite rhinos. He tells his dad. And Attuma absolutely slaughters them for trespassing and just bc

and since then Tadeas kinda has always had a distaste of people from colonizing countries. In his mind, they are good for nothing but stealing and murdering. He has no empathy for most colonizers or even just surface countries at all.

He has no problem killing many even if they’re innocent but his twin sister who is a training Dora/midnight angel always stops him. She’s the voice of reason.

His sister is a tall muscular but pretty lean woman who is more of stealth person rather than a mercenary like her brother. They call her the eel bc on her missions she is able to slip on and out of licked down high security easily. She doesn’t like to kill but she’s very quick and her blade is untraceable so if she must take a life, it won’t be torturous even if they’re a monster. She’s the little assassin.

Xyanza was trained to be a part of her mother’s Army, but she decided instead, she wants to be a war dog like Nakia. She hasn’t told her mother though. She’s a bit rebellious bc she doesn’t really listen, where as her twin brother absolutely worships the ground their parents walk on with some exceptions .

She and Nashuri’s daughters are a war dog team but keep it secret from their parents.

Then there are the three triplet 9 year olds, Yolotli, Kuhle, and Nobomi. the village calls them ‘the pirahnas’. they all have sharp teeth and speak very little, people don’t usually listen to them so they keep their opinions to themselves, but they be plotting

though they are sweet young girls,, they’re just… feral. They like going on hunts with their brother and they’re just ‘cute little piranhas’. If a diver looking for vibranium is seen by them, they will try their best to tear the diver apart.

The youngest son is just a baby and doesn’t have any nicknames or anything but does have the cutest little baby hands and is very chubby.

Okoye is still a war general, but strays away from the battle field these days. She could still kick ass but she chooses to step back from the physical field unless absolutely necessary.

Attuma is still a general as well but he has continued to serve under Namor and chooses not to retire. not much WAR going on lately though so he is a very present and loving father. Okoye’s more of the busy one, though she tries her very best to be active and it works for everyone.

• Scenario:

I’m imagining maybe while Xyanza and (Nashuris daughter) were trying to free some Prisoners of war from a British battle ship on the Indian Ocean, she gets found and cornered but her brother is there to not only save her, but bust her. Saying he’s going to tell their parents what she’s been doing. He’s a snitch fr but he has her back.

She tells him how they can’t just let this ship leave and he says it wasn’t for no reason - he found some vibranium that had obviously been smuggled from Wakandan borders. They had figured out the export was being sold by black market traders disguised as tourists. So Tadeas says he’ll help them take the ship down and then take all the credit when they’re back home 🙄🤣. Nashuris daughter is like fine idc

Then he is stabbed through the shoulder with a vibranium whale gun by a surviving ship captain, they’re both captured and Xyanza is knocked out.

They wake up to find themselves in a vibranium cell on another ship heading to an undisclosed location to be tested on. They’re all trapped there as their weapons have been confiscated.

Then they hear a bunch of screams, gunshots and commotion and who bursts into the door.

Shuri. The Queen of Wakanda. The Black Panther.

Her mask falls and she is relieved to see all the kids but also furious that they not only left but engaged without authority.

They can only imagine what their other parents are feeling.

So the parents are all there, Namor is getting rid of crew members who turn out to be American Marines and Other Goverment Allies. Shuri is hacking into the system and releasing the kids. Okoye is observing the ship and interrogating the captain. Attuma is in a rage he is absolutely wrecking the ship, it’s sinking.

The kids are soon faced with their parents, being scolded mainly by Okoye and Namor, Shuri is jumping in sometimes but Attuma is deathly silent.

Nashuri! Kid and Tadeas are facing most blame. They will all be punished however.

“Baba! Please I was trying to help Talokan and Wakanda. You must believe me!” Tadeas pleaded.

Attuma stepped forward and looked down at his son, who he left in charge of all of the kids.

“I have given you far too much responsibility. This has proven to me you are not ready to handle that.”

Attuma takes his sons axe, which he gave to him on his 11th birthday. And His son is devasted, shocked into silence.

All the children are ordered to return to Wakanda and told they are forbidden to leave until further notice. They’ve all been benched from their training and anything except school.

Nashuri kid is taken from public schooling and absolutely grounded.

TBC 👀 for more info click here

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sillyvampireboi · 2 months

Text

Endless sea of pain

Contents: mentions of war, trauma, description of injuries and dying, horror, gore,

a/n: it’s writing exercise for ya boi. A happy one is coming for this cinnamon roll soon too (I hope)! I had this sudden idea: how Renfield coped /coping with living through wars.

Hope you enjoy, well they way if it can be 😅 tagging: @unholy-gigi -let me know if you would like to be tagged :)

English is still not my first language

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Renfield hated wars. Not just the big ones, but every kind of war. They weren’t fun, unlike Dracula seemed to think, no.

The prince of darkness found his enjoyment in the sorrow and fury of the human hearts, just to see how the mind gets corrupted right after the seeds bloom in the main arteries and have their fruits. He reaped these sour fruits, swallowed them greedily, when there was none left he tossed the empty shells behind and creeped into innocent gardens.

What he didn’t seem to notice were the endless sea of bodies, the smell of death in the gray, ashy air and the mocking light on rotten flesh. But Renfield saw them, felt them and sometimes what was worse, smelled them. They haunted his dreams, not letting him sleep and their ghosts visited him during days. He dreaded the sounds of cannons and bombs, screaming right above his head just to fly away and impact the ground with the sound of thousand cries.

Oh and to see severed hands and limbs, half alive corpses trying to climb far away, but to where they didn’t know, to hear the sobs of men and women begging for an end, and the wounds! To see the wounds rotting in living flesh, to drag away the already broken and present them for the Master, hearing the cries of gratefulness just to toss them before a beast.

Robert Montague Renfield, who first traveled to a strange, far away land in the hope to make good business and support his family, now being objected to seeing horrors of humankind. Experiencing inventions with a childlike hope and wonder just to see them being used for slaughter.

No, he didn’t like wars, nor killing innocents for this matter. It didn’t matter what he tried, seen and felt, horrors tormented him in his sleep, seeing himself next to Dracula. He appeared as a huge dark figure, glowing blood-red orbs for eyes and snow-white shark teeth for fangs. He was laughing with a cruel, high pitched voice lacking any warmth, locking Renfield’s head to look at something. They were standing on a hill, below them in a valley were an ocean of bodies. They were screaming, begging and crying, trying to climb out but always failing. Waves of bombshells fell onto them without a stop, suffocating them under severed body parts.

“Go bring my dinner.” - Renfield heard the inhuman order of his master as he started to walk among the rotting air. As he reached the bottom, he heard the ear piercing sound of a canon flying towards him and —

He woke with a broken yell again, sweating or crying he couldn’t tell, all he could think of was the eyes of man, staring into his soul.

No, Renfield didn’t like wars. He preferred the interesting, busy city life or quiet evenings in general.

#my writing #character study #renfield headcanons #renfield #r m renfield #renfield analysis #renfield character study #rm renfield #renfield movie #renfield 2023 #robert montague renfield #vampire #vampire fanfic

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evita-shelby · 2 months

Note

Thanks to @call-sign-shark and Heaven being a psycho killer, i can't stop thinking about our ocs participating in the hunger games (Not the same edition, please 😭) and I know you like the safa as well.

What about Eva? Not being a witch, obviously. Weapons? District? Alliances? 👀

Fjjdjd

I love this!

So Eva would be District 10 because that used to be texas and mexico, or in a career district like 1, but geographically cuz Eva is mexican imma go with 10

Seeing as its one the poorer districts and its industry is livestock, Eva wouldn’t have to sign up more for food and would be kinda like Peeta who was poor but not as poor as katnis because i figure the rileys would invest on landowning and were rich before the war.

So since Eva will not be magical, she'd have to rely on her charm and whatever survival abilities she has to make it through. Knowing her she'd make a career district tribute fall for her (Jack gives huge district 2 vibes and Luca district 1)and kinda ride their coattails until they die by her hand or someone elses.(she could pull a katniss too, but most likely trick them into eating the berries first as Eva would still know about making medicine and edible plants)

She could also cheat her way into winning ala Haymitch who ised the force field to win, or ala Lucy Gray if the games still have the Capitol students be the mentors.

Eva would also be deadly with a hunting knife because 10 has teens working in slaughter houses and unfortunately killing people isn't that different from killing animals

Thanks for the ask Flor

#evacore #eva ft thg

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classificationhell · 2 months

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First, I hope you are feeling better and I hope your sister is recovering well. Your blog and stories are something I didn’t know I needed in my life, but gives me such a serotonin boost when I see anything posted!

I was wondering how our favorite caregivers would react to a little one with separation anxiety/severe abandonment issues. I can kinda see Mourningstar getting basically a baby sling and being pleased with this development, but the others I’m curious on.

Thank you and I'm glad my blog and stories are helping you feel good ^^ Everything is doing alright ish at least my body decided to stop hating me after shark week was over. My sinuses are my only issue as the weather's changing lol

I dunno what you mean by favorite but I'll assume you mean the ones I'm writing for lol so Alastor, Vox, Mourningstar, Lucifer, and Fizzmodeus.

Alastor is more than happy to take you with him most days, but there are some times when it's best to leave you at home, not that he doubts his capabilities at dispatching anyone before they get too close, more like he doesn't want to taint your innocence by bringing you to a slaughter. He isn't hesitant to kill in front of you should the need arise, but he's covering your eyes and tossing the body away with a tentacle. So you only hear whatever they'd been saying and a squelch before their gone. Papa tells you not to worry about it that he just dealt with the issue before continuing your stroll. Alastor might even take you to an Overlord meeting being one of the few to know Carmine as a Caregiver, not that she told him, he's just the more talented faker. Between her, Rosie, his tentative friend Zestial (who he knows isn't a Caregiver, but doesn't condone harming Littles despite his proclivity for violence he's a classy gemtleman with a set moral code even if that code is very skewed), and of course he, himself, you would be well protected should the need arise and they already are aware of your existence so a formal introduction wouldn't change things.

However, for when he needs to do things, he's going to have to leave you with "Uncle Husker" or Charlie.

Vox doesn't mind it. It's not like he's going out and getting his own hands dirty. Besides, as the new face of a majority of his marketable brand, it's good to be seen together as much as possible. He'll even take you to meetings with new talent, besides if they don't like you or treat you as beneath them because you're a Little well he knows they're absolute trash and will send them Valentino's way of not just kick them out of the V's tower all together. Oh, and I'd anyone dared hurt you. Well, there's worse things than even being a porn star in hell. Ultimately Vox will enable this type of behavior because it increases your reliance on him (which he's always worried about because while he is a Caregiver, Reader is an Omega in these works, and he can't have the kind of bond an Alpha could have with them no matter how hard he tries because he is just a Beta.)

Mourningstar would go for the babysling, but if that still wasn't enough for you, then prepare yourself to be cuddled by an army of the same man.

He's jealous of himself if you show too much attention to the clones. He has to be the main one you're cuddling when in a cuddle pile. His clones are more or less extensions of himself so they're all obsessed with you too.

Lucifer would be more concerned about the origins of such behavior, buuuuut it is a bit nice in a way. He'd offer to take them to therapy or talk about it but is more than fine if they just need him to such a degree.

Fizzarolli and Asmodeus don't mind extra cuddles or reassurances, but they want you to be in a good mental space. They're actively looking for help and they'll even go with you to therapy if that helps!

#ask response #memes #hazbin hotel memes #unfunny memes #classification hell au #classificationhell #thank you #lore adjacent #reactions #lucifer mourningstar #alastor reaction #vox reaction #lucifer reaction #fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus

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nottapossum · 6 months

Text

Father knows best chapter 8, Sharks.

Summary:

Sharks sharks sharks…sharks….dead sharks. :( TW: Creepy behavior, controlling behavior, secrets, dead sharks, lots of dead sharks. Coming out to someone, fear of abuse, abuse, murder, complex feelings, talking negatively about friends and family. Lmk if I should add.

Notes:

“Trouble Blood is in the rocky waters Hide away your sons and daughters Eat you alive. Levels Better put your head on swivels Dancing with the very devil Butter to knife You think you're better than them You think they're really your friends But when it comes to the end You're just the same as them.” ~Sharks, Imagine dragons.

~~~Moxxie:~~~

Moxxie couldn’t stop looking at it…

Chaz Thurman.

Mounted on the wall like some type of a trophy.

A thing.

Not a person.

“That’s what happens when you try to trick Crimson, he really should have known better.” Alessio says, appearing behind him.

“Yeah… he should’ve.” Moxxie agrees half-heartedly. Chaz deserved to be punished for what he did- but Moxxie didn’t feel he deserved to die.

He didn’t deserve this!

Did any of them…?

“We lost quite a few Sharks that day. Was quite the slaughter your ‘wife’ caused.” Alessio says, putting air quotes on ‘Wife’.

“How many survived the attack?” Moxxie asks, not really wanting to respond to Alessio’s rude comments about Millie.

She was protecting him. She would do the same for her if he was strong enough.

“Let’s see…she killed about 16 of our men, only four sharks managed to survive.” Alessio explains.

Moxxie nods. It’s not like he had a great attachment to the sharks…

But… they didn’t deserve this.

At least they cared about Moxxie…

At least he thought they did.

Did they?

Moxxie being a little was supposed to be a secret.

A secret known only to Crimson, Alessio, and a very few other members of the Mafia.

Moxxie was meant to be an underboss when he grew up, and eventually he’d take over for Crimson.

And having a little for a Mob boss wouldn’t exactly strike fear in the hearts of anyone.

But! That’s the thing about being part of the Mafia, everyone is loyal and all your secrets were well kept.

Granted, Crimson didn’t trust all of the members, in fact he was very particular about who he told about Moxxie’s… “condition” as he called it.

The first shark to know about Moxxie was Alessio.

Alessio was like a third parent to Moxxie, he gave him rules and guidance, was stern with him, and provided assistance when necessary.

And sometimes Al would watch musicals with Moxxie like his mother would, Crimson hated them, but Alessio didn’t.

He appreciated the classics.

Fred Astaire,

Gene Kelly,

Judy Garland…

Exc.

Alessio had been taking care of him since his mother died, so of course he had to know about Moxxie…

Who else would have helped Moxxie after such a terrible mishap?

Not Crimson.

~~~Moxxie, Age 9~~~

Moxxie hardly ever goes anywhere, but he did have a decent immune system despite of this.

He’d almost never get sick, but when he was sick, he was completely out of it.

He didn’t get out of bed,

He slept most of it off,

Didn’t talk…

So, when struck with his first ever depressive episode, everyone just assumed he was sick.

Until he was in bed for a full week and refusing to eat anything.

Crimson’s been practically forcing food and water down his throat the whole time, but Moxxie wined and fought him the whole time.

“I’m sick of this, the kid has to get out of bed sometime!” Crimson shouted on day 10 of this tomfoolery.

“Crimson, he lost his mother.” Alessio explained, “it’s natural for him to feel…”

“What?” Crimson asks, arms crossed.

“Distraught.” Alessio finished saying.

“Oh. So suddenly you’re an expert on children?” Crimson asks.

“Sir, what if you let me talk to him?” Alessio suggests.

“You? Why?” Crimson asks.

“I think this is a sensitive situation, and the kid needs someone who can understand what he’s going through.”

“I can be sensitive!” Crimson says defensively.

Alessio hums. “Sir, I think this one is a little too personal for you to handle. I think I know how to get Moxxie to comply without having to fight him.

“Fine.” Crimson agreed reluctantly. “He’s such a fucking mamas boy, wonder if he’d even bat an eye if it were me.” Crimson thinks out loud.

“I’m sure he’d be just as devastated.” Alessio lies. He turns to Moxxie’s door as Crimson walked away.

“Moxxie?” Alessio asks the boy, knocking and slowly opening the door.

Moxxie doesn’t answer. Just like every attempt Crimson has made so far, the kid pulled the covers over his head to ignore him.

“Moxxie, I know it’s been hard for you since your mother left-“ Alessio starts to say.

“Mama didn’t leave me, she died.” Moxxie says matter of factly, still hiding under the covers.

Alessio nods. “Alright. I know you’re struggling to handle this, it’s a lot for a boy your age to go through. I lost my own mother when I was only three.”

“Three?” Moxxie asks, pulling the covers away to look at Alessio. “That’s young.”

Alessio nods. “Yes, I had to help my father take care of my younger sister when she died. I didn’t have time to mourn.”

“That must have been hard for you.” Moxxie says.

“It was. But it got better.” Alessio explains. “I am sorry about what happened to your mother. But, now you must take care of your family too.”

“What family?” Moxxie asks. “She’s gone.”

“You still have your father, Moxxie.” Alessio says. “You’re not alone.”

“It’s not the same…”Moxxie argues. “He doesn’t even care. He just ignores what happened and tells me to get over it. But, I can’t. I can’t just forget her!” Moxxie says, eyes full of tears.

“He does care, Moxxie. He cares a lot.” Alessio says. “He just expresses it differently. This is hard for him too, he just doesn’t know how to help you.”

Moxxie sighs.

“It’s okay to miss her, but she would want you to make the most of life, and be happy.” Alessio explains.

“I don’t want to be here without her.” Moxxie says. “I won’t know what to do. She always told me what to do. How can I know? I’m scared.” Moxxie says.

“Your mother can’t be here to guide you, you’ll have to rely on yourself now. And your father.” Alessio says. “I know it’s hard without her, but you’re not alone.” He promised.

Moxxie looked at Alessio who smiles at him sympathetically.

“I don’t feel good when I think about her. My stomach hurts.” Moxxie says.

“It’s normal.” Alessio says, hand on Moxxie’s shoulder. “It’s going to hurt for a while, but it’ll get better.”

Moxxie looks at Alessio and nods, that was reassuring, he supposed…but, to never see his mother again? It was… the worst reality he could think of.

“Will you please get up, Moxxie?” Alessio asks. “Join your father for dinner?”

“Why should I?” Moxxie asks grumpily.

“Someone has to take care of your father.” Alessio says. “He’s all by himself, he misses you.”

“Can’t you do it?” Moxxie asks, “isn’t that your job?”

Alessio nods. “It is. But I can’t take care of him quite as well as you can.”

“How can I take care of him?” Moxxie asks.

“Just by being here, making him happy. Being his family.” Alessio instructs.

“But, I don’t make him happy.” Moxxie mumbles. “I never did.”

“Well, maybe you could if you tried hard enough?” Alessio suggests.

Moxxie thinks about it.

“Will you come downstairs for dinner, please?” Alessio asks again. “He’s worried about you.”

“He is?” Moxxie asks, he didn’t mean to worry Sir, he was just sad.

“Of course he is, he’s your father, he loves you more than you can realize.” Alessio answers him.

Moxxie shrugs. “Okay. If you say so.”

Alessio smiles. “Alright, bambino. Let’s get you cleaned up then.”

Moxxie nods and takes the sharks hand.

Alessio could never replace Moxxie’s mother, but he was an alright person to have around…

At least that’s what Moxxie thought.

~~~Moxxie: Present:~~~

But now Alessio is keeping him captive here…

Threatened to shoot him, tased him.

What kind of a parental figure does that?

“Is Marcella okay?” Moxxie asks him.

Alessio shakes his head. “She was obliterated. There was hardly any part of her left.”

Moxxie sighs…

That was honestly…expected, but disappointing, she wasn’t all bad.

Marcella also knew about Moxxie being a little.

She was surprisingly kind for an extremely dangerous criminal.

She was always nice to Moxxie, gave him candy, and unsolicited advice.

She was crazy. And little Moxxie was hardly ever left alone with her. But, she kept his secret safe and never made him feel bad for who he was, she simply thought he was cute and she’d occasionally check in on him and make sure he was okay.

She never crossed boundaries, she just gave mentally unstable aunt vibes.

She was also a good person to confide in. Someone Moxxie felt emotionally safe around when it came to secrets…

And boy did Moxxie have secrets.

~~~Past: Moxxie, age 15:~~~

“Marcella, can I ask you something?” He asks.

The shark smiles, then opens the door to let him in. “Of course, Pollo. What’s going on?” She asks.

“Is it okay for a guy to like…another guy?” Moxxie asks. “Romantically?”

Marcella looks up at Moxxie. “Sit down, I’ll make some tea.”

Moxxie nods, sitting down at the table.

“So…what’s his name?” She asks, getting the hot water ready.

“Who says there’s someone? I just asked a question!” Moxxie defends.

Marcella crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “Come on. We both know there’s a guy.”

“Its…Chaz.” He answers.

“Chaz? He’s two years older than you are, isn’t he?” She asks.

“I guess. Is that wrong?” Moxxie asks.

“I suppose not.” She says, handing him a mug of hot vanilla Chai.

“Thanks.” Moxxie says.

“Why would you ask me about this?” She asks.

“Quint and Alessio would just tell my dad.” He says. “I’m not really ready for him to know…I want to figure this out first. He always talks about gay people like they’re…gross. Or wrong.”

“Ah, those damn snitches.” She scoffs.

Moxxie nods.

“Well, I hate to disagree with your father…but it’s perfectly normal to like boys.” She says. “It’s not wrong or gross. It’s just how you feel.”

Moxxie nods, he feels like crying, but he maintains his composure. “Okay. Thanks.”

“So, it only Chaz?” She asks.

Moxxie shakes his head. “Actually- I think I’m Bisexual. I like the phantom from phantom of the opera…but I also like Bombalurina from cats.” He explains.

“I’ll just go ahead and pretend I know who you’re talking about.” Marcella says. “It’s okay to play for both teams.” She says. “Lots of people do, and you can’t help it if you have good taste.”

Moxxie smiles.

“He’ll get over it.” She says, reassuringly.

His smile drops. “What if he gets mad at me?” Moxxie asks. “What if he hits me or kicks me out?”

“He probably won’t.” She says. “Do you know how many sharks here are gay?” She asks.

Moxxie shakes his head.

“Beyond Chaz, plenty of them are. Quint’s gay for example.” She says.

“He is?”

“Mhm. He had a boyfriend. Long story. Just- don’t worry so much about what your father will think. Love who you love.” She tells him. “Life doesn’t last forever, and neither does love. You’d better enjoy it while you’re young.”

Moxxie nods again. “Thanks, Marcella.”

“Of course, Pollo.”

~~~Present:~~~

“Your uncle is dead, was impaled during your wife’s killing spree.” Alessio tells him.

Moxxie nods, trying to look more upset about that than he actually was…

He was Crimson’s cousin. Moxxie hated that guy. Shame he couldn’t have been a better person before he died. Not that there’s an afterlife waiting for him.

“What about Quint?” Moxxie asks.

“Quint is…well, he’s alive. But the attack at the wedding unfortunately destroyed his vocal cords, he’s now completely mute, only communicating with sign language.” Alessio explains.

Moxxie nods. That’s actually better than he’d expect from Millie actually.

“Can I…-“

Moxxie pauses when Alessio looks at him.

“…talk to him?” Moxxie asks.

Alessio thinks about it. “Yes, I think that would be alright.” He says. “He’s at target practice. Why don’t you join him? You need to practice for work anyway.” He says.

Moxxie nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Quint Carleone was another one of the few individuals who got to know about Moxxie. He joined Crimson’s crew when he was only 16. It was a way to help his mother who was struggling financially after his father left them both to fend for themselves.

He got the job from his boyfriend who later betrayed the organization… and him.

And once Quint got in, he couldn’t get out.

He was nice enough to Moxxie, he even helped him learn the trade once he was old enough.

But, he also had no problem being a huge tattle tale!

Not that Moxxie did anything that bad. But still! Who did he think he was?

He did also help shield Moxxie from some of the other, more troubling members…not well enough, but he occasionally tried.

The other sharks had a feeling something was ‘wrong’ with Moxxie and constantly teased him for being babied so much by Crimson, and having the ‘privileges’ they didn’t.

Quint never disagreed with them, but he never revealed Moxxie’s secret or made him feel bad for being different.

He never really had much of a friendship with them, not even with Quint.

Quint and Moxxie’s relationship was strictly professional…and at the same time immature. They’d discuss life events and they’d constantly compete with one another. Not because they liked or respected each other, it was because they were forced to live with each other and the competition made the most of it.

Kinda like Loona now that he thought about it… but, more of a role model and less a huge pain in the ass.

Quint probably hated him, just like a lot of the sharks did, but occasionally he’d be left to ‘watch’ Moxxie when Alessio and Crimson couldn’t.

At least he was nicer than the other sharks…

Before Moxxie’s mother died, he hardly ever spoke to his fathers sharks, because Mama didn’t like them very much.

Then when she died…they were very unfortunately his entire life…

~~~Past:~~~

At the end of the day, Moxxie was exhausted. So Quint was asked to watch Moxxie for a few hours.

“Quin?” Little Moxxie asks.

“Yeah, Moxxie?” Quint asked him, he set the little on the floor to play with his puzzle, usually it entertained Moxxie for a while, this time it only gave him twenty minutes.

“Wiw you sing fow mes? Pease?” Moxxie asks him, eyes wide and as adorable as he can manage.

Quint looks at him, the little’s face was adorable. Quint smiles and set the book he was reading down. Something little Moxxie always wanted was for someone to sing to him.

Alessio loved classic movie musicals, and could play the piano quite well. But he wasn’t much of a singer. He only sang to Moxxie every now and then in order to calm him down from a meltdown or panic attack. It was a rare occurrence for the shark.

Crimson was not a singer at all, he felt singing was a waste of time and energy, and considered it ‘gay’. He legitimately didn’t understand where Moxxie got the obsession and always turned him down if he asked.

But Quint would gladly sing anytime, either for Moxxie or with him. “Of course, Mox.” He answered, clearing his throat before singing: ‘I’ve got you under my skin’ by Frank Sinatra.

Moxxie smiles, resting his eyes as Quint sang.

He felt safe when someone sang to him, he loved Quint when little.

~~~Present~~~

If Moxxie thought Quint cared at all…he may have even considered him a friend or maybe somewhat of a brother figure…

But he didn’t…

Quint didn’t care.

Still…Moxxie cared about him.

He cared about everyone.

~~~Blitzø~~~

“Dad? Don’t you think it’s time you took a break?” Loona asked. Once Blitzø got back from greed, he could only stare at the computer for information on Buckzo.

He wouldn’t let Loona help, he couldn’t get her involved! “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t worry, everything is being taken care of.”

“Dad, you need to eat something, you haven’t moved since this morning.” Loona says.

“Loonie, I promise you. I’m fine.” He says.

Loona sighs, seeming to give up as she exists his office.

The phone rings.

“Millie?” He answers.

“Blitzø, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, what the fuck is goin on?!” She asks.

“Ohh yeah, forgot I left you in wrath. “Don’t worry, Mills. Everything is fine. I actually may have found him.” Blitzø says, with the fakest enthusiasm he could muster.

“What? Really? Where is he?” She asks.

“I…uh, don’t know- but I’m working on it- okay? It’s fine!” He says.

“What can I do?” She asks him.

“Nothing, just wait till I can get information, I’ll call you if I need you.” He says.

“What?! He’s my husband, Blitzø! I need to know what’s happening! Now!” She yells.

“Sorry Mills, I gotta go, talk to you later, love you~ ” He hangs up on her.

She’ll probably kill him…but that’s fine.

She can’t get involved when it comes to Buckzo…

None of them can!

He searches all night for some information…

There has to be something he can use!

~~~Moxxie:~~~

“Quint?” Moxxie asks, arriving at the shooting practice location. He knew it well…he was here every day after all.

Quint waves a hand at Moxxie. ‘I heard you were back.’ He signs.

“How have you been?” Moxxie asks, signing everything he’s saying aswell.

‘I can hear, you don’t have to sign.’ He signs.

“Yeah, but I can. And I never get to practice my sign language.” Moxxie says.

Quint scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you.” Moxxie says.

‘You should be.’ Quint signs. ‘This was your doing.’

“Technically, my wife did that. But, who can honestly blame her?” Moxxie asks. “You tried to attack her, it was self defense.”

‘Why didn’t you try to stop her?’ Quint asks.

“Why didn’t you warn me about the wedding?!” Moxxie asks back.

Quint signs: ‘I couldn’t tell you. Alessio was guarding your room all night.’

“Why did you try to kill my wife?”

‘I was following orders.’ He responds.

Moxxie sighs. “Okay, okay…I’m sorry my wife almost killed you.” He says, half heartedly.

Quint signs: ‘I’m sorry I didn’t try to warn you about the wedding.’

Moxxie signs: “it’s okay.”

‘She killed Nickle and Stu.’ He says.

Moxxie sighs. “I’m sorry. I would have stopped her if I could- but she- and, I just-“

Quint shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, Moxxie. You’re right, it was just her protecting herself and you…’

Moxxie nods.

‘They were good friends though. I’ll miss them.’ Quint says.

Moxxie nods. “I guess we always knew we’d turn on each other…eventually.”

Quint nods. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. But, I don’t love it. I actually don’t hate you that much.’

Moxxie smiles. “Yeah… it’s just part of the life working for the mafia. Everyone turns on everyone, kills without good reason.” He complains.

‘Not like what you do is any better. Don’t you kill people too?’ Quint asks.

“Yeah but…well-“ Moxxie sighs. “Yeah.”

‘How is it any different?’ Quint asked.

Moxxie thinks about it…

Most of the people they killed were bad but-

The mother…

“I guess it’s not…” Moxxie admits. “Sorry…”

Quint rolls his eyes.

How can Moxxie defend Blitzø? He killed a mother on her wedding day…

He never cared for morality, just money…

How is he any different than Crimson killing multiple families?

~~~Alessio:~~~

“You wanted to speak to me, Boss?” Alessio asks, entering Crimson’s office:

“Yeah. I want you to get Moxxie ready for tonight.” Crimson said. “I want to have that special dinner we planned.”

“So soon?” Alessio asks.

“Business is good, and Blitzø has already taken the bait; It’s a good time for a celebration.” Crimson laughs. “Besides, it’s about time Moxxie knew his place in all this.”

Alessio smiles, he loves seeing Crimson happy. “Very well, Sir. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Crimson smiles at Alessio as he walks away.

Their new life was going to be amazing together.

~~~Moxxie, present:~~~

Alessio interrupts him talking to Quint, standing behind Moxxie.

Quint signs. ‘M, there is something important I should tell you-‘

Alessio glares at Quint as Moxxie asks: “What is it?”

Quint looks up at Alessio, then looks back at Moxxie. ‘Nevermind. It’s not that important. I’ll tell you later.’

Moxxie looked confused before he turned and saw Alessio. “Oh… okay.”

Alessio continued to give Quint a threatening look, before turning back to Moxxie. “Moxxie, your father has plans tonight, I have been instructed to get you ready.”

Moxxie’s heart pounds, what was Crimson planning? Probably something work related…he hoped he wouldn’t be forced to hurt anyone…again.

What if he was? What if Crimson was forcing him to do something terrible? Moxxie couldn’t say no! Crimson had him, he was at his fathers mercy!

Moxxie swallows hard. “Al, what is he-“

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s just dinner.” Alessio says, walking inside, forcing Moxxie along by grabbing his arm and pulling him forward.

“Dinner? That’s it?” Moxxie asks.

“Yep.”

“Is someone important joining us?” Moxxie asks.

“I don’t know about important.” Alessio says. “But, someone is joining you, he means a lot to your father.”

“Great.” Moxxie rolls his eyes. “Can’t wait to see who’s so special to my dick of a father that I have to meet him.”

“Moxxie, while you’re staying here, you will show your father respect.” Alessio says, squeezing Moxxie’s arm tighter.

Moxxie glares. “Why? It’s not like I asked to be here! What more does he want anyway? He makes no sense! Blackmailing me and threatening my friends just to keep me here against my will! Doesn’t that seem counterproductive to you?” He asks.

Alessio sighs. “Moxxie…”

“Alessio, I am not a kid anymore! You don’t get to talk to me like I am! I was fine where I was! My life was good! Then you showed up and ruined everything for me, why?” Moxxie asks. “What does he want?”

“Moxxie,” Alessio says, petting his hair suddenly. “You are different then the wrathians you worked with. You don’t belong there where you’ll be ignored and have no true place. Here you have a place, you have people who care about you.”

Moxxie shakes his head, his hands balled into fist. Al was still so insistent on talking to him like a child. “You’re wrong.” He says.

“About what specifically?” Alessio asks.

“Everything! All of what you said was wrong!” Moxxie says. “No one cares about me here! Dad doesn’t, you don’t, and Quint and the other fuckers definitely don’t! I had a place at I.M.P! And in case you forgot, I was born in wrath! There’s nothing wrong with that! I had a wife who loved me more than anything and a boss who respected me!” He tried desperately to get Alessio to understand.

“Then why didn’t you tell her about your regression?” Alessio asked.

Moxxie’s heart felt cold. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell your wife that you’re a little?” Alessio asks again.

“Who says I didn’t?” Moxxie mumbles.

“Well, the way your younger self was acting, it seemed like time completely stopped for you, you didn’t realize time had passed at all. So, either she didn’t know, or she chose not to help you with regression because she was ashamed of you.”

“I- uhm…” Moxxie hesitates.

“Well?” Alessio asks, eyebrows lifting. “What is it?”

“I-I didn’t tell her.” Moxxie admits.

“Mhm, as I thought.” Alessio says. “Were you hesitant to tell her the truth because of a lack of support or maybe you felt ashamed of what you really are…?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Moxxie says, arms crossed.

“Alright, that’s fine.” Alessio says. “How about you help me with dinner then?”

“Dinner?” Moxxie asks.

“Mhm. We gave Marian the day off today.” Alessio explains.

What was Alessio talking about?

Who’s we?

Besides, cooking wasn’t part of Alessio’s job description. Well, he did cook occasionally when Moxxie was younger, when he was teaching Moxxie how to cook, but it wasn’t normal for him to release staff and take over for them.

What was he up to?

Moxxie washed his hands and decided to help Alessio as asked, he was stuck here anyway, might as well…

Wait-

Might as well help his captors prepare dinner? Why was he even considering helping Alessio? He should hate the stupid shark! He should be strangling him right now!

“Remember when I taught you how to make your fathers favorite pasta?” Alessio asks.

“What?” Moxxie asks.

“You were ten I think, so frightened that you wouldn’t make it right, but I assured you that I would be there the whole time, and you made it beautifully without much assistance.”

Moxxie does remember that…

~~~Past:~~~

“Alright, Moxxie. Tonight we’ll be making dinner for your fathers birthday.”

Moxxie smiles, tail swishing in excitement. He’s been learning how to cook with Alessio, he knew some basic skills from helping Mama, but now he was learning more advanced stuff, he was making full meals all on his own, and he was excited to show his father how good he’s gotten at it!

“What are we gonna make, Alessio?” Moxxie asks.

“Your fathers favorite…homemade spaghetti and meatballs. It’s an old family recipe.”

“Daddy’s favorite pasta?” Moxxie asks.

Alessio nods, but realizes that Moxxie was scared. “What’s wrong, Moxxie?”

“Uhm. Wha-what if I do it wrong?” Moxxie asked, breathing heavily. “Mama messed it up one time- and he-“

Alessio rested a hand on Moxxie’s shoulder. “Relax. I’ll be here to make sure it’s right. We’ll make it together.” He says.

Moxxie nods. “Okay. Thanks, Al.”

“Of course.” He says. “I’ll always be here to help you if you need it. But, I know you can do it.”

The pasta turned out great, it was the first time Moxxie thought maybe he made Crimson proud…

If he was ever capable of it…

~~~Present:~~~

Why couldn’t Moxxie just hate them? Why?

He wants to hate Al! And his father!

Wants to hate Quint! Wants to hate everyone!

But he never could no matter how hard he tried!

Moxxie glares up at Alessio, then walks away.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

“Far away from you?” Moxxie suggests. “You can force me to be here, you can force me to regress, but you cannot use my childhood to make me like you, it’s not going to work!”

“That is not what I’m doing.” Alessio says.

“That’s exactly what you’re doing!” Moxxie shouts. “I expect this manipulative bullshit from him, but I won’t tolerate it from you! I’m sick of this!”

Alessio shakes his head and sighs. “Moxxie, that’s enough.” Alessio scolds. “If you keep this up, I will force you to regress…or I’ll just put you in a time out for the night.” He threatened.

Moxxie’s eyes widened, and the threat immediately shut him up.

“Now…” Alessio says. “We are going to make your father a nice dinner, and you are going to be polite and respectful. Is that clear?”

Moxxie gulps and nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy, Mox.” Alessio says. “Now let’s get started.”

Moxxie does as he’s told.

~~~Later:~~~

“Alright, done.” Alessio says. “Now, Moxxie. It’s time for you to regress.” He says simply.

“What? But I didn’t do anything!” Moxxie says, taking a step back. “Doesn’t dad have-“

“You’re not in trouble, your fathers just wants regressed Moxxie at dinner tonight.” Alessio asks.

“But why?” Moxxie asks. “Doesn’t he have a guest?!” He asks.

“I can’t say.” Alessio says.

“Well, I’m not going to regress, and there’s nothing you can do to make me!” Moxxie says, covering his ears as he said it.

Alessio rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Moxxie. Why are you being a baby about this? It’s not that big a deal.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you.” Moxxie says, hands still placed firmly at the sides of his head.

“Moxxie…” Alessio warns.

Moxxie keeps walking backwards until his back hits the counter top.

Alessio walks towards him slowly, then grabs his arms as gently as possible.

“No! Stop! Please?” Moxxie begs, struggling to get away from Alessio while trying to keep his hands where they are. “I dont want to-“

The shark removes one of Moxxie’s hands very easily. “Quiet time.”

Moxxie whimpers, and be tries his best to resist but….

He stops fighting once he was regressed.

~~~Millie:~~~

Millie calls her parents and tells them about Moxxie’s disappearance.

Fucking Blitzø just kept saying that he had it handled for now… wouldn’t tell her anything, but she needed someone to talk to, someone who cared.

The person she really needed to talk to was Moxxie…he’s always been there for her.

But, she can’t.

But she needed someone.

Things are so complicated…and something felt so wrong, like he was suddenly a stranger.

But, she knew why he kept the mafia thing from her…she should be more understanding…right?

But why didn’t he tell her? She could have helped! Moxxie does trust her, right?

“You sure he didn’t run away from a bunny or somethin?” Her pa suggested.

“Pa, this is serious.” Millie says.

“We’ll do everything we can to help, Hun.” Lynn says.

“Thanks Ma.” Millie smiles, thankful that someone gave a-

“But, have you actually considered that he may have left you?” Lynn asked. “You do have a history of scaring people away, and sweetie, he’s not exactly one of the stronger people you’ve dated.” She says.

Never mind.

Millie’s blood boiled with anger. “You don’t know him, and you clearly don’t know me either! I am so sick and tired of you and your attitude towards me and my husband!”

She hangs up the phone…

They didn’t care.

Millie was alone in this…

Her heart felt so tight.

No one was talking to her, no one cared…

She just- needed someone to tell her what was going on…

Millie takes a deep breath and calls the number on the card.

“Hello?”

“Trixx, it’s Millie. Can I ask you somethin?” She asks.

“Uh yeah. Of course. What’s up?”

“I-I need to know…What happened to Moxxie’s mother?” She asks.

~~~Moxxie:~~~

Moxxie looks around the room before starting up at Alessio. “Aw!” He gets excited and reaches for the shark.

Alessio smiles and picks him up, setting him on the counter that was behind him. “Hello, Bambino.”

Moxxie chews on his nails anxiously. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling, little one?” Alessio asks, removing Moxxie’s fingers from his mouth.

Moxxie shrugs, he honestly was confused. His body was tired, overwhelmed, and he felt uneasy. He wants to cry, but he also just wants to be happy with Alessio. “I dunno.” He says honestly.

Alessio rests his hand on Moxxie’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. Let’s go find your dad and eat some pasta, hm?” He asks.

Moxxie nods and agrees happily.

Gotta make sure Daddy’s okay.

Moxxie doesn’t think he did anything wrong, but he hopes daddy isn’t mad at him.

~~~Crimson:~~~

“There’s my boy!” Crimson says enthusiastically.

Moxxie ran over to his father and hugs him. “Hi, daddy.”

Crim petted the boy’s hair. “Speaking in full sentences, you’re a big boy today, huh?” Crimson asks.

Moxxie nods. “Yup, I’m dis many.” Moxxie holds up three fingers to Crimson.

“Impressive.” Crim says. “You hungry, Mox?”

When the little one nodded, Crimson set Moxxie down on the chair to his left.

"Aw?" Moxxie asks, watching the shark sit down on Crimson’s right.

"Yes, Moxxie?" Alessio asks.

Moxxie smiles at Alessio. “Yu' gon' ea' wif us?" He asks.

Crimson was about to say something, but Al raised a hand to let Crimson know that he had the situation under control.

"Is that alright with you, Moxxie?”

Moxxie smiles and nods, squeezing his hands together excitedly, as if this was something so special for them.Crimson just smiled, watching Moxxie and listening to him talk to Alessio.

They chatted about the book they were reading, and then he talked to Crimson about research he’d done in regards to weaponry.

Moxxie was definitely a smart little despite the separation of memories and headspaces.

Crimson’s family was finally perfect.

Just like he dreamed.

Notes:

“Every time my heart is beating, I can feel the recipe I wonder if my day is coming, blame it on the entropy My blood is pumping, I can see the end is right in front of me Don't take it from me, I could be everything, Everything.” ~Sharks, Imagine dragons. ~~~~ I wrote and rewrote this chapter so many times!!!! So…I hope it’s okay 😅

Notes:

If you like this work and want more, please comment/leave kudos! I’d really appreciate it! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @todayimfour

#itty bitty imps #father knows best #Little!Moxxie #Helluva boss agere

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