#lol mostly i was trying to figure out if i could get to new york in a daily reset time loop

[ghirahimbo]

evil time loop escape conditions where you can't get out until you've fuucked up your life in the most spectacular way possible, confident that the next night will reset the slate as usual.

instead, the next day comes.

#that's the first chapter btw #the rest of the story is about coming back from the fallout #trying to make amends #something something the hubris of believing you were above consequences #coming to terms with the pain you were willing to cause in the moment because you never thought it would last (but it did) #actually maybe this is just undertale geno route #post cancelled undertale did it already #lol mostly i was trying to figure out if i could get to new york in a daily reset time loop #i probably could if i fucked up my life #and of COURSE that would be the day it didn't reset

[bramble-scramble]

https://www.instagram.com/p/CvPzjsNO6Ud/?igshid=NjIwNzIyMDk2Mg==

I'm sorry if this message seems odd, but there's a secret message in this post that you might be exited by! (Just ask me if you can't figure it out or don't want too.) Again, sorry if this ask is weird!

NO, NO, IT'S NOT WEIRD AT ALL

I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS BECAUSE I HAD *THE DREAM* LAST NIGHT AND I WAS JUST SITTING DOWN TO POST ABOUT IT..... I guess I'll do it in this ask then!

OK SO WHAT I MEAN BY "THE DREAM" is the prophetic Phantom dream that all of us M+R fans seem to be having, in our own ways. It finally happened to me!

So I dreamed I was on vacation with my parents and brother, like the one I just came back from, except this time we were in this weird steampunk version of New York City. There was a lot regarding that I could talk about, but the important part for our purposes is that Ubisoft randomly dropped the third DLC out of nowhere the day I was going to leave, so I decided to take the Switch even though I don't normally take it on trips.

I didn't have much chance to play it because I wasn't able to download it until I got to my destination, and then I was trying to grab little moments here and there when we were on public transportation, or in our hotel. So my dream was jumping back and forth between the steampunk New York scenes and the game.

As for the game, the heroes had landed on this planet that I could best describe as looking like Palette Prime in the spring (similar vibes but a lot more green), and I think my brain forgot this was supposed to be a Rayman thing lol because all the Mario characters were there. When they got there, they found there was a strange cult and everyone was talking about their "new leader" and how some people respected him but others were afraid.

Then cut to a scene of Phantom spying on the heroes! He was in some kind of abandoned church or temple, looking out an ornate window, and he also had some kind of little underling with him. He was infuriated that the heroes had arrived there and he flew threw a wall.

The rest of my experience with the game was mostly just exploring, except Phantom would send up menacing faces/images into the sky to scare the Heroes (like translucent holograms/illusions), but they were just generic scary faces (not his own) so they hadn't figured out who it was yet.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm sure this whole cult thing came from @hostess-of-horror comparing Phantom to Cthulhu with him invading our dreams and us trrying to summon him, lol.

I was super happy but I had vowed not to get on the internet until I beat the DLC so nothing would be spoiled for me, but I just knew everyone would be happy. And when I woke up, it all seemed so real that I said, "He's coming back for sure!" But throughout the past few hours, that wore off and I came back to my realistic and grounded self who never gets her hopes up!

And THEN as I sit down to type up the dream and share it with you all, I see this ask!

What a day!

(Btw I pre-ordered this album a while back lol so I will get it eventually!! And we have the old tech to listen to it on because my partner is a vintage stuff enthusiast)

Ahem but anyway

THEY'RE JUST FUCKING TELLING US NOW

FLKASJFLKASJDFLKA GAAAAAAAAARHGHLAKDSHF ALKDSJFLDJSLKFJLKSJ

We were RIGHT this time, friends. The theories, the foreshadowing, the attention that we paid, it will be rewarded!!!

Ok now I have to go back to my job... somehow......... I'm expected to work......

#mario rpgs #mario plus rabbids #mario + rabbids #alter answers #the phantom of the bwahpera

[nicodrawings]

I TOTALLY WANNA HEAR ABOUT SEAN’S BACKSTORY

SEAN

-Comes from a very VERY well off family and is the second youngest of 4 kids and the youngest brother. (2 boys 2 girls)

-Second generation Indian American. Immediate family lives in New York; many of his relatives also live in Mumbai.

- Hes a very egotistical and bratty. Was definitely spoiled the most and is not used to people telling him no or being reprimanded. But also weirdly observant and can be deceptively charming. Very good at Science and History.

- Very social and used to being surrounded by at least 2 people constantly.

-Hes aware that people are around him cuz his family got a lot of cash, but also he doesn't care cuz in his words "If I'm havin a good time then what does it matter"

- Would actually meet Miles and Ganke in middle school. They didn't interact much since they were in different classes for the most part. And the times that they did weren't pleasant.

- Miles and Ganke for the most part ignored him and figured that they wouldn't see him in high school. They were very wrong.

- Also while they were ignoring him in Middle school for the most part, Sean always took notice to them and their friendship. Particularly of Ganke because to him, Ganke stood out a lot.

- Sean is...questioning is sexuality in secrecy but because he's they way that he is, it's never something he takes seriously. Just mostly making out with girls and guys of the upper echelon every so often. And because nobody ever turned him down he figured regardless of his sexuality he could get whomever he wanted.

- Which led to him and Ganke in the 9th grade.

- He would start to try and get Gankes attention more in the 9th grade and figured since Ganke always stood out to him he could play around with him for a bit, again cuz he figured he could get anyone he wanted.

- To make a long story short, he asked Ganke out "as a joke".

- And Ganke flat out rejected him and called him a creep.

- And it bruised the absolute shit out if Sean's ego, he was supposed to be the heartbreaker damnit!!!

- And ever since then Ganke has been a target.

Sooo yea thats Sean in my story lol hope you like it.

- OH SHIT UH I forgot to add he's also on the track team!

[theladyheroine]

Valorant x Spiderverse Reader 🕷️

Lol another Spider-Man post! I’m a little late to the party but calling this Spider-Weekend since I have more stuff left in the tank 😂

Call-Sign: Spinner

Residence: New York City, USA

You were a rookie recruit from the Big Apple after a video of you went viral. You wouldn’t really call yourself “hero,” but you tried your best to be that Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man you thought was needed.

You tried to keep a low profile, since most people weren’t really accepting of Radiants yet. But you were seen on the streets before: catching shoplifters, maybe a robber or two, or just helping people with directions. But the video was a clip from a news station after a large subway train started barreling down the tracks with no brakes and a broken bridge.

Only for a masked figure in a hoodie to suddenly swoop down from the sky and slow it with only some webs and their bare hands.

That was by far the craziest stunt you’ve ever pulled. Thankfully everyone made it off the train safely, with the so-called Spider-Man/Spider-Woman no where to be found.

Brimstone had it in mind; a selfless Radiant like you with powerful skills could prove to be a valuable asset to the team. But no one could find you or even knew who you were.

You were just trying your best to lay low for awhile. Until a warning went out throughout the city that a spike had been planted in Brooklyn and everyone was required to evacuate.

You obviously just couldn’t stand by, not with your home and family were at risk, so you tried to track the bomb down yourself before the city was blown sky high. That’s where you met Jett and Gekko, who were scoping out the area trying to track the spike down. Until they found you tangled up in your webs trying to figure out how to disarm the dang thing.

It took awhile, but the bomb was deactivated, Brimstone offered up the chance for you to join the Valorant Protocol instead of swinging around all day in a Halloween costume. You said yes! 🙌

You mostly hang out with the youngster squad, mainly Gekko since you and him come from a similar background. Not really in it for the glory or anything hardcore, just going around trying to help and hang out. Plus he had good taste in music.

However, Jett has taken a liking to you too. Often racing with each other on missions to see who gets there first while pulling parkour tricks in the air.

Since you can stick to walls, it does take everyone some time to get used to your abilities. And that means ALOT of mischief. You once scared Phoenix in the break room when he was looking for something to eat. Only to scream and fall when you offered him some cereal.

Not only that but I’m sure it’s be scary to see your crawling around the walls every now and then. Just imagine seeing that at night in the hallway. . . 😅

But your webs are also cool for tricks too; you once make a giant trampoline outside of the base for everyone to use, and Brimstone still hasn’t gotten over your little scheme of sticking all the furniture to the ceiling!

(Okay I know that’s wasn’t much but that’s all I got! Happy Spiderverse Day! 🙌🕷️)

#crossover #valorant headcanons #valorant #valorant oc #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #into the spiderverse headcanons #valorant riot games #riot games

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

do you think tutoring/freelancing is better/easier than being a full-time teacher

i mean, that's obviously very subjective - a friend of mine was a tutor as her main gig for a long time to pay the bills while doing opera directing, and she wound up deciding to get her master's in teaching (secondary level, i.e. middle/high school), and now she's teaching english at an academically selective public high school and seems overall pretty happy with the switch. but for me, like, yeah, no question. the major downside is the financial piece. i am lucky that when i sent out a bunch of applications i got picked up by a company that pays me a good hourly rate, regularly sends me clients, and is pretty nice to work for. but i am definitely still figuring out the financial piece & currently making a lot less than i did per year as a teacher, with a higher effective tax rate because of self-employment tax (15.3% of 92.35% of your net earnings from self-employment, which is covered by your employer if you are a w-2 employee - if i calculated right my effective tax rate is a little under 31% and i am expecting to clear less than 40k this year). this is my first full calendar year of it and i'm definitely still learning the ups & downs of the calendar, and am lucky that i have been able some months to ask my partner to write the rent check and i'll pay him back a few days later when my next paycheck clears. i also domestic partnered with my dude when i quit my teaching job so i could go on his health insurance, & without that i would probably be paying maybe slightly less monthly for insurance but it would be insurance that functions like being uninsured because (having been on it before i can tell you) ACA insurance in new york is so, so, so so so so so so bad. nobody fucking takes it and any remotely affordable plan involves a deductible high enough to i guess maybe prevent you from going bankrupt in case of emergency (which is important but which i'm also like genuinely unsure about bc like what if you get hit by a car and the ambulance takes you to a hospital that doesn't take your shitty insurance that fucking no one in this city accepts?) but otherwise basically mean you will be paying out of pocket for everything anyway. this is all why i think that next year i am gonna start trying in earnest to figure out how to pick up more clients on my own so that i can charge my own rates and hopefully build them up over time to something where i'm not like, sweating when it's spring break and half my clients are in europe or whatever. (my friend still does tutoring on the side and her rates are hella high - the best paying clients i've had have been people she referred over to me because i just charged them whatever she would have quoted and rich people in new york will pay crazy ass money for basically anything.)

but like as a job? yeah, it's easier, no question. i like being able to wake up without an alarm and work out or do chores in the middle of the day and waking up with period cramps and deciding that today the standards will be lower and opening tumblr to answer an ask while i pray for the advil to kick in (lol). i like that i can say i mostly don't work wednesdays so i didn't have to give up the volunteer commitment i picked up when i was Figuring Stuff Out in peak covid times which has also become the source of like half of my social contact. my finances are more precarious than they were but based on my friend's experience i am cautiously optimistic that won't always be the case and in the meantime i am pretty much paying my bills working substantially less than 40 hours a week. the lifestyle agrees with me, a lot, now that i have Evolved enough in my Journey that i no longer want my remunerative work to also be the primary filler of my emotional needs, lol - when i was younger i actively wanted a job that would demand a lot of me, and the fact that i no longer to do definitely has partly to do with teaching burnout but also because i figured out how to get other things to make me feel happy and fulfilled.

i also am better at it. my strength as a teacher i think was always in the actual teaching part, but to be a classroom teacher, especially in elementary school, you need to be good at like 900 fucking different things, and i sucked at a lot of them. i never got to a place in years of working with kids where i felt like i could reliably handle a group of kids, behaviorally, and like... i dunno, behavior stuff is unglamorous and you can argue that the phrase "classroom management" is kind of dystopian, but what i came to believe as a result of my classroom experiences, not before, is that establishing and maintaining a calm, mostly quiet, predictable classroom is a way of protecting children's access to education and a way of protecting children from each other. when i was working in a public school job that i quit after four months, i really felt like if i had been able to be a tyrant who kept them silent all day, that would have been an emotionally healthier situation for them than what i had going on, which was just children being terrorized and hurt by each other all day long, with nobody around who could make it stop. unpopular i know! but once i watched a fourth grader mock another fourth grader's speech for being an english language learner and then tell her to stop talking if she can't speak english (in a conversation i was attempting to have about how we could treat each other more respectfully), and then totally refuse to ever apologize or engage in any kind of reflection about why that wasn't okay, i was like, yeah all of these children's lives would be better if i could get them to just stop talking. they wouldn't be good. but they would be better than what i was doing.

i also found teaching a morally exhausting job, which is maybe best illustrated by the fact that the mean kid in that previous example was also a homeless kid whose dad was probably in jail. that was the kind of thing i ran into constantly - to take an example from private school, my last year i faced a repeated situation where i was like, "i can either tell this 8 year old to just get over and ignore the fact that someone said something objectively fucked up to them, or i can attempt to have some kind of completely doomed problem solving exchange with the most emotionally fragile child i ever met whose dad died a year ago and whose mom is a mess and who is psychologically incapable of admitting imperfection and will accuse you of victimizing her if you suggest that you believe someone else saying that she said this thing that she definitely said." and like, i still don't know what the fuck i was supposed to do with that. i still don't know if it was fucked up of us to try to get that kid to try, like, ever, at anything, or if it was good because even in the midst of grief and many other issues kids need structure and boundaries and to be treated like their feelings matter but are not the only thing in the entire world [truly i do believe this: raising kids to believe their emotions are too important is very, very damaging to the kids, because believing that your emotions are emergencies is a terrible way to go through life] and it's unpleasant for them in the morning but better in the long run than the alternative. like, i don't fucking know. and meanwhile her mom called us to tell us that she was a happy child whose only problem in the entire world was that her teachers were insufficiently sensitive. she called to tell us that, btw, within two weeks of the one-year anniversary of the kid's dad's sudden death, which like, i'm not a child psychologist but................ (tutor-parent relationships are also way easier than teacher-parent relationships, and also if they decide they hate me like who cares there will be others.) (sometimes i feel bad complaining about parents because honestly the vast majority of parents i ever had were very pleasant and lots of them loved to effuse about how much their kids loved school and loved their teachers and were having a great year and they were so grateful to us, even when i didn't think we were necessarily doing an awesome job. lol. but the difficult ones do have a way of lingering.)

i am getting off track. anyway. so i didn't have a lot of faith in my abilities as a teacher, and i also by the end didn't have any faith basically in my ability to find a school where i felt i could trust the institution i was in to be a good place to develop those abilities. sometimes i still do get sad because i think if i'd found my way after my master's to a school that was a decent-ish fit, i probably would have been really happy and would still be teaching. (a bonus bummer is that in retrospect this would have probably required me to skip trying out public schools in general, since what i later learned is that basically only terrible schools hire teachers new to the DOE and the trick is to stick it out a year and then you can be considered by a non terrible school - but i couldn't hack it that year.) but i had a pair of nightmares back to back and at the end i just didn't have the energy to try again. and some of that was the Miscellaneous Skills stuff mentioned above but also some of that was pedagogical. when i say "all schools are bad" i'm actually not referring to structural issues like underfunding problems or lack of arts programs or excessively high student-teacher ratios. i am referring to the fact that graduate schools of education are terrible? like worse than useless? i think i learned a few things in my grad school but basically all of them were in the slightly higher-level special ed classes i took because i was doing the dual certification program. which, to be clear, i do NOT think prepared me successfully to teach students with disabilities. the special ed classes were the only classes that i felt like taught me useful things about general ed teaching. if i had done the general ed degree idk what the fuck i would have learned. like unpopular opinion but at a certain point i was like, i may as well have done fucking TFA for all that i got out of the many thousands of dollars i paid and am still paying these fuckers.

i mean, at grad school, we were taught that learning styles are real. and when sometimes in a small group i would be like, "i think learning styles are maybe not real actually?" people would look at me blankly. (or if i said something like, "can you explain to me how an audio recording of a picture book is more suited to auditory learners than just... a teacher reading it out loud. like why... is that more auditory." they did not understand the question and could not answer it. these are the people educating america's youth.) i got docked points once actually on an assignment where i was working with this kid for 8 weeks and i described this thing i had done with her that had hugely boosted her comprehension - i mean she'd gone from not being able to answer the simplest most basic factual questions about literally anything she'd read despite having strong decoding skills to like, being able to thoroughly and accurately answer the questions i was asking her - but it hadn't Aligned With Her Learning Style. and so then another week i reluctantly tried a different thing that was more vaguely kinesthetic because "learning styles are fake" was not an option, and the thing i did worked LESS WELL and i got a BETTER GRADE for Clearly Aligning With Her Individual Learning Style. like, let me just underscore for this: i got a better grade for doing WORSE TEACHING, AS MEASURED BY LEARNING OUTCOMES, because i was doing better alignment with a model that is discredited and fake. and this is like, all ed schools. all of them. and therefore, all teachers.

i suffered a major crisis of disillusionment when i was maternity subbing at the place that wound up being my last classroom employer where i found a post on timothy shanahan's blog (i love him now and recommend him to anyone interested in literacy shit but he hurt my feelings at first) where he was like, "independent reading is a waste of time." the HORROR! the HERESY! but his case was undeniable. and as i came to accept that i also came to realize that i had never been in a school environment, in grad school or as a teacher, where i could say something like, "i read this very interesting argument that independent reading is not a good use of classroom time for these reasons based in both logic and research," and be met with anything but scorn. and like that was the thread that unraveled the entire sweater of, uh, the most popular literacy program in new york city. (the TC workshop program.) like, by the end of my classroom time, i was like, wow this program literally doesn't help anyone but borderline gifted kids. any kids who need actual help to learn to read are completely 100% left in the dark. but when i tried to say something in team meetings like "hey this student who has not progressed in his reading in two years across two different classrooms, i think he is not benefiting from our program," i got told, "don't feel bad, i think he's a complicated case." (this from the math specialist who also tried to convince me that being able to add single digit numbers without counting is not important, and that not being able to do that has no relationship whatsoever with a student's present ability to learn to multiply. in case you thought it was only reading that was bad.) one time (i learned from the literacy specialist who i did like) an outside consultant came to do some professional development (i hated her for reasons too complicated to get into but i was complaining about her which is why i learned this story) who was very into creating Independent Self-Directed Reflective Learners Blah Blah Blah and she did a conference with a student and then was debriefing it for the teaching team and naming all the Strengths she had as a reader and all the good stuff she was doing and the literacy specialist had to be like, "i have read the book she's reading and nothing she said about it was accurate."

ok. i am really just ranting now. also the advil is starting to work so i almost feel human again and should probably try to do something with that while it lasts. the original point i was going to make that was relevant to your inquiry re: pedagogy was that in tutoring if i try something and i decide it was bad and didn't work, then i don't have to do it anymore. and if i have an idea that i think might be good then i can do it. and it turns out i fucking love that. to the extent of like, i don't work a lot, as i said, but i definitely put in more prep time than i know at least a lot of test prep tutors do, and sometimes i feel weird about that because test prep tutoring is basically widening the achievement gap and like the whole point of it for me also was to work less. but like it turns out that while i love not having a real job, i have still retained a certain core ability to derive satisfaction out of feeling like i am doing something with integrity and skill, and like... idk man it still feels really fucking good to have that moment of like Wow I Taught Someone Something, even if it's like... oh man a while ago one of my SAT kids was like, "i was going to pick B because the passage mentioned calcites [or whatever random science terms], but it's not really saying that they did that, so i went with D," which was perfect SAT logic (the SAT reading section, and actually most standardized test reading sections in my experience, loves to have one tempting answer that mentions some hyperspecific terms from the passage but says something inaccurate about them, and then a correct answer that doesn't use any words from the passage but requires you to have like actually understood the idea conveyed in order to identify it as correct, and students who don't come in as great readers get sooooo tripped up on "well it MENTIONED..." because students who are not great readers are not in the habit of reading texts as integrated wholes) relating to a trap she had fallen into many times before, and i was soooo proud of her lmao. and i actually like, not just don't hate but do kind of actively enjoy being able to chase those moments fully on my own terms and using my own judgment, observation, learning, & experiences. [which ok sorry to loop back into being a bummer but like: in theory it's nice to say i want that for all teachers, but in practice see above re: the learning and experiences of most teachers are bad because ed schools are bad.]

working evenings & weekend during the school year can be a pain tho. i like test prep work because as i spend more time with specific tests they become a lot less work-intensive to tutor because i've already made my little highlighted answer keys (remember what i said about how i know for a fact most test prep tutors put in less time than i do...) but i might try in the future to figure out a way to get more elementary school clients because they get out of school earlier, lol. maybe one day i'll go in for orton-gillingham certification so i can bill myself as qualified to work with students with dyslexia.

#askbox #sorry this became a giant vent about my many bad experiences in the education world

[ucouldhearahairpindrop]

"your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how"

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

and drinking cheap rosé really feels like something you'd do with another girl. I'm not trying to gender drinks here, it's really just what happens most often. Much like how drinking beer is seen as a masculine thing.

Also she talks about 'rosé flowing with your chosen family' in the 1. Chosen family is very much a thing rooted in LGBTQ+ culture.

There are other references to wine too (tangent incoming)

Dress 'spilling wine in the bathtub' and that song might as well be a queer anthem

False god 'got the wine for you' (that song is 😳🥵) AND in that song Taylor calls herself NYC, and her muse the West Village. - In Maroon she goes on to talk about dancing with her muse in New York. Same person maybe?

Paper rings 'the wine is cold' and in that song she talks about marrying her muse with paper rings, although she seems to do a full 180 on that subject in lavender haze. I'm sure someone smarter than me can figure out what's going on there. (maybe she is engaged and really trying to throw people off? That's what the unapproved genius annotation is saying. I don't think so though) anyway she's using wine in a romantic way again

August 'august sipped away like a bottle of wine' not inherently romantic but it is the line directly following the narrator imagining being twisted in bedsheets with the muse. So though not romantic, there are still sexual connotations there. Also August is potentially a woman's name.

Willow 'lost in your current like a priceless wine' okay taylor we get it, wine is romantic. Willow could also be a woman's name.

No body,no crime 'este's a friend of mine/ we meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a of wine' and 'that ain't my merlot on his mouth' -i know this song is fictional but it's interesting that taylor uses wine as a romantic/sexual symbol and she's using it here to talk about dinner with her friend - hmm smells like infidelity indeed lol.

Ivy 'drink my husband's wine' asking someone she's having an affair with if they'd drink her husband's wine with her, so they can move on from him together? The gender of the person she's having an affair with is never specified. The forbidden love theme found in a lot of her discography is used again here, which of course is easy to relate to for queer people. Ivy once again, could also be a woman's name. Poison Ivy is also the name of a famous queer DC character (PS I'm gonna make a post on how DWOHT, ivy, and the great war are a trilogy)

With respect for Taylor's live performance of clean from her reputation tour, I'm not going to talk about the wine imagery in that one

Overall, she most often uses wine in a romantic/sexual sense. Interestingly though, she does seem to mostly use it in songs which have very wlw undertones. As it's mentioned in the opening verse of maroon, it sets the tone for the rest of the song.

#gaylor #gaylor swift #maroon #analysis

[usuallydeepcoffee]

Mr. Rogers and Succession? 👀👀

I mean, you have to admit that the juxtaposition of Steve, the humble son of an immigrant, a guy who owned one pair of (too-big) nice shoes, and the Roys, whose entire shoe rack is probably worth more than the GDP of a small country, would be hilarious.

There are two, scenarios I humbly offer:

Steve in the Roys' world:

(non-powered AU), where Steve is the young, hot partner of a very rich New York billionaire genius (Howard or Tony, take your pick). He's into arts and mostly involved in charity work, so the Roys figure he's just another Willa, but then he turns out to be a pretty good strategist.

Lol, I imagine the Roys would be embarrassing themselves trying to court the Starks, like they did with the Pierces.

(also I just love imagining Steve and Willa gagging anyone who comes near them with some quip about them being gold diggers. Two queens discussing how to maximize their joint slay and all)

2. The Roys in the mcu:

I mean. Imagine the narrative ATN would pull out their asses once it is confirmed that Captain America is actually WWII Steve Rogers. About Steve being a true patriot, standing for the Good Conservative American Values™. The way they'd be trying to get an exclusive interview post-Chitauri attack.

Again they'd probably try to court him because even though he doesn't have money (not like they do), he still has status and influence just by being an American symbol.

(that and they'd probably need his permission to make content about Captain America. Maybe even a ride named after him in their parks)

Lol. Logan would try to imply that they have soooo much in common, both immigrants, both hard workers. Steve has a good sixth sense tho, so he probably takes one look at him and turns his heel.

The cringe from Kendall would make me want to curl up and die. "Yeah man, I could uh, hook you up with some uh, modern pieces. Rothko, Mondrian. I have a couple in my pad in Brooklyn, I could uh, give you one. For free of course. Consider it uh, a thank you for your service"

Roman, oh boy. Can't even think about all the harassment innuendos he would throw Steve's way. Comments about him having all of David's Michelangelo's proportions (and consequently wondering about his dick).

Shiv is probably the one who almost fools Steve into believing she's the most normal but then says something in a terribly classist way and down the DNI list she goes as well.

Con becomes a WWII history buff for the occasion and talks about idk, Goebbels' pubes or something equally disgusting he won at an auction online.

Steve calls Nat and begs her to come and get him with the excuse of an Avenger-related emergency.

And when that inevitably fails, the Roys start a smear campaign against Steve: Captain America getting chummy with ex-Russian spy Natasha Romanoff. Workplace affair or treason?

They probably pop off a couple of bottles when Steve becomes a fugitive.

And then once Sam shows up with the shield and the suit. Oh my god. That might be what actually kills Logan Roy in that verse.

#anon #lmao if steve ever met the roy kids he'd look at t0ny and be like #oh. that explains so much #mcu/succession crossover #lmao imagine the poor roys not being able to take their chopper and leave NY in the middle of the chitauri attack #poor guys #steve rogers

[caffeinejournalist23]

DO plan a minimal itinerary & DON'T be afraid to explore! - sometimes the best things happen by accident! So do a little bit of research and planning - you don't want to be preyed upon by scamming "monks" or the overwhelming/chaotic energy of the city! BUT you also don't want to be too rigid in your visit because then you miss out on truly becoming one with "the greatest city in the world". Funny story; for my first trip to New York with some gal pals we wanted to make sure we tried a variety of foods while we were there because let's face it - in the midwest, we don't have a whole lot of authentic variety; every strip mall has the same 4 fast-food chains and it's extremely difficult to find new spots within a 30-mile radius. We made a reservation for brunch but had to go elsewhere because our RSVP was lost after being just 5 minutes late to the place. Well, it kinda worked out because we roamed the block (just near the NYU campus for context) and we found an aesthetically pleasing Australian Coffee & Brunch spot that could seat us immediately. Unfortunately to this day we still cannot remember the name of the place because the mimosas were strong that day, but it still holds the title of the BEST brunch experience of our lives - and to think we would've never experienced it had we not felt comfortable exploring the unexpected!

2) DON'T be naive & DO be brave! - The Big Apple can often be depicted as a scary crime-ridden place; I mean, this city is a direct inspiration for Gotham City in the Batman franchise - which is a city literally manifested of crime.

HOWEVER, I will say that more stuff shocked me than threatened me, lol. Yes, my friends got catcalled and hit on a LOT (I mean they're gorgeous so was it really much of a surprise?), and yes when we got lost that first night in the city it was a little intimidating trying to figure out the subway system. BUT we never felt like we were in any imminent danger; police were friendly and watchful, we kept our wits about us and (mostly) stayed together (my bladder and mimosas don't mix so when I gotta pee it's every woman for herself), and when I had the courage to ask locals like construction workers, baristas, and shoppers waiting in lines for directions, everyone was very nice and helpful! In my personal opinion, New York is way more friendly and courteous than Chicago; Chicago is like a second home to me with my frequent visits - and one of my dearest friends lives there - but I feel like the overall atmosphere there is much colder than NYC. My last visit to Chicago the bus driver yelled at me when I asked him to confirm the stop I needed, but in my first visit to New York an off-duty taxi driver gave me a lift to a dinner reservation I was running late for and only charged me $5; make of that what you will. I say that to say; if you assume the worst in people you will never have a chance to experience the best in them.

3) DON'T wear heels & DO pack your favorite outfits! - NYC is one of the most Instagram-able places on the planet and we all want to look our best while taking pictures in Dumbo or Times Square (which I would never recommend for photos more than once unless you're feeling particularly extroverted). I must caution you though - wearing heels or that one pair of "standing only" jeans is NOT the move for your visit. New York figuratively and physically moves very quickly, so you need to dress practically. My one friend made the mistake of wearing painfully tall-heeled booties for a late-night photoshoot walking around the piers; her shoes - and her feet! - were destroyed by the time we got back for the night. Also, news-flash: NEW YORK CAN GET COLD ASF! In the midwest, we're used to sitting in a warm, heated car and only wearing our coats for a 5-minute walk across the parking lot; here in New York, a 10-minute commute can feel like an hour-long trek through your freezer. They say that The Weeknd's song "I Can't Feel My Face" is about drugs - no, I can assure you it was about the freezing cold winters in New York City.

Aaand, New York city IS the fashion capital of America - I mean we have a whole week dedicated to it and everything. This is the place to show off your fashion senses. I'd like to think NYC is the melting pot of two things - delicious food and haute fashion. Wear your cowgirl boots and your scrunchies and your dark academia mini skirt and your leather bodysuit and your beanie - we wanna see it all. And costume changes throughout the day are kinda part of the NYC lifestyle, so bring your faves and strut your stuff!

4) DO bring some spending money & DON'T pay for dumb attractions - I can understand the temptation to wanna purchase some tour tickets to the Empire State Building as soon as you book the hotel room, and honestly if it would just crush your heart to not see it then just buy the ticket homie. Being a tourist in New York doing ✨tourist tings✨ will give you the tourist experience though - including waiting in long lines, having to haul ass across town to meet reservations and check-in times, and getting crowded with other tourists (beware the ever-irritating "Camera Ken" who will curse you and your descendants if a strand of your hair gets in the way of his seventh picture of the Statue of Liberty). Based on my personal experience I can admit that some tourist attractions are fun to explore and take photos at (the New Year's Ball in Times Square, for example) but some are also overhyped and over-priced (the Color Factory, for instance). Just do some research and remember that New York will always be here; if nothing else, you could always come back again in the future and check more attractions off your to-do list. Also, be sure to have some money for shopping and not just attraction tickets! - from name-brand-dupes to confectionaries beyond your wildest fever dreams, you're gonna wanna buy some shit.

Although New York does host a plethora of stores that also operate throughout the country, there simply is no comparison to the NYC location - Nike is a great example of this; there's a small 500ft Nike outlet just across the state border from me, but the Nike store in NYC is over 5 stories tall WITH A WHOLE FLOOR DEDICATED TO WOMENS' SHOES. We went to the NYC Burlington store and I lost my shit - three whole floors of ridiculously discounted goodies. Best believe I was glad to have passed up the $100+ ticket to the Empire State Building and could use that on a 2000s aesthetic shopping spree instead - Blaire Waldorf could never carry her shopping bags down the escalator the same way I did, I took that main character moment to heart. 😂

5) DO try NYC staples of food but DON'T follow a food guide from FoodNetwork - Look, I hate to say it, but I promise you for every recommendation you have to try a cocktail at Mr. Purple or a pastrami on rye at Katz's, there's an even better (and often cheaper) alternative at a hidden gem in the neighborhoods of Queens or Brooklyn. Go to YouTube and watch videos from Here Be Barr - Jon's a Brooklyn native who is almost always going on new food adventures with his pal #benthecameraman and other NYC natives; his recommendations are incredible and most of the places he suggests you visit are away from the claustrophobia and expansiveness of tourist traps.

Well, that's all for today my caffeinated gems! Stay tuned for more coming soon!

#caffeinejournalist #coffeegirl #coffeegirlaesthetic #nyc #nyclife #nyctransplant #newyorkcity #brooklyn #manhattan #newyorkcitylife #newyorkcitytraveltips #newyorkcityvisit #newyorkcitytips

[papyrusgayfont]

* thinking about the AU again, so here’s some more not-really-fun-or-interesting-facts about it

* this is mostly something that I wish the show did, so I’ll just put it in the AU, but each season would very clearly take place at a certain time of year, mostly so that it’s clear when exactly something takes place. So season 1 would be fall, and it would start at the beginning of the school year (so September), up until the middle of November, then season 2 would be winter, and it would just stay in winter. Season 3 would be the end of winter and the start of spring, so it would go up until the middle of March. Season 4 would last until probably the start or middle of May, and then season 5 would last until the end of the school year in France, which I’ve learned is in July so, yeah

* instead of the two specials taking place in Shanghai and New York, I was thinking they would instead be in the Underground and a dark world. I kind of have an idea for the Underground special, like the Underground would be turned into a tourist trap by the mayor or smth, idk lol, I know its not good. And I don’t really have any ideas for the dark world special, other than it would take place in a dark world

* I’m sure there’s a reason for it that the show will actually explain in Kwami’s Choice, but I just don’t see Zoe (at least I’m assuming it’s Zoe) being the black cat miraculous holder. I like Zoe, but I just don’t see it, especially since she hasn’t appeared at all this season lol. So, since I also don’t see Mad Mew Mew being a black cat miraculous holder (since she’s the Chloe/Zoe equivalent in this AU), the holder would instead be Sans. In this AU, sans would tell papyrus that he knows he’s Cat Noir after the events of Wishmaker, so that would be the reason why he gets it, and also I just want to do something with Alphys and Sans’ friendship (even though they wouldn’t know who each other was)

* in this AU, Adrien would actually be dead, and basically take Emille’s place in the murder basement. Gabriel would also have (at least some) fragments of Gaster in his basement, idk ig Nathalie found them for him, and for a reason that I don’t know yet Gabriel knows that Gaster had done research about timelines, so he would want him to find a timeline where Adrien is alive, and bring him back. You could just say that Gabriel could wish Adrien back, but, he would know that if he did that, something bad would happen, probably to him or Emille, in order to keep balance to the universe, so if he just did it to Gaster, and someone like Papyrus or Sans were affected, he wouldn’t really care, because he’s an awful person lmao

* Sole Crusher and Queen Banana would be a bit different, basically Sole Crusher would start out with the bakery scene, but it’s not the bakery it’s Mettaton’s theatre class (because he’s doing that), and Zoe and Marinette would meet there. From then on the rest of the episode would basically be the same, but it would end with Zoe and Marinette having a close bond.

* Queen Banana would mostly be the same, but instead of Chloe getting akumatized it would be Marinette, basically she just gets upset that Chloe was trying so hard to remove Zoe from the film that she gets akumatized and tries to, turn Chloe into a banana idk. She probably wouldn’t be “Queen Banana”, more like Queen, Macaroon. Madame Macaroon? Idk. If it was Madame Macaroon she’d probably have a macaroon yo-yo as her weapon as like an homage to her being ladybug, idk, I’m just spitballing ideas here. I have absolutely no idea how Mad Mew Mew’s new superhero identity would fit into this, or if I would just put that in a later episode, but I’ll figure that out later

* zoe would be trans and pan, marinette would be bi (I think the Marinette thing is just canon anyways, but, yeah)

* instead of Stormy Weather, it would probably be the two weather people teased during the Spamton Sweepstakes (these guys). It would probably be Catty and Bratty and they’d be upset that the person they voted for lost or smth, idk

* an idea I had for Crocoduel would be that while The Fun Gang™️ (which in this AU would be Kris, Frisk/Chara, Noelle, Susie, Berdly, Jockington, and Catti, and just whoever else in the class they invite that day), Susie would notice that hey, very fucking convenient, but her mom that abandoned her when they got to the surface is there. Susie would go to confront her, and since Toriel is there as the chaperone for Kris and Frisk/Chara, she and Susie’s mom would get into an argument, with Toriel berating her over literally abandoning her child, and then they’d both get akumatized. Susie, while using the tiger miraculous, would just punch her mom into orbit, but while her mom is flying back she hits Toriel, which leads to Toriel getting hurt (but then she’s fine cuz “miraculous ladybug”). Susie would feeling remorse over being angry, and Mettaton, while still saying that she did go a little too far since what she did led to someone getting hurt, he’d tell her that she’s allowed to feel her emotions, she’s allowed to feel angry, and that her birth mom sounds like she fucking sucks anyways so it’s reasonable that she be upset with her. And then the episode would just kind of end with Susie’s mom leaving again, this time for good, and Susie upset because she wasn’t able to get an answer as to why she was abandoned, but happy because now she has all these great friends and a new family (Alphys and Undyne).

* idk what the reason is for why Felix wanted the peacock miraculous so badly (I haven’t read the season 5 Bible so don’t spoil it please), but here, the “Felix” equivalent would want it because they know papyrus is a sentimonster, and they want to be absolutely sure that Gabriel would never go on a rampage and just end Papyrus’ life on a whim.

* ik I said before that Papyrus would tell Undyne that he’s Cat Noir, but like, if Sans already knows, then I don’t see the point in someone else knowing. Also as seen in “Illusion” Nino can’t keep a secret to save his life, and Undyne is the Nino equivalent in this thing, so yeah, probably shouldn’t tell her anything ever.

* that’s all for now, but I’ll be back eventually for more facts about my terrible AU lol

#papyrus #undertale #deltarune #mettaton undertale #mettaton #papyton #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous ladybug #undertale au #deltarune au #marinette dupain cheng #zoe lee #susie deltarune #papyrus undertale #bratty and catty #undyne #alphys #alphys undertale #sans #sans undertale #toriel #kris dreemurr #frisk #chara #noelle holiday #berdly #Jockington #catti deltarune #idk the 30th tag #underbug au

[jennagrinsoverml]

Do you have any recs for the reversed lovesquare? So like Ladybug likes Chat, Adrien likes Mari?

I honestly don't tend to read a lot of reverse love square. I'm not a fan of the life-swap and personality-swap tropes I often see if paired with, so I steer clear of those. I have come across a few amazing fics, however, so without further ado:

Cards Against Ladybug's Identity by @coffeebanana

A game of Cards Against Humanity and a little too much vodka on her eighteenth birthday results in Marinette spilling a few too many secrets. And maybe Adrien has a couple confessions of his own if he can work up the nerve.

Season 4 spoilers (Mostly Gang of Secrets, Optigami).

One-shot. This is one where they've fallen for the other sides of each other. Also, it's HILARIOUS. From the moment Alya plays her card, I was cracking up, and I didn't stop as it got more and more ridiculous lmao. They're all (except Alya really lol) just so dumb and it's fantastic and amazing and there's an identity reveal and just read it!

be your july by Reiaji

Two years after leaving home, Adrien has a room, a loving found family, and a thankless job with Audrey Bourgeois, the only figure in fashion with enough clout to bypass his father’s blacklisting.

He also has a zero percent success rate when it comes to courting Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Audrey’s relentlessly brilliant protégé.

With two miraculouses in the mix, it all gets a little complicated.

Multi-chapter. This fic is a canon divergence where Marinette went to New York in Style Queen and Adrien leaves home/Gabriel when he's legally able. This is after she's returned and they're both adults here. The love square has always been reversed, and each chapter focuses on a different side of the new square, showing how these changes have impacted the different dynamics. It's absolutely gorgeous, and the way Adrien is so earnest and heartbreakingly insecure shapes the story and hurts in the best way. Also the identity hijinks asdfghjkl

tell me something i don't know by @carpisuns​

Do you think it still means something? To love someone, even if the universe said you had to?

The odds of having a soulmate are about negative one billion (or something like that). But somehow, like they always have, Marinette and Chat Noir find themselves together. They’re ready to finally tell each other everything, but it turns out that even soulmates have to keep secrets, and they can only be together if they vow never to touch.

Multichapter. Warning: this is a WIP! But it’s SO GOOD and SO CLOSE to being finished. This is set an indeterminate amount of time in the future, and though it focuses on Marinette’s feelings for Chat, and Adrien’s feelings for Marinette, it’s more of an expansion of the love square than a true reversal, and it hits on all of the different dynamics. I’m obsessed with this one and try to read the updates as soon as they’re posted.

I Would Give You Some Violets by @mikauzoran

She loves me a little...a lot...madly...not at all. Chat can never be sure with Marinette, and while she says she has a crush on someone else, there are times when he can't help but believe that she returns his feelings. If only he could gather the courage to reach out...

A series of interconnected Marichat drabbles.

Multi-chapter. So my absolute, absolute favourite trope of all time is mutual pining. And this fic has AMAZING mutual pining. I felt like I was going to explode as I was reading it, which is something I look for in a fic lol Aside from the delicious tension between them, there's also really great explorations of parental relationships, especially Adrien's relationship with Sabine.

balancing act by @fictionalinfinity

“Besides, being Ladybug always came first. It came before school, friends, and sometimes even family. Now it had to come before her health. Marinette had a duty to Paris. She wouldn’t let them down.”

Or, being both Ladybug and the Guardian starts to take its toll on Marinette.

-

the epilepsy au literally no one asked for

Multi-chapter. Oooh boy. A fic where Marinette has epilepsy and the symptoms are woven into the existing canon in such a believable and organic way. The characterizations are AMAZING, and the conflict is just so completely believable and absolutely heart-wrenching. This starts out with traditional love square post-season 3, and then we slowly get to watch the reversal happen.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ml fic rec #adrienette #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #fic recs #reverse crush #reverse love square #jennarecsml

[watchmegetobsessed]

ALL IS FAIR

a/n: woohoo!! finally a harry fic! lol sorry i got very into marvel these past weeks but im finally bringing you some harry content! this one was originally requested by an anon sometime and then we kept talking about it until i actually got around to write it! hopefully you’ll like it and if you do, please like and reblog!

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

“Stop being such a stuck up dick, it’s your birthday, bro!”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend who walks into his penthouse as if he owned. Niall Horan was so well-known in Harry’s building that he could have easily walked into any homes in the tower and people would still welcome him warmly. It might have a few things to do with the fact that half of the residents in the Compass Tower are women who are hopelessly in love with either Niall or Harry, hoping for a chance to drag either of them into their bed one day. They have a lot more chance to do that with the Irish bloke than with Mr. Styles. Not that Harry doesn’t find them attractive, but he is not the type to have one night stands, something his friend gives him quite a lot of shit for.

“Would you fuck off for twenty more minutes?” Harry sighs, shooting him a look as he covers the speaker of his phone, in the middle of a call.

“You have ten minutes and we are leaving. I’m not letting you work on the night of your thirtieth birthday!” Niall warns him before walking into the kitchen to roam the always full, neatly stocked fridge.

As much as Niall Horan comes off as an irresponsible cocky child, he is quite the businessman himself as well. As the Lawyer of one third of New York’s most influential people, he surely doesn’t have to worry about making a living, enjoying his luxurious apartment a few streets away from Harry’s place on the Upper East Side. It’s not as expensive and impressive as Harry’s penthouse on the top of the tower his father built in the heart of the posh neighborhood most people only know from TV shows, but he couldn’t complain.

“Another designer refused to sign with us, H. We are running out of options,” Lambert’s voice rings through the phone as Harry turns to the floor to ceiling window, staring out to the city skyline in front of him.

“We have quite a few left, right?” Harry asks clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, but I heard that Cometa is planning on announcing something big next week so I think a lot of them are waiting for that to happen.”

“Do you think it’s another collab? But they just had fucking Chanel have a line sold through them!” Harry growls, his blood boiling at even just the thought.

When it comes to fashion in the virtual world, there are two businesses that totally dominate the industry. In the men’s wear, Twisted is definitely the number one selling place. The idea started off as just a freshman school project that originally wanted to sell tech stuff, but a few years into the project Harry met Lambert who was already a rising star in the fashion industry and they joined forces, creating the most classic yet affordable and user friendly online empire: Twisted. Though Twisted mostly features men’s clothing, they’ve been trying to venture to the field of women’s fashion, but it hasn’t been as easy as they thought it to be. And the reason for that is Cometa.

Cometa was originally a website where anyone could sell their own clothes, make their online wardrobe sale. But eventually the business grew itself out and stepped up a few levels, collaborating with various designers and brands, selling exclusive lines and a highly praised seasonal variety four times a year, earning a well-deserved top spot in the online fashion industry. It’s hard to compete with what Julia Bianchi built up through sweat and blood and Harry Styles has been working on stepping up to be a major competition for Cometa in women’s fashion, with not much luck so far.

To top the cake with a delicious looking cherry, Cometa has been trying to set feet into men’s fashion as well in the recent years, bringing out several lines with some mentionable designers, but they never made it be as big as Twisted. The two businesses have been trying to outdo each other for about a decade now, with not much luck so far and Harry’s patience is running low by now.

“I don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out. I’ll call you on Monday, alright?” Lambert sighs through the line.

“Okay, thank you,” Harry nods, feeling a little defeated.

“And happy birthday, man. Go and celebrate!” he chuckles, making Harry’s lips curl up as well.

“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Harry bids his goodbye before the call ends.

Wandering into the kitchen Harry finds Niall with the thickest ham and cheese sandwich between his hands, sitting at the kitchen island.

“So where exactly are we going tonight?” he asks, grabbing himself a granola bar as he joins the Irish lad on the stool next to him.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he grins, mouth full as he chews mercilessly. Harry grimaces, not sure how this is the same man who can convince a judge about basically anything, wearing his designer suits, putting on an intimidating and serious act for his cases.

“I have a switch,” Niall once told him when he asked how he does it. “I just turn it off when I’m off the clock.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Harry informs him matter-of-factly, but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered by his comment.

“You’re thirty now, no one cares what you hate.”

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

“Me,” he grins, making Harry roll his eyes.

The bass is throbbing, red tinted lights illuminating the exclusive bar in the heart of Manhattan where Niall chose to gather some of Harry’s close friends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Sitting in the leather couches at a restricted area at the back of the place, they are hidden enough not to draw too much attention to themselves but still feel like they are part of the party.

“Cheers to three decades of this cocky motherfucker!” Niall beams as their glasses meet in the middle, everyone laughing and wishing Harry a happy birthday before they all chug their drinks.

Harry is not necessarily the type of person to enjoy going out too often, but he admits it’s been a while since the last time he let loose. It feels nice to have the evening to himself, leaving the business behind for just a couple of hours before he returns to his busy everydays.

Though the occasion is Harry’s birthday, Niall is surely enjoying the evening a tad bit more than his friend. After Harry sees him send down three tequilas in a row he realizes it’s not gonna end well if he doesn’t get some water into his system as well. Excusing himself from the group he heads to the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies until he finally reaches his destination.

Given how it’s a Friday evening, the place is packed and he waits in the line patiently while the bartender is fixing up the order of a group of girls a few stools down from Harry. Leaning onto the counter Harry runs his gaze over the dancing crowd, tapping his fingers against the surface to the beat, even bopping his head a little when he feels a push from behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” A female voice calls out and as he turns around he spots the owner of it, a young woman, her curvy body wrapped in a tight mini dress that leaves very little to Harry’s imagination as his eyes run up and down her figure. He has never seen a curvy girl as confident as her, she is radiating, drawing every male’s attention to herself like she is feeding off the hungry stares and dirty thoughts birthed by her.

Her eyes meet Harry’s gaze and the sly smirk that tugs on her perfectly shaped lips gives it away that she is not that sorry to be bumping into him.

“No worries,” is all he manages to say, the urge to drop to his knees right then and there stronger than anything he has ever had to fight.

“He won’t notice you,” she tells him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The bartender. If you just stand there like that… he will never come here,” she explains.

“I’m not sure I have what catches his eyes,” he jokes, making her laugh and he swears his stomach drops at the heavenly sound.

“May I?” she arches an eyebrow and Harry nods, letting her step in front of him. He stands tall above her, eyes fixed on her figure as she leans onto the counter, the marble pushing her breasts up just enough to spark the bartender’s fantasies when he glances in her way. She waves at him with a charming smile and a moment later the guy is standing in front of her, ready to please her in any way she desires.

“Three vodka sodas and…” she turns in Harry’s way, her lips slightly parted and his breath hitches in his throat. “What did you want, handsome?”

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t comment on it, just adds the two water to her order. The bartender nods and disappears to fix up her drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and sticking his hand out to her he introduces himself.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” She takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?”

“Um, no. I’m here with a few friends,” he replies nodding towards the back of the place. “Are you here with someone?”

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

“A few of my girlfriends,” she smiles, brushing her hair over her shoulder, flaunting a better look at her naked neck and just one glimpse is sending a whirl of dirty thoughts into Harry’s mind. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under his lips, what her moans would sound as he sucks on it, leaving a mark on her, letting every man in the house know that he made her feel good.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” Y/N asks, a knowing smile on her lips as she most definitely saw Harry staring at her.

“Actually, yeah,” he chuckles a little nervously. “It’s my birthday.” Y/N’s eyes brighten up as she beams at him.

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly. “Are you guys celebrating something too?”

“Well, I…” she starts, her thoughts wandering off for a second before she continues. “I kind of got promoted,” she explains and Harry smiles down at her warmly.

“Congrats then!”

The bartender returns with the drinks and she is already about to get her card from her little clutch when Harry pulls his card out, handing it over to the guy behind the bar.

“Birthday boys shouldn’t pay for others,” she smirks, but doesn’t try to fight him that hard.

“You can pay me back later,” Harry shrugs with a suggestive smirk on his lips. He doesn’t want to part ways with her, but she is obviously expected to be back with her friends and he needs to get back to Niall as well before he absolutely loses control. Stepping closer to him, Y/N slides a hand up his chest, her palm resting at the base of his neck as she leans to his ear.

“Save me a dance, birthday boy?” she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing against him for a split second before she steps back, grabs her drinks and winking at him one last time she disappears from the bar. Harry stands there for a few more seconds before the bartender hands him back his card and snatching the waters from the bar he heads back to his friends.

 Luckily, Niall is slowing down a little, The water does him well and Harry finally doesn’t feel like he’ll have to take care of him, dragging him home once the night is over. Sitting by the table Harry is trying to focus on the conversation, but his gaze keeps wandering over to the dance floor, looking for one particular curvy figure in the sea of dancing bodies.

It takes him some time to spot her, but when he does, he is not able to tear his eyes away from her.

She is almost perfectly in the middle with her friends surrounding her, lips and shoulders swaying to the rhythm perfectly. He catches her chug down the last sips of her drink before she disregards the glass and gets back to dancing. Watching her every move intently, Harry feels his lips slightly part at the sight of this angel who is for sure a devil in the sheets. He can’t stop himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to dig his fingers into her thighs, kiss her neck, her cleavage that’s on show now, how her curves would fit into his hands perfectly. He wants to praise this woman, make her feel good and not just because he wants to be selfless and please her, but also because seeing this woman reach her high because of him would be the biggest ego boost for him and he just needs that.

“Go dance with her!” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at him when he catches Harry staring at her.

“What? No, I’m not a dancer,” he shakes his head, shifting his eyes away from the dancing goddess on the dance floor.

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

“You’re a pussy. I saw her looking in your way as well, she wants your dick!”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry whines rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when he gets so vulgar, but luckily no one heard their conversation. Glancing back in Y/N’s way Harry sees how men are eyeing him, probably building up the courage to go up to her and that has his blood boiling. He needs to be the one to touch her.

Chugging down the rest of his drink he snaps the glass on the table before standing from his seat, ignoring Niall’s cheering as he makes his way into the crowd.

Harry didn’t lie when he said he is not a dancer, he feels uncomfortable, awkward and uncoordinated most of the times he tries to dance, but he is pushing all of those to the back of his mind for now as his eyes are set on one person in the crowd.

When Y/N spots the man approaching her, she can’t push a pleased smile off her lips, slowing her movements down as Harry finally reaches her, leaning closer to her ear so she can hear his voice over the music.

“Here to collect that dance,” he smugly tells her, making her laugh, though the music is too loud to let him hear her. She just nods and turning around she presses herself up against him, her backside fitting his front perfectly. Harry’s hand snake around her waist, his large palm smoothly moving through the silky fabric of her dress as they start moving together.

She is intoxicating, makes Harry feel like he is some kind of horny teenager, like he hasn’t dealt with women before, but in a way, she makes all of his past flings appear to be only girls. Her confidence in her own body is easily one of her best traits, the way she handles herself, moves her body, the look in her eyes, Harry is getting drunk on just watching her and now he is able to touch her as well.

When he feels himself getting hard in his pants, he knows he should be at least a slightly bit embarrassed by himself, but as Y/N turns around in his arms and he sees the pleased smirk on her lips, the feeling vanishes in a heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close, her lips brushing against his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?” she prompts before pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his ear and he can’t hold a growl back. The friction is almost unbearable, as his hands slide lower on her back, stopping on her ass, he knows he won’t be able to control himself any longer. Luckily, he is not the only one having this inner fight.

Snapping around Y/N grabs his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the hallway of the bathrooms. He follows her eagerly, lucky for them, the club doesn’t have restrooms with several stalls, but single bathrooms with a lot more comfort and privacy. Just what they need right now.

They find the third bathroom empty, pushing their way inside and locking the door before Harry pushes her up against it the moment it’s just the two of them, their mouths hungrily meeting in the middle. He almost grunts against her lips, she tastes even better than he imagined and the way her tongue is the first one to come into action has got his mind blown. His hands roam up her body, running up all her curves until they reach her face and he cups it in his palms, pressing his hips against her. She moans against his mouth when his hard cock pokes against her, both of them desperate to take it further.

Tumbling further into the small bathroom, he helps her up to the counter next to the sing, her legs instantly opening for him, her tiny dress rolling up her thighs, revealing her clothed sex. Harry eagerly kisses his way down her neck and chest, her skin feeling so smooth under his lips. His fingers hook under the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down so he can push the dress past her full breasts and thank God she is not wearing a bra underneath!

“Fuck me, you are so hot!” he breathes out, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she cockily answers before Harry’s mouth attaches to her nipple, his hand working on her other breasts before he switches.

He quickly gets down on his knees, pushing her underwear to the side before his lips and tongue meet her sensitive clit.

“Oh shit!” she moans, a hand coming to tangle in his hair while she tries to hold herself steady with leaning on the other one behind her. There’s no time for teasing now and they both know that.

She is so lost in the experience, Harry is licking and sucking just the right spots and she tries to close her legs, locking his head between her thighs. His arms come to curl around them, ring clad fingers digging into her flesh and the situation might be a little suffocating for him, but he doesn’t mind it a bit. In fact, if he died this way, he would die a happy man.

She doesn’t let him finish what he started, pulling him up, his lips still glistening from her own juices as she kisses him messily, wiggling herself out of her underwear while he undoes his pants as well.

“Shit, do you have a condom?” he breathes out when his palm wraps around his throbbing cock. She nods, reaching for her clutch she dropped to the counter and digging into it she grabs the package, smacking it against his chest playfully. “Were you planning to do this tonight?” he grins cockily as he rips the package open and starts rolling it down his hard length.

“No, I’m just smart, unlike you,” she retorts, her sass dripping from her tone and it just riles him up even more.

Grabbing her thighs he yanks her to the edge of the counter, a gasp leaving her plump lips as she tries to find her balance quickly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he growl against her lips before kissing her, while he lines himself up with her, the head already pushing in.

“Then fuck me, birthday boy,” she challenges him again and it’s the last straw.

Harry slams into her, both of them moaning at the sensation before he starts thrusting in a fast pace, needing all the friction he can make to get them to finish as soon as possible. Y/N’s head falls back as she holds onto the back of his neck, her other hand on the counter behind her again and Harry glances down, watching her breasts bounce every time he rails into her, slamming his whole length into her every time their hips meet.

She reaches for one of his hands that’s holding her thigh and she boldly brings it to her core, tapping his fingers to her clit, letting him know that she wants some extra effort. Harry doesn’t say it, but he is blown how she didn’t just do it herself, she made him do it. It’s got to be one of the hottest things he has ever seen.

“Fuck, go harder!” she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist as he picks the pace up, feeling his orgasm building rapidly with each thrust.

They both are a whimpering, moaning mess, the bass of the music is thumping outside and for a moment, Harry feels like he is finally living his life to the fullest.

“I’m gonna cum!” she breathes out, his name falling from her lips moaning after that and when she pulls him down to kiss him, biting into his bottom lip and tugging it, he loses himself.

He feels himself jerking inside her, still sliding in and out of her as he grunts, releasing himself into the condom. He flicks his fingers on her clit at the same time, creating just enough friction to push her over the edge as well. He is coming off his own high when her walls tighten around his cock, dragging his orgasm out even longer as she basically screams, gasping for air, riding her orgasm out to the last bit.

Leaning down he kisses her again though they are still panting, this time making it a lot less rushed than the time their lips met for the first time. Her legs fall from around his waist and he pulls out, both of them cleaning themselves up in the aftermath of their little session.

“I know this was quite rushed and all that, but can I have your number?” he asks, even feeling a little nervous. She puts her underwear back on, smoothing her dress down as she smiles up at him, cupping his face in her palm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to skip on that,” she tells him simply, shocking him for sure.

“D-Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” she shakes her head and now Harry is confused.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” he then asks, trying his best to figure out the reason behind the rejection.

“I did. But it was a one time thing. If it’s supposed to turn into more…” she sighs, grabbing her clutch from the counter. “Then I’ll leave it to fate if we ever meet again,” she shrugs before turning around she just unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Harry stand there in complete and utter shock.

This is definitely a first for him, a woman who doesn’t want to see him again. He is not that egoistic to think that everyone is in love with him, but he never had an encounter similar to this. Not after the most amazing sex ever.

Harry fixes himself up, still not believing she walked out that easily, but there’s not much he can do now. Walking back to his table, he acts like nothing happened and when his eyes scan over the crowd again, he can’t see her anymore.

Harry lets out a tired sigh when Zayn, head of the graphic design department walks into his office with a familiar brown paper bag with the logo of Harry’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Has it started already?” Zayn asks, though glancing at the big screen on the wall he can see the stream is still waiting to be started.

“No, I’ve been staring at it for like twenty minutes,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself away from his desk to join Zayn on the couch in front of the screen as he unpacks the food. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

Today is the day of Cometa’s big press conference and no one knows what they are about to announce. It’s been keeping Harry on the edge for the past few days, because whatever it is, it has got to be major. Julia Bianchi is not the type of person to hold press conferences, she is a private person who has managed to keep most of her life behind closed doors. That’s something Harry admires in the woman even though they are competitors in the business. He can relate to wanting to keep her life just for herself, he has been doing the same thing. No public appearances, no lengthy interviews, no photoshoots. He likes to let his work talk for himself and it’s proved to be a successful move so far.

“I don’t know, but I hope they don’t suddenly announce a full graphic makeover right before our update,” Zayn chuckles. He has been working on an entirely new appearance for the website these past weeks and it’s supposed to go live sometime later in the month. A change for Cometa would totally throw their attempt off, making them look like they are just copying Julia’s move.

They eat and wait for the stream to start when the screen finally comes alive. There’s an empty stage shown with just two mic stands in the middle and nothing really happens for a few minutes before clapping is heard from behind the camera and Julia finally walks on the stage.

The woman is a real diva. Wearing a matching pant suit with bold floral print all over it, her short hair is neatly straightened into a bob cut, her red lips smiling lightly as she waves around in the room. Julia has been in the fashion industry for almost three decades now and she surely made a name for herself, sitting front row in every fashion show she attends, her words on any new trend being basically the standard.

Stepping to one of the mics, she clears her throat as the clapping dies down and her calm, gentle voice rings through the speakers.

“Welcome, everyone, thank you for coming, as you might already know I’m Julia Bianchi, head of Cometa, the world’s best online women’s fashion house.”

Harry leans back in his seat, eyes fixed on the woman on the screen as he is patiently waiting to hear what she’s got for the people this time.

“I’ve spent twenty-seven wonderful years in the business, building my own one for the past two decades. I fell in love with fashion as a child and moved to Milan to study designing from the bests. Though designing has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, I saw an opportunity in the early years for a brand that would hold together every other brand in the industry, bringing it to everyone’s home thanks to the rapidly developing technology. Cometa has always been my little baby and I’m proud of everything I achieved as head of such a great company.”

Harry realizes what it’s about before Julia could even say the words herself. The phrasing, the nostalgic tone, it’s all adding up to the obvious: Julia is about to announce her retirement.

“I gave the best years of my life for this company and I regret nothing, but recently I’ve realized that it is time for me to slow down for a little bit and enjoy a life that’s not filled with work anymore, and spend more time with my beloved husband, Fabio and my family who supported me on my long way here. Therefore, I am now announcing it with an aching heart and a lot of excitement as well that I am stepping down from my role as CEO of Cometa. I might be leaving now, but my business will not. So it is a pleasure to introduce you the person who will carry my legacy on, my amazing niece, the absolutely most perfect woman to carry on the work I started, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The moment another woman comes into the picture Harry almost chokes on his own saliva, seeing the same curves he had his fingers dug into last Friday. Y/N smiles and waves around as she steps to the other mic next to her aunt, exchanging a short look with her before turning towards the people in the room and the camera that’s streaming the event.

“Dude, you alright?” Zayn asks, patting Harry’s back a few times as he is still struggling to breathe normally.

He refuses to accept that the woman he fucked in a bathroom on his birthday, the one that made him moan like never before, is the same woman who is going to take over his biggest competitor.

“This has got to be a joke,” he breathes out with teary eyes from all the coughing.

“It is an honor to be here,” Y/N starts speaking as the clapping dies down once again and the two men are staring at the screen. “Just like to be the one to step into the perfectly stylish shoes of my aunt. I hope to live up to not just her and everyone else’s expectations, but also to mine as well. I grew up watching my aunt build up this empire with basically dust so to be the person to take her place is a dream come true. I promise to keep the quality the same and work on improving Cometa to its possible best while being in charge.”

As she finishes talking, questions are thrown in her way, but Harry doesn’t pay attention any longer. Standing up he walks to the window, staring out to the city as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“What the fuck is your problem, H? It wasn’t as bad as we expected, right?” Zayn questions.

“It’s fucking worse!” he snaps turning around. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that… I told you about what… happened on my birthday.”

“The bathroom fuck, oh yeah,” Zayn chuckles with a playful shine in his eyes.

“Well, that woman… the woman I fucked was her.” Zayn stays silent for a moment before he turns towards the screen, eyeing the woman on the stage as she is still answering questions, standing confidently in her tight, black dress and red heels.

“You fucked Julia Bianchi’s niece? And she is now taking over Cometa?” he raises his eyebrows at Harry who just nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “And she is also the one who didn’t give you her number?”

“Don’t… bring that up. But yes, it’s her.”

Zayn starts laughing, clearly finding Harry’s misery entertaining, but Harry doesn’t feel like taking it that easy. He wonders if she knew who he was, if she did it on purpose or it was fate’s horrible joke on both of them.

“Ah man, that charity event on Saturday will be one hell of a show then!” Zayn points it out and Harry’s face falls. He totally forgot about the charity event he was invited to, one that would have the biggest names in the fashion industry together in a ball room to raise money for a chosen good cause. It happens every year and it’s a major event, the perfect place to network and also to see your biggest enemies. That means that Harry will see Y/N again in a few short days and if he is being honest… he is not ready to face her, not after the information he learned today. Sighing he steps to the minibar he insisted on having in his office and though he never drinks during the day, he now thinks that now might be an exception. He pours himself some whiskey and before he chugs it down at one go, he lets out a long, tired sigh.

“That’s just my luck…”

Leslie helps you with the zipper of your dress, the silky, red fabric hugging your body like a second skin. She smoothes the wrinkles out while you fix the straps, staring back at yourself in the mirror with judgment. You need to look perfect, this is going to be your first time appearing at an event as CEO of Cometa, your big entrance into the industry, you can’t let anything go wrong.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Leslie smiles at you, bringing your hair behind your shoulders as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Leslie might be your assistant, but she is a lot more than that. You’ve been friends for almost a decade and when she lost her job a few years ago you didn’t hesitate to offer her a spot next to you. You wouldn’t be here without her, she doesn’t try to use her privilege of being your friend to not do the work, she is always on top of her game and you’ll always be grateful for her to not make it awkward at all.

“I think you need some diamonds though,” she winks at you, stepping to the table where all kinds of jewelry is sprawled out. She reaches for a simple one, not too much, quite elegant and you nod as she holds it up for you. Walking behind you she brings it around your neck, the diamond brilliantly sitting on your chest now, giving that little extra shine to your outfit.

“You’ll make every man fall in love with you,” she smiles at you and breathing out you nod, hoping to believe that everything will go perfectly.

While you make a few last minute calls she gets dressed as well before the car arrives for the two of you. She is wearing a less daring but still beautiful black dress, her curly hair pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her heavily freckled face bright from her happy smile as the two of you make your way to the event.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I tried to memorize the faces and names from the guest list,” she grins at you, earning an eyeroll.

“Les, I told you, this is not The Devil Wears Prada,” you chuckle softly. She is obsessed with that movie and hasn’t shut up about feeling like she is literally living in it since your aunt has shared her plans with you about your future position last year.

“I know, but it might be impressive if you already knew everyone!”

You have to give that to her, it would earn you a few good points if you knew the names already, you’re just still nervous about the whole thing. So many things could go wrong and you want it to be perfect.

 At first you feel intimidated by all the influential people around you. Everyone here is one of the bests in their own field and you feel like an impostor, but then you remind yourself that you earned your spot. Your aunt wouldn’t have given you the company if she didn’t trust you entirely with it. You worth no less than anyone else in this ball room and that reminds you that… you’re that bitch.

Leslie’s knowledge of names actually comes handy. You love seeing people get shocked when they try to introduce themselves to you, but you already greet them saying their names. It earns you some appreciative looks as you make your way around the room. Everything is going smooth, right until you spot one particular man in the crowd.

You’re in a little circle with a few designers when your gaze falls on Harry who is standing across the room, talking to two men. The champagne almost slips from your hand when you realize it’s him.

“Leslie,” you grab her wrist catching her attention. “Les, who’s the man in the blue Gucci suit?” you ask in a whisper and she follows your gaze, finding the man in talk.

“Oh, that’s Harry Styles, head of Twisted.”

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and head out to the balcony to get some fresh air before you faint right on the spot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leslie follows you.

“I messed up,” you squeak as you step outside, the chilly evening air hitting your uncovered skin immediately. “I messed up big time!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

Stepping to the edge, you wrap your hands around the railing, staring out into the void for a moment. Leslie Stands beside you, quite puzzled about your sudden panic.

“Remember the guy I told you about from Friday night?” you ask, keeping your voice down even though there’s no one really around. Leslie nods. “Well… he was the guy.”

Leslie glances back inside and then at you before her eyes widen and lips part in shock.

“You fucked Harry Styles at a club’s bathroom?!” she whisper-yells at you and you feel like a teenager who is getting scolded.

“I didn’t know who he was! And I genuinely think he didn’t know me either, how could he?! But now he is here and… Oh God, this is so bad,” you whine, your head dropping backwards as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Okay, don’t panic. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t remember you.”

“You can’t make me believe he doesn’t remember me after fucking me on a counter,” you tell her giving her a look.

“Alright, alright. Then… you just have to suck it up. It’s not like you can unfuck him,” she shrugs and though you know she is right, you just wish you could leave right now.

You never planned on seeing him again. Your bullshit speech about letting fate decide it was just an excuse to not give him your number. You didn’t want to because you thought he is not the kind of man that would be good for you. From his look you thought that he was either a fuckboy, not willing to commit to anything serious, or the kind of man that seems all nice and respectful at first but then turns out to be a total asshole and you’ve had enough of those in your twenty-eight years.

Soon enough you head back as the auction is about to start. Luckily, your seat is far away from Harry and it seems like he hasn’t noticed you yet. Though you wish to keep it that way, you can feel it coming already.

The auction goes by fast, you buy a new painting that will look amazing in your living room and almost twice as much money is raised through the evening that was the goal. You leave Leslie behind at the table as you go to the bar to get yourself another drink, probably your last one of the evening if you don’t want to end up making a fool out of yourself.

Patiently waiting at the bar you’re already thinking about watching Grey’s Anatomy when you get back and out of this tight dress. You look hot, but it’s not the comfiest look, if you’re being honest. There’s only one more person in front of you when you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turning around your stomach drops when you see the man you’ve been trying to avoid all evening.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he nods shortly, his expression is quite blank, but he is definitely not shocked to see you. You tighten your jaw before looking away from him, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You don’t seem surprised,” you point out.

“I was kind of expecting to see you here tonight.”

“So you knew who I was all along?” you snap at him, but he shakes his head.

“Not until the stream this week. I was pretty shocked when you walked on stage.”

Nodding shortly you brush your hair over your shoulder and you catch Harry glimpsing down your body, but decide not to comment on it.

“Did you know who I was?” he then asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with my biggest competitor willingly.”

“Just from the abrupt ending I had a feeling that you might have known me.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t throws herself into your arms after a fuck, doesn’t mean she had ulterior motives,” you scoff. “Get off your high horse,” you add before turning back towards the bar so you can order your drink. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. His hand is laid flat on the counter in front of you as he stands on your right, a little too close to your liking. You can smell the expensive cologne on him, the same that hit your nose on Friday as well and suddenly your body is betraying you.

However crazy the situation is, you can’t deny that he gave you one of the best times last Friday. Men you dealt with were more concerned about their own pleasure and most of them didn’t even get you to finish. But Harry made it happen so fast and didn’t even bitch about it when you made him rub your clit. He just obeyed like a grownup man who is willingly take care of his partner. That almost made you change your mind about leaving, but once you came down from cloud nine, you returned to your original plan.

But not as he is standing in front of you and you can smell him, your senses trick you into thinking that you’re in that bathroom again, almost aching for him to touch you the way he did then. He leans closer to your ear as he speaks up again.

“Leave the drink, dance with me,” he tells you as the bartender places your drink in front of you. You debate what to do before grabbing the drink and chugging it down in one go. You’ll need the alcohol if you are about to dance with your enemy.

Harry takes you to the dance floor in the middle of the ball room, one of his hands finds the small of your back while the other takes your hand as the two of you start swaying to the gentle music played by the band.

“Your aunt set my company back in women’s fashion every time I tried to take a step forward. Are you going to do the same?”

“She didn’t do anything to set you back but to build her own company. Not everything is about you.”

“You sound a little naïve, Love. It’s pretty clear you are new in the business.” This statement riles you up big time. How dare he degrade you like that? He knows nothing about you, yet he assumes things that are not at all real.

Smirking to yourself you lean back enough so your gazes can meet. Your hand slides up from his shoulders to the base of his neck so your fingers can gently brush against his skin and you notice the shudder than runs down his spine. He is not the only one having flashbacks from your last encounter.

“Wanna know what I know about business?” you purr, his eyes glued to your red lips as you speak. “I know that… Twisted was one of the last sites to participate in personalized ads on online platforms, failing to reach it’s targeted audience as fast as literally everyone else. I know that your company and my company use the same security system in our server rooms yet I can assure you that it cost me twenty percent less because we waited a month before installing it and got a huge last minute discount because the security company was trying to boost their numbers for their end of year closing. And I also happen to know that you are working on a new design for your website that could easily be outshone if I just did the same before you could do it.”

Harry’s lips part, probably mostly at the last information. He has no idea how you know these stuff, but you have a wide circle of connections in the city, you have an insider at every big companies in the industry without them even knowing. You’ve given countless tips to your aunt through the years, that’s how she managed to stay on top of her games.

Leaning closer your lips almost brush against him and you see how he weakens, he is expecting you to kiss him and he wants it. But you just smile at him, your eyes snapping down to his lips before up to his eyes.

“I will not do the same as my aunt, Harry,” you softly speak, your fingers grazing the back of his neck. “I will do way worse things.”

And with that, you slip out of his arms and walk back to your table, leaving him standing there alone at a complete loss of words.

“What the fuck had gotten into you?” Niall grimaces upon hearing everything he told you on the evening of the charity event. And quite frankly, Harry has no answer to that. He has absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to act like such a dick when you didn’t do anything against him.

The situation just messed with his head, seeing you in that breathtaking dress, mingling with everyone, smiling and laughing, oh how he wished you were laughing on his jokes! But then you seemed so tensed when he came up to you and something just switched in him. He wanted to take dominance, to somehow get out of it on top, but he miserably failed. When you brought up their plans to change the design he completely froze.

“No idea, okay? I just…lost it,” he growls, sinking into the couch. When Niall found out that Harry met the woman from the club again he insisted on coming over with some wine to talk it out, but he was not expecting this kind of story at all.

“Dude, you just put yourself on her radar big time, maybe she wouldn’t have even bothered to compete with you like her aunt did, but you surely changed her mind now.”

“I know, Niall!” Harry growls, not in the mood to be scolded like a little child. “Do you think she’ll change their design before we do?” he peeks at his friend, but Niall just shrugs.

“No idea, but I would try to speed it up before she actually does it.”

 Harry made you into a ticking bomb and you successfully got under his skin about the whole design project so first thing the next morning he went to Zayn to discuss a possible earlier debut for the new designs. Though it would be a close stretch, they agreed that it would go live by the end of the week and that got Harry somehow a little relieved, but in the middle of that he failed to put the right amount of effort into finding designers for their female lines.

When he meets up with Lambert a few days later he is not there to deliver great news. Apparently, three out of the four designers they were negotiating with recently pulled out of their deal and signed a contract with Cometa.

“We have one last designer on the list, but then… we are out of the bigger names,” Lambert sighs as Harry chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels like he has fallen into a hole a while ago and instead of climbing out he is just digging it deeper underneath him.

“Okay, do we have an appointment with them?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her this afternoon.”

“I’m going with you,” he nods before standing from his chair and opening the door he calls out for his assistant. “Rebecca, please clear my schedule for this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office.”

Rebecca nods behind her desk, already starting to make calls about Harry’s meetings and appointments.

It’s obvious he is anxious about the meeting, because if it falls through they are forced to look for less known designers and that won’t bring the change for the company they’ve been seeking for a long time. Arriving to the showroom where the designer is working, Harry is setting his thoughts straight, determined to convince her to sign a contract with them. The two men are let into the building by the nice assistant working at the front desk and she shows the way to the showroom where Kennedy, the designer is waiting for them.

Harry is confident, he trusts his skills to make this happen, but when they walk inside he instantly freezes upon seeing an all too familiar figure standing with Kennedy

A maroon colored pantsuit is hugging your curves, a Hermés handbag hanging from your arm, your hair falling in loose curls. As if you could sense his presence, you peek over your shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips when you see the shocked expression on Harry’s face.

“What a great surprise!” you beam, selling how happy you are to see him and in a way, you are. You wanted to see his face drop when he realizes you snatched yet another designer from him.

“Oh, Mr. Styles!” Kennedy smiles nicely at him and he finally snaps out of his trance, shaking hands with her and then turning to you, doing the same but in a lot colder manner.

“Y/N, nice to see you again,” he fakes a smile as your hand falls from his palm.

“I could say the same. But I’m heading out now. Great talk, Kennedy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at the young designer who seems to be thrilled by your words as she walks you to the exit.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath and Lambert shoots him a look before Kennedy returns.

The three of them take a seat on the couches in the corner of the room and Harry is quick to get down to business, trying his best to make his offer appear more appealing than anything you told her right before their arrival. Kennedy listens intently, even takes notes and then she shows him some examples of what she was thinking about for her next line and Harry is beyond thrilled.

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

“Harry, I’m gonna be honest with you,” Kennedy starts and Harry already knows what she is about to say. “Your offer is very tempting and it would be an honor to design a line for Twisted, but in my situation it would be more beneficial if I collaborated with Cometa. It is nothing against your company, it’s more about my personal path and growth.”

Harry can feel his stomach dropping and he clenches his jaw as he listens to Kennedy’s worth. He understands, of course he understands, she has the right to selfishly look at her own benefits upon signing with a new company, but he wished she would take the risk and chose his company instead of yours.

“I’m keeping the offer open for you still,” he forces a smile on his face. “If you change your mind, Twisted would be more than happy to work with you.”

Kennedy walks the two men out and the fake smile quickly vanishes from Harry’s face upon stepping out of the building.

“What are we going to do now?” Lambert asks, clearly worried about how they’re gonna move forward with their last chance falling.

“If Y/N wants a war, that’s what she’ll get,” Harry growls, revenge burning in the greens of his eyes.

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, only hours left from the day before you are headed home finally. You’re sitting in your office with Leslie, going over next week’s schedule to make sure everything is set and clear.

It’s been almost an entire month since you stepped into your aunt’s shoes as head of the company and though the start was a little rough, especially with finding out who Harry was, but you feel like you have everything under your control by now. After all, you didn’t learn business for years from the bests for nothing, right?

Harry’s comment on you knowing nothing about the industry made you bitter, because he knows nothing about you and the struggle you went through your life to get to this point. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbow, being Julia’s niece might have been a hugely influencing aspect of you taking over, but you worked your ass off to be the best leader you can and not just ruin everything she built up through her whole life.

Though you didn’t always want to be the one following her, but you like to think that things worked out to your favor and you are where you should be.

“Alright, everything is looking fine,” Leslie smiles at you over her laptop. “I’ll send you the notes from today’s meeting.”

“Thank you. Can you call in with the delivery company about next month’s transactions?” you ask her and she nods, already adding it to her list of tasks for the rest of the day. “Alright. I’ll do the rest of the signings and then we can head out,” you smile at her.

Leslie is grabbing her things from the table when there’s a soft knock on the door. You give your permission and one of the tech support guys walk in with a worried look on his face.

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m afraid we have a problem,” he clears his throat and you can already feel your anxiety crawl up on your spine.

“What is it?” you ask firmly. The guy steps farther inside, fumbling with his fingers as he presents the issue.

“There’s been an attempt to break our software’s security system where we keep our data about the sellings. A-And I’m afraid it wasn’t just an attempt, they succeeded.”

You take a deep breath, glancing over at Leslie for a moment before you follow the man to the tech department to investigate the issue further. You don’t know shit about these stuff, but from what he said you know the trouble is huge and if you don’t solve it as soon as possible, valuable data could leak out to the public. They try to explain you what they are working on as of right now and that there’s not much you can actually help with.

“Make sure to put your extra hours on your attendance sheets and let me know when you are able to restore the system,” you tell them and you earn quite a few thank yous on your way out for actually paying the overtime. Then you turn to the guy that first came to your office. “Do you have any information about who it could have been?”

“We weren’t able to track them back, but whoever it was, they’re surely professionals and they might know the system from the inside.”

“What do you mean from the inside? Someone did it from the company?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together as you fold your arms on your chest.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We would have been able to track that back. I mean that they know the system, maybe they worked somewhere where the same one was used and they could see into it.”

It takes you a few moments before you realize what this really is and it has your blood boiling right away. Nodding shortly you exhale sharply through your nose.

“Thank you, please call me when it’s up and running again, I’ll take care of the rest,” you tell him before turning around you walk away.

When Leslie sees you approaching your office with a head practically turning red she is quick to jump to her feet, following you into the office.

“What’s happening?”

“Harry Styles, that’s what happening,” you snap as you grab your phone, purse and coat before heading out, not wasting another minute.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“To the devil himself,” you growl back and enter the elevator, leaving her alone with her questions.

Sitting in your car on your way to the headquarters of Twisted, you imagine every scenario you want to make happen when you arrive, most of them including hitting the man across his ridiculously handsome yet annoying face. He crossed a line with breaking into your system and stealing valuable data. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t dare to sell or publish it, because he would be in a big legal trouble if he did, he still had a glimpse into your numbers and that’s already an advantage. He is playing dirty and you’re not having any of it.

Arriving you burst through the doors and demand to see him. Though the woman behind the front desk tells you that you can’t see him without an appointment, you still get her to make a call up and naturally, Harry allows you to see him. The fucker might already have been waiting for you to show up. As you stand in the all glass elevator, on your way up to meet him you take a few deep breaths to keep your cool and not snap like a maniac, however it all vanishes when you see him waiting for you with that shit-eating grin on his face when you step out of the elevator.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go straight to the police with your little stunt, you fucker!” you snap, not able to hold back your swearing any longer.

“Do you have any evidence?” he tilts his head to the side and you don’t miss how his gaze runs down your body as you march towards him. You’d find it flattering in another situation, but right now you just want to punch him in the face.

“I’ll show some evidence down your throat, Styles, if you don’t stop messing with my security system,” you growl back, standing so close to him now that you see every tiny freckle and blemish on his face and the way how he clenches his jaw, holding his gaze on yours.

Without a word or invitation, you walk into the room that you suppose is his office and he follows with a soft chuckle.

“Did you hire a hacker just to mess with me?” you throw the question at him as he closes the door so his employees don’t hear everything.

“What if I did?” he shrugs, stepping to the tray on his desk that already has a glass of whiskey on it. He grabs the glass and simply lifts it to his lips, taking a tiny sip from it. “Oh, excuse my manners. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m driving,” you answer shortly. “You crossed a line, Harry,” you warn him.

“What line?” he chuckles, rather entertained by your rage. “After what you pulled with Kennedy, I think I went easy on you.”

“I didn’t pull anything, I just gave her a better offer! It’s not my fault she has better chances with my company!” you snap back, feeling your heartbeat fastening from the anger that’s boiling in your veins.

“You knew I wanted her to design for me, why couldn’t you just let one person out of your endless list? You already have everyone else, she was my last fucking chance!” Harry barks back, clearly having some built up tension in him as well.

“If you didn’t act like an arrogant asshole at the charity gala, I would have happily let you work with her, but then you felt the need to fucking degrade me! That’s why I didn’t let you get away with it!”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes his mouth, probably knowing well you’re right. He did act shitty towards you that evening and he has no excuse for his behavior. You walk closer until there are just a few feet between the two of you, your eyes glued to his burning green gaze that’s staring back at you, but before you could speak up, he cuts you off.

“Well, you know. All is fair in… war and business,” he shrugs and you honestly barely can stop yourself from laughing at how stupid that just sounded. You can’t miss the twitch in the corner of his mouth as well and you can’t believe how easily he made you break out of your rage.

“Don’t try to make money out of writing slogans,” you huff shaking your head and now he is grinning widely. “Do you have the data?”

“I don’t,” he answers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “I had it, but I already deleted it. I know it wasn’t ethical so as soon as it was handed to me I deleted it. I didn’t even look into it. I just wanted to scare you.”

“And how do I know your hacker doesn’t have it either?”

“Because he signed a contract that would cost him millions to break and I don’t think a junior in college who is still living in a dorm can afford that,” he points out and now you are somewhat convinced. You stare back at him for a few more seconds before nodding.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, how does that sound?” you offer generously.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he questions with a smug smirk that makes your arch an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he then asks and you can’t mask your surprise in front of him.

“That does not concern you, Styles,” you scoff, though it boosts your ego that even through all the hate you’ve been targeting at each other, he still wants you the same way he did at the club that evening. You can’t deny, this rivalry has sparked a few thoughts in you as well, but you are not going to fall into the same mistake you made that evening. You pay him another smirk before turning around and heading towards the door. “Stay out of my way, Styles!” you call back without looking at him, but you just know he is grinning at you, a growing sexual tension thickening the atmosphere in the room.

“Or what?” he smugly questions and you stop at the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Or… You said it yourself. All is fair in war and business,” you smirk before walking out of the office.

Following your visit to Harry’s office things take a… playful turn in your rivalry. The attempts and competing don’t stop, both of you are on each other’s radar, ruining and messing with each other’s projects and works whenever and wherever it’s possible, but it’s not as hateful as it was at the beginning. If something, it even helps you to always be on your toes and watch out for possible threats, not just from Harry but from everyone else.

Neither of you succeeds in evolving in each other’s field, Cometa keeps thriving in women’s fashion with a quite small variety offered for the gentlemen while Twisted fails to grow out of men’s fashion and venture to the ladies, but somehow it’s not as frustrating as it used to be before.

Harry keeps up his flirty acts and tries to ask you out every time your paths cross each other, but you relentlessly turn him down every time, only fueling him to keep chasing after you more the next time. It’s a thrilling and flattering little game, knowing that even with all the rivalry between the two of you, being the biggest competitors in the business… he still wants you.

New York fashion week rolls around and it’s by far one of your favorite times in the year. You managed to snatch an exclusive deal with YSL to release a special line just for the fashion week and it sold out in the first two hours, now waiting to be restocked in a few days. Cometa is thriving and your aunt has expressed her pride towards the work you’ve been doing at the company, so things are heading the right direction.

You knew Harry would be attending the same shows as you, but it’s fate or just luck that you are seated next to each other at one of the shows, giving you the chance to talk without any of you attempting to corrupt the other this time.

Harry is already sitting in his seat when you arrive wearing a custom made Gucci dress, something that immediately catches his eyes since he is a huge fan of the brand himself.

“Your fashion sense never disappoints, Y/N,” he beams up at you as you take the seat next to him.

“Hope that’s not surprising, Styles,” You smirk at him, taking a glance at his own Gucci outfit, the checkered pants fitting him perfectly while the pussy bow adds some spice to the whole outfit, you have to admit. He looks good, he always does.

“Any plans after the show?” he asks right before the lights go out and the show starts. You leave him without an answer, just let out a soft chuckle as you glue your eyes to the first model who walks the runway.

Once the show is over you head out with Harry by your side, having an actually entertaining discussion about the designs you just saw. He might not be an expert in fashion, but he has developed a good sense through his years.

As you make your way out of the venue you are stopped by an interviewer and Harry remains on your side as the woman asks you a few questions about the show.

“I’ve always wondered, does it bother you that you couldn’t be on the runway yourself? You’ve been sitting front row the past years, but you once had aspirations of being a model yourself, is that right?”

The question makes you tense up and you can feel Harry’s puzzled look on you from the side.

“It’s not like it was my fault for not making it up there,” you sass back, forcing a smile to your face.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the woman chuckles and it has your blood boiling, because you know the real meaning behind her words.

It’s your fault you didn’t become a model because you were never thin enough to be one. It was your fault and not the industry’s to hold impossible standards to women who wanted to succeed as a model.

The smile falters from your face and you take a long, judgmental look at the woman in front of you. Because if she is brave enough to talk like that to you, you’re not gonna shy away from bringing her spirits down either.

“Judging from your appearance and attitude you wouldn’t make it either,” you spitefully reply and her smile quickly fades, clearly shocked at your answer. You open your mouth again, ready to continue, but then you feel a hand on the small of your back and you realize Harry is still standing next to you.

“Come on, we have somewhere to be, right?” he smiles kindly as you just simply nod and walk away from the woman before she could offend you again.

Harry senses your tension as the two of you leave the venue but doesn’t try to talk to you and that’s a wise choice from him. As you step out of the building you realize that if you went home now you’d probably get drunk on your own and let that comment get to you more than you should. So instead of doing that you turn to Harry.

“So, what are our plans?” you ask and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he stares back at you.

Not in the mood to stay around people at a bar you accept Harry’s invitation to his place, since it’s also close. The contrast between his extravagant penthouse and your cozy but still quite modern townhouse in Park Slope is major, but you didn’t expect anything less from the man.

You’ve managed to calm down since you left the venue, but you’re still quite bitter about the comment the woman made. Harry hasn’t tried to ask you about it, but you can tell he is dying to know more about the situation that’s behind the madness.

He fixes you a drink and you find yourself sinking into his comfortable and probably ridiculously expensive couch in his living room area.

“I used to want to be a model,” you start, breaking the silence that settled between the two of you. “When I was a teen. I was a lot thinner, I was a competitive dancer until I was seventeen, but I had a knee injury, so I had to quit.”

Harry sits on the other end of the couch, listening to you with patience as he sips on his own drink.

“I was never as thin as the other models at the agency I was trying to get into, but I definitely wasn’t overweight. Yet, they labelled me as a plus size model. I was a healthy, strong young girl with a perfectly good body, yet they told me that I was too fat to be a model.”

Glancing at Harry, you can tell that he is surprised at the information he just learned. He is probably picturing you thinner now, going to model castings and if you’re being honest you enjoyed that part. The trouble came when you got rejection after rejection, telling you to lose weight and come back after that.

“I quit my whole plan to be a model and studied fashion and business instead, consciously working my way towards this point. But I never got over how the industry made me feel less of a person because I wasn’t a size zero.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares at you and it’s actually nice that he doesn’t try to make you feel better right away, praising you how you are perfect just the way you are. Because you’re not, but that’s fine because no one is.

“I’ve honestly never seen a more cruel industry than fashion before,” he then speaks up. “I didn’t grow up in it and still don’t really have that much and deep connection with it, but I know how fucked up it is. And it’s nice to see that you know your worth even after everything that happened.”

Your gaze meets his and you’re looking for any sign that gives away that he is just messing with you, but it’s all genuine. You just shoot him a small smile before lifting your drink to your lips. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him, including the ones you had in that bathroom.

“Okay, now you tell me something about your life,” you prompt, wanting to divert the conversation on him a little bit.

“What do you want to know?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“Why did you name your brand Twisted?” you ask. The question has been on your mind for a while.

“It’s coming from my mum’s name. Anne Twist.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, you weren’t expecting such a deep and personal reason behind the name, connected to a family member.

“Why her?”

“Why not?” he smirks shrugging his shoulders. “She raised me and my sister up, I wouldn’t be here without her. It was obvious I would make her be part of it in some kind of way.”

“That’s actually very nice. Who knew that you could be something other than an egoistic asshole!” you joke, making him laugh as well.

“Okay, what’s the meaning behind your brand?” he then turns it back around.

“Well, my aunt met her husband when they were very young, maybe eighteen. She fell in love with Fabio on her trip to Italy and being the impulsive and adventurous woman that she is, she stayed for a month there just because of Fabio. He is a very passionate man and he was always ready to bring the stars down for Julia. He always used to tell her that he would even catch a comet for her, if that’s what she wanted. And that was my aunt’s favorite saying from him. Cometa is comet in Italian. It’s her tribute to the love of her life.”

“That’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry hums and you just smile nodding at him. It really is like a fairytale and it’s also one of the reasons why you were so happy to take her place at Cometa. Julia is still just as in love with Fabio as she was at eighteen and she deserves to spend more time with her beloved husband. She earned the time off after all the sacrifices she made for the company and all through them Fabio stayed by her side. It’s their well-earned happy ending now.

“You know a lot about romantic things?” you cock an eyebrow at him, finishing up your drink.

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah, you just never gave me the chance to show it to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?” you chuckle, handing him your glass when he stands from the couch to get you a refill.

“Exactly!” he chuckles holding up your empty glass on his way. “I hope you know you absolutely broke my heart when you didn’t give me your number that night.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” you chuckle, resting your head in your palm, your elbow on the back of the couch. “I’m not sorry though. You didn’t give out the right vibes.”

“The right vibes?” he huffs as he returns with your drink and now sits a little closer to you. “What vibe did I give you?” “The vibe that told me I shouldn’t mess with you,” you simply answer as you take a sip from your refilled drink.

“You were so keen on hating me even before you knew who I was, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I’m just cautious!” you protest. “I’ve dealt with some problematic men in the past, I can’t let myself walk right into another one that easily.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men just can’t treat women right. Especially confident ones with a body like mine,” you simply shrug.

Men like to think that bigger girls are so terribly insecure about their body that they need the validation of a male to feel good about themselves. But when you’re confident and feel good in your own skin without needing them to praise you, they think that you’re egoistic, so full of yourself and they are quick to try to drag you down. That’s something you can’t tolerate. You don’t need a man to feel good about yourself, you don’t need anyone for that. You know your worth and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s eyes travel down your body, taking his time on your curves and you smile shaking your head as you reach out and cupping his chin you pull his head up so he is looking into your eyes.

“I honestly can’t see what problem anyone could have with your body. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our bathroom fiasco,” he bluntly comments making you chuckle, even flattered by his words.

“You are such a flirt,” you grin at him and he doesn’t try to protest.

You stay for a couple more drinks and you drop the heavier topics, venturing over to music, fashion and any funny stories that come to your mind. Harry is actually amazing company when you’re not trying to jump at each other’s throat and for a few short hours you forget that he is supposed to be your competitor.

You’re a little tipsy, but you are definitely not drunk, so when Harry offers you to stay the night you turn it down, calling yourself a car since you are not in the right state to drive.

“I’ll come and pick my car up in the morning,” you breathe out as you put your heels back on that came off your feet sometime during the evening, making yourself home in his place.

“I’ll text you the security number to the garage,” he nods, walking you to the elevator.

“Thank you. And… I guess thank you for the evening,” you smile at him, turning to face him. He is standing close, but still takes a step closer, one of his hands finding your waist as he pulls you against his chest. Your palms lie flat on his chest as you try to get yourself to the right mindset to leave now before you regret doing something. Leaning down his nose nudges against your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss under below your ear, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I should go, the car is here,” you breathe out, but don’t move.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, his lips peppering kisses on your jaw and your cheek, as if you didn’t say a word. You want to continue it, not just because of the alcohol but because the sexual tension between the two of you has been growing since that charity gala, but the remainder of your rationality stops you before your lips could meet.

“Bye Harry,” you smile at him softly as you push him away and you walk into the elevator, leaving him hanging. Again.

“Bye Y/N. I’m still going to try to ruin your company!” he calls after you as you turn around to face him, the sliding doors slowly closing between the two of you.

“Same back at you, Styles,” you smirk before the door closes and you are taken down.

Well, that was a lie. Following your evening at his place neither of you really tries to work against the other, leaving each other be without any fuss. It might also have something to do with how you kept in touch after that day. You’ve been texting occasionally, attending some events together, even had a business dinner together with a few other peers from the industry. Things have been quiet and you’ve been feeling content with the current state you’ve managed to reach. Or so you thought.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you. You both put your projects aside that targeted the other’s profile. Harry stopped looking for designers for his women lines and you put your men department to the side as well. There were a lot to work on beside these fields so you felt like you were in peace. Right until Leslie bursts into your office on a casual Tuesday.

“Have you seen this?” she asks, placing a tablet in front of you with an Instagram account open on it.

You want to ask what you’re supposed to look at, but then you realize what it really is. A shiny new account for a new brand that promises to take online shopping to the next level; female and male as well.

“You think it could be…?” you ask, not quite convinced that Harry is behind this.

“Well, the wording is similar to theirs and creating a new brand might be a solution to their gap in women’s fashion,” she points it out, though you don’t want to believe he could have been working on this all along, basically in front of your face.

But it’s a possibility and you have to consider this option before jumping into defending him without any proof.

“Men can’t be trusted,” you grumble under your breath before jumping into work.

What you didn’t know is that an eerily similar situation goes down in Harry’s office as well when Zayn bursts in, showing him the ad he found for the new brand called Farfalla.

Harry immediately digs up everything about the company, though there’s not much other than their new Instagram account and heavy marketing that started just yesterday.

“What is Farfalla even?” he grimaces leaning back in his chair.

“It means butterfly in Italian,” Zayn explains and Harry’s eyes flicker up to him.

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

“It’s possible,” Zayn nods. “Starting a new brand to finally reach men’s fashion is a good idea.”

“She wouldn’t have done this,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. Could you be working on this all along? Was this your plan from the start? To make him fall for you and forget about business while you built up your new empire to ruin him?

“What if she did?” Zayn prompts and in a way his suspicion is valid, but Harry is having a hard time believing it. You would never play him this dirty, not after how the two of you have grown closer in the past weeks, almost became friends.

“What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him as he pushes himself away from the desk and quite obviously starts getting ready to leave.

“She is not getting away from this,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he grabs his coat and phone before storming out of the office.

It’s past six when Harry gets to Cometa’s building and he is informed that you’ve already went home. He could have just come back in the morning, but he knew he would just stew in his own anger if he didn’t talk to you as soon as possible. So using his charm he gets the woman sitting behind the front desk to share your address with him, saying that he needs to talk to you urgently. That’s how he finds himself heading to Park Slope, slightly surprised you are not living somewhere in the heart of Manhattan.

As the scenery around his changes, skyscrapers turning into brick buildings and townhouses, Harry tries to figure out what he even wants to say to you. Should he just get straight down to business and accuse you? Snap at you? Or should he give you the chance to explain yourself? He can’t really make up his mind, mostly because he still feels like you betrayed him even though he can’t be sure Farfalla is yours.

Parking down at the address he got from the woman, he stares up at the deep red brick townhouse, a simple, black door at the top of the stairs that’s lined with a few potted plants and flowers. This is not what he would have imagined your home like, but now that he is standing on your doormat, he realizes it kind of suits you.

Ringing the bell he hopes that you’re home and not out and about somewhere in the city, but when he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor he knows you are on the other side. When the front door flings open and you come into his sight, for a split second he forgets why he is here and his anger vanishes. As always, you look amazing, a tight, black dress hugging your curves, the middle part appearing like it’s a corset, emphasizing the dip of your waist. Your hair is let down in loose curls and your feet are bare, but he knows you probably wore heels all day. You must have gotten home not long ago and as your eyes fall on the man at the door, your expression hardens on him.

“You really had the balls to come her, huh?” you cock your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his green ones for a moment before you let him inside.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he huffs walking into the hallway and stopping as you close the door and turn to him.

“Me? I could say the same! You thought I would just ignore it or what? I proved you a few times that I’m not stupid, Harry,” you retort, folding your arms on your chest as you walk past him, into the kitchen and he follows.

“You surely are not stupid, playing me so dirty behind my back!” Harry spats standing his ground. “Playing all friendly and nice and then make a fool out of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you question narrowing your eyes at him as you lean against the kitchen island’s counter. “If anyone played dirty it’s you! And you have the balls to come here and talk like this to me in my own fucking home?!” you snap, walking closer to him, keeping your deathly glare on him.

“What the fuck did I do?!” he scoffs throwing his hands into the air.

“You created a whole new brand just to fuck with me! Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about it?!”

“Me? You made a new brand! And you didn’t do a great job hiding the fact that it was your work, even the name is Italian, like your current one!”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you process what he is talking about. All along, the two of you were accusing each other of something neither of you did.

“Harry,” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Farfalla is not my brand.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

“Well you better be because it’s the fucking truth!”

“Prove it!” he hisses at you, taking a step closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Until about twenty seconds ago I thought that it was your new brand, Harry. I thought that you were the one who backstabbed me!” you snap back, standing up for yourself in this giant misunderstanding you fell into, accusing each other without any proof.

Harry stares back at you, his gaze burning into yours as he stands his ground and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes your words.

“So… it’s not yours? You didn’t do it to fuck me up?”

“Of course not!” you breathe out, suddenly quite tired of all the anger that’s been eating you away through the afternoon. “I thought that we had a kind of silent agreement not to mess with each other so I wasn’t planning anything anytime soon. That’s why I got so mad when I thought you did it!”

“I thought the same!” he growls shaking his head. “I thought you did it all to just make me look stupid, that the friendly act was just so I wouldn’t notice a thing and I fell right into your trap.”

“There was no trap,” you simply tell him and you hope he senses the hidden meaning behind your words.

Luckily he does. But for your biggest surprise there’s no snarky comment or smug smirking, he just steps closer and before you could even protest, his hands find your waist and he pulls you against his hard chest, lips hungry attacking yours. He makes you back until you bump against the kitchen island, his hips pressing against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface, his hands wandering on your sides and back, up and down, exploring every curve of your body while his kisses never slow down, your tongues meeting in the middle.

Bringing up a leg you curl it around his hips, your heel digging into his round ass as he leans forward, making you arch your back, leaning onto the counter as his lips move from your lips to your jawline and neck, his fingers digging into your waist and the thigh that’s lifted by his side. He nibbles on the soft skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark, but you just comb your fingers through his hair, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

“As much as I would love to fuck you on a counter again, can we take this to a bedroom?” he mumbles as he kisses his way back up to your lips, smirking against them as he captures them again.

You don’t answer, just grab his hand and pull him upstairs with you, right into your bedroom. He is all over you, lips, hands, tongue, pressed up against you as the two of you stumble your way to your king sized bed. Harry’s fingers fidget with the corset on your dress, but he soon realizes it’s a little trickier than he expected, so leaning back he furrows his eyebrows as he glances down at the dress, still trying to figure out how to get you out of it.

“Harry,” you smile at him softly. “It’s faux. There’s a zipper at the back,” you inform him and he sighs in defeat as he kisses you again, his fingers quickly finding the zipper. The dress pools at your feet and you rid him from his jacket and shirt, revealing his inked chest, a sight you’ve been thinking about way too much lately.

By the time the two of you fall to your bed, neither of you are dressed in more than just your underwear. Because both of you like to be in charge, you roll around for a while, trying to get on top of each other but eventually Harry stays up when he starts going down on you, kissing his way through your heated skin. You don’t shy away when his hands snake under your back and easily unclasps your bra, being bare in front of him is not something that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure. The way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel brings you so much confidence, you have absolutely no problem being nude.

When your bra flies to the floor, Harry leans back a little to admire you lying there, before his lips find their way over the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties he tugs them down easily as you lift your hips, your thighs parting as you bare yourself in front of him.

“Don’t be shy about screaming my name,” he smugly tells you before his lips and tongue meet your clit. Your fingers lace through his hair immediately as you gasp out at the sensation, his tongue drawing the whole fucking alphabet to your bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, ring clad fingers digging into your flesh as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Harry! Yes!” you moan out, tugging on his locks when he teases his tongue around your hole, your walls tightening around nothing as you are growing desperate to feel something inside of you.

You pull on his hair, signaling him that you want to get it on with, Hands reaching down to get rid of his boxer briefs before you blindly pull out the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing a condom. His lips eagerly meet yours as he wraps his erected cock and though you would love to have a taste of him like he did with you, you just want to feel him inside you.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls against your lips, teasing you with running just the head up and down your slit.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna rip your guts out,” you warn him, earning a soft chuckle as he kisses you again, tongue pushing into your mouth as he finally pushes inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up perfectly and it somehow feels even better than the first time.

“Go hard,” you gasp, a hand coming to grab his ass as you push him even further into you. He doesn’t need more, he starts slamming into you, his hips meeting yours roughly with each thrust, his whole length disappearing inside you every time.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin. You almost think about telling him not to mark you, but it just turns you on even more so you let him do whatever he wants.

“I want to see you on top,” he pants, lifting his head so his gaze could meet yours. You nod, before the two of you turn around and you straddle his hips, guiding him back inside you as you sink down his length. Your hands are sprawled out on his hard chest as you find your balance in the position, Harry’s eyes roaming your body up and down, not able to get enough of how blissful you look, sitting with his cock buried inside of you, enjoying yourself to the fullest. His hands run up your thighs and upper body until they find your breasts, kneading them as you start moving your hips up and down, back and forth. When you moan his name or gasp because his cock reaches that one particular spot inside you, those are the moments he wishes he could capture on camera and watch whenever he wants.

“I want it from back,” you pant as you lean down and kiss him roughly. That’s all he needs, he helps you get off of him before you get on all four, pushing your butt up in the air while Harry kneels behind you, the sight in front of him hardening his cock even more, if that’s possible. His hands grab onto your waist as he pushes inside you, making you both let out a satisfied moan before he starts moving again.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Y/N. I love your ass,” he growls, giving it a smack that surprises you, but you absolutely love it.

“Harry, go faster!” you whimper, feeling your orgasm nearing as you grip the comforter on the bed, desperate to reach your climax. You’re just about to reach down between your legs to play with your clit when Harry not only picks his pace up but also reaches around you, two of his fingers starting the circling motions on the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he growls, railing you from behind without missing a beat.

“Harry!” you scream when he thrusts into you so harshly, your whole body rocking in the motion.

“Come on, angel. Cum for me,” he murmurs and leaning down he wraps his arms around you, bringing you up straight, your back pressing against his sweaty chest, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he keeps thrusting up into you, pushing you over the edge.

You moan and gasp and scream his name as your walls tighten around his length, riding out your bliss and it helps him reach his own high, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck and shoulder, grunting and cursing under his breath as he fills the condom.

As his thrusts come to a halt, he sinks into a sitting position, bringing you with him, you lean against him feeling like jelly as you’re still just trying to catch your breath. Harry peppers your shoulder with small kisses before you muster the energy to break the position and lie down on the bed.

“Towel is in the bathroom,” you tell him knowing that’s what he’ll look for as he stands from the bed and you point at the door that leads to the joined bathroom. Harry nods and pads his way in there, cleaning himself up before he returns with a small damp towel, doing the same for you. He drops it to the floor next to the bed before joining you, cradling you into his arms as you take a breather together.

One hand is on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the naked skin, the other one is holding your thigh that’s across his lap while your head is resting on his chest.

“You really thought I would backstab you like that?” he hums after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You did the same,” you answer, lifting your head, resting your chin on his chest.

“Touché,” he chuckles, before leaning down he kisses you shortly. “So, if neither of us did it, then we have a quite major problem on our hands.”

“I know,” you hum. “That shit looks promising and they can easily ruin both of us.”

Harry stays silent for a little, but you can see the gears turning in his head. When his gaze snaps back at you, you know he has an idea.

“Unless… we join forces.” Your eyebrows arch as you stare back at him. “I know it’s a risky move, but this is the only way to stay on the top.”

“How much you want to be joined?”

“We could start with just one line, the men part designed by someone from me and the women by someone from you. And if it presents well we can just figure out where to go from there. Obviously, the men part would be sold by us and the women by you, but we could join the pages and direct users to each other’s sites in connection with the lines.”

“That could… actually work,” you nod shortly, thinking about the idea. It needs a lot of planning, but it could actually be a big hit if you do it right. “And you’re willing to partner with me?” you ask cheekily as you push yourself up into a sitting position, Harry doing the same.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m willing to do about anything with you,” he chuckles, making you smile at his playful answer. “I hope you know I’m not talking about just business,” he then adds with a meaningful look.

“You are still so keen on this?” you sigh, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“Do you not like being with me?”

“I do, surprisingly,” you roll your eyes, making him laugh.

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious to that,” you give him a look as he smirks back at you.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

“I enjoy having sex with you, Harry,” you roll your eyes again, but he just kisses you short but hard before leaning back.

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

“We just agreed that we should join forces. We are partners now.”

“You are running a little ahead, Harry,” you cock an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages. I probably suck at it at this point,” you shrug, but it’s just a lame excuse and you both know that. Leaning closer Harry smirks at you smugly.

“I have something else you can suck.” You smack his chest at his nasty remark, but can’t push a smile back. His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. “I want you, Y/N. I really do. You are all I think about even when you are an annoying piece of shit, getting under my skin. I still want you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” you chuckle shaking your head. “What if we can’t get over our differences in the business? That can easily poison any relationship.”

“Then we’ll have a lot of mind-blowing angry and makeup sex. Those are the best. We can put all our frustration into sex, I think that’s just perfect.”

“What are you, a horny teenager? Sex is all you can think about?” you chuckle.

“It is when I’m lying in a bed with you naked. You can’t blame me,” he grins smugly and you want to hate him, you want to hate him so badly, but you can’t. You want him just as much as he wants you.

“So… partners?” he prompts, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he waits for your answer.

“Partners in business and life?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan,” he nods, his smile growing wider with each passing second.

“Alright,” you breathe out. “So… it’s not—All is fair in war and business?” you ask teasingly, using his own words from earlier.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #ceo!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

[1863-project]

Idk if you know anything about this, if not, I apologize.

I somehow convinced my sister that I want to go on a vacation (from canada) to New York to see the trains/subways. I've looked around the internet for some tours, and found some really interesting ones!

Though, do you know of any special places to visit? Either museums or locations that'd be interesting? Apart from the pokemon center shop of course lol

(A few years ago we went to NY and the tour guide told us to stay on the train past the last station -where it would turn around- to see an abandoned station. I spotted the entrance but that's it. Are there any other cool locations in your opinion?

Of course, only if you don't mind! Trains are just so interesting! Like, how the NY subway runs on metal wheels, compared to my city's subway tires (like a car, so rubber tires), and how the NY subway somehow chose to have the interior of the cabs have AC but all the heat is thrown out into the platforms? It's hilarious to me! And apparently they started including the Japanese point and call technique?? I love trains and subways!)

OH MY GOD, THAT WAS CITY HALL! That's my favorite subway station in NYC! It's the oldest, built when the NYC Subway opened in 1904, and it's gorgeous, with Guastavino tile on the ceilings. Here's what it looks like when it's lit up:

City Hall has been closed since the 1940s because the trains got longer and couldn't fit alongside the platform anymore, which is a shame because in my opinion it's the prettiest subway station in NYC. Right now, unless you go in via a New York Transit Museum tour, it might not be the safest to try to do the ride-through, because there's currently an initiative that forces everyone off at the end of lines (they're trying to "combat homelessness," but I suspect that isn't going to use the solution I would, which would be to house everyone so they had stability, give them access to mental health treatment and drug rehab programs, and help them find employment when they were settled).

If you're into trains, I highly recommend these places specifically:

Grand Central. You HAVE to see Grand Central in person to truly appreciate that ceiling. Check out the whispering gallery down by the oyster bar - if you stand diagonally across from someone and talk into the wall, they can hear you all the way on their side of the room! There's a library there that has the carpet from the 20th Century Limited (it's above the Apple store, which is currently trying to unionize), but I haven't even managed to get in there yet - it's by appointment and I've been busy.

If you want to cry, Penn Station. If you can find the brass rails from the original building, touch them and be sad with me. Moynihan Train Hall is an improvement, but it's not the original Penn Station and it never will be. Nothing will be.

The High Line! The High Line is a park that used to be a freight railroad. The New York Central used to own said railroad, and it used to go straight down 10th Avenue at street level to get to St. John's Depot. This did not go very well and a lot of people managed to get hit by trains, to the point that they started calling it Death Avenue. They actually hired men on horseback to precede the trains and warn the public they were coming - these men became known as the West Side Cowboys. Eventually, they figured out that they could elevate the line, which they did, building a new freight terminal (St. John's Terminal). The line was eventually abandoned, and it was rehabilitated into a park. It's a nice, relaxing walk with a lot of cool plants and art, and you get to pass through and near some old factories and drop-off points.

The New York Transit Museum. They're out in Brooklyn, so it can be a bit of a hike if you're mostly centering your trip in Manhattan, but if you like trains it is ABSOLUTELY worth it to go visit. Their collection of vintage equipment is amazing, and the station itself that the museum is housed in was a filming site for The Taking of Pelham One-Two-Three. You have to register for visiting times in advance right now, so if you're planning on including them in your trip in a few months book it now! They also have a secondary gift shop in Grand Central.

Hoboken Terminal. It's just a PATH ride away from Manhattan, and the ceiling of the waiting room has Tiffany glass skylights. Absolutely stunning, and you can then take the Hudson-Bergen Light Rail to...

Communipaw Terminal, in Jersey City, which I talked a bit about in this post. Both Hoboken Terminal and Communipaw Terminal have Bush train sheds, which were considered a revolutionary design at the time and are now historically significant.

Now, if you're looking for non-train stuff...

Nintendo NYC. I’m there frequently because, y’know, video game merch. If they do a Splatoon 3 release event I’m going to try to go to it, actually. If you’re looking for Pokemon plush, go to the second floor!

American Museum of Natural History. My favorite place in the entire world and where I wanted to work as a child (I wanted to be a paleontologist). I did my archival internship and practicum there when I was in grad school, fulfilling my childhood ambitions in a way. If you like dinosaurs, this is the museum for you! (Also has a great subway stop with cool art - 81st Street!)

Metropolitan Museum of Art. If you’re more into arms and armor, ancient Egypt, or historical art in general, this is the museum for you.

MoMA (Museum of Modern Art). MoMA has free admission on Friday nights, and it has some classics, like Andy Warhol’s soup cans and Van Gogh’s Starry Night!

Take a walk in Central Park. If you want to avoid the tourists, get up to the northern part of the park.

If you like Seinfeld, you can eat at Tom’s Restaurant. I was actually there just a few days ago. It’s a good place to get the real NYC diner experience.

Get a hot dog or pretzel from the street vendors. Trust me, just do it.

The real-life Casteliacone can be obtained from a Mister Softee truck, if you happen to see one!

If you want to go to the Statue of Liberty, that has to be booked months in advance, so be warned and plan ahead.

If you’re interested in LGBTQIA+ history, visit the Stonewall Inn. There’s a cool augmented reality history project associated with it called Stonewall Forever that I recommend as an archivist.

If you’re more punk, St. Mark’s Place used to be the center of punk activity in NYC. It’s toned down now, but there’s a rather NSFW (...interesting art within) izakaya called Kenka (lit. “brawl”) that’s the best place to get a meal for under $20 in NYC. You have to get there around 4:30, get your name on the waiting list, and then be there when it opens for the night around 5 pm to get in at a reasonable time without waiting too long. The waitlist WILL get long. Kenka actually appeared in the Love Live movie, and New Yorkers who saw the movie recognized it instantly and were extremely happy.

I hope this helps, and have a great time! If you get lost underground message me and I’ll get you to where you need to go safely - I’m verrrry good at giving subway directions!

#replies #kiviniik-morhen #NYC #I like trains #NYC Subway

[emitheduck]

So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST

#bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #marvel #reader insert #reader #bucky imagine #falcon and the winter solider #winter solider x y/n

[stylesann]

Rebuilding

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Summary: Steve decides to go back to the 40’s and you hurt.

Warnings: idk? Angst but happy ending

A/N: I have no idea what this is but aaa I feel like it’s bad lol, I just always get in a very angsty and dramatic mood every time that I read a story about Steve leaving so I wanted to do my own twist? Idk, and it’s been yeaaaars since I don’t write anything and also I’m not a native English speaker so I apologise any mistakes. Comments are always welcome 💕 -> written in around 15/04/2021; ->posted 28/05/2021

Masterlist

You stare at the ocean and release all the air you were holding on your lungs. You still felt your body heavy but at least your tears had stoped. You’re fighting hard to keep your thoughts out of your head, to keep your mind calm like the scenario in front of you, an empty beach with the ocean waves rhythmically hitting the shore. The sky had a lot of clouds and it would probably rain soon, but you didn’t mind, it matched you mood.

You could say you were surprised but all you felt was disappointment, sadness and if you were being honest, you felt anger and jealousy. What Peggy had that you didn’t? I mean, you didn’t know the answer and you were sure if you had asked Steve he wouldn’t be able to give you one cause he had spent such a short amount of time with her that he couldn’t be able to actually know all of her. All her flaws, all the quirks. In the past you had thought he didn’t even loved her anymore and was just in love with an image, an illusion he had from his past. But for him to had left you for her you weren’t even sure of that anymore.

You also felt used, replaceable, like you were just kept there cause he couldn’t do better, cause he couldn’t be with her. And now that he could he just tossed you away. You knew Steve wasn’t that kind of guy, but thats how you felt. And no one could tell you how you should feel or deal with it.

So that’s what lead you here. It had all happened hours ago. You saw his old self in that bench and you just felt numb. Bucky tried to hold you, he said that Steve wanted to talk to you but you just left. You had that right didn’t you? You didn’t care about what he had to say, it was all bullshit. You didn’t care about his guilt, or how sorry he was. You didn’t even care to go back to the apartment you shared with him, because you knew if you had gone there you would be stared by a hundred pictures you had with him.

You just wanted to get away. So here you came. You look down to the wedding band on you finger and the engagement ring. You wore both together but it didn’t make sense to have them anymore. You didn’t want any memories from Steve on you so you take them out and feel their light weight on you palm. You knew this was it, it was your way of closure, of ending that part of you life. You take a deep breath and throw them at the sea. There’s no way of seeing them drown but just the thought that you didn’t have them anymore made you lighter.

You turn around, ready to go back to the car that brought you here but you see a familiar figure blocking the way. Bucky.

“How are you feeling, doll?” he says approaching you. You didn’t know how long he was standing there or what he had seen. You wonder if he could see how empty and drained you really were.

“In the moment I’m not feeling anything. I think I’m still mostly numb. But that’s probably for the best, right?” You try to give him a light answer knowing that he lost his best friend too. How could Steve have left him after fighting so long to have him back was beyond you. “Did you know? Did you know what he was gonna do?”

“I did” that was all it took for the tears to start falling from your eyes. Why had Steve told him and not you? You were his wife for gods sake didn’t you deserve at least this? Bucky reaches for you but you push him away.

“Why didn’t h-he tell me? Why did he d-do this?” you hiccup between the words, the tears falling harder than before.

“I think he just didn’t have the guts to. You know he loves you, Y/N-“

“Screw him! If he did, he wouldn’t have done this!” All the feelings you were trying to push down seem to come to surface and tighten their grip on your chest. “I can’t understand why you aren’t angry? Why aren’t you feeling betrayed?”

“He didn’t leave me alone Y/N, he asked us to take care of each other” he has a pleading look on his face while he says that, and you see that the difference between you and him is that he had some time to come to terms with his friends decision, he’s sad but keeping it to himself. He’s trying to be strong for everyone one else who didn’t know, for you mostly.

“I don’t care about what he asked. I’m not staying and I’m not doing what he would want me too. I’m always gonna be there for you Buck, not because he’s wants that but because I care about you. Whatever you need you can call, even if it’s just for a chat, but I’m not staying, i can’t. I am getting into that car and I’m gonna drive away as much as i can, and I’m only stopping when I feel like I’ve put miles between me and this” you say more calm than you were minutes before. You had a plan, it may not be the best one but that’s what you had for now. You didn’t want to be in the same place you lived with Steve, you didn’t want to see the same scenarios you saw with him, you wanted nothing from him. Maybe it was bitter of you, or maybe you didn’t have the best coping mechanism but you needed the distance.

Bucky’s expression seemed to sadden a bit but he understood, he knew this wasn’t easy for you. “I don’t want to change your mind about leaving, so I say the same, if you need anything you call Y/N, got it?” He says as he hugs you firmly.

“Got it” you say in whisper against his shoulder, his arms still around you delaying the last moments he’s gonna have with another friend. You hate to be doing this, he didn’t deserve it you knew it, but you also knew that he wouldn’t be willing to accompany you on your trip, and it was something that you needed to do alone. You were alone.

“You know he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t know you you be able to rebuild your life, right? You’re a strong person” He uses the same tone of voice you had, he probably just didn’t want to trigger you into making your feelings rise again.

“Everyone has the ability to rebuild themselves, Buck. The fact that I’m strong shouldn’t make what he did alright. And I don’t feel much strong now... I just feel like I’m a shell. And even if I do find someone else, how am I going to let them in? How am I supposed to trust anyone with my heart, when the guy I gave all my heart before completely destroyed me?” A single tear fall from your eye, but you hold the rest back. “I’m going to be fine but I don’t even know what that mean anymore.” He just nods to this, and I know there’s nothing left to be said so I head to the car and take a deep breath holding the wheel. This is it.

I look at Bucky while I drive away, he’s still standing where I left him and I hope with everything on me that he will be fine too. Whatever that means.

****************************

The sun is harsh on your eyes slipping through the curtains open frames. You turn your head to the other side and you feel a heavy weight on your waist stopping you from moving further than that. You slowly open your eyes to see Franks figure with his arm on you and his head drowned on the pillow.

You turn again to look at the clock to see it marking 8:47 am. Mary would be up soon, so you slip from Frank taking extra care not to wake him up and head to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can we have pancakes today?!” Mary breaks into the small kitchen excitedly jumping around. Today you and Frank would be taking her to her new math club and she couldn’t be more anxious about it.

“What is going on here” Franks rough morning voice appears on the room. He’s rubbing his eyes and seems to be sleeping still.

“We are making Mary her favourite pancakes for breakfast” you answer them as you get the ingredients on the counter. Mary hugs you and sits straight on the table waiting for you to prepare them.

It had been 6 years since the day you left New York and ended up traveling for a long time through the country only to end up here. Florida. It was hot all the time, you always felt warm but it was distant enough from your past and you felt better about it. You decided that you wanted to rent a small place near the beach and so you found a woman named Roberta, that rented a few houses that fulfilled your wish. You didn’t think twice before accepting her deal.

You weren’t carrying anything on you except for the few clothes that you had bought on your journey so the move was quite simple. And you weren’t expecting to fit in so well here but the fact that as soon as you were settled a little girl, who was maybe 7 at the time, had come to you with a lot of questions that honestly you couldn’t answer warmed you up to the place real fast.

The fact that Mary had managed to always meet up with you but you still had to meet Frank was beyond you. She talked a lot about him “Frank did this today”, “oh did you know Frank let me adopt another cat”, “the first cat Frank got us was Fred, he has only one eye”, and so on. You knew more about him that you probably would by talking to him in person, according to Mary herself. She said he was very closed but had a great heart, she even told you the story about him fighting in justice for her guard. It only made you think he was a great guy who would do anything to protect his niece, and you were sincerely excited to meet him, give the person a face.

However, as it appears that his schedule was always all over the place and you always waking around town and spending many hours on the beach didn’t help with your meeting. You didn’t understand at first too how Mary always found you around, but she explained that whenever she wasn’t studying and Frank was going out with his girlfriend Boni, she stayed with her friend Roberta, who quickly became a good acquaintance of yours.

Either way, Mary had been talking to you for weeks when you finally met Frank. You couldn’t believe your eyes and genuinely thought you were delusional. He looked just like Steve, but the moment he started speaking you could see the differences between the two and the helped you find your foot again.

In the beginning you were hesitant about spending time with Mary and Frank, who surprised Mary with the news that he had gotten a more stable job. According to him, he still fixed boats but for a company that payed well. You were happy for him but the memories his face brought still made you want distance.

During the four years you traveled around you had let him go, all of him. You had been trough all the grief stages and learnt how to do well with your own company, you didn’t need anyone else. But looking at his face had the effect of hitting you with a sad resigned feeling and you didn’t like it. But Mary always spoke so highly of her uncle that you knew keeping your distance from both because of memories wasn’t fair.

Frank, of course notice that you never iniciantes any conversation with him and he wondered if Mary had introduced the same woman she said was talkative and affectionated. He asked you about it and it wasn’t until you answered with sincerity that he understood. Since then he was more careful in your presence which you appreciated.

With time though, you warmed up to him, he was a good guy you never doubted that. You became close friends and when him and Boni broke up you helped him. It was a mutual break up but it’s never easy.

You friendship was going great until you notice him treating you differently than he would before and you realised he was slowly catching feelings for you. Obviously being romantically involved with him was the last thing you wanted but you couldn’t bring yourself to change the way things were going between you two and that’s what led you to this moment.

In a car, dropping Mary off to her math club, with Frank by your side and the promise that it would be okay. It had to. You took so long to let him in that now you didn’t want to let go, and you doubt Frank wanted anything but stay. Bucky said the same when he came to visit you and Frank. You look at him and you see him smile at you.

“You think he’s gonna be a mini genius?” He asks looking at the small bump on your belly.

“If he gets MY genes, obviously” I sass laughing.

“Ha, you know the genius genes it’s on my side of the family Mrs. Adler” he chuckles.

“On your dreams” you smile. It you be okay.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #frank adler #frank adler x reader

[asirensrage]

For the ask game for fanfic writers: 1, 9, 10, 11 & 23! :-D

Hey! Thanks for asking!

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

I rarely know where the story is going to end. The only time I did is with The Art of Seclusion and Crossfire...and there's a heaven above you. The rest are up in the air and I have no clue how they're going to go. I think finding a good spot to end is really hard.

9. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?

It depends... Yes, but I would need to maintain some control hahaha. I just wouldn't want them to completely destroy the plot or characters, so I'd want to work with the scriptwriters.

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

Only when it's time to post. Most of the time finding the right title is hard. I often use songs for inspiration (like there's a heaven above you or The Art of Seclusion). @vixenofcourse also helps me choose lol. I through options before I find one that fits the best (or I get tired of looking)

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

Well, I now officially know more about galas than I thought I'd ever need to. For instance, they're mostly used for networking and it's important to talk and mingle with the people there. If it's your first time, get the chicken, not the beef (you can trust that chicken will be okay if it's not great so you don't have high hopes like you might for the beef). I tend to do a lot of research to make sure that what I'm trying to show is correct or makes sense. Especially if it's about a topic I know little of. @vixenofcourse also researches things for me...like insanely expensive apartments to rent in New York. (I will never get over the 15k a month. And that was the LOW end).

23. how do you deal with writer's block?

That's why it took 7 years to write The Art of Seclusion. I get stuck the most on small scenes, like the in-between stuff. The best way to get myself out of it is to engage with content about the fandom and try to get readers to interact with me and ask questions about it. (The only reason AoS got finished is because @vixenofcourse kept asking me questions hahahah. I told you all you could thank her. Seriously, she's a godsend.)

ask game for fanfic writers

#the point of most of this is that I struggle and vix is a darling who gets me back to work #lol #thanks for asking! #wordspin shares #fic writer asks

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 11

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I am not from the US and I've only been in New York once when I was a kid (I don't remember much lol I was six, I think), so I apologize if some of the places are inaccurate but I tried my very best to do my own research. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters I've written and I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first whisper of the Monday air, brushed among the streets of the Upper West Side as you and Bucky decided to grab your running shoes and spend this day outside in the open air, hoping to burn all the calories you consumed last night. With a bottle of water in both your hands, you reached Central Park, catching your breaths. With sweat dripping down your forehead to your eyes, you saw a vacant bench and took the liberty to sit on it with Bucky behind you.

"Do you," Bucky sat beside you, panting and squinting his eyes and shaking off the sweat on his face, "do you run everyday?"

"Not everyday." You chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Four times a week."

"Why do you even like running? I feel like I'm in hell." He sighed, resting his neck on the brace. His breathing was restless and uneven but soon calmed down after a few moments.

"It takes my mind off things. I got a lot going on up here, y'know." You replied with much honesty. "Other people do it to keep in shape but I do it because I need it."

"I've never considered running. I just go to the gym and lift weights. Well, I have my own gym but if I'm being honest with you, I've been slacking off since the day I got here in New York."

You smiled and lifted your eyes to look at him. His face was glistening under the bright morning sun.

"Maybe it's a good thing we ran today." You nudged his shoulder with yours, his sweat-drenched skin rubbing up against your own. "You should run more. The more you do, the less you'll hate it. Trust me."

"You know what, as long as I'm with you, I will." He chuckled. "Ain't running with anybody else but you, doll."

There was a warm sensation moving up towards your cheeks. You didn't know if it was the heat of the sun or the warm blood rushing in but either way, you just knew that a pink flourish was becoming visible on your cheeks.

During that moment all you could muster was: "S-sure."

You hid your face by facing the opposite of Bucky and looked at the crowd that Central Park held. There, across the field lay a dozen picnic blankets on the bright green grass where a bunch of families and couples were reading, eating and talking audibly. Some were sitting underneath the tree for some shade. Some were walking their dogs on a leash and a poop bag ready on hand. Some were tourists with heavy backpacks just walking around. The chirping birds soaring in the air grabbed my attention, making you look up at the sky in which the bright sun hurt your eyes. You closed your eyes after that, trying to regain most of your vision. Once you did, you opened your phone and checked if Peter had left any messages. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

Peter was very vague about where his corporate retreat was, sticking to his notion that in order for him to take his mind off things, he also needed to be away from his real world, whatever that meant.

You sighed, texting Peter anyway, telling him everything was fine and that Bucky had been with you ever since he went away. You asked him how he was and hoped that everything was fine and well, and that he was enjoying his corporate retreat.

"Hey, let me take you somewhere nice today." Bucky said while tapping your sweaty shoulder, making you look up from your phone.

"Why? Where are we going?"

Bucky stood up, typing on his phone and looking around the park. "Wherever my car takes us. I figured since the bar doesn't open on Monday, you and I could do something fun that'll help you relax. Come on, you can go shower in my penthouse. I already have clothes sorted out for you in the guest room."

Your mind was still processing the part where he said that you could go shower in his penthouse.

Confused, you asked. "Wait, now?"

"Yes. Now, get up on your feet. My car's waiting on the road."

He didn't give you much time to comprehend his words, and respond, as he grabbed your hand, pulled you up from the bench. And as you ran, hand in hand, amidst the crowd, there it was again, that after feeling of spontaneity, fleeting; that same feeling you couldn't seem to explain really well — that same feeling you were wishing to avoid.

You and Bucky jogged towards the streets where a black and white Maserati with fully tinted windows was waiting on the side of the street. You thanked Bucky as he opened the door for you. He gave you a cheeky smile in response then hopped in beside you, introducing you to the driver named Howard. Howard nodded his head and smiled at you through the rearview mirror.

Once the car revved forward, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, weary that your sweat was getting all over the expensive leathered seats of Bucky's car. You moved a bit forward in an oh-so-subtle movement, pushing your body against the strap of the seatbelt across your chest and did your best as you could to avoid sweating all over the seats. With one strong swift move, Bucky pulled your arm back, throwing your back against the seat and told you to relax.

You greeted Leonard with a smile and a wave once you arrived in White Wolf. You and Bucky exchanged some small conversation in the elevator which led right into the penthouse, something about the last time you were here. You both laughed at the memory as you teased him about it.

The penthouse didn't change as much the last time you were here; the only difference was there was no woman with little to no clothing waiting for Bucky to arrive. You looked towards the huge glass windows, your lips curved downward as you were hoping to get a good view of New York that was hiding behind the draped curtains. Bucky led the way towards the guest room in a well-lit hallway on the second floor. You walked under little chandeliers hanging from above. On the walls were duplicate Van Gogh paintings, and framed photographs of nature that blended well with the color scheme of the paintings, as well as the penthouse.

"I picked out some clothes for you that I thought you might like and had my assistant bring them over here." Bucky said, opening the door.

Feeling a bit guilty, you said: "Bucky, you didn't have to."

"I insist. Besides, I'm in charge of you for the whole week." He smiled, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"I'm older than you so you do what I tell you." He just dismissed your remark, and added: "Now go shower. I'll meet you downstairs for some brunch."

With that, Bucky closed the door behind him, leaving you in a state of awe as you looked around the guest room which was twice as big as your room. It was like a duplicate of the living room but smaller, and with a king-sized bed in the middle on the far back with clothes and some towels draped along the edge. A telescope stands near the glass walls. Beside it sits two dainty cushioned chairs, and a miniature coffee table. There was a flat screen 32-inch television facing the bed.

You walked near the curtains, slithered your finger between the noticeable gap and took a small peek outside.

You stepped into the insides of the bathroom which was near the size of your room. Everything felt so unfamiliar to you but you bathed everything in and relaxed as soon as the small prickle of the cold shower water hit the soft spots of your body.

You got out of the guest room, feeling fresh from the cold shower. You wore some cropped halter top, heathered trousers and slipped on some fuzzy slippers that were quite big for your size, even though your feet were already big. You quickly assumed it was Bucky's.

"Did you, by any chance, get me some shoes too?" You joked as you approached the kitchen, eyeing the bagels on a big plate on the rectangular island in the center. You hopped on one of the high stools, grabbed one and smeared cream cheese on it. "Just kidding, I love these fuzzy slippers."

Bucky's back was facing you, busy flipping some pancakes on the stove. "You're not wearing that outside. And yes, I do have some but they're mostly Peter's. Don't worry he hasn't used them yet."

"That's alright. We're the same size."

Bucky turned around, a big pan on his right hand. He approached you and flipped a pancake on top of a tower of pancakes on a plate.

"You like the clothes I picked out for you?" He asked and sat down on the high stool.

"Yes, thank you. But seriously, you didn't have to."

"Okay, so let me get this straight... You let me pay for food and alcohol but not clothes?"

You laughed. "It's a different thing! Those were cheap, these," you touched the fabric of your shirt and trousers, "are obviously expensive. They don't have that thrift smell my clothes have. And besides, I need food but not clothes so you paying for my food was a big win for me."

Now, it was his turn to laugh, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Okay from now on, all I should hear from you when I give you stuff is thank you."

"But... why?"

"Because social convention dictates us to."

"I know, but, why are you giving me stuff?"

"How else am I going to keep you around?" He winked as he continued to chew.

"Bucky." You warned.

"Okay, okay." He chuckled. "The thing to know about me is I love spoiling people — people that I trust and I'm obviously comfortable around you."

Not knowing any other way to answer, you just said: "Oh, well... Thank you."

"And of course, the thing I said before too." He laughed and you threw a bagel at him in response.

You and Bucky enjoyed your little brunch while planning the day ahead of you: go around Fifth Street, and perhaps Broadway, maybe go to the Chelsea market and as Bucky said: "Just go wherever our feet take us!"

Once both of you were done, you headed down White Wolf, with Bucky's Maserati waiting in front. You greeted Howard as you climbed in.

"You know what would be nice?" You started once the car moved forward. "Capturing people's moments in a crowded street." You said, picturing Fifth Street in your head.

"Oh, that's right." Bucky replied. "Here." With his large hand, he handed you a camera. But it wasn't just any camera. It was yours.

"Wait, is this my camera?" You asked, taking it from him. He nodded in response. "Bucky, what the hell, you went through my stuff?"

"Not me. Howard."

"Howard?!"

"Don't worry, miss," Howard spoke, glancing through the rearview mirror where you saw your own reflection, "I didn't take anything else and put everything back in place. I just did what Mr. Barnes told me to do."

"James." You scolded.

"What are you James-ing me for?" He said, leaning against the seat, clearly stifling a laugh. "He's the one who went through your stuff!"

"You are such a child." You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who told him to."

"You heard him, he didn't take anything else."

"Next time you pull something like this, you ought to let me know okay?"

He lifted his eyes to look at you, teeth biting his inner cheek, a smile wanting to reveal itself. "Okay."

You sighed but you also couldn't help but smile at your camera. It had been a long time since you've operated it as you have been so busy in the bar and hadn't had clients for a while now. You closed it immediately, seeing as the battery was just at fifty percent.

You and Bucky got out of the vehicle as soon as Howard reached Fifth street and entered the Lacoste building with no rush. You held your camera close to your chest, the strap feeling a bit heavier on the back of your neck as the hours passed but the weight of pleasure of taking photos of the street from the inside of the glass windows overwhelmed that.

All the stores looked so unfamiliar to you. The stores you usually go to had dimly-lit rooms with low ceilings, and instead of tiled floors and walls, they had chipped to almost rotten wood walls. The smell of new clothes in these designer stores filled your lungs, the bright incandescent lights nearly caused blindness to your eyes, the amount of men and women dressed in suits, stockings, and skirts were nothing you had ever seen before, designer clothes were hanging on racks color-codedly, or by season, or by new and old collection, the eyes of the security guards in each entrance lurked from miles away until you get inside the store, and today, you have seen Bucky's sleek, black credit card get swiped into the little machines a hundred times. He bought some clothes for himself, and Peter, whom he actually promised to.

Bucky even handed you some clothes, told you to put them on and when they did fit you, he immediately went towards the counter.

Feeling as if everything was too much, you refused but all he said was:

"From now on, when I buy you things all you have to say is thank you."

Overpowered, you just nodded and said exactly what he wanted you to say: "Thank you." And as hours passed more shopping bags were in my bags (yes, you insisted to carry what he had bought you, and when he refused, you gave him back his words, a little taste of his own medicine: "From now on, when you buy me things all you have to do is let me carry them.")

"Ah, throwing my words back to me. I see."

As you walked around a whole lot more, side by side, exposed elbows and lonely fingers constantly brushing against each other, you talked about things you both loved. Nothing about Bucky's hotel business, nothing about the bar, just the things in life which made you both happy — photographs, paintings, and everything about art. He saw the world through yours. You were just beginning to see his but the details weren't enough for you. You craved more of what was in his mind and in his life — no, not the business, parties, booze and all that.

But the things that separate him from that world, and the things he grew up with before that.

A lot of questions swarmed in your head, trying to think of ways to ask them but Bucky merely insisted on knowing you. All of you. But just like him, you too had your guards up, especially around your family issues.

Then you reached Chelsea market. You didn't know how but you did. You spotted Bucky's car parked on one street and told you to leave all the things he had bought inside. After saying your goodbye to Howard who, afterwards, drove towards the bumper-to-bumper traffic in Manhattan, you and Bucky headed to wherever your feet you. You were feeling a ton lighter without the shopping bags dragging your hands and you could now freely touch and open your camera.

Bucky, with a Grande Starbucks cup in one hand, looked around with a big smile planted on his face. You walked around, seeing the art district of New York through your lenses. You grabbed Bucky's attention by calling his name and when he turned around, you snapped a shot of him. Eyes wide. Brows furrowed together. Lips in a state of bafflement.

"Hey, delete that!" He protested.

You laughed, turning your body in the opposite direction. "No way! It's a good picture!"

"No, it's not!"

You kept on laughing, mumbling a bunch of "sorry"s and "excuse me"s along the way, the camera still shoved in your face.

Your lens caught a familiar name from afar, printed in neon red: Wanda. You stood there in the middle of the crowd, leaving Bucky to wonder what had happened.

"Let's go there." You said, making your way across the street where it was.

"Where?"

"Just follow me."

Bucky held no questions no more as your feet treaded towards the building of Wanda's studio. Once you reached it, you merely stood meters away from it, looking at the sign.

"Wandavision." You mumbled under your breath then bit your inner cheek afterwards, contemplating if you should go in and say hi but that didn't matter anymore because standing behind the tall glass windows was Wanda herself.

Again, she gave you that oh-so-sweet smile of hers, long red locks cascading down her shoulder as she walked towards the door. You gestured to Bucky to come with you, no questions asked.

"Y/n!" Wanda exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you as you and Bucky entered the building. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

"You too, Wanda."

"And who's this dapper man of yours?"

Beside you, Bucky's body vibrated, a chuckle coming out of his mouth as he offered his hand. "I'm Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you."

Wanda shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too." She gave you a knowing smile, taunting you, but you dismissed her assumptions by shaking your head no, and then she pouted.

Wanda led you further down her large, wide studio, giving us a tour.

"I'm quite surprised you came by, Y/n."

"We were just walking around the market and saw your studio." You replied. "Wanda, what you have here is... so beautiful."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that. I've wanted this since I was a little girl. It's always been the dream."

The inside was bright, with fair white walls, floor and ceiling, and smelled of fresh lavender. On one corner, it smelled of fabrics, make-up, and hairspray. Framed photos of Wanda hung on the walls. There was a dressing area on a corner, and a comfortable couch, perhaps, for visitors as well as the models. A mini kitchen stood in the far back. On top of the cute marbled island was a coffee maker, and a mini fridge. There was one room solely for the post-production process, her main office. A giant paper backdrop had taken a huge space on the floor. Around it were different kinds of large lights, tripods, chairs and other expensive equipment for photography.

She had it all. Everything you've pictured yourself having.

Wanda had it all.

"You've come at the right time. There's not much going on today but I have tons of clients coming for the next few days but really, feel free to come by anytime you want."

"I will, thank you."

Howard picked you right up outside Wandavision. The whole ride was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"Your friend's really nice." Bucky said, trying to clear the atmosphere. "She's a bit too chatty for me but she's nice."

"Yeah." You answered, your head pressed against the window. "Really nice."

"Are you okay, doll?"

You hummed. "I am. Just a bit tired s'all."

"Listen, I just have to head to the White Wolf but Howard will drop you by the apartment, okay? The shopping bags are already there but you don't have to worry about them, I'll take care of them as soon as I get back. Just take a rest, okay? Maybe a short nap. I'll grab you dinner on the way. How does that sound?"

Tired to even tell him you didn't need to babied, you just said: "Okay. Thank you, Bucky."

You did as Bucky told you to. You ignored the bags sitting on the couch, placed your camera on your nightstand and took a damn nap. When you woke up, instead of feeling better, you felt sick to your stomach. Your phone lit up, a message from Bucky displayed on the screen:

"Sorry for the delay. I'm currently stuck in traffic. I'll see you in 20."

You sighed and with an empty stomach, and an occupied mind, you put on your jacket, anticipating a cold rush, grabbed your keys to the bar and headed down. You went straight behind the counter, jumped over it and found an unopened vodka.

You drank the vodka, drank all your troubles away and as you sat there on the floor, weeping, the place you worked at felt too much familiar to you. So much so that you began to hate it and to hate the kind of life you had been living. Who were you fucking kidding? No, you didn't like juggling two jobs. It sucked. Even though it had been giving you the ability to pay half of the rent, it still sucked.

This wasn't what you wanted.

A few moments have passed. You were already on your second bottle. There was a sound coming from the back which began to startle you. A certain Steve emerged from his office, a look of concern evident on his face.

"Stevieeee!" You stood up, well, tried to anyway. "You're here!"

"Y/n, what the hell." He took you in his big muscular arms, his one hand carefully yanking the bottle of vodka on your hand and placing it on the counter. "You're drunk. You should go home. Where's Peter?"

"He's away. He left. Wait, why are you here?"

"I just had to take care of some things."

"Is Nat back there with you? It's okay, shh, shh, I know about you too."

"Oh, God. Did she tell you?"

"Puh-lease! You imprinted your scent on her like a werewolf."

He just sighed. "Let's get you to your apartment."

"Don't worry, Stevie, I won't tell. Hey, call Bucky. Grab my phone. It's on my ass." You giggled and then hiccuped. He carefully grabbed your phone from your back pocket, let you enter my password which took forever, and then called Bucky.

"He'll be here in a minute or two." Steve said, sliding your phone back in your pocket. "Let's get you seated, alright?"

He sat you in one of the booths. "I'll get you some water, okay?"

You didn't respond. Your eyes were fixated on the photos on the wall. With your breath rapidly increasing, you stood by your knees, and grabbed as many photos as you could. Steve slid in the booth with you, handing you a glass of water. You took a small sip, avoiding his eyes.

"What happened, y/n?"

You didn't give him an answer to his question and just downed the water. But you did ask him something. "Why'd you buy my photos, Steve? Is it because you pitied me that day?"

"What? No, I truly believe you have amazing photos."

"But what?"

"What?"

"There's always a but. What is it, Steve?"

"But nothing, y/n."

"Liar." You muttered. "You're a liar."

"Look, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I don't need help. I'm not a child!"

"You clearly are, especially when you're behaving like one. You come in here, drink an expensive bottle of whiskey, cry on the floor and ask me a bunch of ridiculous things. It's okay to ask for help sometimes."

"I'll pay for the bottle if that's what you're asking."

"No, I don't care about that. I care about what's going on with you right now because this isn't you, y/n."

"Oh please, you don't. You just pity me! That's why you bought those two photos, that's why you let me put my photos up here in the bar. I'm no good, Steve! I'm no good."

"Y/n — "

Then, a door slammed, a running Bucky coming inside. "Hey, doll. I'm here. Hey, hey, what happened?"

"Let's just go, Bucky." You stood up beside Bucky who held your waist for balance.

"Thank you for calling me." Bucky told Steve.

"Just take her home safely."

"I live right upstairs." You groaned.

"And make sure she doesn't drink anymore or do anything stupid." Steve scolded, his eyes locked on yours.

Bucky held you all the way towards the outside of the bar, and guided you towards the steps that led to the sidewalk. A black limo was on the street. With the windows rolled down, Howard asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?"

"Everything's okay, Howie. You can go back now."

"Wait!" You exclaimed, slipping away from Bucky's arms and headed towards the limo. "Howard, take us somewhere."

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You didn't give him time to wait for an answer as you opened the door and climbed inside the spacious limo. Bucky climbed in, confused.

"Y/n, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

You gave no answer, instead, you gave Howard the address. "450 West 15th Street."

The ride was more silent and shorter. He tried offering you food he had bought but you kindly refused, dreading to get out of the limo. You held on to your photos so tight that marks, scratches and folds were visible even in the dark.

When you reached your destination, you quickly hopped out, with Bucky following you.

"What are we doing back here?"

You were standing in front of Wanda's studio, the red neon lights illuminating on the concrete street, giving a bit of life on this side of New York.

You sat down on the floor, against a big pot of plant, your eyes never leaving the sign. Bucky, still confused, followed suit anyway.

"You know, my parents told me I'd never make it here. The day I left my home to live here, they told me, 'you'll never amount to anything. You'll never have a good life in New York. You'll never make it as a photographer. That's not a real job.' And I told them I will make it that I'll work my ass off, blood, sweat, tears, I'll do anything to prove them wrong. But don't you just hate it when they're right? I left my family, lost my communication to my siblings for this ridiculous dream I've been chasing for years. Everything I've done here feels like nothing."

At this point, you didn't want to hear anything or anyone besides yourself. So you were more than glad to hear nothing from Bucky, and to feel his fingers interlaced with yours.

"Wanda and I met in college; a year younger than me. We shared a love for photography and arts. Then we kind of just lost touch after I graduated. And then I saw her a week ago. She looked so happy and so content and I could feel her pity on me, her eyes, her touch. It was the first time I felt so small and I didn't think I could feel smaller but then we went here. Everything I wanted for myself, the things I pictured myself having and doing... She's living it. She's out there and I'm not. And I really hoped that by now, I've proved my parents wrong but turns out they're right. They were right all along. I don't amount to anything. I'm nothing."

"Wandavision." You laughed bitterly. "Wanda's vision. That right there. That's fucking clever."

"Let's get you home, doll. Please?"

"I want to stay, Bucky."

"We'll talk when we get back. Please, y/n."

You didn't agree to anything but he lifted you up anyway, guiding you towards the limo which was still on the street.

The partition was up. Even though Howard was inside the limo as well, at that moment it was just you and Bucky.

So, you cried, like how the skies cried, in Bucky's arms. You wept for all the unpaid rent and debts, for the menial job that you ended up in, for your failed career as a photographer, for your selfish parents, for your isolation from your college friends, for your insecurities, for your dog that died when you left for college, for your former lover that abused you, for the books you left unread, for all the wrong choices, for all the money you wasted during your college days, for all the toxic people you've ever met, for all the alcohol stains you had to wipe for years, for all the food intake during your peak of stress in school, for the only cherries you tasted, for the drunk sex you've always regretted, for the drunk kiss with Peter you've always regretted, and for the incoming mistake you were about to do.

"Kiss me." You whispered, lifting your head from his chest. "Kiss me, Bucky."

He shook his head no. Your noses touched. "Why not?" Your breaths moved together.

"Because right now, you're a mess." He whispered. "You're very vulnerable and drunk. I can't."

"I'm giving you all the consent I need. Kiss me."

"Not like this, doll."

Instead of going for your dry lips, he placed his lips on your forehead, his mouth and breath lingering. "Not like this."

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fiction #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader