#like even if she's in danger and doesn't have time to unlock her phone or fiddle with menus she just presses it and it calls me

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Inevitable | His Angel

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Pairing: College!Yn x CrimeBossl!Harry

WC: 7.9k

Summary: Harry is struggling to differentiate between a partnership and an ownership

His Angel Masterlist

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The smell of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, mingling with the quiet bubbling of sauce on the stove. Y/N stood barefoot in the tiny kitchen of her apartment, stirring the pot of pasta while humming something off-key. The place was small, barely enough room for two people to move around without bumping into each other, but somehow, Harry didn’t mind.

He leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, watching her with a strange kind of focus. Not calculating. Not suspicious. Just…curious. Like he was still trying to figure out how she made this feel normal.

“How much longer?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

He checked his watch even though he already knew. “Two more minutes.”

She gave an approving nod and went back to stirring. “You’re weirdly good at timing stuff.”

Harry smirked. “Occupational habit.”

She didn’t ask what occupation. She never did, not directly. That was one of the things he liked about her. She didn’t force pieces out of him before he was ready to give them.

There was something different about nights like this. No weapons. No bodyguards. No phones buzzing with encrypted messages. Just her in a loose T-shirt and shorts, hair tied up, hands stained faintly red from the sauce she’d insisted on making from scratch.

He stepped behind her, resting a hand lightly on her waist as he peered over her shoulder into the pot. “You sure this isn’t going to poison me?”

She elbowed him gently. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t use marinara.”

His laugh was low, real, and surprised even him a little. It echoed off her narrow kitchen walls, like something unfamiliar trying to find its place.

She turned, looked up at him with those bright, honest eyes, and smiled.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, tiptoeing to press a kiss to his cheek before padding away.

Harry stayed where he was, hand still hovering in the air from where she’d touched him. He stared at the empty space she left behind, the quiet warmth still clinging to his skin before taking over the stirring.

This was different.

And for once, he wasn’t sure if that scared him or made him want more.

His thoughts were interrupted by her screams 

Harry's entire body tensed at the sound, instinct taking over before conscious thought. In one fluid motion, he dropped the wooden spoon, pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans, and was moving toward the bathroom.

The door was unlocked, although he'd have kicked it down if it wasn't, and he pushed it open with his shoulder, weapon raised and ready. His eyes scanned for threats, body positioned to shield Y/N from whatever danger had caused her to scream.

"What is it?" His voice, deadly calm, yet the one that made grown men tremble. His eyes continued sweeping the small bathroom, looking for an intruder, a threat, anything that would explain her terror.

The bathroom appeared empty except for Y/N. Nothing seemed out of place. No broken windows. No signs of forced entry. But Harry knew better than most that danger could hide in plain sight.

"Angel, talk to me. What happened?" His grip on the gun didn't loosen, his body remaining between her and the door, ready to eliminate whatever had frightened her.

“Harry!” She says, clutching the back of hs shirt, “there’s a huge spider over there” she points to under the sink

Harry's entire demeanor shifts in an instant. The lethal tension in his body doesn't quite leave, but his expression changes to one of disbelief. He stares at Y/N for a beat, then looks toward the sink where she's pointing.

There is indeed a spider there. Not particularly large by his standards, but clearly enough to terrify her.

He slowly lowers his gun, tucking it back into his waistband with deliberate movements. When he turns to face her, his expression is a dangerous mixture of relief and irritation.

“A spider.” His voice is flat. “You screamed like someone was murdering you...because of a fucking spider?”

Y/N lifts her chin, acting a lot calmer than she felt. “It jumped, Harry. It had intent.”

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. The adrenaline is still pumping through his system, his body primed for violence that isn’t necessary.

“Christ, Y/N. I thought—” He cuts himself off, jaw tensing. “Don’t scream like that unless someone’s trying to hurt you. I nearly shot first and asked questions later.”

Her expression softens, guilt flickering behind her eyes. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just…spiders. They’re unpredictable.”

Despite his harsh words, he turns back toward the sink, grabbing a piece of toilet paper. “Where is the little bastard? Under here?”

He crouches down, muttering under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking spiders causing more problems than the Italians.”

Y/N stands a safe distance back, arms crossed. “For the record, I would’ve handled it myself if it wasn’t plotting my assassination.”

“Assasination” he scoffs under his breath

She pouts, “don’t make fun of me. I could have died” she says dramatically.

Harry glances over his shoulder at Y/N's dramatic pose, one eyebrow raised as he reaches under the sink.

"Died? From this?" He emerges with the tiny spider trapped in the tissue, holding it up for her to see. "This little thing? It's smaller than my fucking thumbnail."

Y/N's eyes widen at the sight of the spider, even safely contained in tissue. She takes another step back.

"It was huge from where I was standing! And it moved so fast. Don't bring it closer to me, Harry!"

Harry's lips twitch, fighting back what might almost be a smile. He stands, purposely taking a step toward her with the tissue-wrapped spider.

"What's wrong, angel? Thought you were dying a minute ago. Want to say goodbye to your would-be killer?"

"Harry Styles, I swear to God—" Y/N backs up until she hits the wall, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "If you come any closer with that thing, you're…sleeping on the couch for a week!" 

Seriously? They didn't even live together. But that was all her fear filled brain could conjure. 

He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that doesn't match the surprisingly playful glint in his eyes. He moves to the toilet and flushes the spider away.

"Empty threats, princess. We both know you can't sleep without me." He washes his hands thoroughly before turning back to her, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed. "Besides, my couch costs more than most people's cars. Wouldn't exactly be a punishment."

Y/N rolls her eyes, her heartbeat finally returning to normal now that the spider is gone.

"My hero," she says sarcastically. "Saving me from the terrifying arachnid menace."

Harry pushes off from the sink, closing the distance between them in two strides. He places one hand on the wall beside her head, effectively caging her in.

"Next time you scream like that, it better be because you're in real danger..." his voice drops lower as he leans in "...or because I'm making you come so hard you can't help yourself."

“Harry!” She says, shoving him back. Her cheeks flush. “I’m pretty sure our dinner is burning”

He doesn't budge when she shoves him, solid as a wall. His eyes darken at the sight of her flushed cheeks, clearly enjoying her reaction. He leans in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"Let it burn," he murmurs, lips brushing against her skin. "I'm suddenly in the mood for something else."

The scent of something scorching finally registers, and Y/N ducks under his arm, escaping his cage.

"The pasta, Harry!" She hurries toward the kitchen, her bare feet padding quickly across the floor.

Harry follows at a more leisurely pace, watching her rush to save their dinner with amused interest. By the time he reaches the kitchen, Y/N is already turning off the burner, waving away the smoke rising from the pot.

"Shit," she mutters, looking at the blackened bottom of the sauce. "It's ruined."

Harry leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, observing her disappointment with a mixture of amusement and something softer he'd never admit to feeling.

"I told you to let it burn," he says, voice low and teasing. "But now we have no dinner and I'm still hungry."

He pushes off from the doorframe, stalking toward her with predatory grace.

"We could order in," Y/N suggests, still fanning at the smoke, not noticing his approach until he's right behind her.

"Or," Harry says, strong hands settling on her hips, spinning her to face him, "I could just eat you instead."

Before she can protest, he lifts her easily, setting her on the counter beside the ruined dinner, positioning himself between her legs.

"What do you say, angel? Still worried about the fucking pasta?"

Y/N blinks at him, her fingers clutching the edge of the countertop tightly. Two months into their relationship, she still wasn't fully accustomed to Harry’s intensity. She’d been confident, teasing, self-assured, even a little cocky.when they first met, holding her ground against his sharp gaze and sharper words. But being with him, really with him, and catching glimpses of the ruthless man beneath the gentle hands and teasing smiles…it made her pulse race and stomach tighten with nervous anticipation.

Not nervous in a bad way. Never in a bad way.

Maybe, she realized, it wasn’t just seeing the real him that unsettled her. Maybe it was that, the longer she spent with him, the more her own mask slipped. The confident front she’d worn to impress him at the beginning was gradually replaced with something softer, something more genuine. Vulnerable. Real.

She swallowed softly, meeting his dark gaze through lowered lashes. "I was really looking forward to it," she admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry studies her face, reading her nervousness with practiced ease. Something in his expression shifts, not softening exactly, but recalibrating. His hands remain on her hips, but his grip loosens slightly.

"You really wanted the pasta that badly?" he asks, his voice dropping its seductive edge, replaced with genuine curiosity. "Why?"

Y/N looks down, fingers still gripping the counter edge.

"I just..." she hesitates, looking almost embarrassed. "I wanted to make you dinner. A real dinner. I thought it would be nice."

Harry's thumb traces small circles on her hip, a rare gesture of reassurance. His other hand moves to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You were cooking for me," he states rather than asks, his expression unreadable.

Y/N nods, looking vulnerable in a way that would make Harry want to destroy anyone else who showed such weakness. But with her, it stirs something different.

"No one's cooked for me since..." he stops, jaw tightening as if catching himself revealing too much. "It doesn't matter."

He steps back, creating space between them, and runs a hand through his hair.

"Get your coat," he says abruptly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"What? Why?" Y/N asks, confused by the sudden shift.

"Because I'm taking you out." Harry reaches for his keys on the counter. "If my girl wants dinner, she gets dinner."

My girl. 

The words echo softly in his own mind, startling him with their sincerity. They feel foreign yet oddly comforting, slipping naturally past his defenses and settling deep into his chest. He’s never been possessive like this before. Protective, yes, territorial even, but never with this quiet, intimate kind of claim. Calling her his made his chest tighten, emotion stirring inside him that he wasn't entirely ready to acknowledge.

But the feeling was there, undeniable and real.

He helps her down from the counter, his touch gentler than most would believe him capable of.

"But Harry, it's late and—"

"There's a place across town. Owner owes me." The corner of his mouth quirks up. "They'll open for us."

The unspoken truth hangs in the air.  Harry could get anything he wanted in this city with a single phone call, that doors would open and people would scramble to please him out of fear or debt or both.

"Get your coat," he repeats, softer this time. "I want to watch you eat something that isn't fucking burnt."

“And whose fault is it that it’s burnt?” She smiles, pecking his cheek before making her way to her room to change really quickly

Harry watches her walk away, his eyes tracking her movements with possessive attention. When she's out of sight, he pulls out his phone, making a brief call. His voice shifts to something colder, more commanding than what he uses with Y/N.

"Thomas. I need the restaurant open in twenty. Just one table." He pauses, listening. "I don't give a fuck what time it is. Make it happen."

He ends the call just as Y/N returns, now wearing a simple dress that hugs her curves. Harry's eyes darken appreciatively as he takes her in.

"That was quick," he comments, reaching for her coat before she can grab it herself. He holds it open for her to slip into. It was a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture from a man who had ordered three hits last week.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting," Y/N replies, sliding her arms into the coat sleeves. "You get grumpy when you're hungry."

"I get grumpy when I don't get what I want," he corrects her, his hands lingering on her shoulders after adjusting her coat. "And right now, I want to feed you."

He guides her toward the door with a hand on the small of her back, grabbing his car keys.

"You know," Y/N says as they step into the hallway, "normal boyfriends just order pizza when dinner gets ruined."

Harry locks the door behind them, his expression amused.

"When have I ever given you the impression that I'm normal?" He leads her toward the elevator, his hand never leaving her back. "Besides, last one kept staring at you," he adds, almost as an afterthought. "That's why we don't order pizza anymore."

Y/N's eyes widen slightly. "Harry...what did you do to that delivery boy?"

The elevator doors close, and Harry's reflection smirks in the mirrored wall.

"Nothing permanent," is all he says, pressing the button for the lobby level. "Just made sure he found a new route."

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The restaurant is empty except for them, just as Harry demanded. The lighting is dim, the atmosphere intimate, with a single table set in the center of the room. The owner himself has been serving them, his hands trembling slightly whenever Harry's gaze falls on him.

Harry is cutting into his steak when he notices Y/N's attention fixed on her phone under the table, her brow furrowed in concentration. He pauses mid-cut, watching her for a moment before reaching across and plucking the device from her hands in one swift movement.

"What's so fucking important that—" He stops, looking at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to disbelief as he reads aloud: "'Fatal spider bites per year in the United States.'"

Y/N reaches for her phone, cheeks flushing. "Give it back!"

Harry holds it just out of her reach, scrolling through the search results with his thumb, his lips twitching dangerously.

"Seven deaths," he reads, looking up at her with barely contained amusement. "Seven people out of three hundred and thirty million. You're literally more likely to be killed by a fucking cow."

He slides the phone back across the table, watching as she snatches it up defensively.

"I was just checking," she mutters, putting the phone away in her purse.

"Checking if your dramatic performance in the bathroom was justified?" Harry takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving her face. "It wasn't, by the way."

Y/N narrows her eyes at him. "You don't know what that spider was thinking. It could have been venomous."

"Angel," Harry leans forward, lowering his voice despite them being alone, "I've seen men with guns try to kill me with less conviction than you had about that spider."

The owner approaches nervously to refill their wine glasses. Harry barely acknowledges him with a glance, but it's enough to send the man scurrying away again.

"If you're so worried about dying," Harry continues once they're alone, cutting another piece of his steak, "you should reconsider who you're having dinner with. That spider's got nothing on me."

Y/N takes a bite of her pasta, properly cooked this time, and points her fork at him. "At least you warn me before you bite."

Harry's expression darkens with heat, a slow smile spreading across his face that makes the owner, watching from across the room, visibly shudder.

"Is that a request, sweetheart?"

“No!” She says quickly, flush creeping up her neck. “Just an observation. And…behave. We’re in public”

Harry's gaze travels from her flushed neck back to her eyes, lingering deliberately on her lips in between. The predatory smile doesn't fade.

"Public?" He gestures around the empty restaurant with his knife. "Do you see anyone else here? Thomas cleared out his entire staff except for himself, and he knows better than to look our way unless I call him over."

As if on cue, the owner's eyes dart away when Y/N glances in his direction. The man busies himself polishing already clean glasses behind the bar, clearly trying to become invisible.

Harry sets down his knife and reaches across the table, his fingers capturing her wrist. His thumb strokes over her pulse point, feeling it quicken under his touch.

"I could bend you over this table right now," he says, voice low and matter-of-fact, "and no one would say a fucking word about it."

Y/N tries to pull her hand away, but his grip tightens just enough to hold her in place.

"Harry!" she hisses, looking mortified. "That's—you can't just—"

"Can't I?" His thumb continues its maddening circles on her wrist. "This entire block belongs to me, angel. I can do whatever I want."

He releases her wrist suddenly, picking up his utensils again as if nothing happened.

"But I won't," he adds, cutting another piece of steak. "Not because we're in public, but because I'd rather take my time with you later."

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding: "Besides, you haven't finished your pasta. And after all the drama about cooking dinner, it would be a shame to waste this one too."

Y/N stares at him, caught between relief, embarrassment, and something darker she doesn't want to examine too closely. The thrill that runs through her at his words.

"You're impossible," she finally says, picking up her fork again.

"No," Harry corrects, pointing his knife at her. "I'm inevitable, sweetheart. There's a difference."

He signals for more wine, and Thomas appears instantly at their table, pouring with shaking hands.

“Thank you” Y/N looks over to Thomas and offers a warm smile that hopefully balances out Harry’s whole intimidation act. 

Thomas freezes mid-pour, clearly startled by Y/N's kindness. His eyes flick nervously to Harry, as if seeking permission to acknowledge her directly. When Harry doesn't immediately object, the owner manages a trembling smile in return.

"Y-you're welcome, miss," he says quietly, his accent thickening with anxiety. "Is everything to your liking?"

Before Y/N can answer, Harry's hand shoots out, gripping Thomas's wrist with enough force to make the man wince. The wine bottle tilts dangerously, a drop spilling onto the white tablecloth.

"You're here to serve, not chat," Harry says, his voice deceptively soft but carrying an unmistakable edge. "Pour the wine and fuck off."

Thomas nods frantically, finishing the pour with trembling hands before backing away. Y/N waits until he's out of earshot before turning to Harry with a disapproving look.

"That was unnecessary," she says, folding her napkin in her lap. "He was just being polite."

Harry takes a slow sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass.

"He was staring at you."

"He was not," Y/N protests. "And even if he was, that's no reason to terrify the poor man. He's just doing his job."

Harry sets down his glass, his expression unchanged but something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

"His job is to serve food and keep his eyes on the fucking floor. Not to smile at what's mine."

Y/N's cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation.

"I am not a 'what,' Harry. I'm a person. And you don't own me."

The restaurant seems to grow quieter, if that's possible. Harry goes still in that particular way that makes even his most hardened men nervous. The calm before a storm.

"Don't I?" he asks softly, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me, angel, whose car do you drive every day? Whose credit card is tucked in your purse right now? Whose clothes do you wear when you fall asleep?"

Y/N opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again, her jaw tightening.

"That doesn't mean you own me," she finally says, her voice quieter but no less determined. "It means you take care of me. There's a difference."

Something shifts in Harry's expression. The barest hint of surprise, quickly masked. He studies her for a long moment before his lips curve into a small, dangerous smile.

"Taking care of what's mine," he corrects, picking up his fork again. "But we can call it whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart."

He glances toward Thomas, who's trying to disappear into the shadows of the bar.

"Eat your pasta before it gets cold. Again."

“No,” she says firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I won’t.”

She leans back in her chair, tension radiating off her in waves, eyes flashing with stubborn defiance. Her expression is guarded, a subtle tremor running beneath the strength she’s trying hard to project. It’s obvious she’s upset, hurt even, and she isn’t making any effort to hide it from him.

Harry's fork pauses halfway to his mouth. The restaurant seems to drop several degrees in temperature as he slowly sets it down, the metal clinking against fine china with deliberate precision. He watches her closely, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. He isn't accustomed to this kind of open resistance from her, not like this. Usually playful, usually teasing, their arguments until now have been surface-level, nothing deeper. But this, this silent challenge, this quiet anger, is new. It pushes at boundaries neither of them have fully tested yet, pulling them both into unfamiliar territory.

His face is unnervingly calm, but his eyes have gone cold. Its the same expression his men have learned to fear. He studies Y/N like she's a puzzle he can't quite figure out, or perhaps a problem requiring elimination.

"No?" he repeats, the single word carrying weight far beyond its simplicity.

Across the restaurant, Thomas has gone completely still, like prey sensing a predator. Even the soft classical music playing in the background seems to fade.

Harry leans forward, forearms resting on the table, his voice dropping to that dangerous quiet that usually precedes violence.

"Let me be very clear about something, Y/N. No one says no to me. Not my men, not my enemies, and certainly not the woman warming my bed."

Y/N swallows but doesn't back down, though her crossed arms now look more protective than defiant.

"Well, I just did," she says, her voice impressively steady despite the fear flickering in her eyes. "I won't eat while you're treating me like a possession instead of a partner. And I won't sit here while you terrorize innocent people just because you can."

Harry's jaw tightens, a muscle twitching. For several long seconds, he says nothing, the silence stretching taut between them.

When he finally speaks, his voice is dangerously soft. "Two months with me, and suddenly you think you know how this works?"

He reaches for his whiskey, taking a deliberate sip before continuing.

"You walked into my world with your eyes wide open, angel. You knew exactly who I was. What I am." His gaze is unflinching. "Did you think I'd change? Become soft because you spread your legs for me?"

The cruel words hang in the air. Y/N flinches as if struck, tears welling in her eyes. She pushes her chair back, standing abruptly.

"Take me home," she says, voice thick with unshed tears. "Now."

Harry remains seated, looking up at her with an expression that gives nothing away.

"Sit down."

"No," she repeats, more firmly this time despite the tremor in her voice. "Either take me home or I'll call a cab."

Something dangerous flashes in Harry's eyes. A glimpse of the violence that's always simmering beneath the surface.

"You walk out that door without me, sweetheart, and you better keep walking. All the way out of my city."

It's not just a threat–It's a promise.

They stare each other down for a charged, unbearable moment, silence crackling between them like an impending storm. Y/N lifts her chin, gathering every bit of courage she has left.

“I won't let you speak to me this way," she says, voice shaking yet fierce, breaking the silence like glass shattering. "I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done for me.”

She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, forcing back tears born from hurt and fury. When she drops her hands, there’s resolve in her expression, her gaze unsteady but determined, as she turns sharply on her heel, walking away from him and toward the door without looking back.

Harry watches her walk away, his expression carved from stone. For a moment, it seems as though he'll let her go. That whatever had built between them over the past three months will end here, in this empty restaurant with her retreating back.

Thomas, still frozen by the bar, doesn't dare breathe as Harry slowly rises from his chair. The movement is deliberate, predatory. He tosses his napkin onto the table and follows Y/N, his pace unhurried but purposeful.

He catches her just as her hand reaches for the door, his fingers wrapping around her upper arm. Not painful, but firm enough to stop her.

"Look at me," he demands, his voice low.

Y/N keeps her face turned away, tears still threatening to spill despite her efforts to contain them.

Harry's other hand comes up to grip her chin, turning her face toward him with surprising gentleness considering the storm in his eyes.

"I said, look at me."

She meets his gaze then, defiant despite her tears. For a long moment, they stare at each other, a battle of wills where they both know he could overpower her physically, but somehow, she's managing to challenge him anyway.

Something shifts in Harry's expression, not exactly softening, but recalibrating. His thumb brushes across her cheek, catching a tear before it can fall.

"You're the only person alive who could walk away from me like that," he says quietly, his voice rough with an emotion he can't quite name. "The only one I'd follow."

He releases her chin but keeps his hold on her arm, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I don't know how to be what you want," he admits, the words clearly costing him. "This—" he gestures between them "—isn't something I've done before."

Y/N swallows, her anger still evident but mingled with something else now.

"I'm not asking you to change who you are, Harry. I'm asking you to respect who I am."

Harry's jaw tightens, his eyes searching her face as if looking for weakness, for deception. He finds neither.

"My car" he finally says, but his tone has changed—it's still commanding, but lacks the earlier cruelty. "We'll finish this conversation at home."

He leads her to the door they originally came through, his hand moving to the small of her back. A possessive gesture, but one that feels more protective than controlling now.

As they pass Thomas, Harry pauses, his voice carrying clearly in the silent restaurant.

"The bill's been settled. If I hear a single word about tonight from anyone, I'll burn this place to the ground with you in it."

It's a reminder to Y/N as much as to Thomas that while he might bend for her, Harry Styles remains exactly who he's always been.

Harry still holds the car door open for her, the silence between them heavy and oppressive. She climbs in without meeting his gaze, her movements sharp and guarded. Settling into the seat, she crosses her arms tightly across her chest and turns slightly away, angling her body toward the window as if placing an invisible barrier between them.

Harry closes the door gently, too gently for the violence still simmering under his carefully maintained composure, and walks around the car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. The tension in the small space feels suffocating, thick enough to choke on. 

The sleek black Audi cuts through the night, its engine a low, powerful growl that matches the tension inside. Harry drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift, his knuckles white with tension. His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, but his awareness of Y/N is palpable.

The silence between them is heavy, charged with unspoken words and the aftermath of their first real confrontation. Street lights flash across Harry's face in rhythmic intervals, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline, clenched tight with restraint.

After several minutes of suffocating silence, Harry speaks, his voice low but controlled.

"You know what I do," he says, not a question but a statement of fact. "You know who I am. What did you expect?"

Y/N continues staring out the passenger window, watching the city blur past. For a moment, it seems she might not answer.

"I expected to be treated with respect," she finally says, her voice quiet but firm. "Not like another one of your possessions."

Harry's grip on the wheel tightens, his knuckles going even whiter.

"Respect," he repeats, as if testing the word. "The men who respect me do so because they fear me. Is that what you want, Y/N? To fear me?"

He takes a sharp turn, the car's tires squealing slightly on the asphalt. When Y/N still doesn't look at him, something in his composure fractures.

"Answer me," he demands, the command in his voice impossible to ignore.

Y/N finally turns to face him, her eyes still reddened from earlier tears but her gaze steady.

"No, I don't want to fear you. And I don't. But that doesn't mean I'll let you treat me like you treated Thomas tonight. Or like you own me because you pay for things."

Harry's jaw works as he processes her words. They stop at a red light, and he turns to look at her fully, his green eyes intense in the dim car interior.

"Then what do you want from me?" There's genuine confusion beneath the frustration in his voice—a man who understands power and control suddenly faced with something he can't dominate or buy.

The light turns green, forcing him to return his attention to the road.

Y/N uncrosses her arms, her posture softening slightly.

"I want a relationship, Harry. Not a transaction. Not ownership. A partnership."

Harry scoffs, though there's less heat in it than before.

"Partnership," he mutters, shaking his head slightly. "I don't have partners, sweetheart. I have subordinates."

"Then what am I to you?" Y/N challenges, turning more fully toward him now. "Just another subordinate who happens to share your bed?"

The question hangs between them as Harry pulls up to her apartment building, parking with practiced precision. He turns off the engine but makes no move to exit the car, his hands still gripping the wheel as if it might ground him.

"You're..." he begins, then stops, seemingly at a loss for words. Such a rare occurrence for a man who commands with such certainty. "You're different."

It's not the answer she wanted, but it might be the most honest one he's capable of giving right now.

Y/N turns to face him fully now, her eyes shimmering with hurt in the dim light of the car. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she's developed whenever she's upset.

"Then what the fuck was that back there?" she asks, her voice cracking slightly. "If I'm so different, why would you say that to me? About...about 'spreading my legs' for you?"

"That hurt, Harry. More than I thought you could hurt me," she admits quietly, vulnerability evident in every line of her body. "Is that really all I am to you? Just another conquest who happens to last longer than a night?"

The words hang between them, her usual wit and sarcasm stripped away, leaving only the raw hurt of a girl who's fallen for someone far more dangerous and complex than she ever anticipated.

Harry stares straight ahead through the windshield, his profile sharp and unreadable in the shadows. The muscle in his jaw works as he clenches and unclenches his teeth. For a man who makes decisions that end lives without hesitation, he seems suddenly uncertain.

When he finally turns to look at her, a glimpse of vulnerability so brief it might have been imagined flickers across his face.

"I said it to hurt you," he admits, his voice low and rough. "Because you challenged me. In front of someone who works for me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration.

"No one does that. Ever." His eyes hold hers, intense and searching. "But you did. And I..." he hesitates, as if the words physically pain him "...I reacted badly."

It's not quite an apology as Harry Styles doesn't apologize, but it's as close as he's likely to come.

Y/N blinks rapidly, her throat tightening painfully around a fresh wave of tears. "I wasn't trying to challenge you, Harry. I just wanted you to treat me like a human being. Like someone who actually matters to you."

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against her cheek with surprising gentleness, tracing the path her tears had taken earlier.

"You're not a conquest, Y/N." His thumb brushes over her lower lip, his eyes following the movement. "If that's all you were, you wouldn't be here now. You'd be a memory. A pleasant one, maybe, but nothing more."

She exhales shakily, looking down as fresh tears cling to her eyelashes. "Then don't treat me like I'm disposable. I can't...I can't feel this much for someone who makes me feel worthless in the next breath."

His hand slides to cup the back of her neck, applying the slightest pressure, not forcing, but guiding her closer.

"I know. The truth is," he continues, voice dropping lower, "I don't know what the fuck you are to me. I just know I want you in my bed every night. I want to hear you laugh at your own stupid jokes. I want to kill anyone who makes you cry."

His gaze intensifies, something dangerous and possessive flaring in his eyes.

"Including myself, apparently," he adds with a mirthless laugh. "Which is a fucking problem I never anticipated."

He leans closer, their faces now inches apart.

"So no, you're not just someone who 'spreads her legs' for me. You're..." he searches for words that don't come easily to a man like him "...you're the exception to every rule I've ever had."

His hand tightens slightly on her neck, his next words almost a warning:

"And that scares the shit out of me."

She sniffles, “and what rules were those?” She whispers, not pulling back, which to Harry was a good sign. 

Harry's eyes search hers, something vulnerable and almost uncertain flickering behind his usual intensity. His thumb traces small circles against the nape of her neck, a soothing gesture that seems instinctive rather than calculated.

"Never let anyone close enough to become a weakness," he says, his voice a low rumble between them. "Never care about anyone more than you care about power. Never apologize."

His lips quirk in a humorless smile.

"Never follow anyone who walks away from you. Never explain yourself." His fingers tangle gently in her hair. "Never let someone see the parts of you that aren't...useful."

He draws a breath, his chest rising and falling with it. When he speaks again, his voice is rougher, more honest than she's ever heard it.

"I've built everything I have on those rules. Every bit of power, every ounce of respect. And then you walked into my life with those soft eyes and that mouth that doesn't know when to stay shut..."

His forehead touches hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them.

"And suddenly, I'm breaking every one of them."

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, her fingers hesitantly finding their way to his wrist, holding onto him like he's something delicate. Something precious she doesn't want to damage further. "Maybe you don't need those rules anymore," she whispers softly, her voice fragile but filled with quiet conviction. "Maybe some things are stronger than control."

His hand slides from her neck to cup her cheek, his touch gentler than a man with blood on his hands should be capable of.

"I don't know how to do this, Y/N," he admits, the confession clearly costing him. "I know how to own things. I know how to control people. I don't know how to..."

He struggles with the word, as if it's foreign to his tongue.

"...care for someone without trying to possess them."

Her eyes soften, tears welling again but not from hurt, not this time.

His eyes lock with hers, intense and searching.

"But I'm trying. For you, I'm fucking trying."

It's as close to a declaration as a man like Harry Styles can make. It’s an admission of vulnerability that would get him killed in his world if anyone else heard it.

She brings a hand to his face, cupping his jaw, “and I understand that, but trying doesn’t involve purposefully trying to hurt me. I need you to understand that”

Harry goes still under her touch, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire for her gentle contact and discomfort at being confronted with his own behavior. He doesn't pull away, though, allowing her hand to remain on his face.

"I understand that," he says after a moment, his voice low and controlled. "I just don't like it."

He turns his face slightly, his lips brushing against her palm in a gesture that's almost tender.

"When I'm challenged, I eliminate the threat. It's instinct." His eyes find hers again, intense and unwavering. "But you're not a threat to be eliminated. You're..."

He struggles again, a man whose vocabulary has plenty of words for violence but few for tenderness.

"You matter," he finally says simply. "And I don't want to hurt you. Even when you piss me off. Even when you challenge me in front of others."

His hand covers hers on his face, pressing it more firmly against his skin as if anchoring himself.

"I can't promise I'll never say something cruel again," he tells her honestly. "I am who I am, Y/N. But I can promise to try not to hurt you deliberately. Not like tonight."

He leans in, his forehead touching hers again, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

"Just don't walk away from me like that again. I don't know how to handle it." The admission costs him, she can tell by the tension in his jaw. "And I can't guarantee what I'll do if you try."

"I need you to understand that," he echoes her words back to her, his grip tightening slightly on her hand.

She nods, “I do. But I also can’t promise that I won’t walk away again if you repeat what happened tonight. Got it? I won’t let you speak to me like that again” She says, not backing down, looking into his eyes and hoping he could meet her halfway.

Harry holds her gaze, a battle of wills playing out in the confined space of the car. The silence stretches between them, tense with possibility. Finally, his lips curve into something not quite a smile but more an acknowledgment of her courage.

"You've got more balls than half my crew," he says, a reluctant admiration in his tone. "Standing your ground with me like this."

His thumb traces her lower lip, his eyes following the movement.

"Fine. I won't speak to you like that again." The concession comes with a condition, his voice hardening slightly. "But you need to understand something too, angel. In public, especially around my men or anyone connected to my business, you can't challenge me openly. Not if you want to stay in my world."

He shifts closer, his presence filling the car with controlled intensity.

"It's not just about my pride. It's about survival. If they see weakness in me, if they think you can control me..." he doesn't finish the thought, doesn't need to.

Y/N considers his words, understanding dawning in her eyes. She hadn't fully considered the implications of her actions within his dangerous world.

"I understand that," she says finally. "I won't undermine you in front of your men. But that restaurant was empty except for Thomas, and you were being cruel to him for no reason."

Harry's expression darkens slightly.

"Thomas isn't just some innocent restaurant owner. He launders money for me. He's in my debt up to his eyeballs." His jaw tightens. "And he was looking at you like he was starving and you were a fucking meal."

"He was not," Y/N protests, though with less conviction now. "He was just being nice."

"Men like that aren't 'nice' to women who look like you without wanting something," Harry says flatly. "Especially not women they know belong to me."

Y/N bristles slightly at his choice of words.

"I don't 'belong' to you, Harry," she reminds him, but her tone is gentler than before. "That's the whole point of this conversation."

Harry's eyes flash with something dangerous, but he controls it, his hand sliding to cup the back of her neck again.

"You're mine," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. "That doesn't change. What changes is how I treat what's mine."

He pulls her closer, his lips a breath away from hers.

"I'll try to be...better. For you. But don't expect me to become someone I'm not." His eyes hold hers, intense and unwavering. "I'm still the same man who puts bullets in people who cross me. The same man who built an empire on blood and fear. That doesn't change just because I care about you."

Y/N swallows, the reality of who and what he is hanging between them.

"I don't want you to be someone else," she says softly. "I just want you to be your best self with me."

Harry's expression shifts, something almost vulnerable flickering across his face before it's gone.

"I'll try," he promises, the words simple but meaning more coming from him than flowery declarations would from another man. "Now come home with me."

It's both a command and a request—the most balance he can offer between who he is and who she needs him to be.

She smiles, “Did you just call my ‘shitty apartment’ home?”

Harry's lips twitch, the tension between them breaking slightly at her teasing. His hand slides from her neck to her cheek, thumb brushing across her lower lip.

"I said 'come home with me,' not 'let's go to your home,'" he corrects, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that always makes her pulse quicken. "Your shitty apartment is where you keep your textbooks and that ridiculous collection of stuffed animals."

He leans closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Home is where I fuck you until you forget every reason you were mad at me," he murmurs, his hand sliding to her thigh, fingers tracing slow patterns over the fabric of her dress. "My bed. My place."

Y/N shivers slightly at his touch, but manages to maintain her composure, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Bold of you to assume I want you anywhere near me tonight after what you said," she challenges, though there's less heat in it now, more of their usual banter returning.

Harry pulls back just enough to look at her, his green eyes darkening with desire and something more possessive.

"You're still mad," he acknowledges, his hand not moving from her thigh. "That's fair. But we both know anger looks good on you, angel. Makes your eyes shine, your cheeks flush..."

His fingers inch higher on her thigh, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Makes you wet too," he adds, voice dropping lower. "Doesn't it?"

Y/N flushes, torn between desire and the lingering hurt from earlier.

"You can't just say something awful and then expect sex to fix it," she says, though her body betrays her with a slight shift toward his touch.

Harry's expression grows more serious, his hand stilling on her thigh.

"I don't expect sex to fix it," he says, surprising her with his honesty. "I expect time to fix it. But I want you in my bed tonight, even if all we do is sleep."

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers again in that oddly intimate gesture.

"I sleep better with you there," he admits quietly, the confession clearly difficult for him. "And I've got an important meeting tomorrow. Need a clear head."

It's as close as he'll come to saying he needs her, not just wants her, but needs her presence.

Y/N studies his face, seeing the sincerity beneath the desire.

"Fine," she relents with a small smile. "But only because your sheets are nicer than mine."

Harry's answering smile is slow and knowing.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, angel." He starts the car again, his hand remaining on her thigh as he pulls away from the curb. "Or not sleep, depending on how forgiving you're feeling by the time we get there."

Taglist: @silastylesswift @babegoals @harryssunflower17 @puzio19 @goldensunflowerss-blog @drewrry @tinawritesstuff @dipmeinhoneyh @spinninc @harrystyleshotwife @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @estaticheart @harrysguccihandbag @harrydeary

[spiderb00bs]

- MURDEROUS LOVE

Tara Carpenter x (g!p) reader  (requets) MDNI

" Tara Carpenter doesn't like Ghostfaces, but what happens if you're one of them?”  

Genre – smut        Warnings – Blood, degradation, reader is literally a murderer 

Now playing – P*RNSTAR, by Nessa Barrett 

The knife you were holding was completely stained with blood, the blood of another one of your victims. The tall guy, who was now dead on his own couch, was the same jerk who had flirted with Tara a few weeks ago. Tara wasn't your girlfriend, but there was something inside you that bubbled dangerously when some idiot like that hit on the younger Carpenter.   

You didn't understand how these assholes thought they had the slightest chance with her, they were so stupid that you got angry, and that's why you decided it was better that they could never be able to breathe again.  

Wiping the blood from your knife, you breathed heavily through the mask you wore. All the chasing and screaming of that idiot had excited you, and as if it were a sign from the universe, your phone rang, Tara's name on the message handle.   

Babadook girl – I'm alone, do you want to come?  

Seeing the message, your expression perked up under the mask, an idea popping into your head. You and Tara weren't official, you weren't dating, but maybe it was your chance to tell young Carpenter who she belonged to. By quickly typing a short answer, you left your victim's house, your effort to do a perfect job leaving you without a trace. 

Meanwhile, Tara had the apartment to herself, silence hung in the corners of the room and young Carpenter was impatient, expecting you to be at her door at any moment. The television was showing some program that Tara was not very interested in watching. In fact, the girl was constantly looking in the direction of the door, as if it would make you get there faster.   

When her phone rang on the table, Tara got a little startle, curling up on the couch before finally reaching for the electronics on the coffee table. "Unknown number" was what it said on the caller ID, and for a moment, Tara felt an agonizing shiver run down her spine. Pressing the green button, Tara brought the phone to her ear, she was sure the person on the other end of the line could hear her unregulated breathing, but she couldn't care less.   

"Hello..."   

"Why did it take you so long to answer me Tara?"   

 The same voice, that same distorted and sick voice was speaking to Tara now. The same voice she has nightmares about, the same voice with someone else under the mask. Tara's hand began to tremble, and before she could even text Sam, a noise of broken glass was heard inside the apartment.   

Tara, who was in the living room, went in silent steps to the kitchen, grabbing one of the largest knives in one of the drawers, going to the corner of the wall and trying to normalize her breathing, the last thing she would want was to have an asthma attack now. Bringing the phone closer to her ear again, Tara heard a sinister laugh, making all of the younger Carpenter's senses grow two times stronger.   

"Are you coming to find me? Or do you want me to come to you, Tara?"   

"Fuck You." Looking in the direction of the hallway, Tara walked slowly to the door, trying her best not to make a sound.   

"I can do that." The laugh that the person on the other line let out made Tara nauseous, the tone that Ghostface used was sinister and suggestive at the same time. "Why are you so shy Tara? You asked me to come..."   

"I would never ask a motherfucker like you to come here!" Tara said, her breathing quickening as she tried to unlock the front door without making a sound.   

From the sound she had heard, The Ghostface could only be in one of the rooms, and the last thing she wanted was for them to hear her opening the door. As the sound of the lock clicked across the apartment, Tara turned the handle, the sense of freedom quickly replaced by horror, as all she felt was Gosthface's gloved hand squeezing her neck.   

Tara's phone was now on the floor, and when she tried to scream only grumbles came out when Ghostface put them hand over her mouth. Tara thought she had no more chance, she had ended up there.   

"Did you think you were going to leave me, you bitch?" Tara didn't know what, but something about the touch of the person underneath the mask was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. "You called me here, Tara. It's not going to be that easy."   

When the masked person threw Tara onto the couch and towered over her, all the young Carpenter did was fight, punching and kicking the masked person, who didn't seem to be affected by any of the woman's blows beneath them. But we all have a breaking point, and while none of Tara's blows hurt them, it was all becoming too much for the person under the mask.   

"STOP IT FUCKING OFF!" The Ghostface screamed, pinning Tara's hands on top of her head, not too hard to hurt her, but strong enough to scare the young Carpenter. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I DID ALL THIS FOR YOU!"   

Tara didn't know what to say, the words of the masked person on top of her didn't make sense. The sound of heavy breathing was all over the apartment, echoing over the walls. And it was only when Ghostface took off the mask, that everything clicked in Tara's head.   

"Yn?" Tara was confused, tears running down her face. Seeing her friend, the person she had confided so much with, the girl she had fallen in love with, was just devastating. "Why?"   

"Because I love you, Tara." You said, running one of your hands over the Carpenter girl's face, pulling out the wires that came out of place in the fight. "I did all this for you, baby. I killed all those guys, for you. You're mine, Tara."  

Tara didn't want to, but looking at you, on top of her, saying that you did all this for her, made her excited. You could be arrested, you could ruin your future, you put everything to waste, for her. Young Carpenter knew that what she was feeling was sick and distorted, but she couldn't help it when it came to you.   

"You didn't have to do that to have me, you could have said." Tara said, looking into your eyes, the same eyes she looked at when you were in bed together. "You killed people, Yn."   

"No, no, no." You quickly denied it, the movement of your head emphasized what you were saying. "I killed boys. Those idiots who thought they had a chance with someone as perfect as you, Tara."   

The puppy eyes you were giving Tara, made her melt, made her think you just wanted to protect her.   

"Remember that idiot, the one who called you a whore because you said you wouldn't go out with him?! I killed that son of a bitch, Tara." The woman paid attention to your every word, it was not only making her ego grow, but also the moisture between her legs. "He died with my knife in his mouth, because only I can call you things like that, Tara. You are mine."  

Stroking the woman's hair beneath you, you took a second to look at her, contrary to what you thought, Tara was no longer so scared, she seemed afraid of something, but not terrified like she was when you walked through the door.  

"Did you do everything for me?" Tara asked, her legs were trapped by your weight on top of them, but you didn't let the way she rubbed her thighs pass.   

"Why? Did you like it?" You asked, taking Tara's chin in your hand and making her look at you, with an embarrassed look. "Tell me if you liked it, Tara."   

"Yes." The words came out of young Carpenter's mouth like a groan, making you start to think that she liked it as much as you did.   

"You like it, don't you? You slut." Your grip was still firm on her cheeks, but Tara still managed to shake her head in confirmation. "You liked to know what I did to those idiots who tried to be like me, didn't you?!" Your free hand went down to the button of the pants Tara was wearing, unbuttoning and sliding in.   

 "God, yes. I only like it when it's you." Your fingers circled her clitoris, making the woman beneath you let out sighs and gasping moans.   

"You're a little whore just for me, aren't you Tara?" Your fingers slippery enough that you finally slid them inside her.   

"Fuck, yes. Please."   

"Do you want to cum, Tara?" making a back and forth with your fingers, you got close to the young Carpenter's face, kissing her forehead and watching her confirm with her head. "Use your words, slut."   

"yes, I want to cum." And as soon as the words left Tara's mouth, your fingers stopped moving.   

Taking your hand out of the brunette's pants, you pulled her by the hair, making her get up from the couch. The moan that the woman let out was soon silenced by your mouth, which pulled her into a messy kiss. The two of you teeth collided in the kiss, and Tara could feel you bite her lip hard.   

In the middle of the kiss, Tara's hands went down your black outfit, finding the zipper and lowering it. The brunette couldn't lie, but seeing you only in your bra and underwear did something to her, it was like you were walking around, killing the people who had already made her feel uncomfortable, only to come back and fuck her at the end of the day.   

"Fuck, you're so hard." Tara said, getting off your lap and kneeling in front of you.   

Her hand making up and down movements over the fabric was making you even more excited, and you couldn't believe it was really happening. The adrenaline rush of the things you'd done before and the moment you'd had with Tara had driven you crazy, wanting a piece of the Carpenter girl as soon as possible.   

"All for you, baby." You said, helping Tara take your underwear off you.   

Your cock jumped, landing on your abs, pre-cum was leaking from your pink tip and for a moment Tara was hypnotized.   

"Do you love me, baby?" Starting the movements again, she looked at you with those big eyes that you knew very well.   

"More than anything." Throwing your head back, you answered Tara's question, moaning as the woman on her knees gave a kiss to the pink head of your cock.   

"Do you want to date me?" Tara asked, giving an experimental lick from the base to the head.   

"Fuck, yes." Seeing you with your eyes closed and your head thrown back, Tara dug her nails into your thighs, making you moan in pain and look at her immediately.   

"Then ask." What was she doing? She wasn't in charge, you were.  

 "What the fuck are you doing, you slut-" You tried to say, being cut as Tara dragged her nails across your skin, drops of blood forming in the tracks she had left.   

"FUCK, YOU BITCH!"   

"ASK, IF YOU DID ALL THAT FOR ME THEN PROVE IT!"   

"FUCK! OKAY!" 

Stopping the screaming for a second, Tara waited for you to say what she wanted to hear, and although she was afraid of what you could do to her because she said, deep down she knew you would never hurt her, you needed her.   

"Tara, do you want to be my girlfriend?" You asked, making the brunette smile at you, not even answering you before putting part of your cock inside her mouth.   

"Fuck!" To your surprise, you threw your head back again, then straightened up and tilted your head so that you could see all the work Tara was doing on you. "You're mine, only mine."  

Your hand, which was now lovingly positioned on Tara's head, followed the woman's movements, Tara's mouth was hot, and all that stimulation was driving you crazy. The speed with which Tara's mouth worked on you and her hands jerking off what she couldn't put in her mouth, became too much for you.   

"Tara, I'm going to cum."   

Letting your cock slide out of her mouth, Tara stood up, moving away from you and making the knot in your stomach shrink considerably. With a tearful groan, you looked at Carpenter in front of you, who was unbuttoning her pants and sliding her panties down her heels.   

"Sam will be coming soon, we don't have much time." Settling into your lap, Tara guided your cock to her pussy, your bodies fitting as if you were made for it.   

When you finally entered the woman, the moans that came out of the two of you echoed through the apartment. At this point, Tara wouldn't even mind receiving a complaint about the noise, she just wanted you. Being inside Tara was paradise, and you never wanted to leave. Her walls embraced you with love and the sensation you felt made your eyes roll.   

"Fuck, you're so tight, baby." You said, Tara moving her hands from your neck to your hair, messing it up as she pulled your head in, making you look at her.   

"Is that what you wanted?" Tara asked, innocent eyes staring back at you. "Did you want me to be yours?!"   

"Yes, only mine. None of those guys can touch you, because you're my slut." Spreading your hands on Tara's ass, you started to push inside her, making the woman on top of you let out moans of pleasure.   

Even though she liked all the words you called her, and liked to see you being so dominant and powerful in your Ghostface outfit, Tara knew exactly how to control you, 

make you think you'd always be in control of your relationship, when in fact, the younger Carpenter had you in the palm of her hand.   

"I love you, baby. None of those guys will ever have you." You said, putting your hand on the brunette's neck and accelerating the pace of your thrusts.  

"I'm yours, baby. Completely yours, no one else's."   

Your impulses were fast, making Tara's moans get louder and louder, and you knew that meant she was about to cum. Placing your hand just below her abs, you applied pressure, causing Tara to scream louder than you thought she could. With your other hand, you drew circles on her clit, driving the woman beneath you crazy.   

Rolling her eyes, Tara felt like she was in heaven, you hitting her non-stop, the pressure you made on her and your fingers working from her clitoris, were too much. Tara's body twitched, spasms coming out involuntarily, and you knew she was cumming when you felt the woman's insides tighten around you.   

Without stopping your movements, you continued chasing your orgasm, while prolonging Tara's. Your eyes rolled back just like the woman below you, you let out a grunt accompanied by Tara's moan, who now contemplated the sensation of your warm seed pouring inside her.   

Lying on the couch next to the smaller woman, you kissed Tara passionately, just a confirmation that everything was fine.   

"That was amazing." Tara said looking at you. Her hand caressed your hair, trying to comb it back into place.   

"I love you, Tara. And I don't regret anything." You said, watching Tara's eyes falter a little. 

"we can talk about this later. We'll enjoy it while Sam wasn't here yet."  

She didn't know how to make you stop, but she would have to find a way without you getting hurt. 

Hi guys, the first request for this account has just been made.

Thank you to anon who placed the request <3

Stay safe, drink water

xoxo, spider.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖

Kento Nanami

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Summary: Your neighbor always watches you at night, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie, Nanami takes panties and doesn't give them back

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

At nine at night, you get out of the shower and walk to your room with nothing but a towel. A towel that’s dropping and getting dangerously low with every step you take. You make no effort to hold the towel and it eventually drops to the ground– It happens nightly. 

You don’t seem to care to close the curtains, you don’t care if the whole world sees you naked. And your neighbor shakes his head in disapprovement every time he sees. He sits on the armchair that’s in his room, facing his window, one that looks directly into your room as he sips on his nightly tea. 

Kento watches you bend down to the lowest drawer, and grab a pair of panties. God, he feels so perverted doing this, but he isn’t a pervert. You’re showing yourself to the world, he isn’t at fault that his eyes just happen to look. He might be at fault for continuing to stare, but he isn’t a pervert.

Occasionally you make eye contact, and he’s bold enough to remain watching. And you’re bold enough to accidentally drop something, and remain naked as you slowly pick it up. You do everything much slower, really different from when you first walked into the room. Kento enjoys the show that you put on, putting everything on so painfully slowly so he can admire every inch of your body even from a distance.

Suddenly you have to get something from across the room, and you’re still naked. He can’t complain though, he likes the view, that’s why he continues admiring it. You grab your phone and lay down on the bed, where you indulge yourself in something– He doesn’t know what, but you’re entertaining yourself. His eyes still linger on your naked body, and he’s thinking of everything he’d do to you.

He finally feels like a pervert when he’s thinking of having you under him or on top of him, he doesn’t mind. He just wants to hear his neighbor’s cute little voice as she yells his name over and over again. He’d love to have a taste of her.

You look back at him again, where they make eye contact. You have a sly smile on her face before you stand up from the bed and finally put on your underwear and your pajamas. Kento is almost sad to have it be over so soon, he was hoping you’d put on even more of a show for him. He assumes it had to end eventually.

You walk over to the window, and you blow a kiss at your neighbor before you shut the curtain, leaving his field of view. The man stares back at his own reflection in the window, almost embarrassed by his actions.

He’ll see you tomorrow again, he’s not sure how he’ll face you. Perhaps he’ll apologize, even though he knows that at the same time tomorrow, he’ll do it all over again. He tries to focus his attention on the book that’s in his hand, but it’s hard to when he thinks about you, completely bare just like you were a second ago, only this time you’re in front of him.

Maybe he should man up and knock on your door. Or maybe he should stop being so perverted and focus on his book.

“Hey neighbor!” You wave excitedly at the man that’s unlocking the door to his home. Your voice makes him nervous, causing him to drop his key. You walk over to him with a smirk on your lips. You try to disguise it as a sweet smile when you’re in front of him, and Kento freezes in his spot when you’re right there. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat before he speaks. His eyes look up and down your body, and they linger on the tight dress you wear. He looks straight at your cleavage, and his cheeks turn pink, picturing clearly how they look underneath your clothes. He’s seen you thousands of times walking around your room naked.

It’s surprising that this is the first time you approach him. Sure, you’ve talked but you’ve always had a reason to– Mail got mixed up, a package got delivered to the wrong house, you need a cup of sugar for baking; point is, there’s always something but today there doesn’t seem to be anything. At least not yet.

“Do you need something?” Kento asks, making your bottom lip stick out. He unlocks the door of his home and he opens it. He realizes how hostile his question sounds, and he assures you, “Not that I mind your presence but…”

“Just wanted to talk to you.” You respond. You take a couple of steps closer to him, and you bring your lips to his ear. You lower your voice and whisper, “Or am I out of line?”

“I– No, not at all.” Kento is caught off guard, and he tries his best to remain calm. You lightly bite down on your lip before you glance inside his house. “Do you want to come in?”

“If you insist.” You answer before walking inside the home. You want to walk straight to the bedroom since you know exactly where it is, but you decide that you want to chat first. You walk to the couch in the living room, taking note of how organized and clean the space is. Kento follows behind you, his eyes glued to your ass and thighs as you make yourself welcome in his home. “You have such a nice home.”

“Thank you.” He answers, watching as you take a seat on his couch and cross your legs. He stands in front of you, his arms crossing in front of him. “So… Do you have a conversation topic or–”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t made the move on me yet.” You interrupt him. “You’ve been watching me for a month straight, and yet you don’t even try to talk to me. You clearly like it since you keep watching.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to make the first move? You’re the one that puts on the little show. Every single night.” He reminds you, making you click your tongue. He proceeds to take a seat beside you, his arms still crossed. His arms look so big and strong, and it takes everything in you to not stop the conversation and get on your knees. You need the man that sits beside you so fucking bad.

“I already do so much for you… You should have the common courtesy to at least thank me.” You tell him, your hand going to his bicep. He hums, raising his brow.

“Why did you come here? You want a thank you or…?” He asks, and you slowly nod your head in response. That’s when his hands go to your thighs, while his face inches closer to yours. He lowers his voice and he asks, “You don’t want a simple thank you, do you?”

“What do you think?” You smirk at him, and he chuckles before his lips land on yours. It’s the least the man can do after watching you every single night. Your tongue swipes his bottom lip before it enters his mouth and presses against his own. His hand goes under your dress, going to your panties. His finger hooks under the cloth and he begins to pull your panties down.

Kento pulls away from the kiss, kissing down your neck before he begins to suck on your skin. You help him pull down your panties, and within seconds they’re down by your ankles. The man reaches down to take the panties, stuffing them in his pocket. His fingers begin to run through your folds, and before he can do much you tell him, “You wanna do this here? Or in your bedroom?”

“Why?” He asks, pulling away. You stand up from the couch, grabbing his hand and leading him to the stairs of the home. 

“Just wanna see it.” You answer. You can easily guess where his bedroom is, and you’re assured when your eyes land on the armchair that you always find Kento sitting in. You stand still for a moment, deciding where you want to go next, and you feel Kento unzip the back of the dress. You laugh, “Aren’t you eager?”

“I just want to say my thanks.” Kento says as he takes the dress off you. Of course you aren’t wearing a bra, he noticed when you walked up to him but he didn’t want to baselessly assume. His hands go to your breasts, his fingers rolling and playing with your nipples. 

“You’re too kind.” You answer, your body leaning back so your head rests on his chest. One of his hands going down to your pussy. His ring and middle finger run through your folds before he begins to play with your clit. You look up at him, and he’s smirking as he looks down at you.

“Is this good enough? Or should I do more?” He asks, and you swear you’ve never been turned on more by a voice. He’s nearly driving you to your knees. You’re squeezing your thighs, and you’re biting down your lip as you look up at him. There’s so much desire in your needy eyes. “Aren’t you pathetic? Cat got your tongue?”

“I need more.” You answer, and he gets his fingers wet enough with your slick before he pushes his middle and ring finger inside your cunt. A soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his thick fingers fill you up. You’ve gotten a glance at them a couple of times, and you always had the thought of how they’d feel inside of you. Now that you feel them, you’re cursing yourself for not making a move sooner.

“Your pussy feels so nice.” He comments as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you. You begin to moan as Kento’s thumb begins to toy with your clit. He’s making you feel so good, you’re nearly putty in his hands even though you haven’t been with him for long. “You sound just like I expected.”

“Fuck–” You mutter, shutting your eyes as pleasure slowly gets the better of you. You make the cutest face that your neighbor has ever seen as your orgasm approaches. You slowly start to get louder as pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. There’s a smug smirk on Kento’s lips before he does an evil action– He takes his fingers out of your pussy.

He brings his fingers up to his lips, and takes them into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around them to get a taste of you, and you taste just like he imagined. He hums. “You taste just how I expected too.”

“I thought you were going to thank me?” Your brows are furrowed as you look at him, irritated that he took your orgasm from you. His eyes look at the window, and your eyes follow lead. You’re confused as to what you’re supposed to be looking at, until you realize he’s looking into your room.

“You hate closing that curtain.” He comments, his hand putting pressure on your back so you begin to walk to the window. When you’re mere inches away, he pushes your back to the window, your hands landing on the spotless glass. “You really have no shame.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You respond as you hear him unzip his pants. You eagerly wait for his cock, and it feels like he’s taking his sweet time to undress– You have no idea why, all he has to do is take off his pants (matter of fact, he’s just unzipping, not even taking them off). You’re too impatient, that’s why. 

“I’m glad you are. Always putting on a little show for me. It makes my night better.” You feel the tip of his cock run through your folds. You shake your ass, wanting him to hurry up because you can’t wait any longer. He slaps your ass in return, causing a whine to leave your lips. You feel his breath on your ear before he whispers, “Be patient, I’m not running anywhere.”

“I need you so bad… Please.” You sound so fucking pathetic. He finally pushes his cock inside of you, and your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head as his cock stretches you out. He’s bigger than you expected, but you aren’t complaining.

The man hisses as he feels your warm cunt wrap around his cock. He shuts his eyes as he takes it all in. You feel better than what he thought, and fuck, it’s taking everything in him to not lose control. Shamelessly watching you as you walked around naked in your room was enough for him but after getting a taste of you, he doubts that just watching through the window will be enough.

He gives you a moment before he begins to move. His nails dig into your soft flesh as he tries to set a steady pace. He watches your ass move with each of his thrusts. His hand pulls on your hair before he presses your face on the window, making sure your makeup leaves a mark, “You get to see my view now– Minus the goddess that blesses me at night.”

His cock is hitting every right spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, and you hate the fact that you doubted that he did. Maybe you should’ve stopped the teasing and walked up to him earlier. 

The hand that holds on your hip goes under and begins to play with your clit, and you’re convinced that the man is set on driving you wild. But you’re also driving him insane by how your cunt squeezes around him. You’re thankful he lives alone because you can’t control how loud you are; although the window does help suppress your loudness. 

“What a tight little pussy. Even better than what I expected.” He praises. He works you up, and it doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, especially after the one he ripped away from you. You begin to get tighter around his cock, and you hear as he groans in pleasure.

“Oh– Fuck–” The biggest smile forms on his face when you finally reach your climax– You feel as the liquid leaves your body, and you’re sure they’ve stained his pants. You could die of embarrassment mainly because you don’t see the excitement in his eyes. He’s only pissed off that you didn’t squirt while his face was buried between your legs. 

He has to have you again, simply for you to squirt while he’s eating you out. That thought makes him think that maybe he is the pervert that he claims he’s not. But he doesn’t give a shit when you’re so pretty and you feel so good wrapped around his cock.

His thrusts begin to get sloppy and he becomes louder. He wants to finish inside of you and fill you up with his seed– But he’s a gentleman… A perverted one, but regardless, a gentleman. He has to at least try to ask, “Inside or outside?”

“Inside.” It comes out muffled but he hears it, and when he finally reaches his release, his cum fills up your warm cunt.

He stays still for a moment before he finally pulls out his cock and puts it back into his briefs. He watches his cum drip out of your cunt, and he takes two fingers to push his seed back in. You take a moment to sit back on the bed that’s near you, staining his tan comforter with his cum. You feel embarrassed as you look at the makeup that’s on the window, and as you remember the fact that you squirt all over him.

“Sorry…” You mutter, and his brows furrow.

“What for?” You point at the pants. He chuckles. “You’re coming over again so you do that all over my face.”

It does take you by surprise.

“I have to start dinner soon, so you can either stay and join me, or leave.” He says, and it sounds like a tempting offer to stay and have dinner with him but you doubt you can wear that tight dress for too long. You wore it for him to take it off you. He watches as you ponder and reflect on your options. “Either way, I’m expecting to see you at nine.”

[yesimwriting]

Phantom Lurking

A/n This is a story set in the bestie reader verse that I briefly mentioned in an ask, but there's no specific context needed outside of the fact that reader and louis are extremely close best friends

Warnings: nothing too crazy (especially when compared to the source material) but there's mentions/implications of someone putting something in reader's drink but, within the fic, reader is never actually in danger of being physically hurt, reader feeling sick/anxious, Armand being emotionally manipulative as a way of expressing affection

Summary: After an argument with Louis, you decide to go out with an old friend. Once you're home again, you're forced to deal with two realizations. The first is that you feel a lot worse than you should, and the second is that Armand isn't the worst at being helpful when he wants to be.

----

The world feels flat, like one of the three dimensions you're used to being able to perceive has slipped into nonexistence. You frown, letting the thought inch its way up your spine.

You blink. Once and then twice, as if the familiarity of the gesture will be enough to remind you of what you were doing--of the reason for the phone in your hand.

"Woah," the voice is sharp enough in its happiness to jab at your stomach. You lift your head, ignoring the rigidness of the movement as you look to the source of the sound. Grace--your friend, Grace. A part of you is almost complacent enough to be eased by the realization that she's here. "You look so sad."

You can feel your eyebrows draw together. Do you? And then, as your fingers tighten around your cell phone, a second thought latches itself onto the first: Are you?

"Don't worry," she says, voice so chipper it almost stings. "He'll be over it tomorrow."

Right. On instinct, you let your head fall downwards. You unlock your phone, eyes narrowing at the screen's brightness as you open your messages. No new ones. Just the last texts you managed to send to Louis before you started feeling too nauseous to type: Not feeling. Okkay.

The lack of response presses itself into your lungs, making it impossible to breathe right. Louis was upset , but you can't imagine him ever being mad enough to not text you back. "But Louis answers."

Grace watches you for a second, her head tilting curiously at your phrasing. "Maybe he's sleeping." When the suggestion doesn't seem to sway you, she places a hand on your bare shoulder. Your mind is aware enough to acknowledge the intentions behind the contact, but her skin is so warm and sweaty against yours it's nearly nauseating. "It's late."

Louis keeps different hours than the general population, but that's not something you can fault her for not knowing. Besides, maybe it is so late that the night is morphing into morning. It wouldn't be the first time you and Grace lost an entire night to partying, and it would explain why you feel so incredibly out of it.

And...if Louis was really upset, he might have gone to bed early. He mentioned once that sometimes vampires enclose themselves in their coffins to avoid dealing with discomfort. It sounds deeply dramatic to you, but it's possible he's doing something similar.

You exhale, nodding so slowly the motion feels like more of a caricature of a human response than anything else. She laughs, the sound full in its certainty. Your stomach doesn't know how to digest her easiness.

"You'll feel better tomorrow." Grace's hand pulls itself away from your arm. "Okay--keys." When all you do is stare at her, she sighs. "First, I have to stop you from going home with that weird guy you met while waiting for the bathroom..." She trails off as she reaches for your purse. "And now you don't even remember where you are."

Hm. Grace's chastising gives you something to focus on. You blink, lifting your gaze as you glance around the building. The pale walls and warm lighting are familiar...this is your apartment building. How did you get to your apartment building?

Grace rifles through your purse, the contents of your bag clinking together as she searches through it. After a second, she seems to find what she's looking for. She turns away from you and towards the door.

"Okay," she hums triumphantly, "We're in."

You take the words as a sign to step forward. Your thoughts don't align with your movements. The delay is enough to make you stumble, your foot missing the base of your heel.

Grace is next to you in a second, her hands latching onto your arms to keep you stable. "How much did you drink?" The question lacks her earlier amusement.

You're not sure you're meant to respond, but you think about it anyway. It didn't feel like that much...but you don't exactly remember every moment, every drink--and you were mad at Louis.

She watches you for a second, her eyes wide and much too focused. "Are you okay?" It's a question your mind refuses to dwell on. Of course you're okay. "Like--okay to be left alone."

"Mhm," the answer feels hollow, "Yeah." Grace continues to stare, her lips pressed together in a way that conveys her uncertainty. "I'm just gonna go to sleep."

She studies you for another beat, and then sighs, "Okay--but straight to bed. And no more texting." Easy enough to follow. Grace lets go of you slowly. "And maybe try to drink some water--and--and try to sleep on your side."

You nod blankly, your hands reaching for the door in front of you. "Water, side, no texting."

Grace sighs as she walks forward. "And call me in the morning, okay?"

You squeeze the side of the door in an attempt to feel more stable. Tomorrow morning feels so far...so impossible. "Okay. Yeah."

She turns her head to look at you one last time before continuing down the hall. You step into your apartment before shutting the door behind you.

The darkness of your apartment immediately pushes itself to the front of your mind, blending into your unease in a way that's dizzying. You exhale, letting your weight rest against the door. You shut your eyes, inhaling as you force yourself to focus on the concrete. The ground beneath your feet is steady, the wood against your back is stable.

"You turned off your location."

The tension that takes over your body is so sharp, so heavy it briefly leaves you paralyzed. You open your eyes, pushing yourself further against the door.

Wait. The voice. You know that voice. The recognition doesn't ease you until a familiar figure pulls itself away from the shadows enshrouding your living room in darkness.

"Oh my god," you manage a second too late, the words devoid of the necessary bite needed to turn the phrase into a warning. "I thought you were a serial killer."

Armand doesn't care about your reaction. He just continues walking towards you with slow, even steps. Your mind is too foggy for his theatrics. "What..." Your questions feel too inadequate for you to make them mean anything. "Is Louis--is he okay?"

He stills at that, but it doesn't really matter. He's close enough now that the darkness isn't obscuring his features. For a moment, you think the question might have softened his expression. "Now you can find it in yourself to worry about him? After the way you spoke to him?"

Of course Louis told him. The haziness clinging to your thoughts has turned everything into sludge. Your lips part, some barely coherent defense-apology hybrid attempting to crawl its way up your throat. All you can manage is a slurred, "He was--dramatic, and I--" You push a hand against the door in an attempt to make yourself stand on your own. "I'm sorry." You're not sure why you're apologizing. It's not like Louis can hear it.

Armand continues forward. You don't think about where he might be going until you feel his hand on your arm. He's a lot less careful than Grace was, but something about the feel of his skin against yours is also a lot less overwhelming. If anything, the coolness of his touch is almost alievating.

"I don't--" You're not sure there's much point in explaining anything. Not when the only thing tethering you to consciousness is your nausea. You can't remember ever feeling so separate from yourself. "I don't feel good. If you're gonna lecture me, do it tomorrow."

Tomorrow. It feels more like a concept than a date. Things would be so much better if you could just fade out of existence until then.

Armand pulls you away from the door. Your limbs are too stiff to protest. His eyebrows draw together, and something behind his expression shifts. "I'm not here to lecture you."

"Then why are you here?"

His thumb moves out of place, brushing against your skin soothingly. "After your argument--Louis came back to me, he told me about what you said, how you treated him, and then he went to bed. Hours later, you sent him a message saying you didn't feel well..." He squeezes your arm a little tighter. "And you turned off your location."

It had been an extremely petty move, but in the moment, a few drinks in, it had felt so reasonable. If Louis was going to see you as fragile, you'd have to show him that you felt no interest in being looked after. "I was mad."

"And now you're experiencing natural consequence." His hold on you morphs into something that borders on uncomfortable, his nails pressing into your skin. "Do you know what people see when they look at you?" You can't do anything but stare at him. "You refuse to acknowledge your vulnerability, and then you stumble home like this."

Okay--you're drunk, but not--not horrible. You’re standing (mostly), and you haven't said anything weird to him. "You're not clueless." The words almost feel like a compliment. "How much did you have to drink?" You don't have an answer. "You don't know? Because I've seen you with Louis, and even when alcohol makes you sick, it's never like this."

Your limbs seem to grow heavier at the implication of his words. Did someone drug you? There was that one guy that hung around you and Grace a little too long, but he never got you a drink.

"Maybe you'll learn to appreciate Louis's warnings instead of running off with the first girl that offers you something simple."

Louis--when he learns about what happened, when he learns that you tried to call him...and that he wasn't there. "Don't tell him."

He angles his head towards you. "You're asking me to keep a secret from my companion for you?"

Ugh. "No." You didn't mean it that way, or at the very least, you didn't want to mean it that way. You can't make sense of things for yourself let alone for another person. "I don't know." Your head is starting to ache. "I just don't--I don't want him to feel bad."

Armand lets go of you slowly, his fingertips brushing against your arm as he straightens. "We'll worry about him tomorrow." There's a certainty there that leaves no room for argument.

The thought of delaying your worry doesn't feel as simple as he's making it out to be, but you can't find the words or energy to disagree. You're not sure what you'd be arguing for, anyway.

He turns with no warning, walking down the hall like this is his apartment. His decisiveness might have bothered you if it didn't make things feel a little easier. Even with Armand serving as a guiding force, your mind seems to buffer. It takes you a second to think to act on the desire to follow him.

It shouldn't be surprising that Armand seems so comfortable moving through your apartment. He's nowhere near as familiar with this space as Louis, but you find it hard to imagine Armand uncomfortable anywhere.

He finds your room. A more coherent version of yourself would have had the energy to worry about the last minute outfits you rejected and didn't have time to put away sitting on your desk chair.

The familiarity of your bedroom is enough to get you to move forward. You approach your bed, half-sitting-half-stumbling onto the mattress. You're not given the chance to settle before your muscles slump out of place. It's an unraveling of tension that offers you no peace.

Dread pools in your stomach. You blink, screwing your eyes shut before forcing them open again in an attempt to fight against the drowsiness blurring your vision. It's too sudden, too heavy.

"You can't fall asleep like that." The words are gentle enough to reach you through your panic.

You want to tell him that you can't be falling asleep, that falling asleep doesn't hold this kind of weight. Instead of struggling to piece your thoughts into something intelligible, you lift your head slightly and mumble a flat, "I'm not."

Armand's back is to you, his attention focused on your dresser. When he turns to face you again, he's holding a familiar piece of fabric. One of the oversized T-shirts you sleep in.

It takes much more focus than it should for you to press your elbows into your bedding. The edges of your vision grow spotty as you stand. You're managing, but everything about your positioning feels circumstantial, like the slightest shift could push you into unconsciousness.

He hands you your shirt. You squeeze the fabric between your fingers. Before you can think to do anything else, Armand's hand finds your wrist. You still at the contact. He moves towards you with slow, deliberate steps.

Armand stops directly behind you. He sets his palm against your shoulder, his thumb smoothing patterns against your shoulder. His other hand settles against your upper back. Something about the contact makes it a little easier to breathe.

You're just getting used to his proximity making things feel easier when he pulls his palm away from you. Before you can overthink the shift, you realize what he's doing. The zipper of your dress has been tugged out of its place.

Armand's slow to release you, his fingertips dragging against your skin as he steps away from you. He walks forward until he's in front of you again, his attention firmly focused on the wall. It takes you a moment to realize that this is him offering you privacy.

You pull the T-shirt over your head with a tact that feels similar to that of a toddler dressing themselves for the first time. You adjust the shirt's hem before pulling the straps of your dress off of your shoulders and down your arms. The material pools at your feet. You step out of the puddle of sequined fabric.

You tilt your head downwards, frowning at the discarded dress. You need to pick it up.

"Sit." The instruction is presented with a directness that leaves no room for resistance, and yet all you can bring yourself to do is blink at him. He turns to face you again. "The last thing you need is proximity to the ground."

His voice is implying a level of irritation you can't handle right now, so you step away from the dress and move to sit on your bed. Armand walks forward. He bends down, picking up the dress before approaching your desk. He lays the dress over the back of your desk chair neatly.

He approaches your bed again, this time sitting down next to you. The return of his proximity is strangely easing. When he doesn't say anything else, you give in to the need to break the silence, "Thanks."

Armand nods once in acknowledgement of the sentiment. "Lie down." The thought immediately digs at you. If you lay down, if you lose consciousness, you'll be letting go of the little control you still have. Anything could happen to you, and--and you'd be so alone.

When you don't move, Armand straightens, his arm extending towards you. His hand finds your shoulder. "I can stay..." The offer feels fragile, like the slightest mistake on your end could force it to crumble into dust. "But only if you listen to me." He turns his hand over as you let his words sink in. He drags his knuckles against your arm patiently. "Are you going to listen to me?"

You nod, if for no other reason than to keep him here. If your acceptance means anything to him, his expression gives no indication of it. "Lie down."

You give in with a sigh, pushing your bedding back as best as you can from your position on the bed. You move beneath your sheets before relaxing against a pillow. After a second, Armand begins to shift. You're not sure what he's doing until he's lying down next to you. The return of his proximity is unexpected, but not unwelcome.

He adjusts your comforter just enough to expose your forearm. Before you can think about the change, he begins to trace patterns against your inner arm. The gesture is oddly grounding...and considerate...which, even in your current state, you can tell is odd.

"Can I ask you something?"

He continues to drag his fingertips against your skin. "A lack of permission has never stopped you before."

A fair point. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He tilts his head slightly as he considers the question. "Am I usually cruel to you?"

That's not exactly the difference. Armand is never particularly cruel to you. He's never made you feel like you're in physical danger, which means a lot when considering what he is. You've never even had much of a reason to fear arguing with him. However, you can't recall him ever being so understanding.

"No," you find yourself hoping he can feel how much you mean the answer. "But you're usually less patient."

His hand briefly stills against your arm. "I prefer a fair fight."

The sentiment roots itself in your chest, leaving your skin a little warmer than it was a moment again. "We can have one tomorrow."

"I don't doubt it," he says, voice much flatter than before.

Hm. The comment isn't exactly aggressive, but it implies an annoyance that doesn't suit his actions. Something uneasy wedges itself between your lungs and ribs. "Are you mad at me?"

You turn your head as best as you can, staring at him with an openness that a more sober version of yourself would have never allowed. "Mad at you, the darling sun?"

You sigh, letting your eyes fall shut. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything," his defense, though already weak, is further softened by the easiness of his tone. "I'm only recognizing what you are."

Opening your eyes, you turn your head to face him again. "What am I?"

He's quiet for a moment before angling his head towards you. It's a subtle shift, but something about it seems to amplify his proximity. Armand's eyes look a little softer than you remember them being, his irises closer to a brown-tinged ember than their usual amber hue. Maybe it's the limited lighting.

"Worthwhile suffering."

The answer feels much too soft to be considered an insult. You're not sure what to think of it. "You're very dramatic."

His hand stills against your arm. "I'm dramatic, when you're the one that turned off your location."

You don't have a decent response. Even as a teenager, you knew better than to completely turn off your location without letting anyone know where you were going during a night out. You're lucky that Grace was there and aware enough to get you back home, but things could have gone so much worse.

The thought of how incredibly stupid you've been burrows itself into your stomach, adding a sharpness to the underlying nausea you've almost been able to forget. Knowing that you're wrong and Armand's right isn't helping things, either.

And Louis--your Louis. Who cares if sometimes he worries so much it makes you feel like burden? At least he cares about you.

"I was mean to Louis."

Armand's hand stills against your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that somehow feels both reassuring and resentful. "He'll let it pass."

You let out a self deprecating sigh. There's no reason to believe that Louis won't forgive you, but that doesn't make things okay. "He shouldn't."

"Don't be a martyr." His dismissal isn't enough to diminish your angst. You frown, shifting away from him so that you can lie flat on your back. He's quick to counter your resistance, adjusting his position so that he's sitting up a lot more than you are. He's practically leaning over you, and all you can think to do is stare.

"He loves you," Armand's voice is a lot quieter than you thought it'd be, "There isn't a single thing you could do that he wouldn't forgive."

His certainty is enough for both of you. After a second of blankness, you find it in yourself to nod. The gesture is stiff and uneasy, but it seems to be enough for him. He relaxes slowly, moving to rest his head against your ribs.

His closeness is more of a surprise than it should be. You and Louis have fallen asleep like this more times than you can count. The shock takes a moment to subside, but once it does, you realize that you're... not uncomfortable.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you move a hand to rest against his upper back. Neither of you move.

"You should go to sleep," he whispers after what could be a long or short stretch of silence, "You'll be yourself in the morning."

The suggestion is a lot less overwhelming now. Maybe it's because you feel a lot more concrete now. You shut your eyes, but before you can try to find rest, you remember where you are and who you're with.

"Wait," you mumble, "The window--" You're not managing the urgency you feel. While your room isn't exactly flooded with light in the morning, the sun does reach your bed in the mornings if you don't remember to fully shut your curtains.

"The curtains are fine." Armand shifts slightly, his hand settling against the arm not bent against his back. "Rest."

You close your eyes again, this time finding it in yourself to relax fully.

----

@joong-of-gold this is the fic i mentioned having in my drafts a little while ago!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can’t be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: it's another monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom before we go," Eva pushes out her chair. 

"I'll sort the bill," you assure her as you check the slip left by the server. It's more than you like to spend. 

As she goes, you keep your attention on your wallet. That man is still there. Watching. He ordered food but didn't eat. Most of yours is in the to-go by the untouched cocktail. 

You refuse to look at him. He's waiting for it. You don't need to provoke him. Especially not with Eva around. 

Her voice wafts over as if she heard your thoughts. You flinch and look over. She giggles by his table as she talks to him. He has his phone in hand as she winks and nearly skips back to you. He grins but you look away before your eyes can meet. 

She sits and your cheeks pinch. The server arrives before you can find the words to ask. You pay with a tap of your card and tuck it away. 

"What did you say to that man?" You keep your voice even and your back to his table. 

"I was being nice," she insists. "I gave him your number." 

"You--" you catch yourself before you can cheep.  

"I mean he's into you. Don't worry, I told him you're shy." 

"Oh my god," you drone and turn away, stomping toward the door. 

She hurries after you in a clack of heels, "you're not mad at me, are you?" 

"Mad? No. Irritated. Why would you give him my number?" 

"I... I thought... I'm sorry," she follows you outside. 

"Eva, don't be, I just..." you untangle your purse as it twists from your elbow. You feel bad as you can hear her guilt. You know she means well. "Look, I had a really long day and work has been... weird." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean to make it worse," she mutters. 

"Please, let's just go home," you get out your keys and hit unlock too many times. You crane to see over your shoulder. Is he following? "We both worked hard." 

"Sure," she agrees. "It was... I didn't mean--" 

"Really, I can tell him to scram if I need to." You say before ducking into the car. You are going to have to. Again. 

💀

The rumble that trails vaguely along your path home doesn't surprise you, but it troubles you. You do your best not to let on. Not to let the dread bubble over to fear. 

You pull up to your small modest house and for a moment, consider backing out. You know better than to lead a strange man back to your home but what choice do you have. As it were, he knows where you work, who's to say he doesn't already have your address? 

You get out as Eva does the same. She yawns. You walk quietly to the front door. You're certain to lock it as she takes off her shoes. 

She heads down the hall and calls dibs on the shower. You barely get out a grumble. You stay by the door. 

The engine roars closer and closer. It's a game to him, not to you. It's not fun for you. 

There's no sense in running away. If you hadn't in the first place, he wouldn't have come to the restaurant. He wouldn't have got so close to Eva. That was his statement. It's not just you anymore... 

Deal with it. Be done with it. Your mother trailed men along so many times. You know better. Even if you never asked for this, it's your problem now. 

As the motorcycle thunders down the street, the whine of the pipes fades. You twist the latch back and storm out. The man rolls toward your house and you stop at the end of the driveway. 

He steers toward you and plants his feet. His blue eyes sparkle as you glower back at him. He shuts off the engine. You sigh. 

"I can get you my insurance info," you begin. 

He snorts and kicks the stand down. Your eyes wander to the scratches on the bars and tank. You bite the inside of your lip. 

He climbs off and you feel even smaller. You don't know what else to do.  

"For the bike. I didn't mean to--" 

He laughs. You stare. 

"I'm not here about the bike." 

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. You don’t want to feed his ego. Or worse, his anger. All men are angry. Deep down. 

"You're running from me," he accuses. 

"I don't know you," you utter. 

"Well, you don't make it easy to change that." 

You look away and push your shoulders up. When you glance at him again, he's intent on you. A man's never been so fixated on you before. It makes the world feel smaller. 

"It's... at the bar? I appreciate what you did," you say. "So if that's why you're here, my sister won't be going back--" 

"Your sister?" He hums with intrigue. "That who she is?" 

You cross your arms, heat razing up your back. 

"I don't... I don't know what you want so if you could just... let me know or leave me alone. I really don't have time for all this." You say. 

He snickers again and reaches to toy with his helmet strap. "You don't got time for me?" He nods, "wow, you know, I never had a lady say that to me. No men either. They're all too scared." 

"Scared, er?" You swallow. "Well, I... I don't mean it rudely. It's just...the truth." 

"Alright, well then, I won't waste your time, doll. Gimme your name and I'll let you enjoy your night." 

You scratch your neck and peek behind you. You look at him then shrug. If he doesn't already know, he'll find out. You give your name. 

"Beautiful," he says. "Well, I'm Bucky. Just so you got a name for the face." 

You take a step back, "right, well... you got what you wanted." 

"Not even close," he says as he straddles his bike once more. "But I got enough. For now." 

For now? Chagrin wrinkles between your brows. He holds your gaze as he moves the bike back with patient steps. The headlight is cracked, no doubt from your panicked flight. His is anything but frantic. 

He angles the bike down the street and turns the engine. He twists the throttle and pushes off. In a tear of gas-laced exhaust, he leaves you, uncertain of yourself but sure of his return. Maybe not here, but eventually, he'll find you again. 

💀

Work is already stressful without the weight of your personal life. You try not to think of it as you walk in that morning. You should be content. Eva’s at her second day, she’s behaving, at least as far as you know, and you’re in the slow season as the fiscal year comes to an end. 

Despite trying to cozen yourself into a false sense of security, you can’t find even the solace of denial. Not as you approach your desk and find Mr. Walker awaiting you. This is a first and it’s definitely not a good omen. The only other time you saw him at someone’s workstation like this usually ended up in an empty chair. 

“Mr. Walker,” you approach, your nerves worn down. “Good morning.” 

“Is it good?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s being trite or not. 

“Well, it is morning,” you say. “Is there something I can do?” 

He looks around at your desk then back to you. He tilts his head. “New client. Tim’s on vacation with the family. Deb’s got her kid’s game tonight.” 

You give a short nod, “I can pick up the overtime.” You’ll message Eva and hope she can find her way home. No, you’ll trust that she will. Things are different now. She’s an adult. 

“That’s great,” he taps the corner of your desk and his eyes trail over. You left it raised the day before. “These standing desks, you like them?” 

You clutch the handle of your lunch bag tighter. “They help me get on my feet. Not bad.” 

“Hm,” his cheeks dimple. “I admire that in an employee. Straight to the point.” 

You measure the comment. It could be a compliment or insult. Or even just designed to confuse you. Some true managerial mind fuckery. 

“Sir, I like it. I know a lot of other places don’t have them so... it’s nice.” 

“Well, I...” he looks around as if trying to seem hapless. “I’m in your way and you have a long day ahead of you.” 

You check your watch, “still on time.” 

He shifts but not far. As you step past him, he stays close. There’s a brush against your pants. Is it your paranoia which makes it feel intentional? 

You step behind your desk and put your lunch bag on the corner. You unhook your purse and sling it over the back of your chair. You’re keenly aware of Walker’s presence. 

“You drink coffee? I was going to have one.” 

You hesitate. Is he offering? 

“I have one a day. Before work,” you assure him. 

“Huh, yeah, the caffeine,” he muses. “Could I get some help though?” 

You look at him as your computer boots. This is odd. Him asking for help. Not just that he’s admitting to needing it, but that he’s not demanding it is enough to pique your concern. 

“I usually pop down to the coffee shop but I’m not in the mood for crowds. I’ve never used that fancy machine that’s draining the budget,” he snorts. 

As put off as you are, you’re also agitated. You just like to get your stuff down and get going. The days are already grueling enough. You won’t say no. He got Eva a job and he’s never been as big a bugger to you as others. 

You step around your desk. 

“Right, I think I can figure it out,” you say. 

He backs up to let you through. He waves his arm to direct you ahead of him. You take the lead, ready to melt as he follows, his eyes needling the back of your skull. 

You go to the break room. It’s empty. Too many people rush in late, with cups from the cafe, or yawns into their hands.  

You approach the machine. Sometimes, you use it for hot water to brew some tea but nothing else. Those instant drinks are all sugar. 

Well, it’s a touch screen. It can’t be that difficult. 

“So... a cup,” you talk to yourself more than him. As you reach for one of the paper cups, he does too. His large hand closes around yours. He could crush it and the cup with a squeeze. 

He hums and lets go. He lingers next to you as you set the cup on the tray. You bring your finger up to tap the coffee option on the screen. You feel like an idiot. You don’t think he really needs help. He’s just reminding you of who does who favours. 

“Um, medium, dark... latte....” you read out the options. Is he closer? No, you’re just not used to him. 

“Hmmm,” taps his chin. “French Vanilla or Hazelnut?” 

You wait for him to choose. He clicks his tongue. “I’m in the mood for something sweet. Vanilla.” 

You tap the screen again. He exhales and runs his knuckles up your sleeve. You nearly flinch away but think better of recoiling. It’s nothing. 

“Bring that to me, will you, sweetheart?” He squeezes your shoulder before he turns to strut out. 

You stay as you are, shoulder tingling, head pulsing, ears ringing. Sweetheart? And now you’re bringing him his coffee? Like some intern? You cringe as the machine churns loudly and your insides squirm in unison. 

Just when things seem to be in order, they have to go and fuck themselves up again. 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Two

Summary: You decide to finally do something for yourself and ease your mind Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Not too much for this chapter in particular besides mentions of domestic violence BUT yändere, manipulation, self harm, cheating, explicit language, smut, angst throughout the rest of the story a/n: Since you guys seem to be really liking this story I worked hard to get chapter two out quickly! Let me know what you think! p.s. Fuck me y'all I literally deleted chapter 2 but luckily I write on wattpad and I was able to restore it. I was literally about to cry

We had another fight. 

Honestly I don't even remember what it was about.

Something stupid like I left the door open after I came in with the groceries and forgot to lock it. Or maybe it was the fact that I actually left the house and got them instead of just ordering them to get dropped off on the doorstep. 

He always tells me it's too dangerous out there or that I should just wait for him to go with me instead. If I did that though we would never have any food here and I'm not about to order takeout for every meal. 

I don't understand why leaving the door open would be such an issue.

We live in a relatively nice complex and our neighbors always make sure to look out for me so I don't understand why something as simple as that could set him off. 

But then again it doesn't take much to set him off these days. I guess it was something I should've expected. 

He hasn't been home for two days and at this point I've decided that maybe it's time I went out for the night.

Nothing crazy or anything but just...out. 

Putting on yet another turtleneck I make sure that the old and new marks are covered. I've taken it a step further and put some makeup on to make sure that no one will notice.

Although I doubt anyone would notice me anyways since I usually fade into the background. 

But tonight isn't about feeling insecure in myself.

Tonight is the night where I finally do something on my own and get out of the house. 

Taking out my phone I look up the address for the local pub I've decided to go to, making sure to wear comfortable boots since it's a little ways away. I'm luck that it's winter right now so bundling up is normal, making my outfit even less suspicious. 

Taking a couple of deep breaths I reach for the handle, unlock the door and step outside. 

'Should I really be doing this?' I question but before I'm able to second guess myself I hear our next door neighbor unlock her door as well and step outside.

"Oh, y/n. What a pleasant surprise! It's been a while since I've seen your pretty face" she says scanning my features, clearly having heard the fight we had had the other day and making sure that I look okay. 

"Hi Mrs. Mitchell. How have you and Mr. Mitchell been?" I ask, returning her warm greeting but feeling awkward talking to someone that isn't Taehyung or my editor. 

"As well as we could be I suppose. Harry just turned 73 last month so he's been complaining about how old he his and how his knees don't work the way they used to. What can you expect when you get to our age?" she says, chuckling at her husband who is a few years younger than her.

"Seems like no matter how old men get, they still whine and complain whenever they get sick or injured" she continues, clearly trying to lighten my spirits.

"I guess so" I say, not daring to bad mouth Taehyung since he's probably already gotten a pretty bad reputation around here with everything we've been through over the past few years. 

Sometimes I'm surprised by the fact that we haven't gotten evicted with all of the noise complaints we've gotten. 

He always makes me answer each and every call from our building even though he's the one responsible for a majority of the noise but he always makes sure to stand close by to make sure I don't ask them to send help no matter how severe things have gotten. 

"Where are you off to?" she asks taking note of the fact that it's getting late in the evening.

"I figured I might just head over to the pub a few streets down and see if I can clear my head for a while" I say, not bothering to give more information than necessary.

Not that there would be any more information to give. 

"Good for you dear! It's always good to go out and get a new perspective on life. Let me know anytime if you need any help alright? Oh and I'm so excited to read your next book!" she says with that last part catching me off guard.

"You've read my books?" I question, taken aback and almost embarrassed at the fact that a woman of her age would be reading the type of genre I write, let alone my own. 

"Of course dear! As soon as I found out that you were a writer I went straight to the bookstore and bought all of them! You really are very talented" she finishes, with a glimmer of admiration in her eye. 

"Thank you so much, your support means the world to me, truly" I finish and she quickly shoos me off, apologizing for holding me hostage. 

"Next time I see you I'll sign your copies if you'd like" I offer and the look on her face is absolutely priceless. 

"I'll make sure to have them sitting by the front door with a pen in hand!" she beams and I wave one last goodbye before I make my way to my destination. 

~~~~

Walking in the doors of The Blue Pearl I'm greeted by the sound of soft rock being played in the background and a low murmur of the small amount of people spread through out.

This pub seems to be a little old fashioned so I guess it's not a big draw for the younger rowdier crowds. Which was exactly what I was looking for. 

Just a slow night to clear my head and a strong drink to drown my sorrows. Knowing me though I'll probably stop after one or two drinks. 

I decide to sit at the bar on the stool closest to the wall and wave the bartender over. 

"Surprise me, something sweet but something strong" I say trying to sound as confident as I can.

"You got it" she says and comes back soon with a pink drink of some sort a few moments later. "What is this?" I ask after taking a sip, already dying for another one at the fruity but subtly sweet drink. 

"I like to call it The Slut Puppy" she says with a proud smile. I tilt my head when I look at her, confused as to how she came up with the name.

"I'm still workshopping it to be honest but your reaction to the name definitely played true to the puppy part. I laugh realizing that I subconsciously played into her game and she laughs right along with me. 

"Long night?" she asks after I've settled in, using her bartender powers to see right through my act while walking away a bit to clean up the shaker she had used to make my drink. 

"Try long life" I say, rolling my eyes before taking a sip of my drink again, sighing in contentment.

"That bad huh?" she laughs bitterly, knowing one way or another that what I'm dealing with is beyond fucked. "Let's just say the best part of my week so far has been this drink" I say and steal a quick glance at her, embarrassed that my words are flowing so easily to a complete stranger. 

"But it's Saturday night" she says with her brows pinched together.

"Exactly" I say and before I can even ask she decides to grab another shaker and makes me another drink which I accept with a somber smile.

"I put some extra ice in this one so don't worry it's not gonna go straight to your head" she says, looking out for me as if she were someone I had known for my whole life. 

"I'm y/n by the way" I say, hoping to move from strangers to acquaintances at the very least. "Rae" she answers before tending to another patron. 

"So y/n," she starts as she makes her way back over to me "what do you do?" she asks, maintaining conversation but not trying to pry when it comes to what I'm clearly upset about. 

"I'm a writer" I answer and her interest is immediately peaked. "A writer? Really? What do you write about?" she asks, leaning up against the counter so she can hear me a bit better. 

"To be honest my stories are pretty fucked up romance novels" I say scratching the top of my head feeling a bit awkward at the confession. 

"Sounds like my type of book" she laughs. I let out a breath, thankful that I won't have to explain myself to her since this genre isn't everyone's cup of tea.

"So what are some books that you've written? Maybe I've read one before" she says going back to cleaning up a few things, making sure to use her time wisely. 

"Well 'Trials of the Broken' is one of them. It's my best seller at the moment. I'm actually working on writing the sequel right now" I respond, embarrassed but proud of my achievements all the same. 

"I think I've heard of that one! My friends have been trying to get me to read it but I never got around to it" she says, surprised at her chances of meeting me. 

"If you ever get around to it then let me know what you think" I say, now kicking myself for putting on the pressure for her to read it.

"I definitely will" she says and makes her way over to the other side of the bar to serve some more patrons that just made their way inside. 

Glancing over at them I notice one that is a few steps behind the crowd, making me question if he's come here alone but I go back to looking at my drink, trying my best not to stare. 

My eyes somehow manage to drag themselves over toward him anyways as he places his order and waits for Rae to make it. 

He takes off his hood and I'm met with first, the sight of his sharp jaw, then his shaggy hair he ruffled as soon as the hood dropped and finally his lips, the bottom one pierced twice rested in a soft smile.

I realize though that the only way I would be seeing his full on smile would be if he was looking back at me and I make somewhat panicked eye contact with him before quickly turning my head in the other direction. 

'Great job y/n, drooling over the first hot guy you see. He's probably going to think I'm some sort of creep now' my thoughts are interrupted with the sound of what I believe to be is a drink being set down on the counter a few seats away from me. 

"Is it alright if I sit here?" a smooth baritone voice says, making butterflies fill my stomach. 

"Um yeah sure" I say, taking a sip of my drink before glancing at him, quickly looking away before I start to stare again. 

"So how's your night going?" he asks, clearly in an effort to make small talk. 

"It's going. How about yours?" I question back and see that he's no longer looking at me, instead watching as he swirls his mystery drink around in his cup.

"About the same" he chuckles, clearly amused with both of our lack of effort to divulge any details. 

We sit there for a second or two in silence before Rae walks over and gives me another drink. I watched her make it and I can tell she went even easier on the alcohol this time and makes sure to question nonverbally if I'm alright to which I nod. 

"What are you drinking?" he asks, smiling at the visual of the bright pink drink with two cherries placed on top.

"You're gonna laugh" I say, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, feeling a little apprehensive saying words like this to a complete stranger (a hot one at that).

"It's-" "It's called a Slut Puppy" Rae interrupts from the other side of the bar, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was clearly listening.

"Um yeah, that" I chuckle, taking a big sip of it to hopefully calm my nerves. 

"A slut puppy?" he asks, flashing an amused smile at me, sending my heart beat into overload.

"Her name, not mine" I laugh awkwardly. Trying, but failing at sounding normal but from the looks of it he doesn't seem to mind.

"Right" he says dragging out the first syllable before taking a sip of his drink. 

"Do you guys know each other?" he asks, curious as to who our not so secret eavesdropper is. "Kinda. We just met. Although it almost seems like I've known her my whole life" I say smiling at her, thankful for the fact that she was able to lift my spirits so easily. 

"It's nice when you meet people like that" he says and when I bring my attention back over to him I can tell that he's been looking at me for a while, making me shy all over again. 

"Oh, I'm Jungkook by the way" he says holding out his hand, and I turn my stool towards him and shake it, fixing what would've been an awkward angle if I had stayed in place. He after seeing what I had done decides to turn as well, angling his body towards me and I notice now that there's only one seat between us.

A respectful distance, making me feel a bit more comfortable talking to him. 

"I'm y/n" I say and he gives me a soft smile, whispering my name under his breath, almost as if he were trying to keep it as a secret all for himself.

"So y/n, what's your story?" he asks, withdrawing his hand at almost the same time I do and goes back to taking another sip of his drink, making sure to keep his sparkly eyes trained on me. 

'Sparkly? Y/n you are a married woman. You shouldn't even be talking to this guy'.

"My story? Well to be honest there's not much to tell. I grew up and went to school in the city and now I'm a writer. There's not much else to my life if I'm being honest" I say, doing my best to maintain conversation but also not give away too much. 

"That ring on your finger says otherwise" he says, nodding towards it and playing around with his straw. Not in an abrasive way but more as if to remind me of something else that I might've forgotten.

"Oh, um yeah" I say, showing him the ring for a second to confirm his suspicions but pull my sweater down to cover it up a second later, hoping he won't ask anything else about that aspect but unfortunately luck is not on my side in that department tonight. 

"Is that why you're here? Needed to get away for a while?" he asks, curious but not insinuating anything that I would expect a guy of his age would be asking me.

"I guess you could say that" I say taking a deep breath deciding that if he's asking I might as well get the male perspective while I can. 

"With being a writer and everything I'm pretty much cooped up in the house all day. Which for me is fine and it's been like that for a few years" I say, taking a second to try and figure out how to formulate my next words carefully, not wanting him to worry or judge the situation too much.

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' here" he chuckles and takes another sip of his drink and waves at Rae in an effort to get both of us another drink without me noticing to avoid protest.

"But" I start out, confirming his suspicions. "with my husband being used to me doing that all the time he tends to get a bit, how should I say this..." I trail off, still not sure how to phrase it. 

"Controlling?" he offers, a bit more blunt than his other responses.

"Worried" I counter, although his word is more accurate than mine. He nods a bit, clearly not believing my words but doesn't press in hopes that I will continue.

"He's worried that something might happen to me if I go out alone. That someone might recognize me because of my books and try to do something like kidnap me" I say, fully confident in my words.

I hear Jungkook snort beside me a second later, leaving me looking over at him with my brows scrunched up.

"What's so funny?" I ask, confused and almost annoyed by his reaction. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry continue" he says doing his best to calm down. "No, what about that is so funny?" I press as I can clearly see that he's still trying to hold his laughter in. 

"I'm sorry y/n it's just, well isn't kidnapping a little bit of a stretch?" he says, clearing his throat and breathing through what he thought was a ridiculous excuse.

"Woman and children get kidnapped everyday! Look up the statistics!" I retort, trying to convince him that there's truth to Taehyung's argument. 

"Yes, I know that it happens a lot, but you can't let that keep you from going outside and living life. It's a horrible thing and I don't understand why anyone would do such a thing but you can't use it as a way to cripple yourself from ever leaving your house" he says, this time being completely serious and trying his best to convince me that I shouldn't be living like this. 

"I'm out now aren't I?" I argue, and to that he nods his head but presses further. "How long has it been since you've been out like this though?" he asks and I just let my head droop a bit in response before taking a sip of my new drink. 

"Well I'm proud of you for coming out tonight and doing this for yourself. And look, you're completely safe. Plus it seems like you've already made two new friends tonight" he laughs motioning to himself and Rae and when I look over at her all I can see is her bright smile, happy to see me getting more comfortable. 

"Who knows though, you might just be acting nice to me just so I'll let my guard down so you can kidnap me" I tease and at that he acts like he's offended, throwing his hand over his heart as if I had shot him. 

"You hurt me with your words. It's a shame though, I was just in the market for a new best friend" he says, wiping away a fake tear. "Or in the market for some fresh meat" I continue laughing at his act. "Twist the knife why don't you" he says, now resorting to pouting. 

"Aw, it's okay I didn't mean it" I say patting his shoulder in an effort to apologize. "You better not" he says looking at me, still pouting. "Come on, let's turn that frown upside down. Why don't I buy you a drink?" I ask as a way to make amends. 

"No that's alright, I've actually gotta get going" he says, pulling out his wallet and placing some cash on the counter to more than cover his drinks.

"Let me get you some change" Rae steps in, quick to help since she is otherwise unoccupied. "No it's okay, use it to cover us both and then keep the change" he says as he straightens out his jacket a bit. 

"No you don't have to do that" I argue and go to take some cash out of my purse as well. "It's okay I got it. But if you want to make it up to me I'll always take your number as payment" he says with a cheeky smile. 

"Just as friends of course! I would never want to seduce a married woman" he says, jumping over himself, making sure I know his intensions are pure. 

"Can we do email? I spend most of my time on my computer so it's easier for me" I say, making excuses as to not giving it to him.

"As long as you promise not to mark my messages as spam" he jokes and hands me his phone so I can add it in.

"I promise. It was really nice to meet you Jungkook" I say handing it back to him, our hands touching a few moments longer for it to be seen as something with the promise of being platonic. 

"Take care" he says giving me a soft smile and then waves at Rae, clearly seeing her not even bothering to hide that she's staring at us. 

"Bye" I say under my breath, not knowing how to feel about anything now that he's gone. 

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'When the Phone Rings' OST is SO GOOD

I haven't been watching many kdramas properly for the past year since nothing has been catching my eye, but I'm so glad I took the time to watch When the Phone Rings, because my goddd, we are so BACK besties. This is giving all the feels of the 2016 kdramas that I used to be obsessed with. I think the last time I watched a kdrama as it was airing was It's Okay to Not Be Okay and that was a riiddee. I used to freaking analyze each episode and one of the things I loved most about the show was how much the OSTs used to fit the situation and character perfectly.

The first OST they've released is See the Light by Lim Hyunsik.

First, what a voice. I love it so much.

Second, THE LYRICCSSS. THE MUSICCC. THE VIBBEEE.

The song manages to capture the mystery between these characters so well. One of the most striking things about this show is that both Baek Sa Eon and Hong Hee Joo are very mysterious - not only are they involved in a dangerous threat situation but the audience doesn't know anything about them. Their pasts haunt them and their relationship, and we are uncovering it piece by piece, which shapes how we see them. This is done so meticulously and the piano at the beginning of the song, the melody, the emotion behind it captures this PERFECTLY.

And I mean, some of the lyrics is so striking - it literally makes the audience understand the characters and their dilemma better. For example,

[Pre-Chorus] Your tender lies gonna make me cry tonight Fall like a dawn when the shades are fading out Now

The things that these two hide from each other dictate how they view each other as emotionally unavailable, cold and confusing. As shocking as it is for her to see him be kind towards her, it is as shocking to him to see her emote, to cry, to shout out in anxiety, to smile at her friends. Although it is easiest for the audience to experience Hong Hee Joo's confusion with her husband, this song shines light upon how Baek Sa Eon feels about his wife.

"Tender lies" is such perfect wording for this - neither of their lies, and especially not hers, is done with ill intention. It's almost like it is a way to protect herself against the world, to exist and survive in it. But the nature of lies, of course, is that is hides you away in darkness, it traps you in it.

Truth, here, frees it. It gives you light. It gives you life, a risky opportunity to live it but the strength to be brave about it as well. When her truth is revealed to him, there is no anger - there is only shock and confusion and a bit of happiness in unlocking an important part of her.

[Chorus] See the light waking up an unfamiliar night Stuck in my heart, hiding the cold words I'll hold you See the light open up your broken heart The deeper heart on my lips Wants you more deeply

The light that comes from truth unveils the darkness of the unfamiliar light - it unveils her broken heart to him in a way that makes him want to hold back his cold words, whether he means those words or not, and makes him want to hold her. Because he of all people also knows what its like to have your secrets revealed, to be vulnerable in the face of the one person who brings out your vulnerability - even if he isn't completely in that stage yet, he definitely is scared of it.

This song helps create a feeling of empathy between the characters, where they are genuinely finding reflections of themselves in each other. It helps us to understand what he is feeling as he discovers that she can speak, as he discovers her feelings.

Honestly, I cannot wait for next week's episodes and for most OSTs to release, because I just know it's all going to be perfect.

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 5

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“I know that smile.”

“Holy shit, Inés!” Carla says, her phone almost falling from her hands. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes, it was. Who is he?”

“Who is who?”

“The guy you are texting with, Carla.”

“I'm not texting with anyone” she says with a nervous laugh.

“Of course… not!” I say, snatching her phone from her hands.

“Inés!” she complains. “What are you doing?”

“It sucks, doesn't it? Now you know how I feel when you do it” I say, sticking out my tongue and unlocking her phone. She says I need a password, but she's had the same one for years. “Wait, Mario?”

“Give me that!” she says, managing to retrieve her phone before I can read any of their messages.

“Are you texting with Mario? With Pedri's friend?”

“No.”

“Carla…”

“Ok, fine, yes. I am. Is there any problem with that?”

“No, no. But I thought nothing had happened between you two the night we met him.”

“And it didn't” she says. 

“You exchanged numbers, tho.”

“Yes, we did. But that's it.” 

“I knew you had liked him” I smile. “Cute.”

“Yeah, whatever” she says, hiding her phone and starting to get changed. 

While I'm doing the same, it's my phone the one that pings. A new message from… Pedri? Why is he texting me today? He is supposed to be on his romantic getaway with Nerea. 

Good luck, Inés. Show them what you've got 😉💙❤️

“Now you are the one smiling” Carla says. “What does canary boy say?”

“He's Canarian, not a canary” I reply, rolling my eyes. “And he is just wishing me luck.”

“He is texting you while away with his girlfriend?”

“Yeah” I shrug, sitting down to put on my boots.

I had had to tell Carla about everything that had happened during my visit to the campus. About how possessive Nerea had been with Pedri while he was cold and basically trying to avoid her. About how she had talked to me and hinted about knowing that I liked him, something that had made Carla scream an “I told you” so loud I'm sure my neighbours heard her. About how he had been a completely different person with her and when he had said goodbye to me. And, of course, about what Vic had said: that Nerea was jealous of me, which was something I still didn't understand. 

Why would someone like her be jealous of someone like me? She is clever, confident, beautiful. People turn their heads to look at her when she walks by and leave fire emojis on her photos, something I have never seen on mine. And even though I know I'm not stupid in any sense or an orc from the depths of Mordor, no one looks twice at me or leaves fire emojis in my photos. Not even Víctor has left something like that when he comments. The closest thing you could probably get to seeing one, is if I posted a photo of my face after a preseason training session or Pedri winking at me. 

“Inés, if she finds out, this is gonna get messy.”

“It's just a friend wishing luck to another.”

“Yeah, but one of those friends happens to be her boyfriend, and the other fancies him” Carla says. “And if things don't seem to be ok between them according to what you told me the other day, and she can't  stand you, her finding out about this can make it all be very…”

“Messy” I sigh. 

“Exactly. So maybe, until they figure things out, you should take a step back and stop texting him. Because Inés, I know you, and you've definitely started to get your hopes up after finding out that things with his girlfriend aren't what they seem on Instagram, and to think about your own love story with Pedri. And don't try to deny it, I know it is true.” 

Of course it is true. I mean, I've been imagining my life with him since the moment I met him. Though this time, knowing what I know and what I've felt when I've been alone with him, when he has touched me, when he has almost kissed me… It all feels more real. And more dangerous too. Because if it hurt when I found out he had started dating Nerea, if now they somehow managed to fix things…

“I just don't want him to break your heart, Inés” Carla says, taking my hand on hers. 

“I know” I smile.

“Good” she smiles back. “Now let's finish getting ready, we have a clásico to win.”

“We do. And Carla…” I say, stopping her before she gets up from her seat. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Inés” she says, kissing my cheek. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Tell us, Inés. How does it feel to score your first goal with Barcelona’s first team, doing it against Real Madrid, and to win the game?”

“Honestly? I have no words” I laugh.

Because I had just done everything that the reporter had mentioned. That, and also be named player of the match. Someone please come and pinch me. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Inés, we need to go inside. It's getting late and you still haven't showered.”

“Just two more people, please” I say to the staff member that has stayed with me while I sign autographs and take photos with the fans after finishing all my interviews. 

“Fine” she sighs. “Two more.”

“Thank you” I smile before turning back to the stands and to signing t-shirts, posters and whatever you could think of. And while I'm signing the last t-shirt…

“Fancy some churros, Inés?”

“I beg your pardon?” I say, looking up at the owner of that voice. “Pedri?”

“Hello” he says with that smile of his that makes me feel all fuzzy inside.

“What… What are you doing here? I thought you were away!”

“I was.”

“You… you…”

“Inés, we have to go” the staff member says behind me.

“Just one second, please.”

“We can't, Inés. C'mon.”

“But…”

“I'll be outside waiting for you. Now be a good girl and do as you are being told” he smirks.

“I… I…” I mumble, opening and closing my mouth like a fish. If my face had stopped being as red as a tomato after the game, now it was back to burning. 

“Inés?”

“Yes, sorry. Sorry” I say, following the staff member. But before we disappear through the tunnel, I look back one last time at Pedri. And there he is, smiling and…

“Inés, are you ok?”

“Yes, yes. I just tripped with a water bottle someone left over there” I quickly say. A water bottle, or Pedri's wink. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Did you know he was coming?” I say to Carla the moment I walk into the changing room. 

“What?” 

“Pedri.”

“He's here?” she gasps.

“On the stands, yes. We just talked while I finished signing some autographs.”

“But that's… that's not possible! He was away with Nerea! He… Mario.”

“What?”

“Mario asked me for a ticket for the game, but then this morning said he couldn't come because he wasn't feeling well.”

“So you think…”

“That he gave it to Pedri.”

But why? Why would he give him his ticket? And why would Pedri ask for it in the first place? But most importantly… Why wasn't he with Nerea?

“Inés… Inés!” Carla says, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Hi, yes, what.”

“Come back to earth and focus. Because this doesn't change anything and things can still end up getting messy, ok?”

“Yed” I nod. “But he told me he was going to wait for me outside.”

“Then you go say hello and then back home. Alone.”

“Alone” I repeat.

“Good. Now go shower, you stink.”

“Hey, show some respect to the player of the match” I say, hitting her arm.

“Meh meh meh” she replies, sticking out her tongue and making me laugh. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Hello, Inés.”

“Hi” I say when I meet Pedri in the car park. He's leaning against a car with his hands in his pockets, looking… well. Looking like he does basically 24/7: hot as fuck. 

“May I drive you home?”

“Since when do you have a car?” I ask him.

“I rented it for the weekend, and since it got cut short…” he shrugs.

“Did something happen?”

“Nerea got that virus we talked about the other day.”

“And Mario?”

“Uh?”

“Did Mario also get it?”

“He… no” he says with a shy smile. “That was a little white lie. Hope you and Carla aren't too mad at us.”

“I'm not. But Carla… you may have just lost your roommate.”

“Oh, well” he shrugs again, making us both laugh. “Anyway, may I give the player of the match a ride home?” Pedri says with his most charming smile.

“You may” I giggle. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Flash forward a few hours. We are now in my kitchen, Pedri carefully putting some olives on his pizza while I just stare at his mouth. Because when he is focused, he pouts. And if his lips look very kissable just by existing, now they look… well, you can imagine.

“Done” he smiles after putting the last olive. “Can you open the oven for me, please?”

“Of course” I say. “Now what?” I ask him after he's put the pizzas inside and closed it.

“Now while we wait, we clean.”

“Are you seriously telling me that after the day I've had, now I have to clean? That the player of the match has to clean her kitchen?” I ask him with a teasing smile.

This is the joke we have had going on since leaving the stadium. That since I had been the player of the match, I deserved to be treated like a princess, and that was why he had offered to drive me home or to make me dinner. 

Remember what Carla said about taking a step back? Yeah, not happening.

“If your kitchen is a mess, it's your fault, Inés” Pedri says.

“Mine?”

“Who was the one who knocked the flour bag?” he asks me.

“Ok, yes, that was me. But it was your fault.”

“Mine?” he laughs.

“Yes, you. I was focused on my pizza, and you scared me when you walked past me.” When he walked past me, and when he touched my waist. My t-shirt was twisted on my apron (this time I had convinced him to wear one), and my skin was showing. So when I felt his fingers touching me…

“Not my fault that you are clumsy, Inés” he shrugs. 

“Me? Clumsy?” I say, taking a step forward towards him.

“Yes, you” he says, doing the same.

“Ummm…”

“Inés!” he gasps when I quickly cover my finger on flour and run it over his cheek.

“Sorry. I'm just a clumsy girl” I shrug, trying really hard not to smile. Who are you and where is shy Inés?

“Clumsy… clumsy…” 

“Pedri!” I gasp when instead of just one finger, he covers his whole hand on flour and rubs it all over my face.

“Now you look like a Real Madrid t-shirt” he laughs.

“Like a… You asked for this!” I say, taking a handful of flour and throwing it at him, starting what from now on will be known in history books as “the flour war”. 

“Inés… Inés, stop. I need a break” Pedri says after running like crazy around my kitchen throwing flour and each other, both of us laughing like two little kids. 

“Already?” I tease him.

“Yes, already. Only one of us is a professional athlete, you know?” he says, grabbing a glass and pouring himself some water.

“Weak.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said… weak” I smirk.

“That was so rude, Inés. So so rude” he says, pouring himself more water. But this time he isn't drinking it. He is walking towards me with the glass full to the rim.

“Pedri, what are you doing with that water?”

“What do you think?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

“You won't dare throwing it at me, will you? I'm covered in flour!”

“And so am I, Inés. Right now I look like a Targaryen.”

“So do I.”

“You do. But white hair doesn't suit you, so it's time we wash it.”

“Pedri, don't. Please don't do it, don't… Pedri!” I scream, closing my eyes and waiting for the water. Though it never comes. 

“You can open your eyes, Inés. I'm not going to do anything, I was just teasing you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Ok” I say, slowly opening my eyes. “Pedri!” I gasp when he splashes my face. 

“Sorry. Couldn't help myself.”

“You… You…” I say, looking for something I can use against him.

“Inés, did you just throw an olive to my face?”

“Maybe” I shrug. 

“That hurt!”

“Oh, c'mon. Don't be a baby, Pedro” I smirk. Seriously, tho. Who is this woman and where has my usual shy persona gone?

“You asked for this.”

“No, Pedri. Pedri!” I yell, when he threatens to empty the glass of water in my head. But like he said, I happen to be a professional athlete and manage to dodge it. “That was so sad” I laugh. 

“Don't make fun of me, Inés.”

“Or what? Will you throw another glass of water at me and miserably miss?” I chuckle.

“I may do this instead” he says, putting the glass down and pinning me against the wall with such speed that I only have time to gasp as I feel his body against mine, his hands resting at each side of my head. “Now who is the one laughing?”

“I… I…” I gulp. He is so close, that our noses are almost touching, his chest squeezing mine. And when I say mine, I say my boobs. And I'm wearing the thinest of bras, so he is definitely feeling it all. 

“You've been a very bad girl, Inés” he smirks, pushing me a bit more against the wall. “We are gonna have to do something about that.”

“Something?” I manage to say.

“Yes. Some kind of punishment” he says, looking at me in a way he had never done before, his eyes almost black. “And I think I know the perfect one” he says as he moves his hands from the wall behind me, one resting on my waist while the other caresses my jaw down to my neck and to my collarbone, making me gasp. 

“Pedri…” I whisper, my whole body already on fire.

“It's gonna be ok, Inés. Don't worry” he says before biting my skin where my neck and shoulder meet, making me gasp once again, my hands moving on their own and grabbing his t-shirt. But he doesn't stop there. He keeps moving up my neck, biting, sucking and kissing my skin, noises I didn't know I could make leaving my mouth. “Inés…” he whispers against my neck, pushing his body against mine even more. We are so close now, that I can feel all of him. All of him. Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Pedri” I hear myself moan when he kisses me somewhere close to my ear. Who knew being kissed there could feel so damn good?

“God, Inés…” he says as he starts kissing my jaw, now both his hands on my waist, grabbing it with such intensity that I'm pretty sure I'll have bruises tomorrow. There, and all over my neck. Though I may burst into flames first, because the heat I'm feeling is not normal. 

“Pe… ah!” I scream when someone rings my apartment’s doorbell.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Pedri asks in my ear, the feeling making me gasp for the millionth time in the past few minutes. 

“No.”

“Then ignore it” he says. But as those words leave his mouth, the doorbell sounds again. 

“I should probably go check who it is.”

“Urgh” he groans, kissing that first spot he had bitten and taking a step back, the heat I was feeling leaving with him. At least part of it, because I don't think this is going anywhere any time soon. 

“It'll be just a minute” I tell him before leaving the kitchen to answer the intercom, taking deep breaths to somehow make myself relax. Ha! Good luck, Inés.

“And?” he asks me when I'm back, already busy cleaning the kitchen. 

“Someone has sent me flowers.”

“What?”

“Yeah” I shrug. “The delivery guy is coming up.”

“And are you planning on answering the door looking like that?” he chuckles.

“Looking like… shit” I say, looking down at my apron and my clothes. I still am covered in flour.

“Here, let me help you” Pedri says, picking a kitchen towel and holding my face by the chin while he cleans it, my skin burning where he is touching me. See? That heat wasn't going anywhere. “There, much better” he smiles. “Though we must do something about the hair too” he says as he moves to stand behind me, first untying my apron and taking it off me, and then undoing the braid I was wearing, running his hands through my hair as flour surrounds us everywhere. Why is all this turning on me as much as everything he did before? “Now. Perfect” he smiles again as he moves to be in front of me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. It's a miracle that I am still standing. “Go open the door.”

“What?”

“The door, Inés. The delivery guy just rang.”

“Yes, the door. Yes. Sorry” I say, my brain remembering how to function and making me walk.

“Who has sent you flowers? A secret admirer?” Pedri asks me when I'm back again. 

“My family” I say. “Neither of them could be at the game, and they've sent me this.”

“Oh, that's nice. You have two older sisters, don't you?” he says while cleaning around the kitchen. “I think you posted about them recently on Instagram.” There he is again, paying attention to what I post and remembering it. But why? Why, why, why. 

“Yes, for their birthday. Ingrid and Irene.”

“The three of you have names that start with an i?” he chuckles.

“Yeah” I shrug. 

“Are you close?” 

“Could be worse.”

“What does that mean?”

“They are ten years older than me, and they are twins. They didn't need anyone else, they already had each other.”

“Wait, ten years?” Pedri says after checking the oven. I had completely forgotten about the pizzas. “What happened there?”

“My parents tried to save their marriage. It didn't work.”

“Oh. I'm sorry, Inés.”

“Nah, it's ok. They got divorced when I was three and I don't have memories of them together, so” I shrug.

“Have any of them remarried?”

“My mother. She married when I was eighteen and moved to Manchester, her husband is from there.”

“So you stayed with your father?”

“Not really. He's constantly traveling because of his job, so since one of my sisters works in Madrid and the other in Paris, I've basically been on my own.”

“Welcome to the club” he smiles. “And the pizzas are ready. Can you bring a couple of plates, please?”

“Sure” I say, doing as he has asked me. “What about you?”

“Uh?”

“Your family.”

“I'll tell you about them the day you come to my place and cook and clean for me.”

“What?” I laugh.

“I think it's fair” Pedri shrugs. “These have to cool down before we can eat them, so while they do it, I'm gonna wash myself a bit and stop looking like I just came from filming “House of the Dragon”. Don't touch them, ok?”

“I won't.”

“I'm serious, Inés. They say fire can't kill a dragon, but we aren't real Targaryens” he smirks.

“I didn't know you were a “Game of Thrones” fan” I chuckle.

“I'm full of surprises” Pedri winks before leaving the kitchen and me, obviously, trying to remember how to breathe. 

He's seriously gonna be the death of me.

[deliciouskeys]

Butchlander and "How could you forget your son's birthday?" because I am 80% certain neither of them know the exact date of Ryan's birthday, if I'm honest. And neither do we. But if that's too 'bad parenting,' "I won't be sympathetic until you see a doctor' is always a good go-to for these two as well.

This might be more of a downer than what you had in mind, @bisexualhomelander, sorry. Butchlander but it's gen and might almost fit into circa s4 canon if you don't think about the exact dates too hard.

Prompt #99 'How could you forget your son's birthday?" from the drabble challenge.

Butcher doesn't startle when he enters his flat and sees a shadowy figure seated at the small table near his kitchenette. It's dark in the room but he'd recognize that silhouette in a heartbeat. He also must have sensed an unfamiliar breeze coming from underneath the door before walking in, so he had a strange premonition his bedroom balcony door was ajar.

"You left your window unlocked," Homelander says, as if that absolves him of any social faux pas.

"And you got nothin' better to do than prowl around here." Butcher asks, turning his back to Homelander to hang up his coat in the closet, taking care to act as nonchalant as possible even though he's tense and instantly angry, and the anger feels like prickling on the skin of his back where he imagines Homelander's gaze is landing right now. "Haven't you ever heard of texting before showing up?"

"Your apartment is easier to track down than your burner phone numbers," Homelander says.

"So what do you want then?" Butcher asks when Homelander doesn't volunteer any explanation. He walks right past him, as if this monster in his flat poses zero danger. If Homelander came here to pose danger to him, he'd already be dead, Butcher figures. "Last time you wanted to find Ryan. Now you have him and you're still coming by?" he asks when there's still no response, and puts the kettle on before leaning back against the counter.

Homelander is sitting ramrod straight in the chair, cape carefully draped to the side of his seat, gloved hands clasped on the table, as if he's a fucking student in grade school trying to impress the teacher.

"Ryan's asleep," he finally says. "I just wanted to ask if you happen to know… when his birthday is."

Butcher barks out a laugh, then grows irritated when he realizes he doesn't know the answer. "And you came to ask me?"

"I wanted to avoid asking him…" Homelander adds. "And you might be the only person who'd know."

"Well I don't know," Butcher growls.

"You had him for more than a year…" Homelander trails off. 

"I wasn't babysitting him that year," Butcher says, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth he regrets them. There's really no excuse for him not to know. To never have asked, even. Why the hell is he admitting this to this cunt?

"Then maybe ask 'Aunt Grace' or whoever it was who was taking care of him." Homelander says, and Butcher's a bit unnerved that he knows her name, but then again why wouldn't he. Cunt's got a good memory for faces and names from what Butcher can tell. He can probably find Mallory himself if he really wanted to.

"Did it ever occur to ya that you could just ask him direct?"

Homelander sighs and rolls his eyes as if it's a stupid suggestion. "I could. But I wanted to surprise him. And I–"

"And you don't want Ryan to realize you know nothin' about him, cause his mum hated your guts and never gave you the time of day."

"Apparently she didn't give you the time of day either," Homelander mutters. "It's just that it's August already. And I figure, if he was born on time it must have been late September or October, so it's coming up…"

Butcher's hand pouring boiling water into his cup starts shaking and he can feel his heart rate rise, full of anger and adrenaline. Homelander hears it too, apparently.

"Oh please. It's well in the past. You should be flattered I remember the ballpark date."

"It was January 8th. Get out of my house."

Homelander rises to his feet slowly. "Fine, don't help me figure it out. Maybe he shouldn't be celebrating his birthday anyway. Born to some normie, trapped in a compound– what's there to commemorate? We'll just celebrate the date when I found him. That's when his life really began anyway."

Butcher's hands are clenched into fists, and he doesn't really think before he acts, just lobs the mug of hot water he just poured right into Homelander's face, watching it smash into pieces, the cunt's expression hardly changing as steaming water drips down forehead, nose and chin. 

"See you around, William," he says, running his hand through his hair to brush the water out, and walking to the veranda to fly out the same way he came in. "Thanks for nothing," he grumbles over his shoulder just before he catapults upward into the night sky.

'Thanks for nothing' Butcher repeats to himself, still shaking with pent up rage, fists still clenched, woodenly walking over to fetch the brush and dustpan and clean up the mess of ceramic shards all over the floor. 

Becca stands in the corner of the room watching him, a sad judgemental expression on her face. But it's not Becca, it's not even Becca's ghost, he knows it's just his own addled brain's picture of her, so it's no use asking her when Ryan's birthday is. She'll just give him the cryptic runaround, like when you try to learn something from a dream.

He empties the dustpan into the rubbish bin, gets his phone out and texts Mallory. Better to know late than never.

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

uh oh

Billy Russo x F!Reader | Explicit 18+ | 1.5K

Summary After a night out, all you really want to do is Billy. But your booty call doesn't turn out the way you expected.

Warnings smut, blow job, throat fucking, dub con (reader consents to giving a blow job, but isn’t given the chance to consent to throat fucking), clothes ripping, one-sided sex, unfulfilled reader, billy being a little shit, he’s messed up, fuck him at your own risk, not aspirational at all

A/N Inspired by the song "uh oh" by Tate McRae

~~~

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of your face and hangs for a moment on your jaw before it drips onto your chest. The bass blaring from the speakers beats out of time with your heart. You sip from the drink in your hand, the watery remnants of what was once a strong cocktail.

The club is stifling. The dance floor is beyond full and you’ve been dancing with this guy for the past twenty minutes, although ‘dancing’ might be generous. ‘Grinding his erection into your ass until it feels like you’ve been sitting on a bicycle all day’ might be more accurate.

You glance over at your friend, Nina. The guy she zeroed in on the moment you’d stepped through the door is currently holding her ass like his hands are the only thing that’s keeping it there, and his tongue might actually be partway down her throat.

The beat changes to something slower, more sensual and your dance partner takes that as his cue to suction his lips to your neck. It’s about all you can take.

You break away from him and make your way to Nina. “Hey! I’m going to head out. You good?” you shout into her ear to be heard over the music.

You’re not too drunk, but you are having a little trouble focusing on her when she pulls her mouth away from Prince Charming. “Yeah, I’m good! Are you going home?”

She gives you a look that says ‘you better be going home.’

“Yeah,” you say like ‘of course I am, where else would I be going?’ You’re not that convincing though and she raises her eyebrow at you.

Before she can say anything else your dance partner comes up behind you. “There you are,” he shouts at you.

You elbow him off you. “Not happening,” you yell into his face and turn back to Nina. “Text me tomorrow, okay?”

Outside, the air is only a degree or two cooler than the inside despite it being so late. You wipe the sweat from your eyes and get out your phone, thumb tapping the Uber app. You give yourself a second to rethink before typing in his address.

—

You up?

You fire off the text from the backseat of the black SUV your Uber driver rolled up in. There’s a refrigerated compartment in the back stocked with water bottles. You take a few gulps from one, then press the cool bottle to your neck.

I’m almost to your place.

You watch as ‘Delivered’ turns to ‘Read’. Three dots appear briefly, then: Door’s unlocked.

—

Billy walks into the room as you step inside. Somehow even in the middle of the night his hair is perfectly coifed. You don’t know what he’d been doing before this but it couldn’t have been sleeping. His eyes travel over you. You’re wearing a tight fitting dress with a slit up to your hip and a generous neckline. He blinks slowly, deliberately before he settles you with a stare, his jaw clenched. Those molten dark eyes. A weight deep down in your core.

“You wear that to the club?”

Nod.

“You dance with anyone?”

Nod.

“He give you that?” He lifts his chin in a gesture to your neck. You hadn’t realized the guy at the club had left a mark. You would have still come over had you known, but it somehow felt like the ground fell away beneath you and you’d plunged into a pool of sharks.

Swallow. Nod.

His voice is dark, dangerous. “Why didn’t you go home with him?”

A moment passes before you shrug.

“Tell me.”

You struggle to come up with what to say. He looks like he wants to devour you and you’re practically vibrating at the thought.

“His dick not big enough?”

Slow shake of your head.

“His breath smell?”

Shake.

“He live with his mom? He put his drinks on your tab? He dance off beat?”

Shake. Shake. Shake.

“Maybe” — he takes a step toward you and another weight presses down on your core. He reaches you in a few strides, positioning himself above you, his face mere inches away — “I’ve simply ruined you for all other dick.”

You’re staring at his lips, the sweet mint of his breath intoxicating you. He’s waiting for you to answer. When you meet his eye the possessive glint there nearly makes you flinch.

Nod.

He strikes like a viper, his kiss devouring you, his mouth soft on yours. As soon as your tongues touch the pressure that’s been building becomes unbearable and you squeeze your thighs together as hard as you can.

You sigh into his mouth when he pulls back. His fingertips trail down your body, over your hips to grip the fabric of your dress and with a firm tug, rip the slit apart. A few more tugs and your dress is ripped clean from your body leaving you standing there in bra and panties.

“I liked that dress,” you say with a cool irritation.

He breaks out that mega-watt smile, the one he uses when he gets his way. “I like it better like this.”

Billy’s thumb teasingly strokes the soft skin above the lacy band of your panties. The booze, the late hour, and his heady presence is making you pliant under him. The urge to give yourself over to him, to let him use your body, and to get lost in the pleasure of it hits you at the same time that he says, his nose in your hair, “On your knees.”

His hand on your shoulder guides you to the floor. Your knees press into the rug, the soft cushion offset by the rough fibers pricking your skin. He undoes his belt, his button, his zipper. You open your mouth, ready to receive him. The weight of him on your tongue, that silky smooth skin like the petal of a flower. Your lips stretch as you close around him, the suction pulling him deeper. Your mouth salivates heavily at the taste of him. You swirl your tongue on the underside and bob.

“Shit.” He grips your hair with one hand to slow you. “Not so fast, honey. Take your time.”

You gaze up at him with wide eyes, looking for the affirmation that you’re doing it the way he likes.

When you look at him like that, when you submit to him like that, it awakens his never-too-far-from-the-surface predatory instinct. He usually liked it slow, liked to see how long someone was willing to service him. But when you texted tonight, well, his dick got hard just from the sight of your name popping up on his phone. And now your pretty eyes are gazing up at him so willing. He wanted to see just how far you were willing to go.

 His eyes on yours, he takes a half step forward placing himself more above than in front of you, tilting your face up with the hand still threaded through your hair, he starts to use his hips, meeting your forward motion to make you take him deeper. At first you keep gazing at him with that enticing stare, but when he hits the back of your throat and you gag, those pretty eyes widen with alarm.

Which does nothing to slow Billy, if anything it spurs him on. You hardly notice that the tears —  stinging your eyes only moments ago  — are now dripping over your cheeks as you struggle to relax your throat. He’s trying to hold back, let you get used to it, but his hips have another idea: make you take everything he’s got.

You squeeze your eyes shut against the onslaught. Your world reduced to the stretch in your lips, the gluck in your throat. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he reaches his zenith. The shouts that are ripped from him are like music to your ears. You feel his balls tighten on your chin as he unloads directly in your throat.

Your lungs take a great gasping breath when he pulls from you. You blink away the tears, and gaze up at him, a fire in your eyes, the burn of his cum in your throat. Some of his hair is sticking up and the sweat rolls down his face. He looks like he can hardly support himself on legs turned to jello.

It’s a sight to see such a pretty man come undone.

No sooner do you decide to drag him to the ground and sit on his face than he slicks his hair back, seeming to regain his composure in a second. Then he casually checks his watch. “I gotta be up in five hours.”

It’s all the explanation he gives before zipping up his pants and heading for the hall.

“Billy, the fuck?” you lob at him, a rasp in your voice, still on your knees next to your ruined dress.

He pauses to look at you. “Oh,” he says as if remembering. “There’re coats in the closet. Help yourself.”

~~~

A/N So, um, I may write a follow up to this. Would y'all want that?

[aspureasamelody]

pure what are your top 5 favorite ichisaya moments

5. Masaya's last moments before his sacrifice

When Masaya just takes a moment to hold Ichigo close, run his fingers through her hair, hug her and pet her and be with her for a little while longer.

Masaya's never felt very attached to his life. He always felt like the world would be better without humans, and he included himself in that when he spoke. I think some part of him was always subconsciously ready to give up the ghost and hand himself off to Deep Blue.

But here, in this moment, where he's about to sacrifice his life to heal the earth in a similar way to how he's always thought he should, he hesitates. He's found this precious feeling he wants to hold dear. He's scared to die for the first time, because for the first time, he feels like he has something to lose.

But he'll do it. For her. He just wants this last moment.

And afterwards, even as Deep Blue tries to claw back control, Masaya holds back a god and either kills himself, or holds them down to let Ichigo finish them off. And he dies with a smile, because at least he knew her, at the end of it all.

4. Masaya encouraging Ichigo to fight in A La Mode

Masaya had a character arc throughout Tokyo Mew Mew about how scared he was when Ichigo put her life in danger to fight. He went from worrying about how she's holding up out there and feeling utterly useless to do anything, to unlocking Blue Knight to protect her, to fully awakening as Blue Knight and vowing to fight by Ichigo's sides as equals who uplift and support each other.

And now, when Ichigo's powers are slowly coming back to her after they've both died and come back to life for each other, Ichigo is the one who's worried that she's not sure what she can do, for her friends or for the Earth.

And Masaya pulls her aside, and reassures her that he knows she's strong. There's plenty she can do, and the others need her. He trusts her to fight, believes in her power and her might, knows that she's strong enough that even if they have to part ways right now, they'll still find each other when he comes back for her.

He helps her remember her strength at her lowest moments. He helps her awaken this confidence she deserves.

3. Ichigo and Blue Knight fighting together side-by-side

This one doesn't really need a full analysis to go with it.

They're a power couple, and probably the two most powerful beings in the entire verse of Tokyo Mew Mew, and I love that for them.

2. The confession in the rain

Classic moment, beautiful in all forms.

Ichigo's run all this way in the pouring rain. Her phone is broken, the concert is practically over, she's so late that she's sure he's already left. She's terrified that he'll hate her forever.

But Masaya's there. Masaya stood in the rain all night, for hours, waiting. Because he told her they'd meet there, and he was worried about the fight at the tower, but all he could do right now was wait for her.

We get to see Ichigo's determination, her raw emotions, her conflict in her double life. It's so good to see just how overjoyed Ichigo is when this finally goes right, and she finally gets to hear him say that he loves her. She's been through so much all day, she deserves this joy.

We even got to see the emotions in this scene broken down from both their perspectives, and it's just... perfect. Every moment of it.

And it's even better in Tokyo Mew Mew New, because in that one, Masaya notices the ears and expertly plays dumb by placing a handkerchief over her himself! That added touch elevates an already awesome scene to new heights!

1 Ichigo taking the lead in Tokyo Mew Mew ReTurn

This is a culmination of Ichigo's character arc.

She's confident, straightforward, knows she's powerful, knows what she wants.

She's passionate about the earth, and proud of her passion and love in all departments. She's not deterred or embarrassed by the cat ears and tails popping up anymore. She knows who and what she is, and she loves it. She's found this amazing depth of self-actualization and self-love, and it shines in this little moment.

Masaya is afraid of things changing, but he sees this, sees how Ichigo has changed and how happy she is for that growth, and suddenly, his fear of change is abetted. Because in whatever ways they change, whatever the future holds for them, they'll just come closer and closer together.

[abronzeagegod]

Untitled YA Novel Chapter 13: Queue Up Some Good Danger Music

First Chapter || More

11:57 AM local time

Oceanic Institute, Miami, Biscayne, United States

Getting into the grounds of the Institute was easy, there were no guards and the parking lot was almost empty. It didn't help that they knew they were going into the heart of the Silence.

The door was still unlocked from where Alt's team went in. With Hira taking the lead, they went in, trying to remain quiet.

"I know we are supposed to be stealthy and stuff," Mike said outloud. "But this is creepy and I want to know the second we hit the Silence so I'm going to play some danger music."

Justin nodded after giving a little shrug. It made sense. The Silence made it so no sound traveled. They couldn't hear them coming. And if Alt was around, they could hear the group. "It makes sense."

Hira shrugged and moved forward.

Mike scrolled for a moment on his phone before hitting play. 'Good 4 U' started playing from the small speaker in his phone.

"This is your danger music?" Justin asked.

Mike got indignant. "What? This is a great song!"

"That's not the point. Oh, never mind."

Hira at the front of the group would fly a few feet in front of the boys, check the corners and then move forward.

The entrance they took led them into part of the building with offices. There were lots of cubicles in the middle of the wide room, and closed door offices and conference rooms along the walls.

It's really weird seeing this building this empty," Justin muttered.

"There's no sign of Alt or the team in this room," Hira said when the boys caught up to her.

"If we go through those doors," Justin pointed, "we go into the main lobby area. We can then go upstairs and into presumably some offices. I don't know if I ever went upstairs. Or we can keep going and go into the labs and pools."

"Let's take a look and see what we can see," Hira said.

Mike didn't say anything, he just sent off a quick text in the group chat. "Cubicles empty. No sign of Alt. Can still hear."

Hira cracked open the door to the lobby and peered through. She couldn't see anything but she did notice some movement on the second floor. A door looked like it was just closing.

"Something upstairs," Hira said in a whisper, even through the upbeat tempo of Mike's 'stealth playlist'.

"What?" he asked from his position behind Justin.

"Something upstairs," Hira repeated louder. "Something moving."

"We should check it out," Justin said, but didn't move. Mike agreed and waited for those in front of him ot move as he quickly texted the group what was happening, keeping Mister Collins informed.

"Follow me," Hira said.

She moved into the big open lobby, quickly scanned the entire area, doing what Rafe kept trying to teach her and used both sets of eyes to scan for detail and movement. Nothing reached her notice so she signaled the boys to follow her as she quickly flew up to the top of the stairs that lead to the second floor.

"This is ridiculous isn't it?" Mike asked as Justin and him ran up the stairs still crouching a little bit to try and be quiet and everything.

"Yeah, but so is your 'infiltration playlist'," Justin remarked.

"You got a problem with Beyonce?"

"No, it's a good song," Justin said, "but it doesn't feel very stealthy."

"These songs are for all occasions I'll have you know."

Justin rolled his eyes as he joined Hira by the door. She pulled it open slowly and peered inside.

She immediately spotted a few zlilfians on the ground and some people moving further down the hallway.

"They're here," she said.

Mike quickly texted Mister Collins.

"I saw a couple of the team members down, and some movement further away."

"Should we go in there and try to pull them back?" Justin asked.

"Yes. And hit anyone that gets too close that isn't one of us," Hira instructed.

Justin and Mike nodded.

Hira opened the door and right away Justin saw exiting one of the lab rooms 30 feet down the hallway was his dad.

"Dad!"

"Found team n Justin's dad. Also bad guys gotta fight bye!!!!" Mike quickly texted Mister Collins. He felt the phone vibrate multiple times as the song ended.

"I gotta get my dad!" Justin said and ran into the room just as the song changed over. It took a moment to realize that he stopped hearing whatever Mike was playing next as he entered the aura of silence.

He ignored it and ran down the hallway towards his dad. But he was stopped short by a big burly man stepping in front of him. He looked like someone who might work security at a secure research facility.

He looked down at Justin and the teenager quickly backed up as the silent man advanced on him, hands out, intent on catching him.

"Remember when you said," came the song as Justin backed out of the silence aura.

"Oh crap," Mike muttered as he and Hira pulled out their weapons.

Justin ducked under a swing from the big man as Hira and Mike advanced with their clubs and hit him straight in the chest.

But the burly man didn't seem to register the blows at all.

Justin raised his arm with the zlilfian taser thing on it and moved his hand down in the gesture to fire it that Hira had taught him. A blue bolt of light shot out from the front of the taser and slammed into the man's chest. He twitched slightly and fell over, stunned.

"And good for you," the song continued.

"Oh crap, they see us," Mike pointed out.

This part of the building had labs on one side, and a wide open area with views down to the large pools and water tanks on the first floor. Across the gap, opposite to where they were standing was an entire group of other people gathering equipment from the labs. The light from Justin's taser alerted everyone to their presence.

Justin's dad saw the attack and hurriedly started to climb down to the first floor.

"Now you can be a better man..."

Justin ran to follow him, and Mike went after. Hira flew to the downed agents and saw that they were unconscious. But there were only two of them, the other three were missing.

They were immediately set on by a combination of humans and zlilfians. All with the same dull expression and lackluster compelled movements.

Hira jumped over the railing on the balcony and down on the head of one of the humans rushing the boys. She quickly dropped her with a sting to the back of the neck. The human's eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the ground.

Mike got into a duel with another security guard who drew a baton of his own.

Hira quickly went to go assist him by bashing her baton into the security guard's knee, which Mike followed up by smashing his own baton into their head.

"Sorry!" he yelled as the guard crumpled to the ground.

"Well good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me," rang out the phone as the Silence Aura moved back away from the teens and their assault.

They charged forward again, once again into the Silence. Justin pointed his taster at a zlilfian he saw flying at him. The blue light erupted from his wrist and hit the flying person square in the chest, dropping them straight to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Mike fought off a zlilfian that had tried to come from behind them, and Hira was avoiding a stinger of a djargandin who was taller than her by a few inches. They were quick with their stinger, so Hira was hoping that their toxin potency was as law as it usually was for djargandins.

"Well screw that and screw you"

Justin looked out across the pools and saw there were a bunch of people, presumably still in the aura loading up equipment and things and taking them out of the area.

His dad was heading that way, with what looked like a computer tower in his hands.

Hira flew backwards a few feet and then rushed forward before her opponent had a chance to react to the distance change and slammed her weapon into their chest. She quickly followed it up with another sting. There was a lethargy she was starting to feel with her stinger. She knew that she had, maybe, one good sting left.

Mike had position himself so that when he charged forward and pushed his opponent, they fell into a pool with a now very perturbed manatee.

"And good for you, it's like you never even met-" the song cut off as the aura pushed past them again, and suddenly they were back in utter silence.

Justin pushed Mike down as a taser blast rushed by where he had just been standing.

Hira saw the bright blast and quickly took cover behind some boxes of diving equipment.

Mike took out his phone. "What do we do now?"

"I have to get my dad!" Justin texted back furiously as another blue bolt soared over their heads.

"We don't know what's going on here," Hira said. "The aura keeps moving. And we haven't seen Alt yet."

"What are you doing there?" demanded Mister Collins. "Don't fight them! Retreat! Now!"

They all collectively dropped him from the group chat.

"My dad might know what is going on. If we can get him we can learn what they are doing," Justin texted.

"Then we go. Be careful," Hira responded.

"If you ever cared to ask"

When the teens looked up most of the silenced people had retreated to the far end of the room, most carrying equipment they were stealing from the Institute.

"They're trying to leave," Justin said as he rushed after them, and his dad.

The group quickly followed the fleeing Silenced. Justin shot off another taser blast, just missing the last of the group fleeing out the back door.

Mike got to the door a second after it closed, and slammed it open. The heat and sunshine of the Miami day hit them a moment later.

"Good for you" the song chorused again.

After blinking for a moment to let their eyes adjust, they saw that the Silenced were trying to load up a bunch of equipment into one of the research vessels the Institute owned.

Justin spotted his dad by the boat. Hira also spotted Rafe amid the crowd. And she realized she had a choice to make. Did she help out Justin and try to rescue his dad, or did she try to rescue her friend?

In some part of her mind Hira knew that she had to help out Justin and his dad. The Silence was the enemy of the zlilfians. The humans were collateral damage, unwitting pawns in an ancient war that they didn't deserve to be involved in. She had to help them out. And as much as she felt responsibility for Rafe... well Rafe could handle herself.

Hira flew over to help Mike and Justin.

i have a kofi

find me on pillowfort

[bisquid]

I feel like the increasing predominance of touchscreens is an inverse curb cut effect

Like, yes it's most bad for the disabled, but it's also wildly inconvenient for abled people, too

My car has literally got physical buttons or dials for EVERYTHING. I can do anything from turning the radio up to changing the aircon entirely by feel, in the dark, without looking

The electric car my dad leases has a huge incredibly bright touchscreen where the radio would be in a normal car. You HAVE to look at it to use it, and even though the car also has physical dials for the aircon, using them wakes up the touchscreen to display the changed settings. This is actively dangerous at night, because it's INCREDIBLY BRIGHT and fucks with your night vision. It also means you can't see the satnav for like a minute, which can be a long time in some circumstances.

My old MP3 player had a lil display I could choose playlists and tracks and stuff with but also physical buttons, so I could pause or skip or whatever without looking and without waking the screen, a godsend when I'm in bed trying to sleep or suddenly need to hear the real world. My phone doesn't have that, so in order to pause a song I have to wake the phone up, unlock the screen, and (if I'd remembered to lock the screen while on Spotify) pause the track. This both takes longer and, if I'm in bed trying to sleep - WHICH IS MY PRIMARY MUSIC TIME - stabs me in the eyeballs with bright light.

I tried to use a ticket machine a couple of weeks ago, because the touchscreen wouldn't register any inputs in an invisible area directly over the 'pay now' and 'cancel' buttons. I had to change to the only remaining 'old style' machine, which had buttons next to the screen like an ATM.

My friend has a camera with a touch sensitive display screen and keeps accidentally changing settings with her nose when she looks through the viewfinder.

Touchscreens add $$ to the price of any object, are incredibly fragile and prone to failure, often make the object harder to use, and these days tend to come bundled with a whole host of other 'conveniences' most people would rather NOT have.

Replacing physical buttons and controls with touchscreens also means removing accessibility features. Physical buttons can be textured or have Braille and can be located by touch and don't need to be pressed with a bare finger. Touchscreens usually require precise taps and hand-eye coordination for the same task.

Many point-of-sale machines now are essentially just a smartphone with a card reader attached and the interface. The control layout can change at a moment's notice and there are no physical boundaries between buttons. With a keypad-style machine, the buttons are always in the same place and can be located by touch, especially since the middle button has a raised ridge on it.

Buttons can also be located by touch without activating them, which enables a "locate then press" style of interaction which is not possible on touchscreens, where even light touches will register as presses and the buttons must be located visually rather than by touch.

When elevator or door controls are replaced by touch screens, will existing accessibility features be preserved, or will some people no longer be able to use those controls?

Who is allowed to control the physical world, and who is making that decision?

[gender-euphowrya]

thing about my grandma is if i don't answer her calls like .4 seconds after my phone starts ringing she goes ''what if i was DYING and you DIDN'T ANSWER :(" but then the same grandma doesn't take her cellphone with her when she goes out

[barbiecrocs]

Serial.

Michael Myers

What seems to be the unluckiest day you've ever had is also the most enjoyable.

tags- fem!reader, horror, soft gore, breaking and entering, size difference if you squint, rough sex, blood, piv, monster fucking (just bc this man is monstrous), dumbification, hair pulling, 90s ig, the mask stays on during sex.

Sumsum - The night holds its breath as he steps closer— holding an aura so dangerous, so magnetic, and impossibly intoxicating. You know you should run or scream, maybe both. But you don’t. Because some dangers are too delicious to escape.

WC. 3861

Barbie's note... can't believe I used to be on my knees for this man. Like I used to be in the trenches frfr but if yall like him enjoy. after all I did write it to be read. I might go back into hibernation btw.

 The storm that brought your birthday party to an early end sends most of your friends home for the night. The bipolar winds knock leftover party cups and plates into the pool. The storm seems to be having a party of its own in your backyard. It practically plucks your backyard apart bit by bit. You raise your hands to your temples and rub them in stress. The only thing you could do was sit on the sidelines and watch.

 "Sigh, the sound of rain is so therapeutic…Too bad the storm is destroying your backyard. This is not a pretty sight." You hear an oncoming voice say.

 "Kate, you shouldn't be so relaxed. You have no ride home now. You should've gone home with your sister and the others. It's raining cats and dogs now." You complain and look over to Kate, noticing her outfit.  "Did you get that from my closet? You took my whole ‘My Melody’ set! Even the slippers! I only have one set! The rest are just shirts! I was going to wear that after my shower!" Your eyebrows furrow in distaste for her stealing one of your favorite pajama sets. She could've at least asked right? Man, you really have to kick her out. You roll your eyes.

 "Jeez, take a chill pill, don't get your panties in a twist. I wanted to leave, but I guess I took too long to take a shower and get changed out of my swimsuit, so they left without me. She told me that she was going to come back after dropping everyone else off." She starts to tap on the glass with her acrylic nails as her eyes flicker back and forth between you and the glass. "That doesn’t make any sense, she’d just be wasting more gas and my time.” You roll your eyes. “Jeez, no need to be in such a time crunch, your bed isn’t going anywhere, anywhere far at least,” Kate says. ‘Ugh! So insensitive at all times.’ You think. “You know Kate, I had other things planned tonight!" You huff.

 "Ooh? What did you have planned that was so important? It’s almost midnight-. Oh. OOOH? Is it what I think it is? Were you and Miles going to fuck? Is that why you’ve been hanging by your phone so much?” She says, continuously poking your arm. Your cheeks run hot as she continues to press you with flustering questions. “Maybe that’s why you’ve had such a stick up your ass because you’ve been waiting for him to stick something up there. Are you keeping it ready for him huh? It’ll slip in nice and easy-.” “KATE!” You interrupt, practically steaming with embarrassment and shyness. “What?” She snickers. “Did I hit the bullseye?” “Just… Just shut up!” You stomp. “Fine. Fine. You wanna take another dip in the pool to cool down? Or perhaps the rain, does that sound like fun? Becoming one with the rain. It sounds lovely, an absolute dream." She smirks, unlocking the backdoor. 

 "No, no it doesn't sound like a dream. It's a hot summer night turned lukewarm and I bet the rain is uncomfortably warm too-" "Come on!" She interrupts, yanking you outside so hard that you topple over, good thing you were still in your swimsuit. Can’t say the same for Kate though. 

 She starts to skip around the pool playfully as if the rain was nonexistent. "Kate, ugh! You little shit, you're lucky I'm still wearing my bathing suit! Plus, you're getting my clothes wet! What was even the point of taking a shower if you were going to go back outside? Sigh You know what? You should stay outside and really be one with the rain. Have fun!" You shut the door as she runs over, slipping on the wet pavement.

 "Hey! Don’t leave me out here! Come on, it was just an impulsive decision. I was just having fun since the party was ruined! Loosen up a bit!" She yells, muffled through the thick glass of the backdoor. You put your fingers in your ears and pretend like you can’t hear her. She’ll be fine, the rain was warm, plus there’s a patio set with a waterproof hood so she doesn’t have to stay in the rain.

 'Great, now I have a mixture of chlorine and rainwater on me.' As you walk inside the house you notice that you left the TV on and overhear it from your open kitchen.

 *T.V static* "Emergency news coming to you live from Los Angeles, California. The news channel where we relay urgent news in under five minutes!" Reporter Nancy says while thrusting her hand in the air to represent the number five. "Nancy, stop, this is serious news. We are here to relay information about a serial killer sneaking into backyards and killing residents living there. Numerous calls were made to the emergency hotline, 911, saying that there was someone in their house or giving us details on what the deranged man looked like. He stands somewhere around 6'7 and wears a dark blue jumpsuit. He wears a mask that hollows his eyes and he has brown hair-"

 The TV suddenly cuts off as if it was unplugged, yet everything looks in check. It wasn't unplugged, the TV isn't smoking like it's broken, the power is fine, and it's not like you turned it off manually or remotely. 

'Wow, it's the first time I actually sit down to watch the news and the TV decides to cut off.' You think.

 You bang on the TV in hopes that it'll cut back on, but no luck. "Ugh, old ass T.V.! I told mama that she should've gotten a new one! This shit is so outdated. We have had this since I was ten! That's a decade!" You pout. 

 You look out the glass backdoor and see Kate, happy as ever, texting someone on a huge duck floatie in the pool with little to no rain outside now. Like what the hell? It was just raining. You unlock the sliding door and call out to her. "Hey, Kate. You should come inside now. It would be a hassle for your sister to drive back over here. You should spend the night." You say, cursing yourself for your generosity. "Really? Now you want me to come in? I'm good. There's no need to be so concerned. We're on private property. No one else can enter without permission, that's illegal. Plus, the rain is warm just like you predicted. She should be fine while driving, seriously. I'll just wait until my sister picks me up. You act like I'm ten years old. I don't need supervision." She rolls her eyes.

 You return the same energy with an eye roll. "So naive, your funeral… Just know that I will be locking the door." You mumble and pull in the curtains. If she doesn't care about her safety then neither will you. Your objective was to take a shower, not look after her anyway.

  In the middle of your shower, you hear the house phone ring. You let it ring for a while before realizing that Kate can’t answer the phone for you. With a long sigh, you rinse off, grab a towel, and head to your room, wanting to put some clothes on before going downstairs. You throw on a Kuromi pajama shirt paired with loose black shorts and head downstairs.

 'Was Kate expecting a call? Maybe it’s Kate’s sister and she’s here to pick her up. Maybe it’s Miles? We were supposed to fuck for my birthday tonight.’ You skip down the stairs, hoping that it was the latter, and pick up the cream-colored phone just to hear heavy breathing on the other side. 'What the hell?' You think. 

 As you're about to hang up your movement is forcefully put to a stop. You feel your heart sink as a painful throb begins to travel up your arm, making you drop the phone on the table. You fully tune into this sound as if nothing else around you matters. It’s so loud in your head even though the phone is no longer in your ears. Every nerve inside your body is tense and telling you to hang up, but the breathing is so captivating, trance-like if you will. Listening to the sweet sound as if it was someone humming your favorite tune or singing a soft lullaby. It's so alluring, arousing almost. It mentally sucks you in and the noise alone brings a physical warmth to your skin, supplying false comfort like a hug. It takes away the pain in your arm just as fast as it gave it. As you listen for longer you start to notice the raspiness in the voice. This wasn't like a white noise machine or a random audio on loop. There was someone behind it. In and out, in and out, in and… 

Suddenly, you hear Kate scream bloody murder and you snap out of your trance, unplugging the phone and rushing toward the back door. Yanking the curtains open and analyzing the pool from inside, the scene that is held in your eyes is mortifying.

 Kate lays there on her back, lifeless in a puddle of her blood on the rubber duck floatie. Her hair is a mess and you can see signs of a struggle on her body. The stressed clothing, choke marks, and some of her fake nails are broken off, leaving her fingernails bloody. Her phone is no longer in her hand, but slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool. Heh, it looks like it still works, the screen is on. Blood flows out of the stab wounds on her throat and chest as the light rain continuously tries to wash them away.

 Your eyes frantically scan the pool area for the culprit. And somewhere in the darkness that is the other side of the pool, you see a tall figure step forward, making you jump back from the glass.

 A man in a dark blue bloodied jumpsuit, standing around 6'6 - 6'7, wearing a mask with brown hair. Just seeing this man triggers something in you, as you've unlocked a memory. Have you seen him before? No way, that can't be possible, there's no way that you've seen him and not run away screaming. Then it finally clicks. He was the murderer that was described on TV. He fits the description perfectly. The mask, hair, height, the only thing the description was missing was the blood.

 Goosebumps tatted your skin as you begin to panic. You hold still in hopes that he has bad eyesight or somehow can't see you through the clear glass door, as if that's possible. He remains completely still and at some point, you wonder if he really can't see you. Maybe the mask messes with his vision?

 Suddenly, he starts to make his way around the pool and so you run into the living room to dig in the couch cushions for your mom's pistol that she keeps for "unexpected guests". 

 You hurriedly load the gun and speed back to your place, tripping over a bunched-up rug. You tip back and fall flat on your butt and point the gun in his direction, waiting for him to round the corner. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline and your nerves are high. At this point, you're hyper-aware of everything happening to you. Blood is coursing through your body from head to toe because of this intense situation and yet… you feel a second heartbeat, this one wasn't in your chest, it was between your legs. Why was your body doing this?

 Was this turning you on? You feel obloquy and disappointment fill your heart as you think about such taboo and shameful things. Many thoughts swarm your mind, but everything is put on hold as he rounds the corner.

 He stands in front of you, only the glass door standing between you both, but it isn't long before he busts through it. Glass comes shooting your way and you shut your eyes and cover your face in defense, not realizing that you dropped the gun. You were too late to protect yourself properly and tiny shards of glass grazed your skin. Some cuts are a little deeper than others, but the overall damage was minimal. Luckily, due to the adrenaline, you couldn't feel the pain.

 You open your eyes when you realize that the gun is no longer in your hand. You look around on the floor until you notice unfamiliar shoes planted right in front of you and snap your head up just to see his dark, hollow, eyes staring at you. 

 In a panicked rush, you continue to search for the gun you dropped, trying to keep your eyes on him. Patting the area down like a dumbass, you still couldn't find it. Only for a split second you look away and grab it, but a large hand roughly grabs you by the neck and the other snatches the gun away, throwing it somewhere towards the stairs. Your hands' fling onto the hand choking you, attempting to tear him off of you. No avail, his grip was firm and you were slowly, but surely losing air.

 He lifted you with ease and put your back to the other glass door that wasn't broken. Trying to cause as much of a hassle as you can, you thrash around, kicking and punching, but it wasn't doing anything to his firm body. 'What is this guy made of?'.

You start to feel hot tears prickle in your eyes and your face feels like someone is sticking pins and needles in it. Heat piles in your chest and your heart starts to beat slower and slower. After what seems like a lifetime of flopping around, you finally land a good kick to his stomach. His grip softens on your neck and you loudly gasp for air, coughing up a storm as spit lulls out your mouth and down your chin.

 All too quickly, he grabs your legs and wraps them around his hips to stop you, putting you both in a rather intimate position. With you being pinned to the glass, you stop resisting and catch your breath. 

 As you calm down, you notice just how close he is, how you can practically feel his heart beating through his chest, how his leg is tucked snuggly between your thighs, and all of a sudden your feet can’t touch the floor. The mood between you two was shifting from panicked to steamy. You felt ashamed of yourself for thinking in such a way. You could die right now, but all you could think about was how big and warm his hands were around your neck. You could no longer find it in yourself to even look in his direction. But your surroundings are all too familiar, nothing else besides him can keep your attention.  

 His grip tightens on your thighs as he leans into you. With closing distance, the more you can feel his clothed length slowly push against your thin shorts, twitching and aching to be sheathed in your now soaking, cunt. You wrap your arms around his neck and shut your eyes as you wait for him to plant a kiss on your lips. Instead, you feel surprisingly warm kisses along your jawline to your neck. His lips find your sweet spot, making you jolt in pleasure. As he starts attacking your neck with hickeys and bites. You feel a cold hand travel from one of your thighs to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on the fabric, signaling that he wants it off. “Go ahead.” You say, layering your hand on his as he slips your shirt off. Squeezing one of your boobs with the other hand. 

 Your naked back forcefully pushes up against the cold glass and it isn’t long before a cold shiver rushes up your spine, making your back arch fiercely. “Ah, c-cold!” You hiss. He looks around and spots a comfy couch in the living room, covered in fuzzy throw-over blankets that were used for cold movie nights. He throws you over his shoulder and then plops you onto the couch, his hands immediately moving around your waist and snaking up to your chest. He takes a second to admire the naked flesh in his hands, kneading and kissing it. He’s never felt something so soft and smooth in his life. Considering that his life was a very hard one, this felt like heaven on Earth. 

 You wrap your legs around his waist and pull it closer to your clothed entrance. His fingers loop around your panties and drag them down, swiftly. A string of shlick leading from your pussy to the wet spot on your panties. He brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs them, making your cheeks run hot with a blush. “Perv!” You beat at his chest. 

 He takes off his jumpsuit as he stares down at you. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, dark eyes, and abs sculpted by the gods intimidating and turning you on simultaneously. He continues undressing and pulls his boxers a little bit lower than his thighs. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull from how big his dick is. Yet it fits in his hand perfectly. 

 He gives it a few long strokes before lining himself up at your entrance, raising your hips to level with his tip. “W-wait. I don't think it’ll fit.” You whimper, trying to close your legs, but are blocked by his waist. He stands still for a second, thinking about what to say. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders considering that he doesn’t talk much. He prods his tip at your entrance and slowly sheths himself mostly inside you, letting out a deep guttural groan. Your arms subconsciously try to claw at his back, but can’t wrap around it, clawing on his shoulders at best. “FUCK!” You scream, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “You’re too big.”

 You lay on your back, trying not to move an inch, scared that he might rip you in half just from it being inside you. He puts a calloused hand on your cheek and wipes your tears, trying to soothe you the best he can without words. Your grip on his shoulders tighten when you feel him push in more. “Wait!” You weakly move a hand to his chest. “Stay still for a moment. It stings so bad.” You throw your head back onto the armrest of the couch as you bite your lip in pain, almost drawing blood.

 After what seems like an eternity the pain is finally gone and now you can enjoy the dicking that you were supposed to get from Miles. You wonder what happened to him. Maybe he canceled without telling you. ‘Ugh, dickhead! Ghosting me on my birthday?’  You brush off that thought and tell him you’re fine now. He pulls out halfway and slowly thrusts back in, making you feel every inch of him. Your whole body quivers from how deep he was inside you, plunging farther than your fingers ever could. “Oh fuck!” You claw. He starts to pick up the pace, with each thrust fucking you further into dumbification.

 You practically scream when he starts pounding your g-spot, making you breathless. “So good!!~” You hiccup, trying to focus on not being fucked dumb. So much that you didn't realize him switching positions.

 Suddenly, your stomach is pressed against the back of your brown corduroy sofa as your knees dig into the pillows and cushions beneath you. He stands tall, towering over you from the back with one hand tangled in your hair. His free hand returns to one of your hips and he pulls them closer to his length, lining himself up again. He wastes not even a second going slow this time. He thrusts into you, immediately finding your G-spot and pounding it. The position does wonders for you as his balls repeatedly smack against your clit, making your back arch immensely. That’s it. That was your last straw before turning dumb. Your nails dig into the couch and your tongue hangs out your mouth, trickling drool. He lets out a deep groan when he feels your walls squeeze around his dick and suck him in, signaling that you were close to cumming. 

 A familiar heat starts to spread over your body and it isn’t long before your walls go from squeezing to trembling. “Fuck, Fuck FUCK!!” You thought you screamed, but to him, it just seemed like fucked out babbling. Your pussy gushes around him, triggering his orgasm. He fucks both of you through it, almost to the point of overstimulation. He finally pulls out, allowing all the cum and shlick to ooze out of you. Both of you watch as it drips onto the blanket below you, making you giggle. “Heh, oopsie.” You babble, still fucked out.

 Your tiredness catches up with you and you fall limp on the couch, rocking in and out of consciousness. He picks you up and searches the house for a bathroom. He starts to run the water and steps out for a minute. The sound of running water and a loud thud from the living room snaps you out of your unconscious state. ‘W-what the fuck?’ You stand up on wobbly legs and head out of the bathroom, finding out that he put you in the downstairs one. You feel a cold gust of wind and look towards the front door. It’s open with the man that was just balls deep inside of you standing hunched over. You have a bit of trouble walking over to him, but eventually, you make it. You try to find an opening to see what he was looking at since he’s too tall to look over. 

 You fall on your butt in horror when you realize that it’s Miles, dead and the fully clothed mysterious man was dragging him away. A puddle of dried blood on your porch gives away that he was dead for a while.

 “What. The. FUCK!” You had such a nice time with this man that you forgot he was a murderer. For heaven's sake, he killed your best friend Kate. “Who are you?” So many questions run through your head at the same time. ‘Why did he kill Miles?  When did he have time to kill Miles? Why didn’t he kill you too? How does he know about you?’ He throws Miles over his shoulder and turns back to you. It looks like he’s going to raise a hand at you, instead, he reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out a gold name tag with the name ‘Micheal’ on it. He throws it into your lap and disappears into the darkness of the night. “What…What the fuck?”

[missmielyhoran]

Baby Honey (3.5)

in which Y/N is maybe not that oblivious, Harry is miserable and everyone is still confused...

[Warning- Harry being an atrocious rage inducing idiot, birthday party, arguing, jealousy, crying, ANGST, abusive parent, mommy issues, a child]

Masterlist \\ Part 3 ig

It was like all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Your head snapped towards your mom and you shook your head violently. "Mom No! You can't do this"

She rubbed her forehead a bit while you and Rohan stood there looking at their respective parents with scrunched-up faces. Your mom suddenly stood up and grabbed your forearm, dragging you out of the room.

"Mom you're hurting me" You tried to get out of her hold but she just tightened it more and yanked you near the stairs.

"Listen to me you brat. I thought I might be a bit generous and introduce you to him but I shouldn't have cause you have to be selfish. Can't you see anyone happy but yourself?" She pushed you back, your back hitting the wall.

"Mom Rohan is my ex, my ex! If you two got married he will be my" You gagged at the thought, "My stepbrother" You said. You tried, you really did to make her see what you were trying to make her understand but she never wanted to.

"I don't care!" She whisper shouts, "you were both like what 13? no one cares about dating at that age." She said clenching her jaw. She took a step near you and you took a step back scared she will hit you.

She got hold of your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, "There is no 'if we are getting married' we will get married. Now you will go to your room and stay there until dinner. There is no need of you here" She said leaving your jaw. She fixed her dress and straightened her posture took a deep breath and went back inside.

You heard a concerned voice ask something and you knew who it was. You went to your room upstairs and locked yourself in. You didn't knew how long you stayed in bed staring at the ceiling but it was long enough that you heard your mom's signature flirty laugh and then goodbyes.

The room was slowly dimming as the sun sat. All of the lights in your room were off. A single window near the desk of your tiny room was the only light source.

You felt like a teenager all over again, laying on the bed refusing to talk to your mom after an argument. Usually, during those times your dad would come up to you with your favorite food and talk to you.

No one comes up now.

You sometimes thought about why he left. Did he not care enough? Were you not good enough for him to fight for? Your mom fought for your sister's custody but your dad never did anything.

You didn't even realize you were silently crying until your phone chimed and you couldn't see anything. It was Harry who had messaged you which made you cry harder cause all you wanted was to pack your bags and run back to him. You didn't care about anything other than wanting him to hold you at that point.

You opened the message it was a picture of Flynn snuggled into Harry's chest but what caught your eye was the dark green jumper he was wearing. It was yours. Another message came and you had to remind yourself it was dangerous driving back at this time.

H: He doesn't go to sleep unless I wear your clothes. He misses you :(

You thought he was being cruel, the whole world was being cruel. Flynn was your weakness, he knew that. There were times when he would call you Flynn's mom and your heart would skip a beat. God, you wanted him so bad.

You: I miss him too :(

H: Only him?

You left him at seen.

There was a knock on your bedroom door. Reluctantly you got up from your bed and unlocked the door seeing Bella standing there with dinner.

"I knew your stubborn ass wouldn't come downstairs so I brought food up" She said pushing past you. She laid down multiple napkins on the bed and then put down the plate.

You closed the door and walked back to bed. She sat down in front of you and removed the plate, "Pasta?" You looked up knowing damn well your mom didn't make it.

"Mum made fish by accident so, I made pasta for you and I knew it would lift your grumpy mood" She said flicking your nose cutely. You pouted as smile threatened on your lips.

Truth was Bella had to make pasta cause their mom didn't even knew you were allergic to fish. She many times asked her why she didn't bother about you at the end of day you were her daughter, what could you have possibly done? Answer was nothing.

It was always the same answer by her, "I can't see her as mine, can't connect with her". It hurt her to see you, her little sister go through everything you had to go

She fed you while you scrolled through Netflix trying to select a movie. "Ohh let's watch twilight again" You said excitedly clapping your hands. "Not that please, I think I have watched it million times" Bella groaned.

"You sound exactly like H." You said rolling your eyes and laughing, "He gets so dramatic whenever I suggest watching twilight but then he sits there not removing his eyes off the scre-" You cut yourself off when you realized what you were saying. The laughter died down and the feeling crept back up.

Bella sighed and put aside the half-empty plate. She took both of your hands in hers squeezing them, you looked up at her through your lashes.

"Talk to me" She said. "What about? I'm fine" You scoffed taking your hands out of her hold but she didn't budge.

"Y/N" She warned, "Come one, let's start with the thing in front of us. What was that in the morning?" She pressed you more to talk.

"It was nothing! I just said it's fucking weird to have your ex as stepbrother" You said loudly making her flinch for a second.

"I think we both know you can't give two shits about Rohan being your "stepbrother"." She rolled her eyes making you pout more like a petulant child.

"He was my first kiss alright. It's weird" You said sounding less and less convincing as time went. They always did this, her and Harry making you spill words out like vomit. And there you went thinking about Harry again.

"What it sounds like to me is that you saw Rohan, took your past relationship with him up as the object of ire, and went along with it" She raised her eyebrows cockily knowing she was right. You sighed and fell back on the bed minding the plate.

"What are you my therapist?" you rolled your eyes.

"I just-" You rubbed your face, "She just throws stuff on our faces whenever it's convenient for her and then expects us to accept it happily" You started speaking, words vomiting out before you could think.

"The engagement, her moving, the divo-"

"Y/N it's been almost seven years. You have to move on" She said sadly. You sat up quickly and looked back at her with an irritated expression.

"I can't! I can't move on from constantly seeing and hearing them fighting. I can't move on from them fighting over you forgetting about me like I didn't exist! I can't forget about dad leaving without saying anything. I can't forget always being everyone's second choice!"

"You got the loving parents, you got mom's support, you got to be the precious golden child. What did I get? The one person that was there for left cause of her!"

You got up from bed and went inside the ensuite locking yourself in. You fell to your knees as soon as the click sounded, the cold tiles against your hot skin sent goosebumps throughout your body. You cried your eyes out as much as you could. Heaving for breath, ruined lipstick from constantly wiping your nose and lips, your mascara streaks on your cheeks, you were mess. But finally it felt good, light, numb.

*****

It was your last day at your mom's house you woke up early and got ready for the day. You wanted to stroll around a bit look at how things have changed and then go back to your home. You sneaked downstairs into the kitchen and made yourself a toast.

The breeze was cold when you sat on the back porch eating toast. It was a bit cloudy but it looked like the sun will be out. You planned your outfit in your head as you finished breakfast. You shivered slightly when a particular cold breeze hit your bare arms and you quickly scrambled inside.

*****

No one bothered you the whole morning which you were happy about. Your mom in her pride did not talk to you and your sister was doing her office work from far. You did apologize to her and told her you were going out but she didn't mind she knew you didn't mean harm.

By the time you got out of the house, it was almost noon. You took your camera with you so you could film along with enjoying the outdoors. You had to get back to your schedule and get your shit together.

You were filming in the park where some elderly were sitting chatting and some kids playing football when your phone chimed. It was from an unknown no.

Unknown: Meet us near the lake

You realized who it was. There was a small lake near your high school. You and your friends used to hang out near the large rock near it. Chatting, fighting, sometimes getting high, it was there you first tried alcohol after Ashton sneaked it from his parents.

The lake wasn't far from the park just five minutes walk and you could see the tight curly hair of Ashton.

"Hey guys" You cheered, immediately getting engulfed into hug by Ash. "Jesus mate I will suffocate" You laughed but hugged back. He swayed you both back and forth and then pulled back.

"Hey, there are others here also" You heard a soft voice call from behind him. Looking over his shoulder you saw Serra and Rohan standing.

You ran towards her and hugged her also, laughing and jumping. Serra was your friend you could count on, even after she moved away and you moved away she didn't let you go. Not like you talked every day but still there was communication.

"God I missed you so much" She said pulling back from the hug. "And you're prettier in person" She whined making you blush and laugh.

"Oh shut up. Have you seen yourself" You said returning the same enthusiasm as hers.

"If you both want to make out please do it somewhere else" Ashton screamed from near the rock where Rohan was. "It's kind of gross to kiss your stepsister though" He said making everyone laugh but you.

"Come on" she said tugging you towards the boys. All four of you sat down on the uncomfortable foldable chair and started chatting catching up on everything they have missed.

It was nice catching up with your old friends until Harry was brought up as a topic.

"How's your boyfriend doing eh?" Ashton raised his eyebrows teasingly. Let be any other time you would have laughed but your face hardened.

"I don't have a boyfriend" You rolled your eyes at him.

"Come on I watch your videos you can let us in on your little secret." He said wiggling his eyebrows not taking a hint. Ash has always been a nosy nancy making everyone's business his.

"He is not my boyfriend alright? He has someone else" You said a bit louder than you should have but it felt like the past days everyone has been testing your patience.

Ashton shut his mouth up and you felt guilt creeping up when his smile dropped. "It's alright he's just being his nosy self" Serra said running her hand up and down your back.

"Yeah forget it you don't need a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever." He said and the conversation came back to normal. Serra and Ash arguing over something stupid while you and Rohan sat in silence.

You looked at him for the first time coming there. He was in a yellow jumper with a black coat over it, his brown hair messy and his eyes already on yours.

"You have gone very silent over these years" you finally said. "Well when someone doesn't acknowledge your presence what are you supposed to do?" He said raising an eyebrow.

"So how have you been? Heard you took over your dad's business whole young CEO and all" You asked making him laugh. "Someone is keeping tabs on me" He replied. You shrugged not necessarily denying it. You kept tabs on everyone just him a bit more. You kept it secretive enough to not make it look creepy.

"Yeah completed college dad pushed me straight into office. I was wondering why he was so eager but I guess now I know" He said letting out a dry chuckle.

"He didn't tell you?" You asked. "Nah. Not necessarily having a very son-father relationship it's just business. Serra doesn't even talk to him" he replied shrugging, you nodded in reply not having anything else to say.

There sat an uncomfortable silence between you two not necessarily for any reason just cause you both didn't know what to say.

"You know that a person can see when someone watches their live right?" You finally asked him after a moment.

He laughed his face heating up. "I was curious okay? Serra won't stop talking and I just thought I might check what you been up to" He said looking at Serra who was now about to jump in freezing lake.

"She has a major crush on your best friend you know" Rohan said finally looking at you. Your eyes widened, "Yeah, but not I want to be with you crush more of a he's so cool I love him type crush you know" He added.

"He's pretty cool. I don't think there can be a person who gets to know him and does not fall in love with him in some way. He has a charm to him, an attraction that pulls you toward him wanting to know more about him even if he's just a stranger walking down the street."

When she looked back at him, Rohan was looking at her with weird smile.

"What?" You asked him confused.

"Nothing. Just don't make the same mistake you made with me" He said getting up and pulling down his sunglasses.

"What?" You asked again very much confused.

"Letting your pride come in middle and then losing your chance" He said looking over his shoulder. You watched with parted lips as he walked towards Serra and Ash.

You didn't think he would still remember it. Rohan and your relationship if you can call that was weird, seeing as you both were very young. He was your first kiss and you were his, it was just two new teenagers sneaking around kissing messily not knowing what they were doing you were fine with that but then you heard the news of him moving away and it hurt. He asked you out but you turned him down for the sole reason to show that you didn't care. You did though and it hurt a lot.

He finally stopped the duo from jumping into the cold lake and from what you could tell from afar was giving them a lecture.

"Babe we're matching! We have to get a pic" Ashton exclaimed walking over to you and you couldn't say no.

*****

When it was time to go back home you were exhausted but also excited. You thought about what Rohan had said and you decided to talk things out with Harry once you reach back home. You couldn't wait to go home and meet him and Flynn.

You excitedly invited all of them to your birthday party which was in few days.

You were walking home along with Serra and Rohan, her talking both of your ears off but you didn't care.

Once you reached in front of your mom's house your rental was gone. You looked around as if it would hide behind trees and bushes.

"Bella took it" You hear voice looking up you see your mom leaning down from your room window.

"What are you doing in my room?" You asked seeing her sigh. "It's my house I can be wherever I want to be and I use your closet as storage" she deadpanned and went back inside.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get back now?" You asked no one else but yourself. For some time you forgot two more people were standing there noticing the interaction.

"We can drop you home" Serra said bringing you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at her and smiled at her sincere expression.

"Won't be necessary I will figure something out" You tried to assure her but she just scoffed and took out her phone.

"Nonsense. I'm texting Aaron right now to bring the car here, go get your bags" She said and walked away. You turned to look at Rohan and he had the same expression.

"Come on a road trip with us is not that bad" He teased making you roll your eyes. You went inside and packed the rest of your things and went back outside. Seeing a slick black Maserati standing outside, sometimes you forget they are rich rich and it wasn't a big deal for them while your mouth was agape.

"C'mon get inside" Rohan said holding the door open for you. He took the bag from you as you slid in the back seat.

*****

"You're telling me you have a whole ass kid?" You looked at Rohan shocked.

"Yes Y/N I have a whole ass kid" He chuckled shaking his head mocking your word.

"Wow. How though?" You asked still in shock. Rohan has always been a responsible one so his having an accidental kid at 19 was the last thing you expected and he also didn't have any ring on his hand so, you didn't think he was married.

"Do I need to explain how kids are made?" He cocked an eyebrow at you. Your face scrunched up and you swatted his arm. It was pretty shocking when Rohan said he needs to pick up his son from his mom's. At first I thought it was exaggeration of having pet but then you saw him carrying a sleeping 4 year old and you were sure you looked like goldfish.

"Someone's awake" You heard Serra speak from the backseat. You looked over your shoulder and saw Rohil blink open his eyes and look around. His eyes met Serra's, he gave her a big smile giggling but that stopped when his eyes met yours. Instead his eyes widened first and then he got shy.

"Ro baby why don't you say hi to Y/N? She's our friend" Rohan told him sweetly. He gave you a shy smile and a little wave, "Hi, I Rohi" he said his M and L getting lost.

"Hi Rohil, I'm Y/N" You told him with a big smile which got him shy and he looked away. You turned and looked at his dad, "Rohan I might steal your child be aware." You sighed looking at the child from mirror talking to his aunty.

"Dadda" He called him getting a hmm in reply, "Need to pee" He whispered like anyone else in the car wouldn't hear him.

"My house is close you can take him there" You said getting an agreement from everyone. You unlocked your phone telling your sister that you were about to reach home when you saw notification from Harry's account both insta and youtube.

It was a song, not a cover a song which wasn't unusual Harry has recorded some songs but he usually sticks to covers. You decided to listen to the song after you reached your apartment and saw the post. The lyrics caught your eye or the most highlighted name 'Baby Honey', the weird nickname Harry called you. If it was used in a nice context maybe you have liked it but no, it made you look like some kind of gold digger.

"Oh! I know he's got the money, Baby Honey does he make you night?" what the fuck that supposed to mean?

"Are you alright?" Rohan asked from beside you, you gave him a nod and locked your phone sliding it back inside your pocket. "We have arrived" he said.

Everyone went upstairs to your apartment, Ro babbling about something to his dad, everything was muffled to you, you were in your brain and the only thing that seemed to be in your brain was Harry. Rohan gasped and turned to you making you come out of the daze you were in. You smiled and turned to them, "What?" You asked. Rohan smirked and turned to his son, "Someone thinks you're pretty" he stretched the y in a teasing tone making Ro hide his face in his dad's neck.

You and Serra laughed and cooed at the small child. A four-year-old called you pretty? you don't need any other validation.

"I think you're really pretty too Ro" You cooed at him making the child smile shyly. You unlocked your door and put down the bags, Rohan took Ro to the washroom after asking you for directions.

"Want something S? Water, snacks, juice?" You asked, "Water please" She said with a smile. Father and son duo was back again sitting on the couch, you brought water and some snacks for all of them.

"What do you want little guy? What's your favorite?" You ask swatting down to his level. You see him thinking in his little brain letting out a long hm.

"Can I have strawberries please?" He asks looking up at you sweetly, you chuckle and stand up, "Of course! Want me to cut them certain way?" you ask him. He looks up at his father and see him giving a small nod and shrug, "Can you cut them in hearts?" He asks politely and your ovaries were screaming. He was so sweet, polite and the cutest kid you have seen.

"Coming right at ya champ" You ruffled his hair making him giggle. Serra came to help you with it and in no time everyone is sitting on the couch with Ro in Rohan's lap beside you and Serra beside him.

*****

Everyone shows their feelings in a different way, some yell, some shut off, and some cry their heart out but Harry writes whatever he's feeling. The pain, anger, jealousy everything he tries to transfer to thin sheets of paper in his journal and make it a melody.

He just took it far by posting it and now he was regretting it. He was panicking, he was a mess.

He was drinking his misery off when his doorbell rang. For a hopeful minute, he thought it might be you but after what he did he wasn't sure it was you. He still opened the door with hopefulness but as his brain told it wasn't you.

"Hey baby" She exclaimed pushing past him inside. "Is your phone broken? You weren't answering my texts and calls so, I thought I would just visit you" She exclaimed putting down her bag. Harry rubbed his forehead in annoyance.

"Steph when someone doesn't answer your text and calls you should take a hint and realize they don't want to talk to you" He said, his voice full of annoyance with a bit slurring cause of drinks.

"So you were blowing me off? It just it isn't it? Fuck me and leave me alone. You always do this, even when we broke up you just came we had sex and you were like "I can't do this anymore". Such a dick you're." She said angrily picking up her bag and moving towards the door. Meanwhile Harry just stood their with his eyes trained on the floor.

"You know Harry if you love her so muchstop doing this shit" she looked back at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Leading her on. Cause sometimes it might not look like it but you are the problem most times" and with that she shuts the door loudly making his photoframe fall down. Harry flinches and sighs, he picks up broom and gloves and starts picking up pieces of glasses.

After picking up all the mess he stands up, his eyes noticing the yellow envelope with a certain label on it. He quickly throws away the trash and opens the letter just to find rejection again.

It was letter from the label he tried to get but they refused saying it wasn't up to their style. Ironic.

Harry slid down against the wall as a sob broke through him. He brought his knees up and leaned his head down holding himself.

A wet lick on his hands made him look to the side, seeing Flynn sitting looking up at him sadly. He picked thr small dog up and cuddled him which he returned with more kisses making Harry laugh.

Maybe he fucked up but he still had Flynn and that was enough.

*****

You were taking shower after everyone had left cause that's the only place you could think.

It seemed as if the only person you could think of was Harry. He was constantly on your mind, an unhealthy amount but you guessed that's what happens when you fall in love. You get the butterflies and serotonin but also kind of lose your sanity and actuality.

You could never understand him, maybe that's what attracted you to him. Your daddy issues run deep anyway. He would leave you for someone else so many times and yet you would go back and hold him so he could sleep cause he had a hard day, take care of him when he's sick when he never thought twice before leaving you. You stucked to the good part leaving all bad behind.

He would sometimes write these cute love songs and you loved to pretend it was about you. It certainly fit the description of the person defined in it and sometimes you would curse yourself for falling for his love songs.

But the recent song he wrote hurt. When you and Harry became friends a lot of people accused you of being his friend cause he was more famous and using him to grow your channel. That song felt like a slap to your cheek.

You sighed tired from the mental exhaustion and turned off the shower. You got out and did your skincare routine. Opening the drawer you took out his t-shirt and put it on, his smell engulfed you relaxing your body, and making you fall asleep.

*****

It was week later, you were same. hadn't talked to Harry, neither your mom. You couldn't bring yourself to. You had spent whole day running errands, recording videos. You have just gotten back to your schedule.

It was nearly evening when you finished. You were walking up the stairs hands full of grocery bags. Huffing you were trying to unlock your door to find it already unlocked. You froze thinking someone had broken in, you opened your apartment door silently peeking in to see if someone was in there only to find it pitch dark.

You slid inside the apartment leaving the bags outside and took out your phone to call the emergency number when suddenly all the lights were on and people were screaming in your face.

"Surprise!"

Everyone shouted and so did you. You let out a high-pitched scream startled by all the people standing in your apartment. You clutched your heart feeling it beat out of your body.

"Are you fu-" You stopped and looked around finding Ro standing there, "dging insane".

All of your friends laughed while you stood with your head in your hands chuckling. "I almost had a heart attack" you laughed. Your sister took you in a hug and that's when you saw her in the dragon outfit and then looked around to find Matt in donkey outfit, Rohan was lord farquad, Ashton was prince charming, Ro was Pinocchio and then there was him as Shrek.

"You costume is in your room get ready fast" Bella told you but your eyes refused to left his. He looked tired, dark circles, tousled hair, that wasn't like Harry. He was the person who goes to get coffee dressed like a model so, at a party he was looking like shit meant it was bad.

You went to your room to get ready, from what you have guessed you were given Princess Fiona. You didn't even know who came up with Shrek theme party but you were grateful whoever did.

Your dress was pretty, it was long and had a slit up to thigh, a corset top off shoulder with puffy sleeves, it was princess Fiona but sexier. You put your hair in braids and a small dainty necklace.

You didn't bother putting on shoes since you were inside and went to the living room. Everyone was talking to each other but your eyes were searching for Harry.

You saw Rohan coming towards you with smile, he gave you a small hug. "I'm sorry I had to bring Ro. It was quite impossible to stop him crying when he heard Y/N and birthday party in same sentence ans couldn't go" He chuckled.

"Oh shut up" You waved him off, "I'm happy that little guy is here, he's so cute. I love him" You said laughing.

While Harry across the room was glaring holes at the side of Rohan's head. You were laughing with him when it should have been him, you were his best friend.

"Stare harder you might actually make holes in his head" Bella spoke beside him. His eyes never left the duo, "I wish I could" He said taking sip of his orange juice.

"Harry" Bella sighed, "You have to stop being an asshole and talk to her" She said now standing in front of him blocking his vision.

"She's the one who's ignoring me!" He whisper shouted making Bella roll her eyes.

"Can you blame her? I was ready to break your bones" She said sassily, "But you have to go and apologize for what you did, I'm tired of seeing both of you running around in circles." She said and walked back to the kitchen.

You felt a small body collide in you. Looking down you saw Ro hugging your leg looking up at you with smile. "Hello little guy" You cooed and picked him up.

"Happy birthday" He exclaimed giggling, his tiny hands holding your face. You smiled the biggest you could and pecked his chubby cheeks, "Thanks buddy"

"I made something for you" he said enthusiastically looking at his dad. Rohan took out a card from his coat pocket. You transferred Ro to your other hand and opened the card seeing a stick figure drawn resembling you with a Happy birthday pretty which you assumed was written by Rohan.

"Thanks Ro I love it" You said kissing all over his face.

"Alright call me if he gets fussy" Rohan said patting Ro's head, you gave him a nod and focused back on the babbling child.

After an hour, you sat down on the couch Ro refusing to leave your lap, his small legs on either side of your waist and his hands in your as you pretended to push him make him fall then pulled him up making him laugh.

In 22 almost 23 years of your life you never thought you would bee having fun playing with a child than drinking your brains off and partying.

"Y/N" Ro called, "Yeah buddy" You replied.

"Will you be my bestie?" He asked his brows scrunched making him more adorable.

"You want me to be?" You asked and saw him nod.

"I don't know mate she's also my bestie" a deep voice spoke taking his attention from you.

"No she's my bestie" He spoke wrapping his arms around you. You laughed at his childishness.

"We can make a deal" Harry said sitting beside you, Ro turned his head still laying against your torso.

"What?" He spoke in small voice and you knew he was about to fall asleep.

"You can become my bestie also then we can all be besties like a group" Harry said softly. Ro looked at him for a few second his small brain comprehending the thing.

"Okay" He said and suggled into you more making you coo at him.

"So I will go first. Hi, I'm Harry" Harry said bringing his hand out to shake. Ro took his large hand in his small ones, "I'm Rohil"

"Nice to meet you Rohil" Harry said smiling.

"Y/N" He called you again.

"Yeah buddy" you replied.

"I'm hungry" He said. You gave him a nod and were about to get up when Rohan walked towards you.

"Give him to me, I will feed him before he knocks out" Rohan took the child from you. You hands felt empty, even though they were aching from holding him.

You sighed and looked at the man beside you.

"How have you been?" You finally asked him. You couldn't help yourself, at one point you knew everything about him and just in few days time everything changed. It felt like he was miles apart sitting right next to you.

"Fine" You gave him a eyeroll making him chuckle, "Been shit. Remember the label I sent music to" You hummed, "They said it wasn't their taste." he said a sad pout on his face.

"Harry" You took his hand in your making his head snap up to your face, "You will get a better label, I assure you. You're talented and smart man don't let one thing tear you down" You squeezed his hand and let it go.

"Thank you" He said. Harry brought his hand you were holding to his other one and held onto it, held onto your warmth to feel it as long as he could.

Ro's absence highlighted the awkward silence between you two. Harry sat on the end of couch sipping his drink and you on other end peeling off your nail polish.

"The dress is pretty, you look beautiful" Harry said looking at you shyly.

"Thank you. You look good too for a shrek" You joked making him let out a dry chuckle and the silence was back. You decided you had enough so you go to stand up and be anywhere but here when he stopped you.

Harry paniced when he saw you stand up. He had to make it right he had no other choice than that. Even if he couldn't have you as lover he wanted his best friend back.

"Y/N" He called you weakly and stood up, you turned around to face him, "I- Can we talk?" He asked rubbing the back of his neck.

You gave him a hesitant nod and made your way towards your room.

Harry followed you like a lost puppy cause that's what he felt like he was. You were the one who would knock on his head whenever he would do something stupid. He was a lost cause without you, you were his light, his inspiration, his muse, his everything.

And he was going to do everything to get you back.

*****

Jesus this was so hard to write and idk why. I hope you liked it!!

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