#never entertained the idea of a dark color before

[babbyspinchh]

is it a bold choice to paint my room a dark green

[sushirrrry]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Styles?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shall we get to work then?"

__________________

"This coffee is fucking cold."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn't just impressive; it was extraordinary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Felicity, please meet me in my office."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry's lip parted as he remembered the reservation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She lived for the hope of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was inevitable, she thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now, surely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?" She questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The necktie around her took his focus back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________________

hiiiii!!

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

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

love u as always

- emily

[lovelywritinglady]

fem! muzan with androphobic reader? (fear of men) It was, at first, an arranged marriage done by her father who doesn't care nor console this phobia so they force reader into it to try and 'make her better' (even though the father is who made such a fear manifest) obviously, he would uh, deal with the father and console reader as fem, you know? i want angst & fluff pls

Women Do It Better

Fem!Muzan x fem!reader

Angst, readers father is abusive, mentions of death, blood, gore. Some fluff and Female Muzan. It's hinted at that reader was sexually assaulted. I added a little more angst than what was originally requested. Triggering topics-mentions of SA and use of slut and other hurtful words. Muzan is out of character.

"Please father don't make me do this! I will do anything else, but please do not make me marry him." You pleated with your father even though deep down you knew he wouldn't listen.

"Shut your mouth you dammed brat. You will do as I say and I will not entertain your hysterics!" He spat grabbing your left wrist so tightly that you were sure that it would bruise.

"No!" You screamed trying to shake your wrist free and grabbing on your fathers hand trying to push it off.

"You stupid worthless bitch!" your father screamed in a raging fury as he slapped you with the back of his hand. You then landed on the ground with loud thump as your cheek stung and tears were streaming down your face. "You will marry this man as he is the only man that has ever given the slightest interest in you. Your body has been tainted ever since you let that boy have his way with you. You're disgusting and I have no idea why this man wants filth like you in the first place." He told you without an ounce of care for what that "boy" did to you in the past. Even though the boy in question was a close friend of his and when you told your father he called you a liar and a slut. He then told everyone that it was the servant boy that he had hired and that you were the one who seduced him. You knew that your father never loved you, but that was the moment you really knew he couldn't give a shit about you. Your fear of men steamed from that and the fact that your father is a terrifying man who has no heart whatsoever.

The next day...

You stood next to your father at the most most beautiful house you had ever seen. It was dark out but the house was well lit. You had a small smile on your face looking at it and the beautiful garden that was out front. You noticed all kinds of flowers that you had never seen before planted and you wondered where they came from. Your smile faltered as soon as reality sunk back in. You looked at your father that had a bored expression on his old and wrinkly face. Your life was about to drastically change and he couldn't care less, not like you were surprised.

"Damn bastard making us wait outside in this damn heat." You heard your father grumble quietly as he crossed his arms.

Just as your father grew impatient, the doors to the magnificent house opened and revelied a man with short curly hair and a hard to lead expression on his face. You got chills looking at him and fear consumed your body as you shook slightly. You father took notice of this and rolled his eyes. He then grabbed your injured writs making you finch slightly as you both made your way into the house. As you entered you noticed the smell of baked goods. A delightful smell that reminded you of when your mother was still alive. You felt comforted and your anxiety went down a little.

You and your father followed him into a large living room with a roaring fire that warmed the entire space. You both then sat down on a rather comfortable maroon colored couch as he sat across from you on a large arm chair that resembled his fiery red eyes. There was a gold table in front of you. The space a round you consisted of beautiful paintings of scenes that you had never seen painted before. The walls were a deep red with gold accents on the trim. The flooring was chestnut wood that looked as though it had just been polished. A fire place adorned the space as ebony in color. You were in awe of the space, but you could feel your fathers gaze upon you, so you stopped noticing and kept your head down.

For a little while no one spoke a word. Your father looked at the space with jealousy as this type of living would never be his reality even after the money he would receive after essentially selling you to this strange man. Just then, a thin woman who looked rather sickly entered the room carrying a tray of the baked goods from earlier as well as tea for the three of you. She placed the tray down turning to the man with the fiery red eyes and bowed deeply, slightly shaking as she did so. She then left without making a sound and the whole situation made you shake just like that woman. Silence still consumed the space until your father got aggraviated and spoke in his booming voice.

"So are we gonna get this buissness over with? I've got better things to do than to stick around this brat any longer." He said in a gruff tone as he stared directly at the strange man.

"Yes, I suppose you would have nothing to do." The man responded.

"Whatever." Your father huffed cleary annoyed

"I am Muzan Kibutsuji, I am to be your husband." Muzan spoke, ignoring your father.

"I'm y/n l/n, It's nice to meet you sir. You have a lovely home." You complimented him doing your best to look him in the eyes.

"Thank you, I hope its to your liking as this is where you will be living." He told you, giving you a small smile.

"Thank you sir." You spoke softly

"Now on to important business. I have the documents here to for you to sign Ms. L/n, and I have already signed myself." Muzan declared handing over the documents to you.

You took the documents, placing them neatly in front of you. Taking the capped pen in your dominamt hand you held the pen on the line. Your hand was shaking as your uneven breaths didn't go unnoticed by your father and Muzan. Your father scowled at you as he leaned in pinching your side making you yelp quietly.

"Sign the damn paper girl." He snapped quietly letting go of your side. This terrified you, and you ended up writing out your name in sloppy letters. You then quickly capped the pen and put it on to op the documents. Your father sighed sharply, snatching the papers off the table giving them a scan. "Even your handwriting is shitty." He commented scoffing as he handed the papers back to Muzan. Your father grew impatient as he tapped his foot rather loudly. "Alright Mr. Kibutsuji, I'll be leaving her with you now. I trust the money has been sent to my house." You father rudely spoke as he stood up and began leaving.

"Yes, the money should be at your residence now." Muzan responded as his gaze never left yours. It was almost as though your father was an afterthought and you were the main attraction.

"Good." your father said back walking out the enormous door until his figure was not seen nor his footprints heard.

You contuniued to sit in your place as the fire was startuing to go out and the moon hit its peak as it shone throughout the room. You felt as though time itself was scared to move. Muzan kept his bleeding red eyes you. You couldn't help but stare back at him. You were terrified of the opposite sex, however, this man here seemed gentle, almost kind. Even still, he terrified you and you were scared that he would treat you the same as your father did. The silence ended as Muzan asked you an interesting question.

"What are you scared of?" He questioned suddenly leaning in as he asked.

"I'm sorry sir, but what do you mean?" You asked him not understaing why he would ask you such a strange question.

"It's a simple question, Y/n. What are you scared of?" He asked once more. With a flash he wa ssuddelnly in front of you.

"How did you do that?" You asked with slight apprehension in your voice.

"Answer the question y/n." He demanded in a soft voice as to not scare you.

"I.." I paused staring into his beautiful eyes. "I'm scared of my father and any man.." You told him now terrified that you just told him the very thing he can use against you.

"Thank you, close your eyes and do not be alarmed." He told you and for some reason you did just as he told you. However, tears left you eyes as you closed them. You them felt a cold but soft hand wipe them away. You felt soothed slightly but your heart was pounding heavily.

"Now, y/n, open your eyes." He spoke and once again you did. To your absolute shock, he was now a woman? Muzan had graceful hair and his face was angelic. She wore a traditional kimono with jewels and ribbons adorning his garments. You began crying simply because Muzan was the most beautiful thing you had ever witnessed.

"You're crying, why is that. Aren't you less afraid of me now that I'm in this form?" Muzan spoke as the depth of his voice remained unchanged. However, she sounded as though she was offended.

"No, I'm not scared, but how did you do that?" you reassured as a bright smile appeared on your face for the first time in many years.

"I am a demon and can change my form to whatever I like." Muzan spoke.

"My mother told me about demons and how they eat people. She told me that some of them are beautiful, but that some of them are horrible. How the sun can kill them and how strong and dangerous they can be." You told Muzan not realizing that you might have spoken out of turn.

"Yes, demons are beautiful and I am the strongest among them. We do in fact consume humans and the more we consume, the stronger we are." She told you as you continued to trace every detail of his meazmurizing face. The fear you thought you should have never appeared as you felt as though you had been around demons all of your life. She seemed to notice that you weren't scared.

"Aren't you scared that I might eat you?" Muzan questioned

"I'd prefer not to but if you were to, there would be nothing I could do." You told her honestly as the power gap between you to is unimaginable.

"You're quite right I could." Muzan commented as she flared her piercing fuchsia red eyes. "However, I would never eat one so precious." she added which shocked you to say the least.

You were so distracted by her and her strange words, that the most important question seemed to pop in your head only now. "So why did you want to marry me? My father told me that it was you requested to marry me and offered to pay for my hand in marriage." You asked him now realizing the importance of the question you had just asked.

"Your blood of course. It has rare and quite special indeed, not many humans have it. Which means you are a unique and rare creature indeed and someone I need by my side at all times." She told you looking at you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, even though you couldn't recognize the look at all.

"I didn't even know my blood could have ever been important." You said, mostly to yourself.

"What is it you want most in the world?" He asked you

"To be happy." You responded honestly

"What would make you happy then?" She continued. You took a bit of time to think as you had never thought about how to be happy. You knew that there were many things you wanted to do, but you decided to tell her the first thing that popped in your mind.

"I never want to see my father again." You told her hoping that maybe just maybe she could make that happen.

"As you wish." She responded rather simply and you felt like a bag of rocks was lifted off of your shoulders. You let out a breathe of relief and could tell that Muzan was someone of their word as you had been around numerous men that weren't.

"Thank you." You whispered to her

"I will call the maid to take you to your room. I trust you might be comfortable having your own space. In the meantime there is buissness that I must address." Muzan spoke and as soon as she did she was gone.

A few moments later, the same maid that you saw earlier made her way in. Her quiet nature remained unchanged as did her facial expressions. She quietly gestured for you to follow her, and so you did giving her a smile of gratitude as you did. Your new room wasn't too far from the living room. However, this room was a tiny bit smaller and had a fireplace of its own placed on the very center of the room. There were two large windows on both sides of it adorned with maroon colored drapes. The windows themselves had a sort of black tint on them and you assumed that it was because of the danger of the sun. The bed lay to the right of the fire place and you swore it was the biggest bed you had ever seen. The bed sheets were also red and you could tell they were velvet. There were many tapestries that hung in the walls that depicted all kind of different scenes. Mostly containing images of demons. However, some of them contained botanical scenes that fluttered your heart a little because of their unique beauty.

"Did Mr. Kibutsuji decorate this room?" You asked the maid as she stood in the doorway.

"Yes miss, he has particular taste but your room is yours and the master has told me that you may decorate as you like." She spoke in a soft voice. "Thank you, may I ask your name?" You asked her as you deemed it rude that you only call her maid. "Yes miss, it's Ms. Fujimita, but you may call me whatever you feel fit to." Ms. Fujimita told you.

"Wonderful, thank you. I think I might sleep now." You told her as you could feel the tiredness start to consume your body.

"Yes miss, goodnight." She spoke closing the doors as she left.

The closets that were located to the left of your bed opened up and it felt like you had two rooms. The space was massive and rows and rows of clothes were occupying the space. You remember your father telling you that you didn't need to pack anything and you just assumed that you would be wearing the same clothes over and over again. How wrong you were. You wanted nothing more than to browse, but your eyes betrayed you. You then saw some sleep clothes that looked comfortable and quickly took your clothes off and put them on.

You leaped into the bed letting your body mold with the mattress. Soon enough you fell into a deep slumber listening to the sounds of the fireplace crackling. Suddenly, you felt the bed shift and your body jolted up. A scream left you and you scrambled further up the bed trying to get away from the figure that dared to sit on you bed. You heard the faint sound of shushing and a voice telling you to calm yourself. You were confused and quite sleepy to fully make out the voice. However, you noticed the figures eyes and knew exactly who the "person" was.

"Hush now y/n and have no fear. You will be happy here now I promise you." Muzan spoke in a comfortable whisper.

"Why, what's happen." you asked frantically still calming down from your panic. Muzan then, out of the blue, lit the oil lamp to the side of the bed. You were then able to see the the full beaiutiful appearence of Muzan. She was still in the female form, however, she was covered in blood but that did not take away the ethereal beauity of her. Still, a chill ran down your spine at the sight of the blood.

Muzan noticed your fear and quickly vanished with a flash. You were stunned to say the least, but it was short lived as she returned only now without the blood covering her body. You felt more comfort by this, but you couldn't hep but wonder whose blood it belonged to and a wave of sadness washed over your figure.

"Whose blood was on your clothes?' You asked hesitantly, however you needed to know. You put on a confident face, doing your best not to seem anxious. You noticed a slight change in Muzan's eyes and you couldn't pin point what it was.

"The blood belongs to someone who has caused you great suffering." Muzan simply said as she moved closer to you. Your heart beat fast as you already knew who it was. Your emotions were all over, but the one emotion that stood out was pure happiness. The thought of your father being dead delighted you and that terrified you. You thought to yourself, "Why am I so happy about this? Why am I okay with feeling this way?" You darting back in forth between your own morals to the point you thought you might go insane. Muzan, nit being the best at human emotion, decided that it would be best to simply hug you, hoping that this would ease your distress, and so he did.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You stiffed in the hug but melted as soon as you smelled the luscious scent of honey and jasmine. You then held her tightly breathing in her comforting scent. To you, it felt like it was an eternity of a hug and to Muzan she didn't seem to mind that you held her like this. She then broke the hug and took your face in her hands. She looked you in your now watery eyes giving your face a small stroke as she spoke.

"You are mine and now you shall be happy that your beast of a father is gone." She told you in an almost happy tone

"Thank you." You whispered still feeling slightly guilty for being happy that your father is dead. Although for most of your life that's all you wanted.

"I'm your husband, so it is only natural that a husband wants to see their wife happy." Muzan spoke honestly

"If you are my husband, then why have you decided to appear as a woman?" You asked feeling uncomfortable at the thought of Muzan being your husband but no problem with her currant appearence.

"Its simply because I know it makes you tolorate me. You may call me your wife it would make you tolorate me more." Muzan spoke taking her hands off of your face and placed them in her lap.

"Thank you, I'd like that. I don't just want to tolorate you, I want to like you considering we will be married." You mumbled slightly nervous that you just made her uncomfortable.

"Good, now get some sleep." She whispered gestering you to get comfortable again. Just as you were about to say it back she was gone. You smiled getting comfortable in your bed once again and feeling genuenily happy for the first time in years.

Thank you so much for reading and thank you to whoever requested this fic!💜

Please feel free to like, comment, request, and reblog!

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

L.W.L

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Catch of the Eye | Azriel x Hippy!Reader

Summary: After you moved into Velaris, your bright demeanor and clothing seemed to demand Azriel’s attention, as well as the rumors of the Princess of Autumn’s disappearance.

Word Count: ~ 800

Warnings: None!

A/N: This request had me cracking up while writing it bc the idea of a hippy bamboozling az into silence is so funny to me, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Ever since Azriel had met you, since you’d moved from Autumn Court, you always managed to utterly flabbergast him in ways that shouldn’t be possible for the stoic shadowsinger.

It had all started when he’d noticed the bright, almost obnoxious clothing you always had. Some weren’t bad, like the jeans you would wear with bright floral patterns accenting them, or the flowery shirts or skirts you’d wear.

Your fashion sense was the complete opposite of his, and since you had moved to Velaris under his suggestion, he got to see your wacky outfits every day.

Sandals were a common choice, not to mention warm-toned clothes, cardigans, and knitted tops. The earrings you wore were nothing like he’d seen before, not even trying to be elegant or beautiful, just giving an extra pop of color and flare to your outfit.

It fascinated him.

He’d always seen proper noble women trying to be beautiful or elegant or alluring, but you weren’t that at all. You were just…yourself. You didn’t care about what others thought, you were a rule unto your own law. You were just so out there, sticking out like a sore thumb, but in a good way.

Your bright clothes and personality became a comforting sight for him amongst the dark color theme of Night Court, with most residents opting for black.

And your opinions?

Completely outrageous. But also funny.

Like when you rambled on about how Fae should need a license to winnow, to ensure that they weren’t endangering themselves or others if their skills weren’t good enough. Or how any winged Fae should also need licenses, for the same reason.

He will never forget the time that you told Rhysand to his face on one of your first few times meeting his family that if Velaris was already peaceful and perfect, why not expand that principle to Hewn City, too?

And when he’d tried to explain that the people of Hewn City were too stubborn and hateful for that, you’d just called his reasoning “stupid” and an “excuse” because he just wanted to live in his little paradise city and not deal with the problems of the Court.

That had frazzled Rhys.

In fact, you frazzled almost everyone in the Inner Circle. Except Cassian. He seemed to find you extremely entertaining. You’d nearly given some of them a heart attack, especially since your fiery red hair and hazel eyes oddly resembled the Princess of Autumn, who hadn’t made a public appearance in months, and some people were getting suspicious.

Once getting over the initial hurdle of them adjusting to you, Feyre invited you to her art studio, and when Azriel got there (he’d volunteered to help with some of the paints since he didn’t have any missions that week) he saw you, an absolute mess of paint, helping all the children. You were surprisingly good at it, knowing just what colors to mix for them, giving them what they needed and when, and generally working well with Feyre even if all your paintings were bright and usually neon, and hurt his eyes a bit if he looked too long.

“You’re good with them.”

He spoke to you as he walked down the street, you alongside him as you finally left her painting studio.

“I’ve handled kids before, they’re pretty fun usually.”

He raised a brow at that.

“Did you…babysit, or something?”

He asked, the mental image of you watching and caring for a child for an extended period of time not exactly a great one.

“No, I helped raise my little brother. He was always a more mellow kid, but he had a tongue on him, that was for sure. I oughta visit Luci sometime soon.”

He listened. You’d never mentioned brothers before, or any family at all, really. It didn’t help his suspicions.

“‘Luci’ is an odd name for a boy.”

He commented dryly, and you, clearly not catching onto his sarcasm, as you rarely did, only laughed.

“Boys can be named whatever, but his full name’s Lucien.”

He stopped walking at that, and you continued, oblivious to it until he jogged to catch up.

“You’re Lucien’s sister? As in Lucien Vanserra?”

He asked in a quiet but surprised tone. You only nodded, grinning at him in that lazy, relaxed manner you always had.

“Our secret!”

You declared, before prancing off to go look at the bright fabrics of your favorite salesmen in Velaris. You’d already befriended more than half of the people there, and they all seemed to like you.

Cauldron help anyone who befriended you, and definitely help the shadowsinger stuck as your mate for eternity.

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 3

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The third time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — the one that hurts the most.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer

Author’s Note: It's part 3! The tension is heating up, the emotional stakes are rising, and my obsession is only getting worse / better. Let me know what you think! :)

Part 1 // Part 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You step into the darkened club at the height of the company’s weekend party, colorful lights flashing over the dozens of people dancing and chatting across the crowded room, but your eyes are sharpened on the lookout for just one person. Colt Seavers.

You can’t get him out of your head. You’ve spent the last three days doing everything in your power to avoid him on set, from locking yourself in the art trailer to conveniently arranging to work on the still-in-progress train station set. You had entertained the idea that if you could just keep from seeing him for a few days, you could stop replaying every moment of that night in your head.

But even when you’re knee-deep in epoxy or hyper-focused on scoring holes in iron beams, you’re envisioning the way the lamplight accentuated Colt’s features and reflected in his dark blue eyes that night. Try as you may, you can’t forget how absorbed he was in studying your face, or the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to escort you to your hotel, or the way he lingered at the doorway as if he wanted to say something.

And you especially can’t forget the way you thought he was going to kiss you.

But then, of course, you had to ruin it. You obviously came on too strong. You physically cringe every time you remember some of the things you said to Colt that night while you were so delirious you couldn’t even stand up straight.

“I bet the desk clerk thought I was drunk and bringing you home with me.”

“I couldn’t have made it without you.”

The fact that Colt has been avoiding you just as hard as you’ve been avoiding him only confirms your anxieties. In the past three days, you’ve only seen him twice, and both times he’s ducked away before you had to have a conversation. It’s not like anything shameful or immodest happened between you — it’s just that you made your crush on him so painfully obvious that you’re sure he’s trying to spare your feelings. The thought makes your heart ache, but it’s ultimately for the best. You’re not about to make a move when it’s so obvious that he’s not interested in anything serious with you.

However, the fact that you’ve been sleeping curled up with his jacket — the one that has his musky smell embedded into its very essence — has not helped matters in the slightest.

You shake your head as you glance around the dark room and wave at your friend Holly across the bar. You’re honestly an embarrassment to yourself. All your life, you’ve had an iron will that bends to your intelligence, not your emotions. Why does that have to change now, all of a sudden?

Holly makes her way around the bar, a drink in her hand and the evidence of more on her breath. You reach out a hand to steady her before she spills her drink all over herself, and she giggles uncontrollably. She’s a talented cinematographer and a dedicated weekend partier.

“Where have you been the last few days?” Holly asks dramatically, as if you’ve committed an atrocity against your friendship. “I haven’t seen you anywhere.”

“Just working on getting the sets perfect,” you shrug, trying not to give anything away. “Besides, I’ve never been one to hang around the cameras too much anyway. That’s your department.”

Holly gives you a mischievous smile and takes another sip of her drink, peering over the edge of the glass at you knowingly. “You certainly seemed to find ways to be near the cameras when a certain stuntman was on set.”

You stiffen immediately, doing your best to paint an unaffected smile on your face and failing miserably. “That’s all over, Hol. Not a thing anymore.”

Holly raises her eyebrows skeptically, and you know she sees right through you. “What a shame,” she grins. “He certainly only had eyes for you.”

That comment sends a stab of pain through your heart, but you ignore it. “It’s fine. Nothing weird, I’m just keeping my distance. Just trying to avoid a heartbreak, that’s all.” The words are technically true.

“Got it,” Holly nods conspiratorially. She takes another sip of her drink and glances around the room. “Well, he didn’t show up here tonight, so you don’t have to worry about him. You can just have fun!”

The words have barely left Holly’s mouth before her eyes widen to a comical size at something behind you. Somehow, you already know who just walked in the door, and your heart gives another spectacular lurch.

Knowing you need to get this over with, you turn to face him, your heart in your throat. Sure enough, Colt slips through the club door, glancing around the room intently, as if he’s looking for something. Or someone, you can’t help thinking.

His eyes land on you, and he freezes in his tracks. A mixture of emotions — nervousness, embarrassment, surprise — crosses his face. You know it’s going to be awkward after all that’s happened, so you try to break the ice. “Hey, fall guy,” you greet him, instantly regretting it. Too flirtatious, stop it right now.

Colt smiles, something like relief crossing his tense features. “Hey, da Vinci,” he responds over the boom of the club’s music, closing the door behind him and taking a single step in your direction. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, and you suddenly notice that he’s not dressed for a company party.

“What brings you here?” you ask, trying to ignore the way Holly is pressing into your side and doing a horrible job of hiding her elbowing. “I thought you weren’t a fan of these company parties.”

Colt shrugs, looking past you into the crowd. “Yeah, not really. Just came to drop some stuff off with George for tomorrow’s session.” He swallows hard, as if he’s pondering something, then lets his eyes fall back on you. “What about you? I thought you didn’t like the company parties either.”

I don’t. I came to try to forget about you.

“Oh,” you say casually, “just dropping by. Holly asked me to come.” You squeeze Holly’s hand to signal her for backup, and, intoxicated as she is, she immediately jumps in to help.

“I did!” she exclaims, a little too enthusiastic. “We were actually just talking about — ah, we were just talking about…” Holly hesitates way too long, and you cringe inwardly. “Your stunt!” she recovers. “Your transfer truck stunt!”

“Your what?” Your curiosity is instantly piqued, along with your worry. “I don’t remember a transfer truck stunt in the script.”

Colt smiles a little, the first one you’ve seen since he walked in. “Gordon decided to try it out today. He thought it would spice up the car chase scene.”

Holly jumps in with gusto, clearly excited to have turned you onto a better topic. “Yeah! Gordon came up with it at the last minute. The stunt was originally supposed to just be VFX, but Colt said he could do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Colt shrugs. “Just a jump. One transfer truck to another.”

“The top of one transfer truck to another!” Holly adds for emphasis, sloshing a bit of drink over the edge of her cup. “At top speed, while the trucks are rounding a hairpin turn in the canyon!”

Your eyes widen, and you turn your shocked expression on Colt. “Tell me you’re joking,” you manage.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he amends, obviously embarrassed by Holly’s dramatic retelling. “It’s not like Gordon forced me to do anything. I volunteered and said I could do it.”

“You could have gotten killed!” You’re not sure why you feel so passionately about this; he is a stuntman, after all. But something about knowing that you’ve been avoiding him for three days while he’s been performing death-defying stunts rattles you in a way you can’t ignore. While you’re gathering fire for a rant, Holly backs away into the crowd, an impish smile on her face.

Colt’s smile comes more easily this time, and he takes another step closer to you, ducking his head to look more squarely into your eyes. “Hey, calm down,” he reassures you. “No major injuries. No brushes with death. Just a cool shot.”

You press your lips together, still bubbling over with an emotion you can’t name. “Risking your life for a cool shot isn’t something to laugh about,” you tell him, though there’s no real edge to your voice. You glance down at his hand that’s resting on the bar beside you. “What happened to your hands?” you demand.

Both Colt’s hands are wrapped in bandages that you hadn’t even noticed until he pulled them out of his pockets. His expression shifts again, this time to a kind of bemused concern. “Just a little friction burn, that’s all,” he assures you. He brings one of his hands up to rest on your right shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes your stomach flip in response. “Don’t waste your worries on me, Picasso. I’m a stuntman, remember? Taking risks is what I do.”

Colt’s laid-back tone does calm you a little, and you fight the urge to shake your head at yourself again. What are you thinking? Why are you getting so emotional about this in front of him? Play it cool, explain it logically, don’t make the same mistake you did before.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit, shrugging. “It just seems like Gordon is pushing you harder than he was before. It’s like he’s getting too comfortable putting you in more and more danger for the sake of impressive shots.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Colt tells you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he cocks his head as his gaze flits over your face. “And it’s no different than you going without sleep for three days to finish a setpiece.”

“It is not the same thing,” you begin, but he shakes his head, leaning one elbow on the bar to tilt his head closer to you. You despise yourself for weakening your resolve, but you can’t resist leaning closer to him, too — so close you can feel yourself getting lost in the dark blue of his eyes.

“Sure it is,” he said softly, his husky voice carrying over the short space between you even with the loud music playing in the background. “I do stunts because it’s what I love to do, even if they’re dangerous. You make the sets look amazing because it’s your passion, even when it means you have to go without sleep. I guess we’re both just too dedicated to our crafts, huh?”

You’re finding it difficult to think of a response, your eyes locked on his. All the resolve you’ve been building for the last three days melts under the heat of his gaze. Something like a magnet is pulling you even closer to him. Your mind unhelpfully flashes back to the night you were wrapped under his arm while walking to your hotel room, his warmth enveloping you.

“Well,” you murmur, trying desperately not to look at his lips, “my dedication won’t result in a broken neck.”

Colt lifts one eyebrow in response, leaning a hairsbreadth forward. “Neither will mine,” he whispers.

You mirror his quirked eyebrow, lowering your voice to match his. “How do you know?”

Colt keeps his eyes locked on yours, but one of his hands reaches up to the side of your face unnoticed. His palms are bandaged, but he uses his fingertips to twirl a strand of your hair. Your breath catches when he tucks the strand behind your ear, his touch searing your skin even in the brief contact, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the best in the business,” he tells you as he finally pulls his hand away from your temple.

You smile at his teasing tone. The distance between you keeps closing, a quarter of an inch at a time, and you can feel the burning heat of his skin the closer you get. His eyes don’t drift from yours, but the tension is so potent that you can barely take a breath.

“The best in the business,” you repeat, a coy smile edging the corners of your lips. “Haven’t you heard that pride comes before the fall?”

“Mmm hmm,” Colt hums, and you feel the sound reverberate in your very bones. Your faces are only a few inches apart now. Everything — the music, the crowd, the flashing lights — is forgotten, consumed by the fire blazing in his eyes. His gaze finally tears off your eyes and slowly, so slowly, steals down to your lips. His own lips part slightly, as if he’s finally about to lean forward and close the tantalizing distance between you.

Suddenly you couldn’t care less about all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

But then, your heart still hammering against your ribs, your skin prickling, your lungs strangled into stillness, Colt pulls away from you.

The abrupt distance feels like a cold bucket of water on your head after the heat of what you just shared. Colt seems to feel the shock too, rubbing both hands over his face and letting out a shaky breath before his casual smirk returns.

“Wow,” he half laughs, shaking out his arms and shoulders dramatically. “Nothing like a club’s vibe to muddy the waters, right?”

His careless comment stuns you even more than his quick withdrawal did. You suddenly realize how much every moment with him means to you, and the stinging pain of rejection is amplified a thousand times by his casual attitude.

He doesn’t care. He seriously doesn’t care at all.

You try to recover some dignity, but you know you’ve already blown that more times than you can count. All you can choke out is, “Yeah,” and then a listless, “See you around,” before you slip past his shoulder and head for the door. You can already feel the hot tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, and you’re not going to embarrass yourself further by letting him see you cry. You throw up a hand at Holly as you hurry out the club door into the chilly evening air, barely registering her questioning look.

What you don’t notice is the way Colt clenches his hands into fists against the pain of his burns, or the way he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the memory of your devastated expression.

All you know is the pain of the rejection, the bitterness of your tears, and the smell of his jacket as you fall asleep that night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Part 4

[torasplanet]

❝𝙎𝙏𝙐𝘿𝙔 𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙃.ᐟ❞

A. ARLERT + YEAGER!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; eren made your grade in history drop 'cause he's a fat jerk! so what better way to get back at your dear brother than to fuck his best friend behind his back?

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, fluff, aftercare, riding, p in v, nerd!armin, kinda slut!reader, eren being eren, like two flashbacks, armin being a sorta good best friend, praise, petnames (baby), kinda switch!armin, childhood crush to lovers, reader having a HUGEE crush on 'minnie >o<, seduction, loverboy! armin, eren being jean's #1 h8r, round two hinted at end, college au, lingere, armin wears glasses cuz i said so >:( !!, kinda sappy, unedited might do it l8r idk, science shit cuz im a nerd, skin color not mentioned

Eren was the worst big brother ever. 

You wouldn’t have chosen to live with him if housing wasn’t so expensive and you two didn’t go to the same college because he’s annoying as shit. He always holds it against you that you’re living with him whenever you tell him to leave you alone. He was probably the worst person ever to be honest and what he had done yesterday was not helping his case one bit.

See, eren was a coffee person and not one of those regular coffee people. The ones that go insane without their dark roast.

Not so surprising when he’s a college student but he’d never been once before being enrolled so you still weren’t used to him drinking it so when he went into your room saying he forgot something in there with a mug in his hand, you didn’t think much of it and stayed in your spot on the couch watching some random Netflix show you liked, you’d watched it a thousand times but it still entertained you but not enough that you didn’t hear eren curse from your room.

When you rushed up to go inside and ask what in the fuck he did, you couldn't even speak when you saw dark brown liquid spilled all over your five-page essay that was on your desk and there was no saving these, they were completely soaked and the words were mixing because of the wetness of the paper. You cursed your professor for making you write it on paper because this could easily happen. And with Eren being as clumsy as he is, of course, he was the one to make it happen.

He didn’t even care that much either! He just said ‘Whoops, sorry.’ and left, he didn’t offer to redo it for you or anything! And because of him, your grade in history has dropped by a lot. Like a B to an F-. You didn’t even know an F- was possible!

Eren was going to pay for this one way or another, but the issue with upsetting him was that Eren didn’t care about most things in the world. You could cut his hair in his sleep and he’d just get a new haircut, you could key his car and he’d be mad but he’d probably do worse to you. You could tell Mikasa about all the embarrassing dreams he’s had about her but he’d just deny it and then punch you later.

But the one thing that would send Eren off the rails was getting with one of his friends. Eren didn’t care if you were friends with his friends but if you even thought about liking one of them, he’d shut that shit down immediately. The idea of you getting with any of his friends disgusted him and he never wanted it to happen which is why you were going to do that; not only were you going to do that but you were going to do it behind his back which would just piss him off more once he eventually found out.

Sure it was extreme but it was the only thing that would actually fuck with him and that wasn’t your fault plus he was friends with a bunch of hot people…including, Armin.

Armin Arlert. Eren’s best friend since they were little kids, you often saw him a lot in your childhood and still saw him a lot in the present and you liked that. Armin was a cutie ever since you guys were young, even with his long hair he was a cutie but now that he cut it short, he was hot. So with your choice of revenge and Armin being hot, you practically had everything laid out.

You didn’t know how Eren would find out or if you would tell him but you got the seduction and the fucking part down! That’s all you needed honestly.

Most of this was so you could get back at Eren but at the same time, some of it was because you had the tiniest crush on Armin ever since you both were little kids. Even though you’ve fucked a bunch of guys, had them sleep over, and dated a lot, your micro feelings for Armin were always resting in the back of your head coming to the surface when you were alone in your room with your hand between your thighs in your panties and a pillow pressed to your face to block your moans.

You’ve been doing that for quite a while as you’ve wanted Armin for years.

Since his junior year and your sophomore when you two landed in the same mixed gym class, he had his blonde bob and wore glasses during that time but you still wanted him. That one class when some loser let his hand slip and hit you in the face with a dodgeball; Armin was helping you to your feet with his hand accidentally cupping your ass which he, of course, apologized for but you didn’t mind. Not at all.

You wanted to tell him that so badly but of course there was Eren ruining everything after he got done yelling at that loser for hitting you. For the first time ever, eren decided to be a good big brother and not let Zeke fill that role instead and take you to the nurse when all you wanted was for Armin to take you there. You thought you’d get him to take you another way if he did but of course, Eren had to be a cock-block even when you both got back to class.

“Ah is she okay!?” Armin asked loudly as he rushed over to you and Eren as you both walked through the gymnasium doors with you holding a paper towel to your nose that was just running with blood in hopes that it wouldn’t continue its rapid flow. Eren took his arm from around your shoulders as he hummed “Yeah, she’s okay. It’s not broken or anything.” Armin let out a relieved sigh at your brother's words as he pushed his rectangle-framed glasses up while you shamelessly stared at him in his gym uniform that seemed a little too tight for him. You could see his scrawny body with little to no muscle (he’s working on it okay!) through his shirt.

Armin made eye contact with you “That’s good, thought we’d have to call Zeke to get you.” He said sweetly which made a smile appear on your face but it quickly fell at the sound of your brother’s voice “Yeah, thought I’d have to get Ymir and beat the hell out of that guy.” Ugh, he was annoying. Eren knew he couldn’t kick anyone's ass even if he had Superman’s powers and yet he was still saying he would.

Of course, Armin looked at him concerningly but said nothing and shook his head before turning to you once more “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He told you comfortingly as he embraced you into a hug with his hands resting on your lower back, you wished that they went even lower like they did before but what he whispered next into your ear really made you want that “Don’t tell Eren about earlier, ‘kay? He’d be so mad.”

He said it like he meant to put his hands on your ass which contradicted his previous apology and it riled you up and made your childhood crush really blossom and now…you had finally gotten your chance to act out all those fantasies and thoughts you had due to his words and piss Eren off at the same time. It’s like a dream come true!

So when you were getting ready to go to Armin's dorm on college campus for your study session that was hopefully going to turn into more, you made sure to put on the cutest black lace thong with a matching bra that was practically see-through, you could see the darkness of your nipples showing through the fabric before you put on your skimpy top and tight-fitting shorts.

Falsies fluttered constantly as you looked through them peering up at Armin’s dorm door waiting for him to come and open the door for you and his study session. You perked up at the sound of the door unlocking before it opened revealing the blonde already staring at you but his gaze turned confused very quickly and you knew why. 

You looked stupid, didn’t you? Here for a study session and yet there was nothing in your hands, no books, no pencil, nothing. Everything you needed was in the pockets of your shorts, your phone, and of course a condom. “Hi Armin, can I come in?” You questioned looking him up and down, he was wearing the white tee and grey sweatpants combo that almost made you drop to your knees while foaming at the mouth clawing at the waistband of his pants in the middle of this hallway.

His blue eyes drifted down to your boobs that were practically out of your shirt but quickly returned to your face that had gained a promiscuous smirk at the drifting of his gaze “Uh y-yeah, sure.” Armin stammered shaking his head seemingly to snap himself out of a trance that your body put him in. He moved out of the way and let you walk inside the dorm room that he shared with Bertholdt but clearly, the male wasn’t here which would make this all the easier for you “So what do you need help with exactly, you didn’t bring anything?” Armin asked his voice less nervous than it was before as he closed the door and leaned against it while his eyes followed your body as you sat on the edge of his neatly-done bed kicking your shoes off.

You blinked your falsies at him as you leaned back on your palms “A lot, I just thought I’d watch you y’know…do some of the work.” You replied making sure to purse your glossy lips out a bit with your words as you gazed at the blonde that was inching closer to you “I think it’s easier if I watch someone like you do it.” It wasn’t a lie, you weren’t very good at science and Armin was but you were playing it up a little bit. Like you needed him…well you did just not in the way you were telling him.

Armin nervously crept over to his desk that had his PC and everything on it which was sometimes used to play video games loudly with Eren, Connie, and Jean but its main use was for school work “What do you mean?” He asked as you stood up grabbed a chair from Bertholdt’s side of the room and sat down right next to Armin who was glancing down at your cleavage and your thighs, and who knows what he was looking at when your back was turned. You never took Armin for a perv but you weren’t hating the idea of that.

“I mean smart people, eren’s useless so he can’t help me and Mikasa never has time. She’s always with Eren in his room.” You blabber watching as Armin’s blue eyes were focused on his computer screen which was now showing the science homework you two had and you saw all his little glimpses toward you and your chest but you didn’t say anything and sat there all pretty like you had no clue what he was doing. When for the first time ever you knew.

Whenever Armin talked about things he liked such as the ocean, ‘nerd stuff’, and whatnot, you were the only one who really listened. Like actually listened to the point when he referenced something from previous conversations, you were the only one who remembered every single thing. It was a miracle that no one knew about your crush, well no one cared to say anything because if pretty much any of the guys knew, they’d definitely say something and laugh at you for doing something so stupid that would make Eren murder someone.

Armin’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of Eren and Mikasa's private relations “What about the times he’s not?” You merely shook your head at his question as you watched him solve the science problems easily “It’s still easier to watch you. You’re smarter than Eren.” You said wrapping your arms around Armin’s and leaning against him snuggling your head into his shoulder and you felt Armin tense up at this action but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Thanks, (n/n),” Armin said with a sheepish smile as he glanced down at you before back at the computer screen. You placed your other hand on his thigh not wanting to waste any time here because Bertholdt could be back any minute, you didn’t even know where he was but you just didn’t want him to come back anytime soon.

A whimper let out from Armin’s lips as you began to rub his thigh gently moving your hand up closer to his crotch but only subtly though he could tell. Armin could tell anytime you touched him compared to someone else's no matter where you put your hands. Your hands were gentle when they touched him almost like you were scared to touch him. You weren’t.

You wanted to be as close to him as possible and savored every touch you got with him, you were definitely going to savor this night even if it was just a one-time thing “You’ve always been smart Armin…I thought it was cute.” You muttered softly as you looked up at the male who was already looking down at you nervously, his expression was so cute! His flushed face, his nervous gaze, and how he was nearly sweating just by your hand on his thigh.

“I still do y’know.” Your hand trailed up to the waistband of his sweatpants but you didn’t do anything but sink your fingertips past them just pulling them away from his skin and letting it slap back against his soft pale flesh. His skinny hand came down and placed itself on top of yours stopping you as you felt warmness overtake your skin “We–...We shouldn’t do this (n/n).” The blonde male said as he looked down at you like he was scared but he was obviously enjoying it with the movement you felt coming from his sweatpants.

The clacking of his keyboard had stopped and it was now silent in the room “Do you not want to?” You asked slowly drawing your hand away but his hand which was just resting on top of yours now had a tight hold on yours and was holding it in place which startled you, it was a drastic change from how gentle he always was with just his hand on yours.

Armin looked away as if he was ashamed of his actions “I just think Eren would be mad.” You knew that was coming soon, Armin was a lot of things, and stupid was definitely not one of them, not even a little bit and you knew he’d catch onto what you were trying to do and tell you something about Eren and blah blah blah but you obviously didn’t care much for that, only what he really wanted to do.

With his hold on your hand, it’s obvious he didn’t want you to go anywhere but you still had to make sure “But do you want to?” You questioned again ignoring his previous statement about your brother and how he might disapprove of it. Eren was a dick and if he wanted to play that card, you could too. You could be a dick by riding his best friend’s.

Armin stared down at you for a while thinking about what he should say and what it would mean if he said something “Yes but–” With that, your fingers went back to his waistband but this time you were gently pulling them down but not completely yet, just teasingly “...what if eren finds out? He’ll be so mad at me.” Armin continued saying those words he said in high school but a bit differently and the context behind it was very different and not just a small accident.

You glanced down at the band of his Nike Pros before looking back up at him through your lashes “I don’t care. Why do you? You want it right?” Armin was quick to nod at your question making a smile stretch across your glossy lips as you ran the tip of your finger over the Nike Logo on his boxers “Yeah…I guess he doesn’t have to find out, right?” Armin said leaning back in his chair his eyes locked on your fingers just wanting them to inch closer to his crotch nearly bitting into the softness of his pink bottom lip that was almost the same color as the apples of his cheeks that showed his enjoyment and flustered feeling.

You shook your head not breaking eye contact with him “I won’t say anything.” You said seductively allowing your hands to slip past the waistband of his boxers and into the small bush of his blonde pubes before lowering it further to his cock.

Armin’s back arched slightly as he felt your hands wrap around him “I w-won’t say anything either.” He sputtered out as you moved your hand up and down while remaining eye contact with him, god you were such a bitch. Keeping eye contact with him while slowly jerking him off knowing it’d make him more embarrassed and completely bricked.

You leaned up releasing your hold on his arm and pressing a kiss to his lips that were letting out small whimpers and grunts. It grew sloppy very fast with Armin being eager. His hips were bucking up into your hand and his hands were just by his side not knowing where to go or what to touch, maybe your wrist? Your waist? Your shoulder? Or should he just keep them where they were? His mind was full of just you and only you that he couldn’t even think straight and you hadn’t even really begun to do anything yet.

You moaned into his mouth as he did the same before gently pulling away with a thin string of saliva connecting you two, your lip gloss was now on his lips and even around it, you could only imagine what it looked like on your lips now. Armin watched as your head tilted down to the movement you were causing in the confinements of his pants before you looked right back at him tilting your head curiously.

“Can I?” Armin wasn’t sure exactly what you were asking here but he had an idea so he nodded ferociously but when your hand left his pants, he got confused.

When he saw you beginning to take off your panties and shorts in one go, that’s when he caught on and began to do the same. He lifted his hips to slide off his grey sweatpants and then his all-black Nike Pros allowing both of the clothing articles to pool at his ankles as he sat there awkwardly waiting for you.

You grinned up at Armin before transferring yourself to his lap using it as a chair but you were just hovering over him now with your knees on each side of him supporting your body as you lined him up with your dripping cunt.

Armin’s hands instinctively went to your waist as you rested on his shoulders. The male stared up at you as you carefully perfected the lineup to make sure he didn’t miss the hole, he’d wanted you for the longest and he finally was going to get you. I mean, this wasn’t how he was planning on it going down, he was going to ask you out and then you guys would get to this part but this was okay too. It was great actually because he didn’t know if he could wait until you two started to date to get some of you. He definitely could not but good thing you’re a slut right?

A loud moan left your mouth as you slowly lowered yourself onto Armin’s cock making him throw his head back while he leaned back in his chair.

His back arched as you fully sunk, his legs spread allowing you to bottom out as you let out a whimper at Armin’s nails digging into the bare flesh of your hips harshly surely leaving indents there “Are you okay?” Armin asked as he managed to open his eyes and look at you reaching up one of his hands to cup your cheek carefully.

That’s one of the things you loved most about him. He was always thinking about other people. You were sure Armin was losing his mind right now by the way he was scarcely thrusting up into you and the grunts in between his words and yet he was still making sure you were okay when you were way more than okay. Nearly losing yourself in how full you felt but you were still feeling amazing.

You nodded your head as you smiled at him “Of course. Are you?” Armin nodded silently at your question taking in the warmth of being inside you and how tight you were, squeezing him every other second. You began to play with his hair slicking it back and running your fingers through it making a mess of the beautiful blonde locks. You wish you’d been able to do this when he had his long hair but this was just as enjoyable.

Armin leaned in for a kiss again which you happily obliged to. The kiss started sweet and soft as your hands went to his neck holding onto him for support as you began to grind on him rubbing your thighs against his which made the brutal feeling of his nails piercing into your skin grow. You and Armin's tongues fought for dominance with it quickly ending with Armin taking control, you’d like to say you let him but you didn’t. He won the battle and got a little rougher with his win.

He kissed you harsher as he pulled you closer to his body. Armin lifted you taking you by surprise before slamming you back down on him making you shout into the kiss and biting down onto Armin’s lip “Sorry…” You muttered as you broke the kiss watching as Armin touched his bottom lip which was bleeding a bit before looking down at the tip of his finger “It’s fine. Just keep going, baby.” You couldn’t even think of a response and just continued your grinding but this time you were bouncing a bit closing your eyes as you moaned.

Armin’s hand snuck up your shirt and under your bra squeezing your boob roughly as he went and buried his face in your neck kissing and sucking on you, covering the bare skin with purple marks some darker than others. His nails released their hold on your skin and his hand trailed down to your butt harshly groping it as he bit down on your neck smearing the blood of his lip all over your neck.

“Fuck.” You cursed getting quicker with your pace as you fucked yourself on his cock while whimpering like a slut. It’s a little crazy how Armin was just the one that was whimpering a second ago but now you were and he was the cause. 

You never pictured Armin as a rough lover. In your fantasies, he was always so gentle, so calm, his fingers softly trailing over your skin as he whispered comforting words into your ears. Nothing like how he was in reality, biting you, covering you in hickies, creating indents in your skin from how rough he was grabbing you.

You weren’t necessarily complaining, it just took you by surprise and you didn’t know how to react other than with your moans of delight “So pretty. You put this on for me?” Armin asked as he backed away from your neck leaning right back in his chair as he lifted your shirt revealing the lacy bra, you didn’t even say anything and just nodded rapidly while continuing to moan “Was for me to take off or look at ‘cus...I don’t know which one I wanna do.” The blonde cooed looking up at you as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. You’ve never really seen Armin look at you like that, you’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. His eyes lidded damn nere closed, lust in his eyes, a smirk on his face and it seemed as if the blue of his eyes were more noticeable than usual. They were practically glowing as they traveled up and down your half-naked body.

“I don’t know…” You blabbered. You couldn’t even remember what you put the bra on for if it was just for him to look at or if it was for him to take it off too. You just wanted to look pretty for him and didn’t think that far ahead into what he would do “C’mon baby…you gotta know.” Armin whispered slapping a hand on your ass and making you jolt up earning a small whimper from him.

If you didn’t know before, you definitely don’t know now with how he was talking to you “W-Which ever you want.” You sputtered out as you slowed down your movements trying to compose yourself your eyes shutting close again.

Armin hummed in delight at your words “Really? I think I’m gonna keep it on you. Makes ‘em look so pretty.” He spoke lowly running one of his fingers over the pattern of the lace, his eyes locked on your boobs less ashamed now. You nodded and hummed as you sat still on him getting more sensitive by the moment just from him being inside of you.

The male’s blue eyes drifted down to where you two were connected and looked back up at you “Baby, you’re gorgeous and I love you but I’m gonna need you to move a little faster f’me.” Armin cooed smiling up at you. It’s not like you were going fast exactly before you stopped but something was better than nothing even if he wanted much more.

You smiled brightly and opened your eyes peering down at him “I love you too Armin.” The blonde let out a laugh and his smile widened. It was no surprise that you only paid attention to that part of his sentence, it looked like there was nothing in that head of yours anymore “You need me to take control? You can just lay there and look pretty, I don’t mind.” He said sweetly tilting his head slightly making his blonde hair sway and it made him look even more pretty.

No matter how much he cut his hair, his golden locks were always so silky especially when they moved in the slightest tilt of his head or the small blow of the wind “No, I-I got it.” You said placing your hands on his chest before beginning to move once more but this time you weren’t grinding with the addition of small bouncing, you were going up and down making slapping sounds echo off the off-white walls with wet sounds following it.

Groans escaped Armin’s throat with some slips of whimpers and whines as he threw his head back, hands gripping your ass as if his life depended on it while your tits bounced in the lacy fabric in his face. Armin’s blue eyes stayed focused on you and didn’t close once, he wanted to keep looking at you and how pretty you looked with your mouth wide open letting out pornographic sounds.

Armin had never admitted it to anyone in the world but he always thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He believed it when he was young and still believed it.

Even though he hadn’t told anyone about it, a few people caught on when he was younger maybe in his elementary or middle school years? He didn’t quite remember but what he did remember was when Eren came to him during their math class and told him about how obvious his feelings for you were. Armin was so embarrassed when that happened and a little devastated by what Eren said but he did it anyway because that was his best friend and he’d do anything for him.

But looking back at that, he was sure he only agreed to that because Eren was his only friend and he was very much a pushover.

“Armin, I know you like my sister.” Eren had told him when sitting down on the empty desk beside the blonde’s with a straight face. Armin’s face went pale and his eyes widened in shock at that moment not knowing what to say as he was just doing long division a second ago.

He dropped his #2 pencil on the worksheet and pushed his glasses up “Don’t lie. I always see you looking at her.” Eren said narrowing his eyes at his friend practically sensing that guilty excuses of denial were soon going to start pouring out of his friend’s mouth “Sorry eren…She’s just…very pretty.” The long-haired boy muttered as he began fumbling with his fingers while looking at his lap refusing to meet his friend’s eyes.

Eren sighed as he dropped his head understanding how he was probably making his friend very nervous “I know. I can’t keep those stupid soccer boys away from her.” He grumbled remembering all the times he’s literally had to jump in front of you with his arms in the air yelling for them to back away from his little sister. He didn’t think you were old enough to be dating even though he’s had his fair share of five-day relationships. Eren would use that excuse for you until you were in the eighth grade and would then lay out a list of guys you shouldn’t date because ‘they’re the worst guys ever’ which consisted of soccer guys, basketball guys, and Jean. Jean was the only specific name on there.

Armin glanced up at his friend still nervous as he shuffled in his seat “Look, I don’t care if you like her or anything but don’t date her! I’d love to have you as a brother but she’s super annoying, you deserve better than her.” Eren said with a small pout on his lips making Armin laugh but the blue-eyed boy nodded while agreeing with the conditions “Okay eren. I won’t date her.”

It was stupid how he told Eren that but continued to like you after all this time. Armin was sure that the ‘deserved better than her’ reason had worn off now and was replaced by something like ‘It’s just so gross’ and Armin understood where Eren was coming from now. He and Eren had kissed two times at two separate parties both times with them being basically blackout drunk and of course, you didn’t know, no one knew and that’s the way both of them wanted it to stay, and Eren seeing him start dating his sister after all of that would be very weird for Eren and Armin. Armin still wanted to date you regardless though but was still considering how Eren would feel about it.

But who said he couldn’t fuck you? Eren didn’t have to know about that and if he did find out, it’d just be something to ease him into accepting Armin dating you.

Plus, it’s not like Armin cared very much about what Eren felt now that he was six inches deep inside of the warmth of your soaking cunt.

“Ughn! Shit, you feel so good.” Armin whined loudly as he squeezed his eyes closed feeling a tightness in his stomach but he quickly snapped them back open reminding himself of the beauty in front of him who was quite literally doing all the work to make him and herself feel good. Shit, by the way, you were fucking yourself out, he wouldn’t have cared if you wanted to peg the shit outta him.

The pleasure both of you felt was soon interrupted by a loud ringing of someone’s phone. You opened your eyes and turned your head around slowing the bouncing and resorting to grinding which made Armin hate phones “Who is it?” He asked though it came out as a whine with his heavy breathing. You saw his phone glowing and ringing on the desk which his PC sat on and you squinted trying to see the contact name through the growing tears of pleasure and when you saw it your eyes widened and you let out a whine of frustration.

It was Eren. Stupid Eren being a cockblock once again.

Yeah, you did this whole thing to get back at Eren and take advantage of your anger against your brother to finally do what you’ve wanted to for a while but if he called, you were going to stop. Having your brother listen to you fucking his best friend was disgusting. His finding out about it was a whole other thing and now in the state of mind you were from this dick that made you dumb, you didn’t really care too much about if he’d find out at all.

Fuck, this wasn’t even about getting back at Eren anymore. This was about feeling your desire and your need for the blonde.

“S’ eren…” You muttered turning back to Armin with a saddened look on your face and his eyes widened too seemingly snapping out of whatever trance you had put him in. He took his hand off the flesh of your ass and went to reach for his phone with his hand trembling from the pleasure he was still receiving from your small movements but you placed one of your hands on the desk in front of the phone before he could grab it.

You shook your head as you sped up the pace lifting yourself up and down once more “Don’t get it.” You pleaded looking down at Armin hoping to persuade him to just ignore the call and he didn’t say anything and just stared back at you. He broke eye contact and looked behind you seeing the phone and sighed. He knew Eren was just going to keep calling until he eventually got the idea that he was not going to answer the phone and he’d definitely get scolded for not picking up.

Fuck it. It’s whatever.

“Fine.” The Arlert male said looking back up at you and you smiled slightly before picking up the pace making Armin’s calm manner quickly disappear and back into his little whines and deep groans “Fuck, you killing me.” Armin said with a groan his hand gripping the edge of the desk and his other digging his short nails into your ass once again remaking the marks that had faded.

You leaned down and began placing sloppy kisses onto the fair-colored skin of his neck and he gave you full access with his head being thrown back. Your body pressed further against his with your boobs pressing against his hard chest making you moan onto his neck from the feeling of your sensitive nipples pressing against him.

You could feel yourself inching closer and closer to a release with every second and every bounce. You were falling more in love with Armin as his pretty groans and whimpers filled the silence along with yours, he was so sweet, so gentle yet still so rough but it was the perfect balance.

That balance was pleasurable enough but the sound of your moans mixing with his was like the most perfect lemonade to ever exist. Sweet and Sour, the sour was his occasional deep groans after the sweetness of his whimpers had run out.

Your back arched as you let out a loud whine letting go and cumming all over his cock biting down on his neck as your toes curled.

However, Armin hadn’t cum and he was not done. Not one bit. His other hand came back to your ass and he continued to bounce you up and down even after you had stopped to catch your breath “Sorry…just need this s’bad!” Armin apologized with his voice wavering. You weren’t really sure what he was apologizing for exactly, maybe the increase in roughness? Maybe the sudden force? It didn’t matter because you didn’t care. He was just helping you ride out your orgasm. Well, the rest of it.

Soon you felt his warm seed sputtering inside of you and filling you all up, it seemed endless until it stopped “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Armin asked through his deep breaths, his chest rising and falling under your sweaty palm as you retracted your face from the crook of his neck to look at him breathing just as heavy as he was.

You shook your head lightly “No, m’ okay…” You whispered as you tried to catch your breath and Armin nodded at your answer.

His hands went to your hips much gentler than they were before almost as if you were fine china and it was the first time he was using you and in a way, it was. He lifted you from his limp cock with ease and allowed you to stand to your feet but your legs and feet had fallen asleep by now, it’d be pretty hard to walk home now “What are you doing?” Armin asked as he saw you bending over to grab the clothes you had discarded while he pulled up his Nike Pros but kicked the sweatpants off.

You looked at him not really knowing what to say and just shrugged your shoulders “Can’t leave yet, I still gotta clean you up.” Armin said standing to his feet and swooping you into his arms not asking you or giving you any heads-up so you sat there being carried confused as to what he was doing.

“I just do that myself when I get home.” You said as the blonde carried you to the bathroom kicking open the cracked door before waddling over to the tub “Why? It’s the least I can do, you were practically doing all the work.” Armin said laughing awkwardly as he set you inside the porcelain tub being careful before reaching over and letting you take the remainder of your clothing off before turning on the faucet letting the warm water flow into the tub and onto your feet.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that you had your more than fair share of horrible boyfriends but not everyone in the world knew. Armin and a few of you two’s other friends knew because either you told them or Eren blabbed his mouth to them about every time you’d complain to him about some stupid guy and that’s the reason why Armin knew about almost everything. 

Since the ninth grade, he’d heard from Eren about all the horrible guys you’ve dated who played you, lied, cheated, yelled, even left you stranded at a party and all Armin wished was that you found a guy that actually found the sweetness and greatness in you. He wished more than anything that it would be him.

He dreamed about all the things he’d do for you, to you, and with you, that’d put a smile on your face. All the things you’d deserve that he’d give you even if it nearly killed him.

He wanted that more than ever right now as he looked at you relaxing in the hot water that was filling up the tub very fast. He reached his hand into the tub and grabbed yours holding it comfortingly and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles which made your eyes open and dart to him “I love you (y/n).” Armin spoke softly leaning his cheek against the side of his tub never looking away from you with his light-colored eyelashes fluttering with minor blinks and it seemed as if he was trying to stop blinking so he wouldn’t waste a single second looking away from you.

“I love you too Armin.” You said with a kind smile on your face as you squeezed his hand with his cheeks turning red from your words. Your smile slowly turned from kind to mischievous as your pure thoughts changed to the complete opposite realizing you were naked.

You lifted your foot out of the tub and rested it on the edge which drew the blonde’s attention “Y’know armin…I didn’t learn much from your study session.” You whispered looking back up at Armin who very quickly caught onto what you were trying to say and got incredibly embarrassed “Come on, you’re the one that called it that…” He muttered lifting his head from the side of the tub as he looked away from you his cheeks burning a bright red.

That was true, you were the one who called it that but you both didn’t even attempt to get down to the science. Got down and dirty before Armin could even get to the beginning of the science work “Yeah but I hope we get another one, I actually wanna learn somethin’.” You said shrugging your shoulders as you placed your other leg on the other side of the tub spreading them.

Armin’s eyes were locked on your wet legs as water dripped in droplets from your calves, he wondered if his cum was still there or if it had washed out into the water “What next? Seems like you got biology down pretty good.” He said meeting your eyes again with a smile on his face that matched yours.

“Maybe neuroscience. I can teach you stuff too like what makes girls happy.” Armin almost laughed at how you were referring to serotonin but clearly forgot what it was called, he would’ve if he didn’t watch how the drops of water rolled down your tits to your areolas and down to your tummy.

Armin brought his hand to your leg and rubbed it up and down making you bite down into your lip “I think I know what makes girls happy.” He said his hand growing closer to your crotch moving down to your inner thigh and the ache in your cunt returned practically pulsing as you watched the way he looked at you. Seemed he realized the way you were squeezing around nothing.

You tilted your head as you looked at him sinking deeper into the warm water “Really? What makes me happy then?” You questioned with a whine slipping out with each inch Armin’s hand came closer and his smirk widened as the glowing in his eyes returned as if he was some sort of predator getting ready to pounce and eat you alive.

“Me.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[bluestar22x]

Boo!

Summary: You buy a mansion on the cheap having no idea it's haunted by the previous owner's friend

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (mature readers only)

Word Count: 5,900(ish)

Warnings: "Enemies" to lovers vibes (they annoy each other at first), recreational drug use mentioned, medical stuff, subtitle mentions of sex/yearning, ghost Dieter follows you around the house but isn't a total creep about it - he's just really bored and invisible, AU?, foul language, fluff

Author’s Note: This was created for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge by @mermaidgirl30 - I already had the idea of writing ghost Dieter before this challenge, so I thought it was the perfect time to write it up. The theme I chose is "haunted mansion" for obvious reasons. I was slightly inspired by a movie some may or may not know.

xxx

You had bought the mansion on the cheap - hardly a million dollars despite the huge, modern layout.

Just outside of New Orleans, the mansion was only one of three you owned as an unusually successful author. One of the few that had gotten rich off of making a crime novel series that had later become a successful drama show that was still running after five years - a true feat in modern entertainment.

Your other two mansions were in Los Angeles and Denver, the first being your main home when working and the second being a winter holiday escape, a place where you could go and experience what winter was supposed to be like. You had grown up in Maine, and it hadn't taken you long after moving to Los Angeles to miss the changing of the seasons, even if you didn't quite miss the often dreary weather.

This mansion in Louisiana was supposed to be another escape, one close to a city with rich history and lore. Spooky lore, that was. You were thinking about writing a vampire series - what better place to inspire you than New Orleans?

Though you'd moved there specifically for the stories of monsters in the dark, you avoided the creepy mansions listed on the realtor sites like a plague. Just cause you were interested in writing it, didn't mean you wanted to live a horror-themed novel.

Your mansion was boring compared to the centuries old mansions and plantations nearby and far from any swampland. It was also only ten years old - a baby mansion that had little chance of having been able to attract attention from any supernatural beings.

Not that you really believed in them, but you were the type not to press your luck. Every time you had in the past, you'd paid for it.

However, the universe had to have been against you, as it often was, because after only one week in your new vacation home strange things started happening.

It began with misplaced items, something easy to dismiss when you were still unpacking and organizing the place. You'd set down a mug of coffee on the countertop and find it on the bar later on or, to your dismay, the living room end table without a drink coaster underneath it. You'd throw a fresh shirt on the bed and enter the bathroom to take a shower and find the shirt on the floor when you returned. You'd place the manuscripts on your desk in a neat pile and find them disorganized the next morning. Things like that.

Then after a month more concerning things started happening. You'd lock a door and find it unlocked minutes later. You'd hear heavy footsteps on the second floor when you were in the kitchen or living room downstairs and you knew no one else was in the house. You'd see doors creak open on their own when they hadn't done that before.

Suddenly the cream colored modern mansion felt unsafe despite the high tech alarm system being in full working order and having never gone off.

You took to listening to music almost constantly, attempting to block out the feeling of unease you felt when everything was quiet. What you thought was your irrational side screamed at you to leave, to sell the place and go hang out at your Denver mansion or return to your main home, but your stubborn, so called rational side balked at the idea. You didn't want to admit defeat against a haunting you were pretty sure was all in your head or had explanations that were not of the supernatural kind.

Then one morning, the day before Halloween, you wandered downstairs to find a strange man sitting at your bar, dressed in ripped blue jeans, a dark tan oxford shirt, and a pair of tan slip on sneakers. You also had time to note that he had a graying patchy beard, sunglasses, and a single gold loop earring attached to his left ear before the fear set in and you screamed.

There was a complete stranger in your house! An interloper! Whatever his reason for being in your kitchen was, it had to be no good.

"Holy shit, you're loud!" he snapped, jumping in his seat. "Why are you freaking out so early in the morning?"

He turned to face you and his jaw dropped when he realized you were starring directly at him. "Wait, can you fucking see me?"

"Of course I can fucking see you," you spat. "You're in the middle of my kitchen, seated at my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the police!"

The man rubbed at his temple, his head pounding, which was really unfair, he thought, considering his situation. "Lady, if I could, I would, you are the saddest company I've ever kept, but unfortunately I have no say in the matter. I was here before you and I can't leave. Believe me, I've tried."

"Clearly you haven't tried enough," you hissed, pointing an index finger at the front door. "Try again."

He sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, though you couldn't see the latter action behind his shades. "Fine, if you insist."

He pushed himself away from the bar, sliding off the stool he'd been seated on, and headed for the door. He opened it and glanced back at you, finding that you'd trailed him with a glass vase in your hand.

At least you were a resourceful recluse.

He braced himself for the sensation of being catapulted back into the mansion and sure enough, as soon as he stepped through the threshold he felt whatever force that was keeping him inside push him back.

He landed on the tile floor several feet away from the door in the mess of his long limbs. "Oof."

"What the fuck?!" He heard you yelp and he groaned.

"Told you."

"What the hell was that?"

He stood up slowly and massaged his lower back. "That was what's keeping me from leaving, sunshine. Now that you've seen why I can't go, I'll let you guess how this situation began."

"A voodoo priest cursed you to eternity in here?" you guessed, purposely trying to come up with what you thought would be a ridiculous answer. You still were trying to recover from what you'd just witnessed. People didn't just get thrown by invisible forces, yet there was no realistic explanation for what you'd just seen.

"I wish," the man huffed. "But it's not a curse. Not as far as I'm aware. Well, maybe. Maybe some god thought it would be funny. But I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't a person who did this. I don't remember much, but the last thing I do remember before this was partying with a friend, breaking my one year drug sobriety with a dose of some pretty fine cocaine, and then waking up splayed out in the middle of the living room - a very empty living room. By the time I worked through my denial over what had happened to me, you had moved in."

"You overdosed?" you questioned, breath catching because that would mean...

"Yeah, that's what I figured," he replied. "I'm not one hundred percent sure about it. Usually I was always careful about that. But it's not like I hadn't overdosed before." He put his hand out - "Long story." - And sighed heavily. "All I know is I'm dead."

You covered your mouth in shock as you pieced it all together. "You are the one that was moving things, making noises. Did you do that on purpose?"

"What? To scare you?" He looked amused. "I wish I was that clever. Maybe I'd have better company by now. But that was just me trying to keep my sanity. You don't know how maddening it is to wander around a boring mansion all day unable to interact with anything, not even a damn spoon. I'm not good with isolation. Glad the practice paid off."

You walked into the living room and collapsed into your leather couch. "This can't be happening."

He took off his sunglasses as he followed you in and you met his dark but surprising soft eyes for a moment. "What's your name, anyways?"

He placed a hand over his chest and acted shocked, a little stung by your lack of familiarity with him. You could tell he was just being dramatic and didn't really care. "You don't know? Hint: I was an actor who was having a great Hollywood comeback when I died."

Your mind was blank. You didn't know a lot of actors by name, or by face for that matter. You didn't watch a lot of TV and movies, your preferred entertainment being reading. Your office walls were covered by filled bookshelves.

You shrugged at him.

"Dieter Bravo," he told you. "My name is Dieter Bravo. Almost everyone I know calls me Dee though."

"Do I know you now?" you inquired.

"Hardly," he snorted. "But I know you enough, unfortunately, no offense."

You rolled your eyes at him, annoyed. "You can't insult me then claim no offense. I'm gonna take offense. Especially since we've never even talked before now."

"Sorry," Dieter apologized half-heartedly. "I've just been going crazy and all you do is sit at your desk writing or read on the couch. And you seem to prefer it that way."

"Introverts do, yes," you said. "But I can be fun when I want to be. I'm going on a tour of the city tomorrow."

You didn't mention that you were going alone. You hadn't made any friends in the city yet. That always took you a while. Something that most actors probably had little trouble doing. People begged for their friendship or more, didn't they?

"Is it one of those ghost tours?" he asked. "Cause that would be ironic."

You held your tongue and kept your comment about him having used the word ironic wrongly to yourself. You were pretty sure that was something someone boring would point out. You weren't sure why you cared about what a dead addicted actor thought about you, but you did for some stupid reason. Probably because his untamed curly hair looked very tuggable and his jeans were tight in all the right places and you hadn't been laid since your last book tour. Handsome guys were your weakness. You weren't usually into jerks or addicts though. Losers, as far as you were concerned.

Instead, you let your mind wander to all those times you'd heard things moving around while you were undressed or in bed. "Please tell me you haven't been stalking me this entire time."

"Stalking is a strong word," he protested. "We're in the same house for hours on end. We have silently interacted, or rather been in the same room. And I might have been watching you, but only when you were dressed, cross my heart."

"That's comforting," you said sarcastically, but you believed him. No one with so much disdain towards your daily activities would have bothered to peep on you, would they? But he could be the type who didn't care if a girl had personality, as long as she had boobs, right?

You decided it was not worth the trouble thinking about. Not when you had no idea how to get him to move on, or at least get him out of your mansion.

"So, what unfinished business is keeping you here?" you inquired. "Last I heard that's the only way either of us is going to get some peace in the forseeable future."

"Ouch. Fair."

"Do you know?"

Dieter shook his head. "What unfinished business don't I have? My latest movie will never finish filming, my girlfriend broke up with me over the damn phone on my way here, I have no idea if Perry overdosed too or if he's still alive, and my family all hate me."

"Surely not," you said. "They just didn't know how to help you with your addictions anymore."

Dieter blinked at you. "I thought you didn't know anything about me?"

"I don't," you replied. "But I've had a couple relatives, not close ones, but still, they got addicted to painkillers and they wouldn't let the family help them, so my family got angry at them and gave up trying. You can't help those who don't want to be saved is how my mother put it."

"What if they wanted to be saved but didn't know how to accept help?"

The vulnerable question, seemingly uncharacteristic, threw you off. You stared at him and Dieter glanced away. "Just asking," he muttered.

"I don't know," you told him honestly. "Same applies. It can't be one sided. They would've had to find a way to accept it. But they didn't. And they've been buried six feet under for five years now."

Dieter nodded.

"I don't think I could help you with your family issues," you continued on. "But I can tell you Perry is alive, if he is the same Perry who owned this place as I assume. He sold me the mansion three months ago, a month before I moved in."

"That's good," he said, scratching at his neck. "I knew from your calendar and your phone that it has been six months since I died, but I didn't know if he was still alive. I can't remember him ever coming back. Maybe he did and I just wasn't...aware at the moment. Time is different now for me. And I think ghosts actually sleep too. Kinda."

"The realtor showed me this place," you told him. "Perry only showed up to finalize the paperwork at her office. Maybe it was too painful for him to come back?"

Dieter pursed his lips. "Maybe."

"Did that help?" you asked hopefully. "See any doors or light to go into?"

He barked out a laugh. "If only! But there's nothing. Guess we're not getting rid of each other that easily." There was a gleam in his eyes that suggested he wasn't as annoyed about it as he was before. It was actually playful.

"Too bad," you stated, smirking.

He chuckled. "At least we can talk now."

"That we can, so long as you promise not to keep watching me like an invisible creep while I sleep," you said.

"I do not."

"I've felt it," you hissed.

"It's hard to look away," he admitted. "You do know you drool, right?"

"Shut up."

x

After your first run in with Dieter you didn't see him for a few days, and you wondered if he'd finally moved on, but of course, no such luck.

You choked on dinner when he popped up next to you at the dining room table on the fourth day.

"Sorry, didn't mean to almost kill you," he said humorously, patting your back.

You felt nothing when he did it. Maybe a cold breeze, but nothing really notable.

"Where've you been?" you inquired once you'd recovered.

"No idea," Dieter answered. "I think showing myself to you all afternoon zapped all my 'spirit' energy. What day is it?"

"November three."

"Damn. Oh well."

"You going to use your newfound 'spirit energy' to find a way to move on?"

He pouted. "Said like I wasn't trying to do that before. And jeez, in a rush, are we?"

You huffed. Like he'd given you a reason not to want it fast. It would be way better for you both once he found peace.

"Aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" he shouted before pointing a finger at you. "But I'm not leaving before I give you this advice: don't wear jeans on the night of your death. You may think they're comfy, but they're not. Not after weeks, months in them. I miss my pajamas. My robe."

He sighed wistfully and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. "Alright, advice taken."

He whirled and phased back into invisibility, leaving you alone until the next morning, when he nearly made you choke on your breakfast.

x

Days turned into weeks like this, with Dieter spending minimal time with you as he made attempts to figure out what he needed to do to be free of the mansion, as he tried to make peace with the things that haunted him in hopes that resolving his unfinished business would open the beyond up to him, but slowly, the more hope he lost, the more time he spent with you.

It started with meals, watching you eat and participating in discourse that became less and less hesitant and hostile over time, turning into shockingly friendly debates and banter.

It turned out Dieter wasn't so bad to be around and he wasn't the loser you'd thought he was, or had been. One search of his wikipedia page and a few youtube videos had settled that for you. He had worked hard to gain his success, spending nearly a decade taking guest star role after guest star role, working in a bar when the roles and his money dried up. And when he did find a major role to catapult his career, he continued to take as many roles as he could.

He was known for partying hard on weekends, but he never showed up for work high.

He enjoyed comfy clothes on his time off, and especially loved wearing his light green robe, sometimes even going to his local coffee shop in it, but he cleaned up well for interviews and other important functions.

Dieter had a good reputation despite his addictions. It seemed like his fellow cast members always had nice things to say about him, even those who worked with him on the disastrous set of Cliff Beasts 6, which was apparently where he'd had his first overdose.

By Thanksgiving you were solid friends, and after you left for the holiday to visit your parents and home in LA, you returned with a souvenir for you both - a fridge magnet with a picture of the city buildings just beyond the Hollywood sign. You'd noticed Dieter seemed homesick and you sometimes felt it too. But you wouldn't leave New Orleans until Dieter figured out how to move on or until you were forced to. The magnet gave you a daily reminder of what it looked like.

As Christmas neared, Dieter began hanging out with you in the living room at night, watching whatever you were watching, which were mostly Christmas movies in December. He did it even when you watched Hallmark, though he'd roll his eyes and make sarcastic comments about the plot throughout those.

"They always fight and break up over an assumption," he rattled on more times than you could count. "Dumb ones at that. His jealous ex flaunts her a ring and says it is from him and the leading lady just bolts without asking him if it's true? And they said I needed therapy."

"You needed therapy."

"Well, not as bad as that bird."

Dieter couldn't leave the house to get you a Christmas gift, and you'd agreed you both would spend Christmas Eve, the night before your parents arrived to celebrate the holiday, just curled up on the couch together as usual, but that hadn't stopped him from giving you something anyway.

He'd thrown a box at you, unwrapped and told you to look inside and you'd found a beautiful charcoal drawing of you writing away at your desk inside. The sight of it made your breath catch.

"You did this yourself?" you questioned, stunned.

"Yeah," he replied. "It took a lot of energy out of me, but I got it done in a few days. I know we said no gifts, but I wanted to give you something anyway. You know, since I can't pay rent."

He'd expected you to laugh at the comment but you were too busy studying the image. He'd gotten every detail, right down to your blemishes. He'd put a lot of care into drawing you. It felt...reverent.

When you tilted your head up to look at him, you did it differently. You saw him in a new light. And though he was in the same jeans and shirt as he always was, you thought he looked particularly handsome in that moment, chocolate eyes hopeful.

"So, do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"I love it," you assured him. "But I...didn't get anything for you."

"It's okay," he said, "Free rent."

"You are the least messy roommate I've ever had," you told him. "But you've got to stop sneaking up on me and making the rooms cold."

"The temperature is out of my hands," Dieter said, shrugging. "Unless you want me to turn up the thermostat. I've mastered turning dials."

You smiled. "I'm good tonight."

x

You should've known better than to get drunk alone on New Year's Eve, but you did.

No, you weren't alone, alone, but you were the only one drinking since Dieter was not physically able to drink. And he should've been the last person you'd hang out with drunk.

Being drunk made you silly, made you excitable, and it also made you bold.

One minute you and Dieter were laughing loudly, and the next you were leaning towards him. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

You leaned in closer and lowered your voice, "It really sucks you are dead, Dee. It sucks because I really wish we could kiss right now."

Dieter stared at you, dumbfounded, but the shock quickly turned into glee. "We could still, you know."

"You've gotten good at making yourself more solid," you said, "But I can't feel you whenever you touch me, Dee. I don't notice it unless I see you doing it. That's the only way I know. By sight."

"Well, you've never focused on it before, have you?" he inquired. "It always takes me a lot of focus to hold anything, even a pen, for long, but I do."

"It may not seem that way, me being a writer, but I'm terrible at focusing," you admitted.

Dieter brushed your cheek compulsively and you smiled weakly at him.

"Can we try something out?" he asked.

"What'd you have in mind?"

He nodded at the couch. "Turn off the lights and lay down on your back and close your eyes."

You raised your eyebrows questioningly, and he flashed you a reassuring smile. "Trust me."

You did as ordered and Dieter took a moment to take your prone form in, peering through the darkness, and he noticed how your fingers were twitching due to your inability to ever keep perfectly still.

He couldn't believe he was finally going to kiss you. Two months ago he wouldn't have wanted to. He'd had bigger concerns, and you weren't his usual type.

But with time and forced proximity he'd grown to enjoy your company. You were smart, generous, surprisingly witty, and he'd always found you pretty.

He doubted he deserved you, he was certain you were better than him, but you wanted him to kiss you, and lately he'd wanted that too. He couldn't deny you.

He approached the couch and sat down next to you, leaning over you so his face hovered above yours.

"Try to clear your mind."

You nodded and did as told, doing your best to keep all thoughts at bay while your heart thudded in anticipation against your rib cage.

Then you felt his lips on yours. They weren't warm or cold, soft or chapped, and they didn't taste like anything, but you could feel the pressure of them. You could feel when he moved his lips, when he deepened the kiss, when his hand reached out to cradle your face.

You reached up for him automatically, your eyes still shut, and you could feel his strong neck under your hands, could feel the tips of his curls at the base of it.

There was something electric about the moment, and you moaned softly as you let the sensation consume you. The more you got lost in it, the more kissing Dieter felt real.

It was sobering.

You gently pushed him away and opened your eyes to find him gazing back into yours, a confused look on his face. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head as tears flooded your eyes. "I can't, Dee. I can't do this with you. You're dead."

"Pretty sure we just did," he said, wiggling his brows suggestively. "And if we can do that, imagine what else we might be able to do with time."

"I can't," you repeated. "Someday you will move on and I'll be alone again."

"I'll wait to move on only after you die," he declared. "Problem solved."

You shook your head again, harder. "That's unfair for us both and you know it. I don't want to spend my life keeping you a secret, and you don't want to stay cooped up in this house for another four or more decades. You'll go mad."

"Not with you here," he swore, his hand gliding down to squeeze your upper arm.

"I can't take that chance," you said, standing up. "I'm sorry."

You began to walk away, but in the archway to the hall you turned to face him again.

"You should keep looking for your way out," you told him. "Make it your priority again. Cause next week I'm headed back to LA. I've got a book that's going to hit shelves in three weeks and my editor wants to plan some last minute fan meet ups for when it does. I can't stay here while we're doing that."

You tried to avoid looking at Dieter's face but you still got a glimpse of the hurt on it.

He was so upset he didn't say anything to you back, and you told yourself silently that it was easier that way.

You climbed the stairs, quickly curled up in bed under your sheets, and tried to think about anything but him until you fell asleep.

You had no idea that when you woke up in the morning, he'd be gone.

x

Steady beeping was the first thing Dieter registered when he gained consciousness in the hospital, but it was far from the least pleasant thing about the experience. That had gone to the bright lights briefly, then to the uncomfortable feeling of his feeding tube that was pulled through one of his nostrils.

Dieter would never call waking up from his coma fun. It had been confusing and exhausting (he thought that was ironic) and he’d been sore from not moving for a long time, but at least that discomfort felt short compared to what came after.

He'd been in a coma for nearly a year and that had taken a toll on his body, along with the seizure that had caused him to go into it in the first place, a side effect of his long term use of hard drugs.

He had most of his mind right from the start, but his body was weak and had loss some of the connections he'd made as a child to do simple functions like walking and eating with a fork. Frustratingly, he'd had to learn it all back again.

His only solstice was that his parents were there every step of the way. They'd had him transferred to LA after he woke up and had regularly visited him in the hospital and Dieter kinda wished he'd heard them while he was taking his long sleep. What had they said to him?

Probably what they'd been saying since. His parents rarely missed a chance to tell him they loved him, that they regretted letting his addictions come between them.

"It was my fault," he'd told them, but they'd shaken their heads.

"We didn't go about finding you help like we should've. We gave up too fast."

Dieter didn't care about that though. He was just grateful to have them back in his life. To still have a life at all.

He didn't remember the fateful night that had led to his coma, but he was able to video chat with Perry on his laptop and his friend filled in the blanks.

They'd gotten together and Perry had given him all the cocaine he could ask for. They'd gotten comfortable on the couch and rode out their highs talking about the trouble they used to get into in high school. Then he had began seizing sometime after midnight and Perry had dialed 911.

Even with the fill in, Dieter felt he was missing something. Something important. But any time he tried to recall his night with Perry, he got nothing.

He had dreams though, often several times a week, of him patrolling Perry's mansion alone, of an attractive woman chatting away with him at the dining room table, of him kissing her in the shadows of the night, and those felt like the missing pieces, lost memories, but they couldn't be. He couldn't have been a ghost while he was in the coma, he reasoned.

But all the reasoning in the world wouldn't allow him to shake it off. Eventually he caved and asked Perry, who was visiting him after getting out of rehab, to describe the woman who had bought the mansion from him.

When he gave every detail he could think of, Dieter was flabbergasted.

The woman Perry had detailed sounded exactly like the woman in his dreams...

But it couldn't be, could it?

He decided there was only one way to find out.

As soon as he was back to full strength, he'd fly out to New Orleans and knock on your door.

He'd find out once and for all if any of it had been real.

x

He didn't mean to go to New Orleans on Halloween, but that's how it ended up - with him on an early flight to one of the spookiest cities in the world on the arguably spookiest day of the year.

He took a taxi to get to your house and hesitantly made his way to the front door.

How should he go about telling you he had dreams about you? To ask if you knew him when he was in his coma and was a ghost? What if it had really all been in his head?

There were several carved orange pumpkins on the front porch - jack o' lanterns - something he didn't remember you having last year, and they immediately sent him into a spiral of deep uncertainty.

She can't be her, he thought. She didn't decorate for Halloween last year.

It was kind of ridiculous to assume that just because you hadn't had Halloween decorations one year you wouldn't have them the next, but that was how much he was doubting himself.

He took a moment to beat down his nerves on your doorstep, shake it off, then knocked, not knowing if you'd hear it or if you were even on the same side of the house. Not knowing if you were home at all.

You were both shocked when you opened the door and found yourselves staring at each other.

How could it be? You'd assumed Dieter had moved on well over half a year ago, and yet there he was before you, looking very much alive and in a fresh pair of black jeans and an olive green button down shirt that was basically his tan shirt's twin.

"Holy shit, I didn't think you were actually real!" Dieter exclaimed.

"Are you?" you inquired. "Last I knew you were dead. What the fuck?"

He guffawed and you marveled at the way the skin around his eyes crinkled, at how they shined with life. His hair was more gray than you remembered, but it only added to how alive he looked.

"It turns out I wasn't actually dead," he explained. "I was in a coma. I woke up in a hospital bed back in January and found out I'd been unconscious for several months. I didn't overdose, but I'd had seizures from the cocaine I took. I had no idea that could be a side effect. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived, let alone had a full recovery."

You stepped outside with him. "And you've stayed clean?"

He huffed. "Of fuckin' course. I'm not a complete idiot. I'm not going through that shit again. Physical therapy was a bigger pain in my ass than any of the cravings could ever be."

You laughed briefly before your expression turned serious again. "That's good."

"I wanted to see you sooner," he told you, scratching at his cheek over the beard he still had, though it was more neatly trimmed than it had been the last time you'd seen him. "But I wanted to be fully recovered before I flew back out here, and for part of that time I didn't remember being here. Not even the night me and Perry hung out in the living room."

You folded your arms, nodded, and pursed your lips. "So how much do you remember now?"

You tried to keep your expectations low but there was a knife stabbing at your heart when you realized that he might not be able to recall much of you at all. Did he even remember your kiss?

Dieter smiled. "I remember us not getting off on the right foot, and maybe scaring you on purpose a few times."

You gaped at him. "I KNEW it!"

He grinned slyly and continued, "I remember how we used to talk a lot, and how that would drain my energy right out, but I'd always linger a little too long, until I had no choice but to slip into the darkness to rest for a while. I remember loving your sarcastic sense of humor and the way you lose your breath when you laugh too hard. And I...remember that night, when we kissed."

That had been something else. Unexpectedly titillating. It was by far the sharpest memory he had of that time he'd spent between worlds.

"I don't know if you remember it, but I regretted every day since that I said what I said that night," you told him, chewing your lip.

He nodded. "I remember. But you weren't wrong. You deserve to be with someone breathing, and I was really getting sick of being stuck in the house."

You chuckled but the sound was cut short when you felt him palm your cheek.

He was sooo warm. Real.

Your stomach fluttered when your eyes met.

"I thought I'd never get to say goodbye," you whispered. "All I wanted after I woke up to an empty house was to get that chance. But this, this is so much better."

"I missed you," Dieter admitted, drawing closer to you.

You beamed at him and he felt his chest warm.

"I missed you too."

He pulled you into a kiss, far more passionate than the first you'd shared, and you gripped onto his elbows tightly, fiercely clinging to him, almost afraid to let go.

When you eventually did, you smirked at him. "You're a day late for our anniversary, you know."

"First meetings do not count," he claimed.

"Oh yes they do," you countered.

"Well, excuse me for fuckin' forgetting to fly out yesterday. Pretty sure I still have some brain damage."

You huffed playfully. "Excuses."

Dieter shook his head at you fondly and kissed you again.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. Reader is described as being "curvy." I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

1934 Philadelphia

The subtle scratch of your pencil against the smooth page of the sketchbook filled your quiet bedroom. One look at the ticking clock on your bedside table stated that it was past midnight, but you didn't care. The dark circles under your eyes the next morning were well worth it, tiredness forgotten as the haze of creativity dulled the weariness of the day you'd had.

It was your fifteenth birthday, and although your parents had thrown you a lavish party to prove that the y/l/n family had not been touched by the destruction of the depression and were not concerned with the horrors of war overseas, there was only one person that you wanted to be there.

Ben wasn't of course. He was still at boarding school number five, and you imagined that a number six was already in order, given his track record.

You smile to yourself when you think of your best friend. You hadn't seen him in two months, not since you walked with him to the train station and he tried to act like he didn't care that his father was sending him away again, but you knew he did.

The things that Ben's father said and did to him made anger surge behind your ribcage. You didn't understand how his father could be so callous, so uncaring. You also hate that it drove Ben to drink, though Ben didn't seem to drink quite as much when you were around, because he knew that you didn't like it.

The party would have been more entertaining if he was there. Yes he did tend to get drunk and flirt with whatever walked past him, but he always had a way of cheering you up. And he had a wonderful knack for keeping your mother at a distance, who prayed that Ben would stay away from you, but never did.

If he was there your mother wouldn't have hovered over you all night, slapping away your hand every time you tried to take a piece of cake or hiss something at you when you pulled at the itchy pink dress that she brought home three days ago, your least favorite color. When you got dressed for the party you felt like a porcelain doll in a China cabinet, made to be looked at, but never touched.

It wasn't too far off. Being the only daughter of one of the richest families that lived in Philadelphia your reputation and pedigree were two of the most important things to your mother. It meant that in a few years you would be married off to another rich family, have rich babies, and then put your own daughter through the same cycle of hell all over again.

Suitors were already beginning to trickle into your life, sons of your father’s business partners each screened by your mother before the introductory meetings where you felt bored, stiff,  choked by the thick fabric of the dresses your mother picked out, and plastered with makeup. All of course the best of Europe, which you had no idea how your mother managed to get given that there was a war on.

Ben was the only thing in your life that wasn't planned and you loved him for it.

You look up at the dark corner of your room to get a view of the long shadows that creep along the bedroom floor, and cut through the light coming from the gas lantern on your bedside table. You try to distinguish the sharp edges and smooth curves and watch them take shape beneath the ministrations of your pencil against the page.

Art was your only escape, the only thing you did that your mother approved of.

"A proper lady should have a hobby." She had sniffed, but then narrowed her eyes at the graphite and ink stains on you hands.

Part of the fun is the mess. You had thought to yourself watching her disapproving look.

A tap on your window makes you lift your gaze from the page and look towards the window seat that faces out the third story of your home onto the street below.

Ben is crouched there on the ledge that juts out only a foot from the outer brick wall a wide smile on his face that you can't help but return. You had been friends since you were both eight, when your parents threw yet another party and you found Ben in one of the side rooms trying to avoid his father. When his father tried to come in to find him, you lied and said you hadn't seen Ben.

And when his mother died two years later, Ben would show up some nights, scaling the large tree outside your window to stay with you. He never wanted to talk about it and you never asked, instead you talked about everything else until you both fell asleep.

You felt your heart thud loudly in your chest and a familiar warmth tracing lightly against your skin when you lock eyes with him. It was hard to be in love with your best friend. But you were, and you couldn't tell him. You didn't want to ruin the only meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life. Ben knew everything about you, you trusted him and you couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life without him, didn't want to.

Sometimes you hoped he felt the same way. When you woke up before him in the morning and the light from the window made his hair lighter and he held you close to his chest because in his sleep he had wrapped his arm around you. You liked to pretend that he did it on purpose, not just because there was barely any room between the two of you in your bed because now you both weren't as small as you used to be. You don’t know when Ben got so broad, tall, and muscular, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially being pressed against his chest when you woke.

 It was improper to be that close in bed together of course, but you didn't care. You didn't care what other people thought about him or you. He was your best friend, and although you wished for more, you wouldn't turn your back on him just because other people thought he was trouble.

Which he was.

You put your sketchbook down and go to the window to unlock it. "Ben what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your birthday." He smirks as you take his hand to help him into your bedroom.

"What about school?"

"Wasn't a good fit." Ben pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and you try not to think about what it would be like to do it yourself.

"Uh-huh. What you're really saying is that you flunked out of another boarding school just to make it back for my birthday. Right?" You laugh.

"Thought it would be a nice birthday surprise." He leans forward with a smirk. "Would you like to unwrap your present?"

You roll your eyes and raise a hand to push him back, but he catches it against his chest.

"Come on. You're telling me that you didn't miss me? Not even a little?" Ben pretends to be hurt.

Of course you missed him. When he wasn't there it felt like apart of you was gone, but you couldn't tell him that. You knew that Ben didn't feel the same way. He was just flirty, all the time.

"No."

"Liar." He says. "How was the big party?"

"Oh it was the bee's knees." You snark. "I danced with Howard Stine and he stepped on my toes, my mother didn't let me eat and bought me a ridiculous dress-"

"Let me guess, pink?"

"Pink and ruffly. I looked like a giant cupcake."

"I'm sure Howard loved it." Ben sing-songs.

"Shut up." You punch his arm. "He's not that bad-"

"With a boring name like Howard, imagine how boring he'd be in-"

"Big talk from a guy named Benjamin." You interrupt.

The look in Ben's eyes darkens for a minute. "I'd be happy to prove you wrong."

You shake your head at him to stop the flush in your cheeks and avoid the way your breath catches in your chest at his words.

It would be so easy to give in to him, but you knew that Ben didn't see you that way. Ben had chased after anything and everything that caught his eye. If you were to give in, you were afraid of what would happen after. Ben was your best friend and if you crossed that line what would it mean?

"You're incorrigible."

"If that's another word for gorgeous then yes, yes I am."

You turn back to the bed and where your sketchbook waits, trying to calm your racing heart.

"But you don't want your birthday present?" Ben asks from behind you.

"What happened to you being the present?"

"I am a gift, but I did get you something."

You turn and see that Ben is holding out a package wrapped in gold paper a little bit larger than a book. Surprise momentarily spikes at the back of your mind. Ben had gotten you gifts in the past, but you hadn't expected one this year, especially since he just got out of boarding school.

"Did you steal it?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not this time."

You take the box from his hand and sit down on your bed to peel back the paper. "I can't believe you actually wrapped this."

"The saleswoman did. Now she was really-"

"Don't need to know." You shake your head with a smile, eyes still on the gift. When you finally pull back the paper you can't help but smile. It's a box of watercolor paints, a package of brushes, and a small pad of watercolor paper. "Ben-" You look up at him with a wide smile. "Thank you!"

 "Do you like them?" Ben asks hesitantly, he looks almost nervous.

"I love them! I've never tried to paint before."

"I know. I remember said you wanted to try. Plus I thought you could do some nice nudes of me in color-" Ben smirks.

"Ben!" You snort.

“I’m just trying to help you learn how to draw anatomy.” He wets his lips with his tongue arching an eyebrow in a challenge. “Of course there are more fun ways that I could teach you that.”

“Ben!” You flush bright red.

“Sorry. Sometimes you’re too easy.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you.” You shake your head at him with a smile.

An odd look crosses his face, but it disappears as quickly as you see it.

"Honestly, thank you. I can't wait to try these out." You look back down at the paints, admiring the silver box they came in.

"You're welcome."

Ben hovers by the window at the edge of your room as if debating whether or not he should stay. After all these years you noticed that Ben had trouble with the idea that you genuinely wanted him there. You knew it stemmed from his father's constant disapproval and his father's constant need to push him away, and it made your heart break for him.

And yes, maybe Ben did fill his life with brief flings and alcohol, but he was still your Ben.

"You’re going to stay right? Because you’ve already missed my birthday and I’d like to know how you got kicked out of boarding school number five.”

He nods once a small smile quirking the edge of his lips before he removes the dark jacket with the embossed prestigious logo of the aforementioned boarding school. It catches on his shoulders and you look away before he can see your blush.

“Are you hungry?”

Ben shakes his head.

“Ben, when was the last time you put something in your stomach besides alcohol?” You raise an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to you and you knew he was only saying no because he didn’t want you to have to creep downstairs in the dark and also because he didn’t want to admit that he was hungry.

“Earlier.” He says it with a shrug, looking down at the coat in his hands to avoid your gaze.

“Well I was going to go see if I could find some of that birthday cake anyway. I haven’t eaten since this morning and all I had was half a grapefruit.”

“Another diet?” Ben frowns.

“Mother thinks I can slim down a little more. Says that I’d get more suitors if my hips were not so big.” You try not to dwell too much on it, you’d been dealing with your mother’s constant berating  since you were born. The corset you’d worn at the party was so tight that it left bruises on your hips and under your arms, but your mother had been pleased with how it looked. “She won’t be happy until I’m thinner than a chicken bone I suppose.” Instead of looking at Ben you stand and turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner. You never thought that your hips were too big or that your chest was, yes you were more curvy than any of your friends but you liked it.

"You shouldn't listen to her."

You shrug.

"I'm serious y/n. You're-" Ben stops talking.

"What?" You turn to look at him again eyes wide and open.

"Well you're-" Ben looks nervous again, tightening his hands on the dark jacket. He swallows. "You're not fat." Ben finishes.

"Well I don't think I'm fat Ben, but thank you." You can't help but be a little disappointed with his answer, you were hoping that he would say that you were beautiful.

My mother thinks I’m fat. You try not to wince when you think it, but instead you focus back on Ben.

"Alright, stay here. Try not to wake my parents up."

"Trust me that's the last thing on my mind doll."

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 6

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n decides to attend the meeting with the High Lords, where she is more open and relaxed than usual.

Word Count: 3K.

Y/n was pacing around the living room when Feyre, Rhys and Mor returned. Before Y/n could speak, Nesta asked what had happened. Rhys relayed the details of their victory and the state of the Summer Court. Nesta inquired about Cassian, to which Mor replied coldly that he was busy. 

Y/n did not dare ask about Azriel, for various reasons. One: it would imply she was worried about him, a notion she was reluctant to entertain. Two: it would suggest she cared about him, a feeling she was not ready to confront. Three: asking anyone about him would give them the wrong idea. Four: she might not like the answer to her question.

Y/n did not encounter Azriel until the day of the meeting with the High Lords. 

“You are still here?” Y/n called from atop the stairs, observing Rhys, Feyre, Azriel and Mor assembled below, preparing for their departure. Y/n donned a dark, regal purple gown with off-shoulder puffy sleeves. The layers of tulle floated around her like wisps of smoke. Her hair was styled in a braided crown, reminiscent of Nesta’s style. She wore no jewelry, except for the necklace she never took off, gifted to her by her mother. The celestite stone remained hidden beneath the fabric covering her chest. 

She descended the stairs slowly, still contemplating her decision. Although Azriel has seen her in extravagant gowns before, Y/n still took away his breath every time, and his shadows constantly seemed intrigued by her presence. 

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming with you” she announced. No one said anything, fearing any comment might dissuade her. “I cannot promise you that I’ll hold back” she added. She was going to go, but she was not going to let them win. She had put on a mask, where she was going to deal with them as she would if they were humans. 

“Alright” Feyre nodded “I’m glad you decided to join us”.

Rhys welcomed her to the court and the inner circle started betting on who and when a fight would start. Azriel left first to check for traps, and when everything was clear, Rhys winnowed Feyre. Y/n was left with Mor and Cassian. 

“Hello, Y/n” Cassian greeted. This was the first time she’d seen him since the attack as well.

“General” she acknowledged, as he took her hand and Mor winnowed them.

The palace of the Dawn Court was a sight to behold. From the colors to the decor to the view, it was enchanting. They were greeted by an attendant who led the way. In the chamber where the meeting was supposed to be held, the High Lords of Day, Dawn and Winter awaited. 

“It seems you’re not the only Fae with wings” Y/n whispered near Azriel.

“Yours are much cooler, though” she playfully remarked, and he softly chuckled “hello to you too”. This was the first time they had spoken since the attack on Adriata.

Thesan, High Lord of the Dawn Court welcomed them, and much to everyone’s surprise, Y/n complimented his palace. Azriel, Cassian and Mor bowed, while Rhys, Feyre and Y/n remained upright.

“He’s pretty” Y/n muttered to her sister in a low voice, but loud enough for the three Illyrians to hear.

“What has gotten into you?” Feyre tried to hide her smile, and Y/n merely shrugged. 

The white-haired High Lord, Kallias, approached Rhys. Mor and the woman accompanying him squealed in delight upon seeing each other. Mor introduced Feyre to the woman, Viviane, Kallias’ wife, while Y/n stayed behind Rhysand.

“This is Y/n, my mate’s sister. Y/n, this is Kallias, High Lord of the Winter Court” Rhys introduced.

“I guessed as much, with the- the white hair, pale skin and all” Y/n remarked.

“Have we met before?” Kallias inquired.

“I don’t think so. I’d remember someone with your… appearance”.

The last High Lord approached. Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, greeted Rhys and Mor. Then proceeded to ask about Y/n. Feyre explained to him what happened and Y/n confirmed.

“I always disliked the brightness of the sun and mornings in general, but somehow he makes the day seem beautiful” Y/n whispered to Cassian and she could’ve sworn Azriel clenched his jaw. 

Cassian was confused by her remarks about the High Lords and she could see it on his face “Ah, don’t worry. I still haven’t changed my mind about your kind. You all suck”.

“You had me worried for a second” Cassian quipped and Azriel relaxed slightly.

“But I have to say, you can still appreciate the beauty of your enemies or the people you hate” she shrugged, and Azriel glared at her.

Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, arrived late. Everyone was already seated, with Y/n positioned between the two Illyrian warriors. “So, that’s the High Lord of the Summer Court!” Y/n exclaimed, her eyes widening in curiosity.

“I swear if you say he’s pretty-” Cassian began, his tone a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Are you jealous, General?” she smirked, her eyebrows raised provocatively.

“You wish” he retorted, his glare sharp but playful.

Beron, High Lord of the Autumn Court, arrived next with his sons. From the stories she’d heard, Y/n expected him to look grumpier, older and meaner, but he appeared surprisingly well and composed. His sons, however, sneered at them, except  for Eris, who ordered his brothers to stop.

“These are the two I’ve heard a lot about?” Y/n asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Yes, why?” Cassian responded, raising his brow slightly.

“He doesn't look awful. I thought he’d be really old” she mused, scrutinizing Beron.

“He is”.

“Well, he hides it well. And that is the son that has been giving you a lot of trouble? The one you all hate?” Y/n gestured towards the ginger male, who gave her a polite smile, one she did not return.

“Yes”.

“Then, you probably don’t want to hear my remark on this one” Y/n bit her lip, supressing a smile.

“I do not. And might I suggest keeping these remarks to yourself? Others might not like what you say and won’t be able to control themselves” Cassian warned, glancing at Azriel.

“Everyone is entitled to their opinions, so why should I care?”.

“Because you do not want to see him angry, trust me. I might seem wilder with my hot temper, but he has an icy rage. Sometimes, he scares me too” Cassian whispered.

“Ooh” a shiver ran down her spine at the thought of Azriel’s anger. Part of her wanted to see what that looked like. Another part did not even want to think about it. So, instead of complimenting their appearance, Y/n turned to Azriel, her playful tone shifted to a serious one and asked “are you alright?”.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” Azriel’s voice was calm but tinged with suspicion. His eyes did not meet hers but were fixated on Eris.

“I know there are people in this room you’d rather see dead”.

“Did Cassian tell you that?”.

“He doesn’t have to. I can see the way you look at that Ginger. Like you’d jump on him any second”.

Just as Rhys began explaining why they gathered everyone, Tamlin winnowed right into the chamber. Silence fell as he surveyed Feyre before finally, in a monotone, congratulating her on the wedding. 

As Tamlin argued with Feyre and Rhys, he tried to play the victim, accusing Rhys of stealing Feyre from him. He even claimed he would have found a way to stop Hybern. He had the audacity to try and convince the High Lords that only Feyre and Rhys would benefit from this war, suggesting they had ulterior motives. 

Then the High Lords started arguing with Rhys about his involvement Under the Mountain. Although Feyre had once told her sisters about Rhys and what happened Under the Mountain, she had only explained vaguely. Y/n was now listening and learning about what had truly happened back then.

With all the lies Tamlin was spewing and the gaslighting, Y/n couldn’t take it anymore, especially when he implied that she and her sisters wanted and enjoyed the change, accusing them of lying.

She stood, her eyes blazing with fury “You really have lost your mind, haven’t you? To think for a moment that my sister actually truly loved you, I cannot. How she endured you, I do not know. You are delusional and if you think people are going to believe your lies, then you’re even more delusional. You claim to work against Hybern, but I was there. I’ll never forget how you betrayed my sister and how your whore of a priestess sold us out. How I was turned and was forced to watch my sisters being thrown into the Cauldron. You made a bargain with the King and you did not feel any remorse for everything that he did. And now what? Anyone who works with my sister’s mate is working for Hybern. Is your brain still functioning? Or have you truly lost your mind after my sister left you?”.

Tamlin bared his teeth as he growled at her. Azriel growled back, his eyes darkening with menace “I would suggest you choose your next words very, very carefully” he warned, his voice cold as ice.

“It appears you Archeron sisters have similar taste in men” Tamlin scoffed.

“I can show you other similarities we have” Y/n shot back, her smile cold and sharp.

Feyre cut in, not wanting to escalate the situation further, but Tamlin insulted her, resulting in Rhys silencing him with his mind. 

After that, the meeting seemed to go well until Eris called Mor a slut. In a blink of an eye, Azriel was at his throat, sealing them in a wall of blue, caused by his siphons. 

“Enough” Rhys ordered seconds before Azriel could rip Eris’s throat out, shadows on full display. 

“Is that what you were referring to?” Y/n whispered to Cassian, her gaze fixed on the Shadowsinger. This was the first time she had seen him enveloped in the shadows like this. 

“That’s a glimpse of it” Cassian answered, his expression serious.

Although Azriel halted from ripping his throat out, he still squeezed at his throat. “Enough, Azriel” Rhys spoke into the Shadowsinger’s mind.  Azriel drove his knee into Eris’s stomach before releasing him, rage still consuming him.

Back in his chair, Azriel kept his eye on Eris, giving him a death glare, until the male finally apologized to Mor. The talks proceeded, and they discussed strategies of where to begin and what to attack first. Thesan informed them that they found a solution for Faebane and introduced one of his most skilled craftspeople, who was also an alchemist. Y/n was intrigued by this powder and wanted to learn how to make it. 

Beron started talking about the refugees, and one thing led to another, resulting in him saying he doesn’t care about the fate of the humans beyond the wall. 

Y/n spoke again, her tone sharp and accusatory “of course, how typical of Fae-kind. Your arrogance and shamelessness know no bounds. It’s no surprise there, I mean you always thought you were the superior race, which is why peace will never last in your courts” Y/n huffed.

“Are you threatening me, girl?” Beron’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I’m simply stating the facts. It is only natural for chaos to erupt if High Lords thought they were superior. Your ego would lead to not being satisfied as being superior to humans, which then would turn into ambition to become even more superior than other High Lords. Grab more lands, force others to submit when you find out their weakness. Should I go on?”.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Beron sneered.

“If I was, I would have run as far away as possible the moment Fae-kind knocked on our door. But you know what? That trait you have of feeling superior would actually benefit humankind. You’d all be busy fighting each other to care about humans. And who knows? Maybe one day, while you’re all fighting, depleting your forces, the humans would attack and get rid of you”.

“Y/n that’s enough” Rhys interjected firmly. 

Not two minutes later, fire exploded out of Feyre blasting Beron for insulting Rhys, talking about him being Amarntha’s whore, and implying that if things go badly, he’d become the Kings’ whore. 

The meeting had been filled with the Night Court attacking everyone who insulted one of their members, for Rhys attacked Beron for insulting Feyre after, making Beron angry and preparing to leave the chamber as he shouted that he hoped Hybern would kill them all.

Y/n rose to her feet and managed to stop Beron with her speech “This meeting is not over. If we do not act now, Hybern will butcher us all, humans and Fae alike. Even if you don’t care about humans, you must at least care about your people. Before you ask, I know this because I went into the Cauldron and I saw the intentions of the King, what he plans to do. You all hurt for the people you lost, the children. But what about the human children? The ones who died because of starvation, poverty, while you sat in your comfortable homes with excess food and gold long before Amarantha came. Humans have suffered for far too long. They have no one to protect them, to shield them, so I ask you to fight, to protect those you’ve forgotten for so many years” Y/n urged, her voice filled with emotion.

The High Lords finally agreed to fight against Hybern, and Beron said he’d consider it before winnowing with his entire family and Y/n released a breath before sitting down again.

Even after the meeting officially ended, they kept talking and discussing strategies. By the time they were done, it was evening. Only Rhys and Kallias’s entourage remained in the chamber.

“That went well” Rhys declared, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Azriel gave a non-serious, cold apology. Since his attack on Eris, Azriel hadn’t uttered a word, his expression remained cold as he stayed in the shadows.

“If this went well, I wonder how it would have been if it went bad” Y/n commented dryly.

“You don’t want to know, trust me” Cassian chuckled.

“Maybe when the threat is neutralized, you can come and visit. We can work on our estranged relationship” Kallias told Rhys, extending his invitation to everyone in the room, before everyone finally retired to their suite. Azriel was leaning against the wall beside a window, shadows consuming him, while everyone relaxed on the couch. A knock sounded on the door, and Rhys went to open it. It was Helion, who appeared to have a thing for Azriel by the way he spoke to him. But then he started making sexual innuendos, which everyone seemed used to.

“Is he always like this?” Y/n whispered to Cassian, who nodded.

“Ah, right. Where are my manners? We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Helion, h-”.

“I know who you are. I was in that meeting” Y/n reminded, her arms crossed.

“Feisty. I like you. My offer extends to you as well, if you like” Helion remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“What offer?”.

“To join my bed, of course”.

Y/n snorted “in your dreams”.

“I certainly will dream about you” he smirked, and Y/n gave him a disgusted look.

Helion and Cassian talked about their forces and what their plan was. Then they discussed Beron and his past choice to join the war, which led to Helion talking about Beron’s wife, where Y/n discovered they had an affair for decades until they were caught by Beron. Y/n deduced something that night but kept it to herself, not knowing if she can use it to her advantage in the future. Everyone retired to their room, Mor taking Helion with her, while Azriel stayed by the window. 

Two hours later, unable to sleep, Y/n went to get some fresh air on the balcony of their living room. To no surprise, Azriel was there, no doubt reflecting on what had happened that day. Y/n stood near the edge in silence, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. After twenty minutes, she almost forgot he was there from the way he stood there in silence without moving an inch like a stone. His shadows, on the other hand, snuck up on her and brushed the skin on her back. 

“Are you alright?” she finally asked as she approached him.

A long silence followed before he answered “I’m fine” his tone rough and cold.

More silence ensued. She debated whether to ask or not, not knowing if it was a smart move given his current state. “You’re quieter than usual. I noticed today you haven’t been yourself… or maybe you have been your truest self? Is that why?”. 

His shadows danced around the strands of her hair that fell loose. “Would you be scared of me if I said this is who I really am?” he finally turned to face her, closing the distance between them.

“No. I think I could never be scared of you” she replied softly, surprisingly not backing away.

“And why is that?”.

“I don’t know, it’s just a feeling. You- it feels safe to be around you. Like a sense of security. I don’t know how else to describe it….As long as you don’t lie, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter to me which way you are”.

“The truth is, I don’t know my true self. I don’t know if what you saw today- the violence, or the pain I inflict on others during interrogations, all the killing and bloodshed is who I truly am or if I’m the one you’re used to, the composed, righteous warrior” Azriel found himself admitting things he never told anyone before, and to his surprise Y/n was supportive. 

“I suppose you can be both, depending on who you’re dealing with and which treatment they deserve. I’m fine with either” her lips curved into a gentle smile. 

Suddenly her expression changed into a worried look “what is it?” Azriel, who immediately noticed, asked, his shadows stilling at her change in demeanor.

“I don’t know, but something is wrong. We have to leave now”.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllitas-blog @nebarious @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride

[mubabee]

Yandere Arata’s first meeting with Y/N?

Ty for requesting for an OC! Also no need to put yandere, all my OCs are yanderes 😼

Whenever I make a OCs x reader book, I always like to write Arata and Y/N meeting like this.(Mikio and kuroko are in this so basically a reverse harem. Straightforward writing.)

(I think I used the word ‘it’ too much)

WARNING — GORE, BUT IT IS NOT DETAILED

—When you first encountered Arata, it was actually in his cat form. He was just in an alleyway, staring blankly with his golden eyes. It had given you a little fright at first because it was so dark.

—Once you realized it was only a cat, you calmed down. Despite the lack of light in the alleyway, you could see the peculiar color of his fur — a deep blue you don’t recall ever seeing any breed of cats with.

—You tried to approach him, but he scurried off without a sound. It was quite impressive how he jumped from balcony to balcony with ease. He was already at the rooftop in mere seconds.

—So, you made it your mission to catch this swift cat. Mikio and Kuroko didn’t quite like the idea but in the end, they opted to simply make sure the creature didn’t hurt you. But really, they could catch the animal with ease.

—It was tedious but proved to be easier than you thought it would be.

—The cat would be there everyday, silently sitting with its blank eyes. You’d bring food that it would never eat, toys that it would never play with, milk that it would never drink —anything to lure it out. It would never come towards you, but you noticed that with each attempt, the distance it would let you pass before running off shortened.

—Until one day, it let you calmly pick it up in your arms with no complaints.

—Now let’s just say you lived separately from Mikio and Kuroko for now and had a female roommate.

—So you bring the cat home and she suggests the name ‘Arata’.

—So now that was officially his name!

—Mikio made sure to clip its nails and ensure it had no diseases or complications. (Also found out it was a boy😼)

—On the first day, it was normal — other than the fact Arata would constantly cling to you. Even as you were leaving, he would try and follow you through the door. Your roommate would complain that he had no interest to anything outside of you, even when she tried to entertain him with cat toys.

—On the second day, you left. Your roommate then brought Arata into the bathroom so she could shower and ensure he wouldn’t cause any trouble at the same time.

—But to her confusion, the door was open as soon as she finished bathing. It made her a slight bit wary, but it must’ve been because Arata learned how to open doors already. (trust me they can learn how to do that sht, my old cat did)

—She got dressed and went to the kitchen only to see a grown man in the living room, his back turned to her. The worst part is that he was completely naked.

—He didn’t seem to notice her, so she reached for a knife on the kitchen counter and creeps up behind him. Then wobbly, she stabs his side.

—No screams or yells were made, not even a hint of reaction. All he did was turn around.

(I don’t know how to color blood😔)

—that’s literally all he fucking asked.

—Yea this man literally calls you ‘master’.

—Probably because you basically adopted him.

—When you arrived back, your roommate was sitting outside, scared out of her mind. Just before she could shakily explain what happened, Arata opens the door, still butt naked and it’s just like ??

—you’re wondering who tf this is until you see his ears and tail.

—at this point it’s up to your imagination for how you react.

[perfectlyoongi]

DAD!HOSEOK who puts your child to sleep to the sound of smooth jazz. when you were most tired and the night was still young, Hoseok had no problem kissing your forehead before picking up your kid and rocking them around the room with a sweet little jazz melody guiding his steps. Hoseok hummed the rhythm, slowly putting your child to sleep, allowing his soft voice to calm your little baby, carrying in each tone a new dream that would make that night more peaceful. “shhh. rest now, love. i take care of our baby. just rest.”

DAD!HOSEOK who makes sock puppets to keep your child entertained on a stormy night. when all the electricity went out and there was no star in the sky to illuminate your home, Hoseok was quick to act. grabbing a pair of colorful socks, painting two large black balls on them, Hoseok sat your child on the dining room chair and, allowing all the candles to seat your family in a comfortable environment, Hoseok began to create a long story of a prince and a magician, his right hand shouting invented spells, his left hand barking absurd little commands. “on a dark night like this, a mage named Flip was called by the prince to light up the entire world.”

DAD!HOSEOK who has matching bracelets for your child. Hoseok still remembered that warm spring afternoon when he and your kid sat in the courtyard with several beads spread out on the small table; of all colors and with a moon in the middle, Hoseok and your child created three matching bracelets to be shared between you, Hoseok and your kid. an entire afternoon was spent with lemonades and laughter, your kid's various ideas finding colorful shapes among small pearls and stars, that precious moment becoming forever stuck in Hoseok's mind. “what if we make a similar bracelet to give to your dami? i’m sure they would love it as much as i do!”

DAD!HOSEOK who says he loves your child every night before bed. after making sure your child had brushed their teeth, Hoseok would lay them down on their small bed and snuggled them between the soft sheets. after exchanging a few simple words with them, remembering the intense day of games and laughter, Hoseok would look longingly at your child, gently caressing their little face and leaning over to kiss their forehead; and, with his voice bathed in love, with splashes of pure tenderness, Hoseok said every night “i love you. from the moment i knew you were coming i loved you. and there will never be a day when i stop loving you.”

DAD!HOSEOK who lets your child paint his nails and do his makeup. every day laughter sounded joyfully throughout your house, flooding every room with pure euphoria; and, when silence settled in your house when you knew Hoseok was playing with your child, you knew what awaited you. so, with the camera in your hand ready to document that moment, you appeared in your kid's room, seeing Hoseok sitting on the floor with lipstick spread across his face, eye shadow reaching his forehead and each of his nails painted with a different nail polish — you could only smile at that tender sight. “i know you're jealous that i'm our child's favorite model. i look fabulous, i know.”

DAD!HOSEOK who encourages your child to play outside and kisses all their wounds. whether it's sunny or raining, Hoseok made a point of asking your child to have fun outdoors, telling them fantastic stories about little fairies and children who painted the world in the happiest tones; and, when the games became more clumsy and small scrapes and bites appeared on your child's fragile body, Hoseok would just smile, kiss their wounds better and assure them that all that pain would only make them much stronger. “it may hurt now and burn a lot, but tomorrow you won’t feel anything anymore. my kisses have unimaginable healing powers.”

DAD!HOSEOK who every year records a small message to give to your child when they turn 18. the first time Hoseok turned on the camera and pointed it at him nervously was when you told him he was going to be a father; since then, on more important dates, or wanting to remember more tender memories, Hoseok would turn on the camera and point it at him, recording countless messages that would be heard by your child when they turned eighteen. “i want you to know that the day i found out i was going to be your father was the happiest day of my life. knowing that an extension of my love for your dami was on the way just made me realize how beautiful life could be.”

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,438

Warnings | +18, kiss and touches noncon, Jungkook is always obsessed and gets a bit angry

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Ready for you the fourth chapter of Happy Ending! ❤

If you have any questions, please write to me! 🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

When Y/N opened her eyes that day, she felt strangely physically satisfied, stretched her arms with a smile on her face, thinking that she must have finally had a good night's sleep.

Too bad the environment around her was quite different from what she had become accustomed to for two and a half years now.

The sunlit walls that gently filtered through the window were cream-colored, not gray and gloomy like those in her apartment, plus the mattress she was lying on was too soft to be the uncomfortable second-hand one she had bought to fit in her monthly expenses.

Even the blankets were different, and soon an alarm bell went off in her head.

She stood up abruptly, seized with terror.

"Where the fuck am I?" she muttered to herself, cradling her head in her hands in a vain attempt to think clearly.

Could it be that they had kidnapped her? But who, then-and for what purpose?

Her parents were not rich and wealthy people, she was a normal, average girl, she knew her neighborhood was dangerous, but to go this far?

Maybe... maybe they wanted to sell her.

She had heard of girls disappearing in the middle of the night and never to be found again.

She blanched, seized by a sick feeling, and although she wanted to refuse to believe her own consideration, the well-appointed and elegant room suggested only that one option-why else kidnap her if not to make her work in some illegal brothel frequented by bigwigs?

She shrugged those soft and foreign blankets away from herself and stood up with trembling legs, noticing that she no longer had only her camisole and panties on, a long nightgown that reached her calf covered her body, but she still felt naked given the absence of panties concealing her intimacy. In a flurry of shame she realized that whoever had been abducting her had also seen a lot of her as she blissfully slept.

The girl took a deep breath, walking to the door, which, to her surprise, she found open.

Had they forgotten to lock it? ... Or, was it a trap to test her?

She opened it wide slowly, her heart caged in a powerful grip of anxiety, the first thing she saw was a long dark hallway with artistic paintings hanging on the walls, to Y/N that style seemed similar to something she had seen before, but she could not give herself an answer.

She went into the corridor hugging herself with her own body, she did not know what she would find during her exploration, perhaps a group of kidnappers with sullen faces and brutal manners?

She noticed a bright glimmer at the end of the corridor and reached it at a slow pace, her bare feet stepped on soft carpeting that kept her from feeling cold, and even that made her say that the house must belong to someone wealthy. She could only dream of such an abode, so the idea that she had been abducted for her body grew stronger as the seconds ticked by in her mind.

When she opened the door from which the light reflected in the hallway came, a choked breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The boy with his back turned, busy among the stove, seemed all too familiar, she prayed it was not him, her beloved professor, but the sight of the tattoos on his arm, visible thanks to the short sleeves of his dark shirt, spoke volumes.

It was him, her captor was Jeon Jungkook, the same boy who had promised to protect her only the day before.

"Professor?" she asked anxiously, the young man at the stove froze.

There were a few seconds of stalemate that weighed in the air like boulders, then the boy turned around, revealing the handsome, jovial face of her teacher.

It was really him.

The bewildered girl took a step back, a gesture that did not escape Jungkook's notice.

The latter narrowed his gaze, "Y/N, you've woken up!" he exclaimed coming toward her.

Y/N shook her head, made to put further distance between them, but Jungkook grabbed her by the arm and this reminded the girl of Yoozu's attack the previous day, she found herself shaking and this alerted Jungkook.

"Sweetheart, are you sick?" he gently placed a palm on the girl's forehead, fortunately she was not burning hot, but something in her pallidness told him that something was wrong, "No...you're not hot, maybe.... It's because you're here, isn't it?" he smiled gently in her direction, Y/N would have liked to answer, but her voice wouldn't come out of her throat.

"I know it might feel strange at first, but I'm sure you'll soon get used to it, after all, I did it for your sake, baby."

Baby.

Trying to ignore the all too affectionate nickname, Y/N opened her mouth, forcing herself to answer, "You said you would protect me, that I just had to trust you," she croaked, shocked.

Jungkook frowned, "That's right, here I will protect you from all those people who have always treated you badly or never believed in you! I believe in you, and I love you, honey!" he brought his perfect face closer to the girl's, trying to steal a kiss from her, but Y/N managed to break free from his grip, not that it had been a feat, Jungkook had softened his grip for fear of hurting her, he had already seen the bruises Yoozu had given her without regard, to say Jungkook was pissed off was little, at the next opportunity he would eviscerate that useless blowhard.

Y/N, for her part, recorded his words confusedly, had he really said "I love you" to her?

She denied with her head, it couldn't be true, the professor she had so admired and had a crush on...was a psychopath.

"You can't be serious, tell me this is just a joke," begged the boy, who frowned.

"I'm not joking, Y/N, I'm sure that past this moment of confusion you'll realize that you love me too, and you'll accept me," he concluded confidently, "Now, which breakfast do you prefer? Sweet or savory?" he continued cheerfully, approaching the stove, Y/N saw toast already crispy and ready to be topped with chocolate or scrambled eggs, she took the opportunity to run out of the kitchen.

Jungkook sprinted toward her, missing her by a whisker, "Y/N!" he exclaimed shocked, not understanding the young woman's hostile attitude. He only wanted to protect her, give her the gift of a fairy tale happy ending, why didn't she understand?

Y/N returned to the previous hallway, ignoring the bedroom she had come out of, and spotting that and the kitchen, the front door must have been further down on the opposite side.

Too bad that was not a normal house, it was in fact structured differently and what she found as she pushed open yet another door was just a storage room.

She imprecated mentally, trying to turn back, but her race to safety ended with Jungkook managing to tackle her from a corner.

Y/N shrieked, terrified.

"Let go of me! Let go of me! I don't know what you want from me!" she burst into tears, she wanted to go home, her parents had done so much for her, she could not waste the opportunity they had given her to study and make a name for herself in this way, especially after they had shown themselves to be so displeased. She just wanted to make them proud.

How mocking the world was, just yesterday she had shouted those exact words, and had been saved by the very person who was now showing herself as the real danger.

Jungkook clutched her to his body, causing her to turn abruptly as the back of the small figure in his arms went crashing against the wall.

The boy inhaled in irritation and to shut her up he attached his lips to those of the woman, who widened her eyes trying to push him away.

The boy pressed even more against her, biting angrily on her lower lip, Y/N had to open her mouth wide because of the tremendous twinge she received and the man's tongue invaded her completely, demanding absolute dominance.

Y/N felt violated as the boy expertly entwined their tongues, unaware that the night before Jungkook had dared to do much more with that same tongue.

Jungkook moaned in that violent kiss, enjoying in the taste in which he was willingly drowning himself.

He reached down with one hand between their bodies, lifting one of the young woman's legs and bringing it around his hips, pushing his already hard cock against her pussy covered only by her nightgown, Jungkook could only feel the softness of that area so delicate and delicious, Y/N's eyes widened, between the lack of air and that vulgar gesture that shocked her, she began to moan shakily without any more resistance, in a pitiful surrender that made Jungkook pull away from her lips with a loud pop.

The breathing of both of them was labored and Jungkook's wild eyes met Y/N's tear-filled ones and begged him to stop.

Jungkook did not want to get that far so quickly, but the girl's actions had not pleased him, not at all.

"If you'll be good, I promise I'll stop," he hissed, "We'll go to the kitchen, where you'll eat your breakfast and we'll talk about how it's going to be between us from now on, understand?"

The girl nodded, obediently, and followed him into the kitchen, and when Jungkook let go of her wrist she sat clutching her legs, unable to banish the heavy sensation of a cock against her folds.

She had never had a boyfriend, consequently had never received such attention; it had been shocking and strange.

Why did someone like him want to be with someone like her?

Jungkook put some toast in front of her with a variety of toppings next to it, there was jam and butter, chocolate and even eggs with bacon and cheese, he filled a glass with juice for her.

The boy wanted her to eat and feel good, he really wanted the best for Y/N and was very sorry to see her so uncooperative.

He took a seat in front of her and began to eat, giving her a look that intimated her to do the same, the girl tremblingly took the butter, beginning to spread it on her toast, she did not want to anger him again, she had yet to find the entrance and realized that in order to get the go-ahead, she had to first keep the landlord happy.

"Y/N" she lifted her eyes to his, a twinge of guilt hit the boy in the stomach in front of those red, shiny eyes, "I only wish you to be happy" he began, but Y/N interrupted him.

"But you kidnapped me" she said in a huff, Jungkook for a moment did not know what to say.

"No, I didn't kidnap you, we belong together since we first met," he said confidently, "Do you remember that? You were completely wet with rain, I saw you and you bound me to you with one look, my job is to protect you and make you feel loved."

Y/N remembered that day, which took place seven months earlier, but she did not think she had left such an indelible mark on her teacher, in short, he had never shown any interest and she had never given herself false hope.

"Why didn't you say anything before, because-"

"Jungkook." the boy blocked her, "Call me Jungkook, I'm not your professor outside of school," he pointed out, disturbed by the continuous distance Y/N seemed to want to put in the dialogue.

The girl sucked it up and agreed with him.

"Why didn't you ever come forward, Jungkook?"

In a normal way, she would have liked to add, but did not want to dare too much.

The young man took a moment to absorb as best he could the girl's voice as she spoke his name with what seemed to him to be familiarity; he found the sound of those syllables coming from his woman's lips enchanting.

Y/N did not understand, why had he suddenly approached her and in such a crazy way then?

"Because I'm your professor and it wasn't ethically correct, plus you had never given me a reason to step forward...until yesterday, I couldn't allow them to go on with their torture," he said harshly, "You'll be safe with me forever."

The girl took a deep breath before she began to speak.

"You can't keep me here forever, I have a family and studies to complete, take me back to my home, Jungkook," she begged him again, the boy shook his head.

"You are home, and don't worry about your studies, I will help you and you will get your degree one hundred percent, the principal is a good friend of mine...as for your family, they were the first to hurt you."

The girl's blood drained from her face, she began to finally understand where Jungkook was going with this. He wanted to isolate her from the world, because the world had been evil to her.

Jungkook in those months had been researching the young girl's parents, neighbors told him about how they were always rude and irritated with Y/N, went around saying that the girl was squandering all their savings on that absurd belief that she wanted to continue her studies, not understanding the sacrifices they had made to raise her.

Those statements were enough for the boy to realize that they did not deserve a daughter like her, too good and sweet for such people.

"It's not the same thing!" blurted out Y/N then, ready for another fit of hysterical crying, "I want my freedom!"

"Freedom? For you to live like that is to be free? Living with the constant fear of being attacked at school or in that neighborhood you call home, without a shred of a friend?" he asked, strangled.

Those words struck Y/N, because they were so fucking true they hurt.

But still, those were not good reasons to kidnap a person, and he had done exactly that.

She shut up for a few moments not knowing how to retort, Jungkook looked at her with disappointment.

Y/N felt a pang in her heart, because in spite of everything, that was still the guy who until the night before had given her butterflies in her stomach, seeing such a look in him too made her want to vomit.

[ciciyup]

Yandere! Lau X Fem! Reader headcanons.

cw: Sensitive themes, prejudice, xenophobia, manipulation, slight obsession, little nsfw, angst, murder, dark themes, stalking. (don't forget the era in which the story is set)

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Lau thinks about how peculiar all those people around him are, he seemed to have the affinity to notice the hypocrisy of the people around him. They all appeared so neat and so modest, what would they be like behind closed doors? Surely the men would stop being as gentlemen as they took it for granted in public and the women would stop being a lady as they tried to be all the time, behind closed doors it was another thing, but Lau had always believed that people in England were very peculiar.

Of course, he couldn't deny that the balls were entertaining, especially when the young Earl Phantomhive was there with his indispensable butler, everything seemed to go perfectly. The tables with the best dishes and food of the best quality, the mansion shining without a single spot of dust, the excellent decoration, how fascinating.

Ladies at balls were not something that caught Lau's attention, being surrounded by women was something he was used to, so at balls he didn't usually ask a woman to dance, maybe chat a little with other men of status, have a drink and stay there, but not court.

It was curious when he saw you, he had never seen you at any of the balls or any other event, but he assumed you were close to the Phantomhive family when he saw you talking to the count. Weren't you lovely? You seemed to shine in such a beautiful dress and a choice of such beautiful colors, from his place Lau could guess that you only wore the finest and most expensive fabrics. He could guess the time it took you to choose such a delicate hairstyle, the perfect curls that fell behind your back, the bun tied perfectly without a single loose hair, the perfect decoration with precious pearls around your hair, although surely it hadn't been done by you but by some maid. You looked radiant.

There was no other way to do it, if he wanted to talk to you he had to ask you for a dance, that was how it was there, it would be too reckless if he just approached you to talk, very ungentlemanly. Besides, since you had arrived you seemed to be close to an older man and an older woman with whom you were talking, they were surely your parents, you had very similar features to each one, he should make a good impression at least, where would his manners be if he didn't?

Your eyes seemed to inspect him before accepting his invitation, your gloved hands timidly touched his as you followed him to the center of the room along with the other couples who were already there, of course, it would be unacceptable if you refused him, what a rude lady to reject the invitation of such a kind man. A perfect occasion to talk to you, he had to take advantage of it.

It was easy to start a conversation while the dance was slow and not that tiring, Lau found out that you were the only daughter of a high class marriage and of very good social status, although you couldn't always be present at many events due to the little time you had for other tasks, although it also seemed that you didn't love the idea of dances, but it seemed that your parents were the ones who most wanted you to find a man who would become your husband, that is why they made sure that you went with them to the events.

After finishing the dance Lau offered to take you to his seat to continue talking while keeping his big smile the whole time. It seemed strange to you when as soon as you sat down there was a young woman next to you, he nonchalantly told you that it was Ran-mao referring to her as his sister, however, there were touches on both parts such as Lau touching her legs and holding her close to him or her hugging him by the arm from time to time. You did not say anything, but perhaps your expressions already gave a lot to say.

Still, Lau had seemed like a charming man to you, he had charisma and a constant cheerfulness, ignoring the fact that sometimes he used to go off topic or say meaningless words, but that was okay, that didn't bother you. He seemed to be a good supporter, a noble with a good status and earnings and who seemed to be easy to deal with, you had liked him.

Your parents not so much, as soon as you stayed too long with him, your mother came to you while giving some quick excuse to take you with her, quickly saying goodbye to Lau while giving him a contemptuous look and taking you out of there.

Lau knew it right away, he could pretend on the outside, but he wasn't stupid, he knew exactly the typical looks. Your parents hadn't liked him, money wasn't the problem but where it came from. He cared little about what your parents liked, he was interested only in you.

He got distracted, he snuck in, who knows, but what he did know was what was going on out there with your family, while Lau was out of the party he could see your mother walking quickly towards the carriage with you while she frowned and scolded you.

"Don't get together with that man again." "He's not good for you, we already have someone for you." Hearing the words, Lau could only raise his eyebrows slightly, but he seemed more interested in the fact that they had already found someone for you than in what they were talking about him. They already had someone for you, that had been fast, the fact of imagining another man courting you made his smile disappear.

After that day of the dance, Lau kept investigating everything about you and your family, he couldn't deny that the fact that you were already engaged to another man made him bitter, so he took action. It wasn't for nothing that he worked in the underworld, he could use it to his advantage after all. He was already there in your life, even if they had only danced and chatted for a while, Lau was sure that he would know more about you than the guy you were going to get engaged to.

Strangely, while your parents were traveling in a carriage, it broke down, causing them to have an accident where neither of them managed to survive. On top of that, the suitor you were engaged to had stopped sending you letters and had disappeared completely.

You were devastated, your parents had died, you would no longer have the funds to live on since, being a woman, all of your family's fortune would pass into the hands of your distant cousin and the truth is that he would not share a single cent with you. The man you were engaged to had disappeared, you had tried to go to his parents or even the servants but no one had dared to say anything about his whereabouts, which left you baffled. Maybe he had backed out after hearing about your parents' death, was that it? Now that you no longer had any fortune had he declined?

Satisfied by the events that had happened, Lau knew that it was the perfect time to intervene, now that you were helpless and vulnerable, he could take you easier. He showed up at your parents' funeral, paying his respects, and as soon as it was over he offered to take you home in his carriage, although on the way there was hardly any chatter, he had decided to wait for the right moment. As soon as you were arriving at your destination he starts talking and proposing an offer that he knew would benefit you: if you married him you would no longer have to worry about money or anything else, none of that, he would take care of it. You just had to marry him, just that.

You were not in a position to choose, it was that or be left adrift with nothing, but you thought that after all the man had been so friendly and kind that he would be your salvation, which made you quickly accept.

Oh, how wrong you were, if you had known what he was really like, if you had known what he would do, if only you had known... But you had already accepted and once you fall into the web it is difficult to get out of it. Lau took you as a naive young girl, so naive that you thought of nothing else but clinging to the first float you saw in the water and he wanted you, he wanted that naive young girl.

It was nice at first, after his marriage, you moved in with him, but there started to be little things that you began to notice that made you doubt if he was the real man you thought you knew.

Why was he always smoking to the point where you had to open the windows in the house so you wouldn't drown? He had never smoked before. Why was Ran-mao always sitting on his lap and even when you did things that were just for you as a married couple she was always there? She was supposed to be just his sister. Why did he suddenly disappear without saying anything to the point of sometimes not coming back to the house and leaving you alone? Or why did he seem to become more irritable when you did something he didn't want? He was supposed to be a good man, right?

And when you had enough, you decided to find out for yourself. Silently following him as he left the house until you reached a strange place that went beyond the dangerous alleys, above the door of the place there was a sign with something written in Chinese, although you did not understand what it said so you continued on entering the place.

Too much smoke, too many shameless men who seemed to look you up and down while they had scantily clad women by their side. The further you went into the place the murkier everything became, you did not even want to know what was behind the many doors of the place where strange noises were heard.

Then there you saw him, smoking carefree, several women surrounded him including Ran-mao who was sitting on his lap. Seeing you, Lau puts his pipe aside and releasing the smoke held in his mouth he looks at you opening his eyes a little more seriously. He knew it, he knew that you had followed him. As soon as all the women beside him left and the two of you were left, Lau approaches you in a nonchalant manner as you begin to ask about what kind of place it was, surely he didn't work in what he once told you, no, it was something darker.

Then, when all you want is explanations, you don't expect Ran-mao to appear from behind injecting a needle into your neck causing you to quickly lose consciousness.

Even after you've followed him and discovered something he didn't plan to tell you, it only makes everything worse between you. Lau's violent tendencies aren't frequent but when they appear they aren't pleasant, he implements them with you.

Using his needles in a way that was not gentle on you until you cried was just the tip of the iceberg, each thing he did seemed to be worse than the other. Locking you in the room of the house without food or water or even seeing the sunlight for days until you knock on the door apologizing for anything just to be let out. You wouldn't go out anywhere, not when he knew you might run away or tell someone, not that he cared since he could use his contacts and make the people involved disappear and find you right away, but he preferred to save himself all that, so he doesn't let you go out alone, you would only go out with him to some event, but you would stay in your place, as his good wife.

Now, being together or not, he would want to satisfy his needs from time to time, just accept it and let it go, that's how it is. Let him fuck you in his opium den, the companions that surround him are not important, he wants you. Let him take you to the edge until you can't go back to yourself and only think about him. Let him raise you and fill you until you can have an heir like in all marriages, because that's what they are, he's your husband and you're his wife, you're united, there's nothing wrong with that.

Lau is aware, he knows that you know that he is working on things that are not so pleasant, on things that are too low to say out loud, he knows that from the first moment he saw you his intentions with you have not been good and they never will be, but don't blame him, you are special to him, he can't let you go, even if it hurts you.

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[spacedace]

Lian Harper has an imaginary friend. Roy thinks her new friend is imaginary at least. Dani is very much not imaginary as he soon finds out.

Okay, so I don't know much at all about Roy & Lian, so I did some very fast searching to try and get an idea about them for this. Sorry if Roy is out of character!

Have some spooky very slightly eldritch Dani/Elle being a very polite unwanted house guest/imaginary friend:

When Roy had first noticed Lian idly chatting with thin air beside her, he hadn’t thought much of it.

She’d been playing with the latest batch of stuff animals Jason had brought with him last he’d visited, joyfully arranging her plushy hoard just how she wanted them in her overly full room - they were going to have to do another toy purge soon, it was starting to get hard picking a path through to the bed again - and happily talking as she did. It wasn’t anything exactly uncommon. She liked to introduce new plushies to the older ones, make sure everyone knew each other’s names and got along, the way that little kids did. He noticed she seemed to be holding each plush out as if showing it to someone beside her, which was a little odd, but still nothing of concern.

It wasn’t until the tea party - knees bent up to his ears as he curled over the tiny, brightly colored table Kori had gotten her a couple months back - that he was formally introduced to her imaginary friend and put some pieces together.

“Do you want some tea, Dani?” Lian asked, holding out the bright red child-sized tea pot to the one seat at the table that was not occupied by one of his daughter’s favorite plushies or Roy. He watched as she paused, head tilted to listen carefully, before giving a bright smile and pouring a healthy amount of imaginary tea into the cup in front of the seat.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve met Dani yet.” He said, offering out the tiny cup she’d put down in front of him for his own healthy pour of non-existent tea. “Is she a new friend?”

Lian smiled brightly, gap tooth smile bright as she launched into telling him all about her new friend Dani - with an I, Danny with a Y is her big brother! - who fell out of a hole in space right into Lian’s room and who was a ghost princess with superpowers who beat up evil ghosts with her big brother. There are surprisingly few elements from any of the shows she watches or books he’s read to her, and he’s delighted by how vivid an imagination she has in her creation.

It’s easy to roll with imaginary friend Dani. Lian’s friend Marcus had an imaginary friend last year and Roy had learned enough from Marcus’ mother’s exhausted research dive into the topic over play dates to know that Lian making a friend of her own was perfectly healthy. She had plenty of friends, was doing well in school, no bullies or isolation, just a bright creative streak and a boundless enthusiasm for make believe. In a few months to a year Dani the ghost warrior princess from space - green space! There aren’t any floors and everyone flies and there are floating islands and - would be set aside in favor of other forms of entertainment. Just a fond memory for him to recount when she was a little older.

But then things got…strange.

Things in Lian’s room shifted just out of place where they usually were. Then around the house - common areas only though, never his room. Small lost objects appearing on the kitchen counter where they hadn’t been before. A blanket that had been folded on the back of the armchair draped over him when he woke up after falling asleep on the couch. Lian munching on little healthy snacks - a peeled orange, her favorite rice crackers, carrot slices - that no one had made her and that she couldn’t have possible gotten herself. Glow in the dark stars that he had not bought pressed onto her ceiling in the shape of accurate constellations.

That last one had not been the last straw, exactly, but it had been noticed about the same time all the rest of the very concerning little things had been. Talking with Lian about them all only had her explaining that Dani was doing it.

“She said wants to help.” Lian explained, little legs kicking as she focused on her drawing. “She’s stuck here til her brother comes and gets her. She said she wanted to be a good guest while she crashes with us.”

There’s something about that specific phrasing coming from his five year old daughter - crashes with us, not a term Lian’s used before and that he’s pretty sure no one else has ever had reason to use in front of her - that makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Lian doesn’t notice his apprehension, little tongue poking out in concentration as she adds more green to the paper. He doesn’t much care for the strange shape of the spectral figure his daughter depicts, hovering over her squiggly rendition of herself in her bed, the ghost creature being shown holding a green star up to a field of others in what Roy realizes is meant to show Lian’s bedroom ceiling.

Lian pauses suddenly in her drawing, head coming up and tilting as if listening, eyes drifting to look at a point close to the ceiling. “Oh.” Lian says, turning to look back at him with a frown. “Dani says there are bad people coming.” Another glance towards the spot near the ceiling. “She says she’s gonna make em go away if that’s okay with you.”

His stomach cramps with anxiety at the declaration just as he catches a dark figure shifting on the roof of the neighbor’s house, a flash of metal in the yellow glow of the street lights. There’s something cold on his shoulder suddenly, almost feeling like a small hand, the vague impression of something not altogether human at the corner of his vision.

Fuck it. He decides. If Lian’s maybe-not-so-imaginary friend wanted to deal with the people that he was just now aware of surrounding his home and putting his daughter in danger, then he wasn’t going to stop her.

Roy barely has the word yes out of his mouth as he darts up to grab Lian and run her to safety before all the lights in the house - hell, the neighborhood - begin to flicker and he catches a flash of bright, glowing green eyes turning towards the people outside. Distantly he heard a cut off scream and wet crunch and pressed Lian’s face to his chest as he ran for the safe room.

He was going to have to call the League about this one.

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 14 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You tell Bradley the truth about the photos he finds on his phone, and it leaves both of you feeling more possessive than you ought to. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut and fluff

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

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The week of spring break was like a dream. By Friday evening, you had watched so many movies together, you lost count. Movie watching usually turned into kissing, which then led to making out. Bradley was the best snuggler you had ever known, and you really felt like you didn't even want to go back to class.

"Only six more weeks until we graduate," Bradley whispered when you brought it up. "I'm getting nervous."

You spun around in his arms until you were facing him in his bed. "About what?" The glow of his desk lamp brought out a honey color in his brown eyes, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Getting my acceptance letter."

"You told me you needed to have your final grades submitted," you said, still smiling. "That won't be until the week before graduation."

Bradley shrugged. "It's just a formality. If you show high enough grades through the first semester of your senior year, they usually accept you before then."

You watched as his eyes darted nervously around your face. "Oh. But your grades are great, right?"

"Yeah. It's not that...." He was pulling you tighter against him as he added, "I'm nervous he's going to block it again."

"Oh." You didn't know what to say. The navy was his dream. If someone tried to take it away from him twice, you didn't know what he was going to do. "He wouldn't do that. I hope."

Bradley's laugh was dark as you wrapped your arms around him. "At least I have you, Sugar."

You didn't dare move, knowing he needed this comfort right now. Just when you thought maybe he had fallen asleep, you felt his lips moving against your neck. "We have one more condom left."

You laughed. "How are we going to entertain ourselves after that?" 

But you were falling in love with him, especially after this week. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was probably in the Beta house kitchen. The very first time you ever called him Beer Boy.

"I hope you're joking, Sugar. First of all, sleeping with you is not the only thing that I want to do with you. Because second of all, I have 18 hours of Grateful Dead concert footage that we can watch together. Correction...that we will watch together."

You pretended to groan and hide your face from him. Honestly, you'd watch as many hours of whatever he wanted with him. "I have an idea for the last condom though," you whispered. 

"Tell me."

"Your door."

Bradley pulled you on top of him and started to undress you. "Love that idea. You're so fucking smart."

"Make me dumb."

So he did. He got you naked on his bed, and put his mouth everywhere. You were barely coherent when he started licking your pussy and murmuring about you being the dumbest girl he ever met. You wanted to take offense, but you were flushed and whining, so turned on knowing he made you this way. You wouldn't have been able to dispute it if you tried. 

"Come on, Sugar. Let's go get a closer look at my door."

Bradley scooped you up and absolutely hauled you to his bedroom door. He set your feet on the hallway floor and then closed it, before pushing you back against the wood. 

"Still just your name," he grunted, wedging you in place with his hip, while he rolled on that last condom. "I know you told me to paint over it, Sugar, but I was never going to. Not even if you told me you never wanted to talk to me again."

"Bradley," you whined as he pressed the front of his body against yours, breathing in the same air as you. His hot breath huffed against your cheek as he hoisted your leg over his hip.

You glanced up and over your shoulder to see your own phone number there next to the little collection of hearts he had drawn. You knew he hadn't painted it. You had been admiring it again ever since he became your boyfriend. But you never got tired of hearing him tell you that.

"You never wanted me to paint over it, did you?" he asked, pressing himself to your opening. "Tell me the truth."

"Bradley!" He was teasing you now, and you just wanted him inside.

"Tell me, Sugar."

You reached for his shoulders, trying to force him to move, but he grabbed you by your arms and pinned you in place, your foot barely touching the floor. 

"I didn't want you to paint it! Of course I didn't want you to! Now will you please fuck me?"

"That's all you had to say, smart girl." 

Your butt bumped back against the door as he slid inside you, his hips meeting yours in such a familiar way. He was sucking so hard on your neck, it stung; he was marking you up like he had in the library. He was going to make you cum for him just like he always did.  

You threaded your fingers clumsily through his hair, and he let you tip his head back so he was looking at you. 

"I love this," he murmured, and you immediately guided his lips to yours and kept them there until you both came. 

Spring Break had been the best week of your life.

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

The following week, it was back to class and back to the study room. Bradley held you on his lap, trying his best not to be too much of a distraction for you. But he couldn't help it. The weather was starting to feel like springtime, and he wanted to be outside with you. 

"Do you really need to study? Does it even matter now?" 

With a laugh on your lips, you turned in his lap to face him. "Yes, and you do too, Beer Boy. We can have fun at the parties this weekend."

But he just pouted at you and ran his hand over your jeans. "There are no parties this weekend."

"Why not?" you asked softly, running your fingers along his lips until he smiled. 

Bradley slowly, coaxingly guided you until you were straddling his lap. He nipped at the faded love bite on your neck, as he said, "The following weekend is Tyson's birthday rager. Can't blow our beer budget."

You giggled as he held you close. "Beer budget? For the shitty kegs or the good beer?"

"Shitty kegs. Since you're my girlfriend, Sugar, party rules do not apply to you. Nothing in the kitchen is off limits. Didn't I tell you that?"

Your smile was so bright as you leaned in to kiss him, Bradley could feel his own face light up. 

"You gave me the good beers the night we met. And you never told me anything in the kitchen was ever off limits to me."

Bradley kissed your lips and guided your hips closer to his. "I didn't? I guess I must have known right away."

"Known what?" you gasped as he let his hand slide up your top.

"That I would figure out a way to make you mine."

You sighed against his lips, and it was the best feeling in the world. "You're smooth, Beer Boy."

Then the alarm went off on your phone, and you jolted right off of his lap. Bradley was left grasping at air with a semi hard cock. 

"Sugar, come back."

"I have lab now. I had to start setting alarms, because you've been making me late for class."

Bradley eased himself to his feet and adjusted himself. "I'll walk you to your lab." 

He took pride in the fact that he was allowed to drape his arm across your shoulders and stroll across campus with you. He didn't get as many looks these days. He didn't get as many girls coming up to him asking where he's been or if he would be partying all weekend. And he took pride in that too. He was proud to be around you, but he was mostly proud of himself.

"You staying over tonight?" he asked as you kissed his cheek in the hallway outside of your class. 

"Walk over to my apartment and get me later, Beer Boy."

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

Bradley was walking home and looking for a picture of him with his mom on his phone when he found them. There was a set of photos that you had apparently taken of the two of you making out in the kitchen during spring break. He stopped in his tracks, with several other students hustling around him and making a fuss about him blocking the walkway. 

"Holy shit," he whispered with a smile on his face. You had taken one where he was untying your bathing suit and rubbing your tits with his thumb while he kissed you. It wasn't exactly the most pornographic thing he had ever seen, but it was you and him together. Bradley could definitely spend some time getting off to these. Starting as soon as he got back to the house.

He was trying to figure out why you had taken these pictures in the kitchen, but he really hoped you were trying to leave a little treat for him to find. 

And later that night, when you called and asked him to come get you at your place, he had the dirtiest of the photos pulled up on his phone screen as soon as you opened your door.

"What did I do to deserve these?" he asked with a grin. Then he watched your smile fade into a look of panic. 

"Shit," you gasped, trying to reach for his phone, but he kept it out of your grasp.

"If you were thinking about deleting them, don't you dare, Sugar! I just jerked off to one of them. I'm keeping them forever."

Your eyes went wide as you pulled him inside your apartment. "You really did?"

"Of course. I guess you didn't take them as a treat for me? Why do you look so upset?"

You pressed your lips together and looked up at him. "I really meant to delete them. And I'm sorry if I overstepped, but she's horrible and she had it coming!"

Bradley was thoroughly confused now. "Who?"

"Phoebe!" you groaned, tossing your hands in the air before letting them fall to your sides. "When you were making us the s'mores, in your kitchen? She texted you a dirty photo of herself." 

His eyes went wide as he felt sick to his stomach. "Sugar, I haven't talked to her. I swear! I haven't seen her. I deleted her number."

He was reaching for you now, but you were already in his arms.

"I know, Bradley. I believe you. And I believed you when you were making the s'mores." You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he rested his forehead against yours as you said, "But then I took the pictures of me and you out of spite. Because I wanted to make her feel bad. I wanted to throw it in her face that I'm with you and she's not. I'm sorry." Your voice broke on the last word, and you sounded like you were about to cry as you added, "I would never want to make you feel cheap."

Your words felt like they were melting over his skin. No one had ever been concerned about hurting his feelings before. You always made him feel good, and right now was no exception. You just made him feel like he was worth holding on to, like he was worth defending.

"I'm yours, Sugar. I'm not hers."

"You're not mad?" You looked so surprised, and your grip around his neck and shoulders was still relentless.

He couldn't help but smirk at you. "I'm not mad. You feeling a little possessive, maybe?"

Bradley watched your lips part slightly as you ran your fingertips along his scars. "Yeah, a little bit."

He nodded solemnly. "You should be. Ask me how many other girls get the good beers from me."

"How many?" you whispered, your eyes drifting closed as you kissed his lips. 

"None. Ask me how many girls have borrowed my clothes."

"How many, Beer Boy?"

"Just you." Bradley held you close and let you touch him everywhere.

"Not Phoebe?"

"Hell, no. Just you. All the sleepovers and spring break week? Just you, Sugar."

He felt your tongue dart out to taste his neck and moaned softly. Then you said, "That's good, because I'm actually feeling very possessive."

Bradley was a mess as you took him by the hand, and led him across campus to his fraternity house, your fingers laced through his. He felt possessive of you, too. He should have known, just based on that feeling, that Jeff would be hanging around the house tonight. 

"Try not to be alone with him," Bradley told you, leading you past everyone in the living room until you reached the kitchen. "We can hang out with Tyson and Janessa, or we can chill in my room. Just don't let Jeff get to you."

You rolled your eyes. "No sweat, Beer Boy. What's he going to say to me that I can't handle?"

"Nothing, because you're exceptional," he said, rooting around in the refrigerator. "Here, Sugar, have a good beer."

So when the two of you had drank a few beers, and the rest of the Beta guys were starting to get a little rowdy even though this wasn't a formal party, Bradley pulled you close to him. But you took that as your cue to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. 

"Hi, Beer Boy," you muttered between kisses, your lips meeting his again. Bradley let you push your hands up into his hair and rub yourself slowly against him. But everything else with you was too sacred, so he was just about to suggest you head upstairs when he heard Jeff's voice through his love haze.

"Good luck not getting syphilis from Bradshaw." He was just loud enough for you and Bradley to be able to hear him, but he could still totally try to play off that he was innocent and chill all night. 

Bradley felt his fist clench at your waist, but you just rolled your eyes and casually shouted over your shoulder, "Good luck finding a girl you can satisfy with what is likely a very small penis. You have small dick energy, Jeff."

Janessa snorted and choked on her drink. Tyson was glancing back and forth, looking like he was ready to step in if needed, but Jeff just narrowed his eyes and called you a bitch. 

"Takes one to know one, Jeff. Have fun graduating behind me." Then you turned your attention back to Bradley and said, "Let's go upstairs and snuggle."

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

The party preparations took all week. Tyson's twenty second birthday party was going to be an absolute rager. Since Jeff had been keeping a low profile the past few days, Bradley volunteered to pick up the kegs with Dev. As he hauled the kegs to the back of Dev's car, Bradley thought about the upcoming party. He knew Phoebe wouldn't miss it, but he was only looking forward to being with you.

And with only one more month until graduation, he wanted to make the most of his time. Bradley knew you were planning on visiting the University of Chicago for a few days at the end of April; you needed to meet your new advisor and find somewhere to live. It was killing him to know that you'd be halfway across the country if he was accepted into flight training. It was even scarier to think about having to look for another job if he wasn't.

"One more keg, before we run out of money," Dev informed it, and Bradley carried the last one out to the car.

"Too bad we can't buy anything shittier than this," he said, patting the keg with his hand. 

Dev laughed. "Right? It's not like we have to drink it."

"This party's gonna be huge though."

"So many fucking chicks," Dev remarked as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

Bradley just grunted in response and checked his phone to see if you texted him. 

"I can't believe you, of all people have a girlfriend, Bradshaw. And senior year, no less."

"She's different, man. She's better." Bradley also wanted to add that he was different now too, but he thought that Dev didn't really need to know about that. 

"Yeah, well, nobody blames you, because she's also hot. And I fully support it, because it pisses Jeff off."

Bradley just shook his head and laughed. "I'd be lying if I said that wasn't an added perk."

Once the kegs were on ice and the party was about to start, Bradley checked his mail for the nonexistent letter from the US Navy and quickly cleaned up his room. He was planning on sleeping in with you tomorrow and watching some of his Grateful Dead concert DVD with you wrapped up in his arms. He was planning on never letting you change out of his shirt, because you looked so perfect in it. 

And that's how you showed up to Tyson's party with Janessa, wearing his tie dyed shirt with the bottom knotted, showing off some of your soft skin. Bradley was convinced that between your short shorts and the cropped shirt, you probably weren't wearing any underwear. A smile played on his lips as you tucked yourself against his side and hugged him around the waist.

"You ready for this party, Beer Boy?"

"I'm ready to spend the night with you."

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These two are falling. Thanks a million times to @mak-32 for being amazing and helping so much with this story.

PART 15

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[never4night]

Mine

Part l 🌹 ⚠

Bonten!Sanzu X male reader

warnings: drug use and dependency, toxic relationship/circumstances, mental health(will update, I didn’t edit it yet)

ft. hades characters

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Y/n sat quietly, near the head of the bed, staring blankly into the empty walls that seemed to loom in front of him. The room felt too quiet, almost stifling, despite the colorful neon lights that he’d come to learn to associate with Tokyo trickling into the room. The sound of the hustle of others still going about their lives down below despite the time, creeps up into the still apartment through the cracks of the hastily drawn curtains. The room glowed a faint neon red, outshining the slivers of light cascading from the moon that hung full, alone in the cloudy starless night. The shadows of the room felt just a tad bit darker, he would muse. His mind was empty, thoughts and desires disappearing just as quick as the ideas flickered by.

But his heart was restless.

Fast-paced and yearning for something he couldn’t quite place. Y/n felt alone as he sat awake on the king-size bed in the early dawn morning, aimlessly running his fingers over the seams of one of his favorite blankets rested partially over his torso, too hot to use it to fully cover himself but also too used to the comfort to completely forgo the object entirely. A quick strobe of light illuminated out of the corner of his eye catches Y/n’s attention, his phone resting on the nightstand closest to him on the right, one new notification.

Moderate rain will start in 7 mins. expected to last 42 mins. For more information click…

Y/n glanced at the shuttered windows, envisioning the neon color of the city diluted in a muted gray hidden behind the fabric. The sound of the cool autumn rain against his warm skin seemed like a good idea. The dreary weather never failed to remind him of his hometown, it was something he always revered as deeply calming, no matter where he found himself staying. He felt he was coherent enough to make the short drive home if that meant he could go and watch the rain, he reckoned to himself. Skin slid slowly against cool satin sheets as he pulled himself up, further out of the bed on the verge of getting up, having come to the quick decision.

A different shift of the bed immediately lulled his head left, towards the sound.

A sea of long pink waves lay spread across gray sheets, adorn brighter under the red light draped closely over the dark room. Pale, white skin wrapped in cool, dark sheets rested his boyfriend Sanzu, Haruchiyo. A ghost of a smile drifted onto Y/n’s blank face as he regarded his boyfriend’s sleeping form. He was glad to see the other man peacefully asleep, still for once in his life. While he did like being around his boyfriend, it took a lot out of the already low energy Y/n to have been forcefully dragged over to Sanzu’s apartment after a full day at the offices. From overseeing his own club and solidifying business ideas on better relations with the West with Koko, to then being coerced after work to entertain his boyfriend by joining in on whatever he considered fun at the moment. To spend a rare afternoon free together.

He’s pretty when he shuts up though. Y/n’s eyes linger fondly over the exposed skin for a moment before he shifts further onto his right, peering lazily over the hardwood floor for any signs of where his shirt and pants went. Discarded amongst other haphazardly dropped items left sometime earlier by the pair.

A pale hand appeared wordlessly, wrapped around Y/n’s darker skin, desolate brown eyes followed the connected arm latched onto his smaller left wrist. Roaming north as they came to clash against a sleepy mix of blue. One that Y/n could never seem to find anywhere else but was reminded of whenever he saw a different shade of blue eyes, pretty, he would acknowledge. A tired smile mirrored the weary eyes that Y/n found himself momentarily lost in, "Just stay here a bit little longer." Sanzu entreated, a deep rumble filled thick with sleep, a hopeful siren call for the other male to stay.

Y/n hummed softly in agreement as he reeled himself into the embrace of other, the grip on his wrist gliding around to connect his waist as he settled in closer to the taller man, lying chest to chest. Y/n promptly tucked himself into the comforting warmth of his boyfriend’s side. He had thought Sanzu was fully asleep, originally not wanting to wake the pink-haired male. Y/n almost buzzed at the romantic like feeling from the close contact. Wanting desperately to push Sanzu away, despite wanting to curl around his boyfriend, leaving Y/n stuck as his body practically pulsed wave after wave, as if a ship lost at sea.

Was he actually feeling this many conflicting emotions or was it just the Xanax, drinks and handful of other shit the two took earlier? Nearly a year into the same behavior and habits, and Y/n still couldn’t bring himself to be fully open and vulnerable like Sanzu had somehow managed. Or to come up with a better excuse to himself at this point. For now he allowed himself to just enjoy the moment.

Arms wrapped tighter around his frame pulling him closer, diminishing any air and wandering thoughts between the two. A content hum was reciprocated from Sanzu when all movement settled. His heart thrummed gently against Y/n’s chest, compelling his to match the slow steady beat, grounding the dissociated man. Soft kisses feathered down the column of Y/n’s neck, intelligible whispers murmured promises into the sepia brown skin. The spice of leftover whiskey on Sanzu’s breath, swirled with a hint of weed that still clung to their hair, cocooned the pair in a warm sheltered embrace. A tender hand wandered, caressing his lower back. The show of silent affection made Y/n almost want to preen, content under the light touch, cutting through his mindless fog.

Lazily hands trailed along a long-mapped routine down Y/n’s spine, fingers paused their tried and true course to rub circles on plush hips. “Y/n… stay here with me~.” Sanzu slurred, his words sounding like a pleading child asking for just a little more time. Despite sharp blue eyes pleading for something else entirely, as they took in Y/n’s near naked appearance, drinking in every last visible inch of skin. “You’re supposed to be mine for the night.” A right hand palmed up the valley of Y/n’s spine, long fingers curled around the base of his neck, drawing Y/n into a long slow kiss. Lips slotted together, trading hushed air, the two moved in tandem with no rush, enjoying the intimacy.

Y/n followed forward indulging in the kiss, seeking more much needed attention and touch in his inebriated mind. Giving into his touch-starved desires, he decided to take some initiative. Hiking a boxer clad thigh to rest over Sanzu’s hip, almost possessively, further tangling the two even closer. “ ‘m yours… and you’re all mine.” Y/n breathed out into the shorter series of docile kisses, fervent brown eyes gazed lidded, just slightly above him.

A sharp grin pulled the diamond-like scars on both sides of Sanzu’s lips. More alert than he had been mere moments before, blue eyes now containing a darker intent. “You’re all mine too, know that don’tcha, pretty little thing?” He said lowly, fingers curling taunt in the roots of dense multi-colored locks of curly hair at the nape of Y/n’s neck, pulling him all that closer into the kiss, growing more eager. The grip on his thigh tightened, squeezing and massaging the well placed fat. Sanzu’s tongue swiped Y/n’s bottom lip, meeting no resistance as he plunged forward, drawing a quiet but pleased breath from Y/n at the show of dominance.

Spurred on with each passing second, hands kneaded tighter, rougher against Y/n’s skin, pressing the two together tighter, needing the intimacy. Words emphasized between heavy breaths, tongue moving hungrily, taking possession of the kiss. “If it were up to me… I would keep you here… looking all pretty for me… Keep you where only I can see you since you're all mine… Mine to touch… Mine to taste… Mine to play with… My pretty boy.” The pure want in Sanzu’s voice was enough to have Y/n’s head spin. The deep quality of his voice alongside the dark possessive words stole Y/n’s breath, stuttering in his throat, panting as he tried to nod along to the others' selfish claim. He loved it when Sanzu was a dominating force, always taking whatever he wanted without any hesitation, whether at work or at home.

The hand left Y/n’s hair to join the other at his thighs, dragging him the rest of the way on top of Sanzu, making his straddle the taller. A low groan was pulled from Sanzu when Y/n brushed against his swelling cock. Fingers slipping under the waistband of Y/n’s boxers to grip, toy, and knead with the flesh there too. Shrunken pupils unbridled with the leftover ecstasy that Sanzu hadn’t fully slept off, their breathing turned scattered in mutual excitement.