#i don't know when I'll have ir finished BUT I WILL DO IT

[s1l4s-l1k3s-t0m4t03s]

☆○°• doing the notes thing again :3 •°○☆

(bc my old one got t worded)

10 notes - i'll play animal crossing again

50 notes - i'll finally use my new sketchbook

100 notes - i'll tell mikey abt how bad my sewerslidal thoughts have gotten

(doing that today!)

150 notes - i wont cal count for a day

(doing this 20/04/24)

200 notes - i'll eat a fear food

i ate reeses

300 notes - i'll ask my mum for a new binder so i don't have to bind with duct tape

ill ask when she gets paid next

400 notes - i'll finish a pixel art i started ages ago and never got back to

BRO HELP JAGSHW will post when its done!

500 notes - i'll tell my new boyfriend i have an0rexia and need help (only one of them knows)

ill tell him when i see him tonight <3

i told him! i madr a post, irs tagged #gem+silas tag!

1000 notes - (deep breath) i'll take my m3d1c4ti○n again (i take only 2, theres 4 i dont)

( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉ♡

#silas tag! #silas waffles #tumblr notes #whatever this is

[hatkuu]

omg omg loving sex w kylar after he gets jealous seeing you talk to someone else and you remind him youre not going anywhere youre all his <333

oopsies sorry this took so so long nonnie!! i am wading my way through so many good asks lately hehe i vow to finish them all soon!!

tw: gen! reader (no specific genitals mentioned), m! kylar, pregnancy talk, breeding kink, make up smut, mention of starting a family with kylar...

○○○

"Kylar?"

Your hand trails down his cheek, fingers tracing against acne-scarred flesh as your thighs wrap around his bony mid-section.

Even as you touch him so lovingly - with so much reverence that he has to bite back a jaw-straining smile - Kylar refuses to forget what you pulled today. You pause, surprised that your boyfriend isn't instantaneously melting in your hands. Eyes squinted in confusion instead of your previous sultry expression, you pull back to meet your boyfriend face to face.

Kylar's lips rest in a heavy pout, brows creased with ire as his eyes stare back at your own half-closed ones. He huffs, loudly, obviously upset with you over something or someone you interacted with today. His pout doesn't falter, not even as you fight back a giggle - subsequently, as Kylar continues to uphold his seething - you burst out into a scene of hideously contagious laughter.

You wheeze, falling backward onto the headboard of Kylar's bed as he mumbles, turning his head away to stare at the wall to the left of you.

"Don't be like that, baby!"

Your hands quickly redirect Kylar, quickly pressing a laugh-sweetened kiss against his sour ones. "If I did something, you should tell me instead of just getting upset, okay?" Despite the seriousness of your question, you don't stop pressing quick pecks against his lips. Kylar's pout falters for only a second; and that's when you know you have him.

"Who's bed am I in right now, hmm?"

Kylar's face flushes heavy and his pout quickly morphs into a shy smile. His breath hitches, eagerly tugging you back into his lap. "M-Mine," He breathes out shakily, always so eager to respond to you. "Y-You're in my bed."

"Mhm," you murmur lowly, pressing a much firmer kiss to Kylar's lips to show your appreciation at his obedient answer. "I'm in Kylar's bed right now," You smile against his skin as Kylar laves at your own, tasting you rather than kissing. He's desperate for you, so appreciative of your cooed out affirmations of his position as your lover.

"So Kylar shouldn't get jealous over people who don't matter—"

Kylar quickly pulls back, gripping at your shoulders with a concerning intensity.

"But—"

"Nooo," You tease, unphased by the jealousy behind his eyes - the same jealousy that has him pulling knives on people - continuing your loving carresses despite the concerning situation. "I'm your's - and if you're so jealous—"

"'m not jealous—"

"—maybe you should make everyone know I'm your spouse, hmm?"

"M-My spouse," Kylar shudders, his grip loosening as his gaze morphs from jealousy into pure, unadulterated lust. "Y-Yeah," He groans, face falling into your neck, lapping and biting at the tender flesh on your collarbones. "My spouse..." He talks to himself more than to you, too busy marking your skin with an artwork of purple, splotched hickeys.

"We'll get married and have so many babies," You whisper, purposefully riling him up with the mention of starting a family, something that Kylar rambles about daily - something that he'd do anything for.

"Y-Yeah, I-I'll give you as many as y-you want," Kylar shivers, quickly pulling your underwear to the side to prod at your entrance with his fingers. You whine at the cold touch and Kylar presses an apologetic kiss to the side of your throat, sucking at the skin as he does so.

"Two sounds nice."

Kylar pulls back, smiling so wide at you that your own expression morphs into one that mirrors his. You gasp, back arching as Kylar's fingers slip inside of you. He doesn't break eye contact, committing your face to memory as you quiver just from his fingers.

"M-Maybe we'll even end up with m-more than just two!"

You squeak as Kylar's arousal presses hot and heavy against your bare thighs, twitching in excitement at the prospect of breeding you and having so many babies with you—

"Ah— You'll j-just have to be thorough, won't you?"

Kylar nods eagerly, pulling down his briefs to press his cock against your entrance, dragging it along the sensitive skin, relishing the twitching heat beneath him. He giggles as you arch your back further, aching to feel him inside you.

"I promise. I'll fuck you so good that— that you'll have no choice but to get pregnant a-and be mine forever— Y-yeah, I promise, m-my love."

You know for a fact that Kylar would never break a promise to you - especially not a promise as special as this one.

#kylar the loner #dol kylar #dol #kylar #kylar x reader #hatkuuasks #me personally i think ANYONE can be bred no matter their parts lol #boyscanbebredtoo!!! #no matter your gender kylar is like “getpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnant--” #breeding is gender nonconforming to ME #kuuskylarposting

[moniescove]

commited

Just like every other night you're cuddled in bed with Jeno, head resting on his broad chest while he plays with your hair. You loved moments like this with him. Made you forget the reality of your relationship, you're merely a late night call to him and you'll never be more but you couldn't help to fall for him deeper and deeper with every day you would spend together behind closed doors.

Jeno was always so gentle with you when no one was watching, caressing you so lovingly, buying you anything and everything you mention wanting, whispering only the sweetest words in your ear.

Doing things like this as if you really would become something more but even he knew that wouldn't happen. In his mind that would be a dream but he just can't commit. His love for you could never overpower the love he has for freedom itself but even then, he loves to have "claim" over you.

•

"Why the fuck did you sleep with Jaemin." Jeno asked accusingly, grip on the wheel tightening as the image of you on top of the former flashes in his mind.

"Why does it matter to you." you answered, head resting on your palm as you faced the houses passing into the night.

His jaw clenched at your response, growing more frustrated with you. "Because you shouldn't be out fucking other guys." He practically growled out.

"Are you fucking serious Jeno?" with an exasperated laugh you turn and face him. "You always love to drill into my head that we aren't anything serious, always shutting me up when I mention to people all the things we do together." voice laced with ire you continue "You hate the fucking throught of dating me Jeno so stop trying to act like you are." you finish.

"That's not true-"

"Then why the fuck am I still nothing more than a fling. Why do you always act so ashamed of me in front of your friends." you cry out, tears finally starting to break through your eyes as the pain rushes back to you with every word.

Letting out a sigh he parked in your driveway and turned to your disheveled appearance. "Listen __, it's just complicated-"

"It's always fucking 'complicated' with you Jeno, I'm tired of you making me feel like you love me and turn to push me away right after. I can't keep doing this Jeno." your glassy eyes bore into his own, adding extra weight to your words with only your gaze despite knowing what you said was a lie. You knew you could never walk away from him but you just needed to hear him say he needed you.

Shortening the distance between you two he cups the side of your face, softly brushing the pad of his thumb at your tear. "__, you know I love you. I don't ever want to let you go," his forhead leaned atop yours he placed a small kiss to your lips before pulling apart "but right now just isn't the right time. I promise I'll make all of this up to you soon." His apologetic eyes gazed into yours, shielding the guilt hiding beneath it all. He knows he'll never commit to you.

Leaning in once again you both shared a soft kiss "Forgive me?"

"Fine" you whispered out "but I expect a big act of love if you want me to forgive you." you teasingly said.

"I can work with that." he chuckeld.

With a small smile Jeno averted his gaze. He couldn't meet your face after lying to you so blatantly, knowing the consequences of playing with your heart like this. He felt so sure you would figure him out if you took another look at him.

He just can't stay commited.

#[Jeno!] #jeno angst #jeno drabbles #jeno x reader #nct jeno #lee jeno #lee jeno angst #jeno imagines #jeno #nct drabbles #nct #nct dream #nct dream drabbles #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct angst #angst #kpop angst #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct x reader

[starlightshadowsworld]

Words of the Reaper

(Or the ending of Beast but Atsushi is absolutely fucking done.)

There was a silence as Dazai, Port Mafia Boss or "The Man in Black" as Akutugawa called him, finished his monologue.

Akutugawa was confused, so much of this didn't make sense. Could a book like this even be exist? He was about to voice his disbelief, when someone beat him to the punch.

"All of this, was because of that fucking book?!"

Akutagawa jumped in suprise, looking at Atsushi. Atsushi Nakajima also known as the Port Mafia's White Reaper, stood beside Akutugawa. And was staring at his boss (ex boss?) with nothing but anger.

It caught Akutugawa off guard. Despite his profession Atsushi was quite kind. Akutugawa knew the sweet kid he'd met at the cafe hadn't been a facade in the slightest.

But right here and now, Atsushi looked like exactly like the man his moniker represented.

Akutagawa noted he wasn't the only one suprised. Dazai himself seemed to have been completly caught off guard.

Akutugawa felt a bit of satisfaction at that, seeing the Man in Black's confusion at his subordinates anger aimed at him.

No, not anger.

Akutagawa had seen just a glimpse of Atsushi's anger. But it looked nothing like this. This was like watching fire itself burst to life.

He was livid.

"You know about the book?" Asked Dazai, trying to regain his composure. But even he couldn't mask the suprise in his voice. This wasn't what he expected at all.

And quite frankly it was jarring to see Atsushi like this. Atsushi who had only ever disobeyed him once, who was as meek as a kitten in his presence. Now glaring at him with the rage of a tiger.

If it wasn't directed at him, Dazai would've been quite proud.

"Of course I do! What, did your other self not tell you?! I'm it's fucking guide!" Asked Atsushi, eyes blazing.

Akutugawa looked at him confused but didn't ask. Probably because he didn't want Atsushi's wrath aimed at him.

See, Dazai had known.

It had just maybe not occurred to him that his Atsushi was aware of it. Apparently he had been very wrong about that. "And you didn't think to bring that up?" He asked, not bringing up his own mistake.

Atsushi of course saw right through him and looked unimpressed.

"Oh jee, maybe because you've never bought the book up, ever! How was I supposed to know you knew about it?!" Said Atsushi, the sarcasm in his voice practically tangible.

Well at least he'd stopped swearing at him. As much as Dazai would love to blame that on Chuuya's influence. He knew better. It was just rare for Atsushi to ever get this angry.

"I suppose you're right on that one. However, that doesn't answer why you're so angry at me Atsushi?" Sue him, Dazai was curious as to what he'd done to earn his mentees ire. Atsushi simply rolled his eyes, but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Atsushi" he said warningly, but Atsushi completly ignores it. He hisses, glaring at him once again. "No, no you don't get to Atsushi me. Punish me later if you wish and I'll take it.

But you don't get to dump all of this information on us and than try to swan dive off the fucking building."

His gaze was cold and piercing. But Dazai saw through his anger. He saw the saddness and the fear in Atsushi's eyes. And suddenly he felt like the biggest idiot around.

Of course, of course Atsushi was broken up about him trying to kill himself.

Atsushi cared about him, that much was obvious. Of course this whole thing had him rattled, it made Dazai soften at the realisation.

Atsushi took a deep breath, letting his anger fade.

"Dazai... Are you high?"

Nevermind, that softness vanished and was replaced with confusion. "High?" Repeated Dazai, confused. Why would Atsushi think he was high?

He hadn't come to work high before... Okay apart from that one time but still.

Atsushi nods, completly serious. "Now why would think think that?" Asked Dazai. "You're usually a lot more methodical than this. Your plans calculated and well thought out, so I can only assume you've taken some kind of substance." Explains Atsushi.

Dazai wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or complimented... Both, he settled on both. He ignored Akutugawa trying and failing to hide his laughter in his sleeve.

"Atsushi, I assure you I am sober." Says Dazai and Atsushi seemed to relax a little at that. Before the anger came rushing back. "Than what the fuck were you thinking?!" Yells Atsushi.

And the swearing was back.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing? The world isn't going to fucking cave in because more than 2 people know of the book.

If these threats are the ones you speak off, they fucking know. And they've known for a long time, the universe is fine." Atsushi rubs his head, like he's dealing with a misbehaving child and not the Port Mafia Boss.

"Akutugawa" Akutugawa turns to Atsushi, prepared to feel the wrath of the White Reaper. But Atsushi suprises him again by sighing softly.

"I apologise for the actions of my mentor. He means well but he doesn't think how his actions affect others. I know simple words will not fix the pain he's caused. I am sorry for hurting you on his behalf, I will talk to Gin. And once again I am so sorry."

Akutagawa nods slowly "you're right, words will not fix this. You can't apologise for something you're not responsible for. You were just following orders, I don't blame you, just your Boss. And... Thank you."

Atsushi nods, smiling and to his suprise Akutugawa gives a small smile back.

Atsushi notices Dazai starting to tip toeing away from them. He grabs the the back of his coat, stopping him. "Not so fast, I'm not done with you." Says Atsushi and Dazai huffs, much like a child.

"But Atsushi" he whines but his mentee merely stares at him, unwavering.

"I am not leaving the Port Mafia... You may have picked me simply to be your pawn, and that's fine with me. But this is my home, and I refuse to leave it. That is my choice." Says Atsushi, he's not looking at Dazai now.

Tears are in his eyes and Dazai feels himself soften again. He knows he's done wrong by Atsushi. He wasn't a kind man, that much was obvious. But he cared for Atsushi dearly.

He knows that he should tell the kid to leave. But he can't because he knows Atsushi. Knows Atsushi has been abandoned by everyone. It dawns on him that Atsushi was afraid he was abandoning him too.

Maybe he wasn't as sober as he thought he was. This wasn't usually something he'd miss. Or maybe it took being about to kill himself infront of Atsushi to realise that.

How did he get so lucky picking such a good kid.

Dazai wraps an arm around him. "I know, I'm sorry Atsushi." That suprises Atsushi, he didn't think he'd get an apology from Dazai ever.

"I don't appreciate you swearing at me" he smiles, voice gentle in a way to let Atsushi know he won't punish him for it. It's sweet seeing Atsushi duck his head sheepishly.

"But you are right. My plans will have to change. But I will keep you all informed." Atsushi nods "that's all I ask, Boss."

Akutugawa glares at Dazai but he also nods. He doesn't appreciate being roped into this, but he'll figure it out. The Agency won't leave him to fight this fight alone. And Akutugawa knows Atsushi will be a formidable ally.

Atsushi let's Dazai go and he straightens up. "Atsushi, escort the Agency members out the building. We can hold a joint meeting at some point to discuss this."

He looks at Akutugawa "because I'm sure you're going to tell them everything?"

It's rhetorical but Akutugawa nods anyway. Dazai sighs. "thought so. Ah well, I trust that Atsushi knows best." He pats Atsushi's head "I'll be waiting for you in the Archive area, given that's still intact."

Atsushi smiles "alright, I'll see you than. But you might want to get moving." Dazai tilts his head "hm? Why?"

The smile on Atsushi's face turns into a smirk. He pulls out his phone from inside his coat and shows it to Dazai. Who goes horribly pale seeing the ongoing call...

... To Chuuya.

"... Atsushi how long?" Asks Dazai, quietly. "The whole time. I got worried because you were acting off. So I called Chuuya ahead of time to listen in, just to make sure you were okay."

At that all the blood drains from Dazai's face. "... He heard everything didn't he?" Atsushi nods, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Yup, you might wanna move. He'll be here any second." He pats his bosses shoulder in mock sympathy.

Before taking Akutugawa's hand and running down stairs. They are barely down the stairs before a high pitched scream echos through the building.

"DAZAI!"

"He's on the roof, Chuuya." Calls out Atsushi, ignoring Dazai's loud hush. "Thanks kid! I owe you one!" Calls Chuuya, somehow managing to hear him over the chaos.

"Is he... Gonna be okay?" Asks Akutugawa, not that he cares for the wellbeing for the Man in Black.

But he is curious.

Atsushi chuckles "Oh he'll be fine, Chuuya won't kill him. Maybe?" He shrugs "ah well, let's go find your friends."

Oh yes, Atsushi was absolutely going to be a formidable ally.

#bsd beast #beast atsushi #beast akutagawa #beast dazai #beast chuuya #atsushi nakajima #dazai osamu #akutagawa ryuunosuke #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs beast #long post

[lover-222]

Shut Up and Love Me (Pablo Gavi)

...

"NO PABLO! it's done i'm sick and tired of you. you're always a jealous mess and always trying to control me. i can't help it if men look my way. i've told you many fucking times i love you and only you. i don't know why you can't believe me!!" y/n yelled, tears streamed down her face.

"BUT-I I CLEARLY SAW HE WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU AND YOU LET HIM Y/N!! YOURE MY GIRLFRIEND NOT THEIRS. YOU LET THEM FLIRT WITH YOU" gavi said as he furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"look gavi it's done it's fucking over. grow the fuck up, talk to me when you're done being a jealous overprotective asshole" she told him and got out of his car.

_____

at the barça vs atlético madrid game

the game was just 1 month after y/n and gavi's breakup. she was a mess, her eyes were puffy and hair was all over the place. she had been living in one of gavi's hoodies and a pair of sweatpants. although she decided to support the team and she wasn't going to let gavi have the satisfaction.

she was a strong woman, there are plenty of men who could treat her better than he did. another reason was pedri. he truly was like an older brother to her, she wanted to go support him. although he had also gone to her house to basically drag her to go and to motivate her.

"vamos hermana, tú ni le hagas caso al tío. vas a venir por mi y para verme jugar" pedri smiled at her while moving her arms. (c'mon sister, don't even pay attention to him, you're going to come for me and watch me play)

"pedri i don't even have a jersey that doesn't have his name on the back" she rolled her eyes.

"i came prepared don't worry look at this" he smiled at her as he pulled out a barça jersey with pedri's name and number. he played around and moved his hands as he showed her the jersey.

"pedrito what am i going to do without you" she laughed and grabbed it from from his hands.

"probably rot in this room alone" pedri laughed.

"cállate tonto" she laughed and went to get ready. (shut up dumbass)

"okay i'm ready pedrooooo!!!!" she yelled.

"i'm right here literally no need to yell y/n" he said playfully annoyed.

surprisingly y/n got ready on perfect timing since pedri had to be at camp nou like an hour before the game. on the ride there they listened to y/n's playlist which was filled with reggueton music. pedri liked to see her jam out and finally smile. after what happened with gavi, he felt like she lost herself.

best part by daniel caesar started playing. y/n's laugh died down and her smiled dropped. the clouds started to block the sun a bit, and it started to to drizzle outside.

"you got to be fucking kidding me" she sighed.

"what's wrong?" pedri looked at her.

"this is our song, fuck i hate him but at the same time i miss him so much" y/n said as her eyes got teary eyed.

*flashback*

'where you go i follow, no matter how far'

"are you sure? i really don't want you to leave just for me y/n" gavi said worried.

"mi amor i'll go to the end of the world with you" she replied.

she left mexico and moved to barcelona for him because she loved him. it took time for her to adjust to spain but it worked out somehow.

"not homesick yet mi vida?" the brown eyed boy asked.

"a little bit but you're my home pablo, i just need you by my side and i'll be perfectly fine. you make me feel at ease. all my worries go away when i'm with you" y/n looked up at him, he looked amazing in the golden sunlight.

*flashback over*

"i know he was the reason you moved here but you on your own accomplished many things. you finished university here and got a modeling job, your also making your own clothes" pedri cheered you up.

"yeah i just miss him, but you're right i'm a fucking badass without him" she smiled.

they pulled up to camp nou, they parked the car and went in. the stadium was starting to fill.

"bueno te veo después del partido nena ya sabes dónde ir" pedri said.(you know where to go, i'll see you after the game)

"si, suerte predrito anota muchos goles por mi" she laughed.

(yes, good luck pedrito score many goals for me)

pedri left and she went to the seats that were designated for the wives and family members of the team. there was a particular seat she sat in when she would come see gavi. although that seat was already taken, she was beautiful; she had short blonde hair and her make-up was flawless.

y/n sat down 3 seats away from her. as soon as she sat down the other girl notice her. her piercing green eyes looked into y/n brown eyes. they exchanged a friendly hi and hello.

once the game started y/n started cheering for pedri every time he had the ball or got near to scoring a goal. although something caugh her off guard when gavi scored a goal.

"eso mi amor !!!!!" the blonde girl yelled.

that's when she notice the blonde girl's jersey... 'gavi 6'.

gavi's pov

i knew i fucked up, messed up so bad. i got carried away with my overprotection. i need to learn how to control my anger and jealousy. i knew i fucked up, after the breakup i lost myself. i partied every chance i got, and over worked myself.

while clubbing, i met laura; she was there to somewhat relieve my pain. we started hooking up, drinking together, as well as going out. the thing was that i didn't love her as much as i loved y/n, i don't think i ever will love someone as her.

i really did want to get back with y/n but i dug a hole too deep with laura. now we're dating? but i know i'm using her as a rebound.

during the match i scored the first goal. i ran with my team to celebrate my goal and looked at the crowd. my eyes gazed through the designated area where the family members were. the spot where y/n always sat in was used by laura.

my smile left, she wasn't there. she was sitting down on her phone. not even paying attention to my goal. i want her back desperately bad.

he could see that joao felix got her attention. her gaze was strong and alluring. she looked at him as he fixed his sweaty hair and drank water during half time.

that's what sparked his jealousy once again. joao felix had the ball and i ran up to him as fast as i could and pushed him down. maybe i should control my anger issues? or not.

___

the game ended 3-1, gavi and pedri scored goals. they finally let the wife's and family come down to the field. gavi was a sweaty mess, it could've been because of the game or the jealousy that made his blood boil. pedri saw y/n coming down and approaching him.

"hermanitoo!! you did so good pedri that goal was majestic bro" she laughed then him.

"i know right!! i was kind of nervous for today's game though, i think it was because of your guys' breakup. although good thing it didn't affect my relationship with him in the field" pedri smiled.

"aye pero me presentas al joao no? se cae de bueno el tio ese " y/n playfully told pedri as she wiggled her eyebrows and looked at joao who was behind pedri.

 (introduce me to joao he's so hot)

"bueno vamos loca, ey pero si viste como te mataba con la mirada gavi cuando mirabas al otro tio?" he asked her.

 (okay fine crazy, he could've killed you with the way he was looking at you)

"siiii pero me hice la tonta y no vi a gavi, bueno ya presentame con joao andale pedriii. se me cupido porfa!!" y/n tugged on pedri's shoulder.

(yess, but i ignored him, cmon introduce me to joao cmon pedri. be my cupid please)

he laughed and ruffled her hair, although he did agree. pedri came up to joao felix and introduced y/n to him. y/n thought he was attractive, he did as well. he loved her smile and laugh. pedri left, joao and y/n were still talking and it seemed like they really did hit it off. although y/n felt someone staring at her. she noticed his figure standing by, his eyebrows were furrowed and a disgusted look was evident.

"he hates me doesn't he?" joao asked her and she shook her head.

"it's just because you're talking to me, he's the ex-boyfriend at the moment"

"aaaa makes more sense, it looks like he's still very into you. are ya'll gonna get back together?"

y/n sighed and looked at gavi, who was now trying to look interested in whatever laura was saying.

"maybe i don't know yet"

"well i'm here if you want to hang out or something as friends...until you make up your mind" he smiled at her.

they exchanged numbers and y/n left with pedri to dinner since he invited her. after dinner, pedri brought her back to her house. she took of her boots, skirt and pedri's jersey. she changed into some black biker shorts and a spain jersey. she proceeded to do her night time routine, taking of her makeup, washing her face, as well as taking off the clips in her hair.

*ding* text message

nene <3 : we need to talk.

y/n: pablo not now

nene <3 : too late i'm outside your house, please y/n just 5 minutes please mi amor

y/n: don't call me that pablo. i'm coming.

y/n looked at the messages, she looked at his contact name. nene, she didn't even change his contact name. she wanted to go outside and run into his arms, she wanted to hug him so tight that he'd run out of air. she missed him so dearly it was unreal. but no she had to be strong. there he was leaning on his car, he opened the door for her. she rolled her eyes but got in.

"go you have five minutes" she looked ahead, not even looking at him. if she did she would definitely tear down her walls.

"I know that i'm a jealous jerk y/n and i feel ashamed of it. all i wanted to do was to protect you, but i know that with my jealousy i overreacted and got ahead of things. i am truly sorry, you have no idea how much i regret having that argument with you. i miss you y/n, every night, every morning, every single day; i miss you. i know that i'm not worthy of your love, and if you don't want to take me back it's ok with me. you deserve someone way better than me, and who will treat you better" gavi said with tears in his eyes.

"what about laura?" she said.

"i broke up with her after the game, i was honest with her. she's someone i met while we were broken up. but i just want you y/n nobody else" he said

she finally got the courage to look him in the eyes. god she missed his chocolate brown eyes, they were puffy and red from crying. she looked at him and his beautiful complexion.

"promise?" she asked him with a smile.

"i promise, i'm done being a being a jealous overprotective asshole as you said" he laughed.

"c'mon let's go inside and cuddle" she said then gave him a desperate kiss.

"me gusta tu camisa" he laughed, she was wearing the jersey he wore in the world cup.

(i like your shirt)

she smiled at him "callate tonto, mejor dame un besito".

 (shut up dumbass and give me a kiss)

they spent their night cuddling and y/n making gavi do a face mask. gavi missed her like crazy, he held her tight and very close to his chest. her scent was sweet, he missed kissing her neck and playing with her hair. y/n traced small shapes on his naked chest, he always slept without a shirt; due to him getting hot when he sleeps. she loved his hands, so firm yet delicate at times. she played with his rings, and looked up at him. he was peaceful, his brown wavy hair fluffed up and swooped to the side, his eyes gleamed.

"le mandamos una foto a pedri???" she asked him and he nodded.

(should we send pedri a picture?)

text messages

y/n: mira quien regresoooo (look who's back)

hermanito: esoooo mis padres!!!!! (my parents !!!)

they both smiled and laughed at pedri, both of them were glad that they fixed their problem. she knew it would have been awkward if they had broken up indefinitely. they didn't want to put pedri in the middle. the couple slept peacefully in eachothers arms and finally got a good rest. both intoxicated with love and their scents.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n:

are ya'll liking my stories?

feedback is always welcomed!!

d <3

#football imagine #football oneshot #pablo gavi #gavi #gavi oneshot #gavi x reader #gavi imagine #gavi x yn #gavi x you #gavi fluff #gavi angst #gavi blurb #fc barca oneshot #fc barca #fc barcelona

[rainbowjellyfishsposts]

So I've been thinking of this story for a while now and decided to make it so before we start I just wanna say a few things

1.im new to writing stories, so if you have any advice please say it just don't be rude or a bitch about it

2. I type fast, so there may be spelling errors and most likely Grammer errors(my Grammer fucking sucks)

----‐----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DOUMA X CHILD READER

(Douma goes more insane and attempts to murder all of the upper moons, not including muzan)

Tw:child murder, attempted murder, insanity,violence, cussing, decapitation, mentions of child abandonment, douma gets jumped

It was the dead of winter, and douma was walking back to his cult after finishing his battle with a hashira. When he heard a noise coming from a bush, he decided to investigate it, and when he looked into it, he saw a child curled up into a ball with a mess hair, messed up outfit while crying.

Douma didn't know what came over him he felt an emotion come over him, was it sadness, pity, he didn't know what it was but the one thing he did know what he had to help this child

"Oh, you poor little thing... where are your parents?"

"T-they're back at the house something came in and attacked us so I ran away...i went back to the house and when I went inside blood was everywhere and my mom and dad wouldn't wake up "

Douma pats the child's head, "There there no need to cry ill take care of you and I'll make sure no harms come your way"

"You promise...?"

"Promise. Now, what is your name, little one?"

"Y/n..."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Y/n my name is Douma"

Months passed, and the bond between Y/n and Douma had gotten to the point where it was a father daughter relationship. Where every Y/n goes Douma is them and vice-versa. For the first time in Douma's life, he felt emotions and happy emotions. He didn't have to fake his smiles anymore they were all real. These were the best moments of his life. He had never felt so much happiness before in his life. He never wanted to lose his child. He wanted to be with his child for the rest of all of eternity.

"Y/N!, Y/N!, WHERE ARE YOU?...that's weird they usually come running to me when I call them"

*Douma gets teleported to the infinity castle*

"OH!, a meeting did one of us die?"

"No, now shut the fuck up douma"

"Meanie"

"HOW LOVELY IT IS TO SEE YOU ALL AGAIN, how long has it's been since we last say eachother?, 20 years?"

"I-its b-been 50 years, si-ir gyokko"

Before they could continue their conversation, muzan appeared, and the meeting started. They discussed (whatever you think they would discuss) once the meeting ended, muzan called Douma

"Douma"

"Yyeesss~"

"Listen to me and listen well, you may be upper moon 2, but as of right now and everything you have failed to do. You are nothing but a disappointment and a useless upper moon"

muzan lifts his hand, nakime plays her biwa, and in muzan's hand appeared Y/n's decapitated head

"So don't think you can go and do whatever you want"

Douma stood there in shock, trying to understand what he was looking at. Was this a dream it had to be a dream? There is no way that his child is dead. That's not their head. That's someone else's head. Tears slowly come out of Douma's eyes. his body realizes what he is looking at, but his mind is telling him otherwise. He felt a new emotion, but he didn't like this feeling at all he wanted to disappear to never come back.

"Y-y/n...."

Muzan drops y/n's head. Before it could splat on the floor, Douma runs and catches their head and cruls up into a ball while still holding their hand shaking

"Next time you do something like this, it will be your head"

Muzan leaves, and now it's just Douma holding his child's head while the rest of the upper moons, including nakime, just stare at him

"HA, IMAGINE TAKING CARE OF A PATHETIC HUMAN CHILD JUST HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE DOUMA"

"Daki, please"

"She's right, douma hasn't done anything properly his entire time being an upper moon-"

Before akaza could continue talking, multiple icicles come at akaza, pinning him against a wall they all look at douma, seeing him now standing up, still holding the child's head, his eyes red and puffing, tear staining his face, his eyes had nothing but rage and hated in them.

Douma walks to a conner, and he places y/n's head in the conner and makes an ice wall around their head. He whips out his fans, and he goes on a rampage attacking everyone. He knocked and terribly injured uppermoons 6-3, including nakime, who was trying her hardest to regenerate her limbs as Douma's ice had slowed her regeneration.

The only demon that was left was upper moon 1, Kokushibo.

"All this, just because of a human child"

"THAT HUMAN CHILD WAS MY CHILD, I TOOK CARE OF THEM, GAVE THEM A HOME, PLENTY OF FOOD, EVERYTHING THEY NEEDED. YOU WOULDNT UNDERSTAND THE PAIN IM FEELING AFTERALL YOU LEFT YOUR CHILDREN!"

The fight continued, and Douma was able to pin Kokushibo on the ground. Right when Douma was about to cut off Kokushibo's head but one of gyutaro's bloody sickles chopped of both of Douma's arms, then daki's belt was about to chop off Douma's head but he was able to dogde the attack, only to get attacked by the 4 hantengu clones at once, then his body was poisoned by gyokko's fishes making him unable to move, Kokushibo and Akaza both attacked Douma using their strongest attacks finally defeating the rampaging Douma and he was struggling to regenerate.

"AAAAAHHHH,FUCK YOU ALL, IF THOSE DAMN SLAYERS DONT KILL YOU ALL, THEN I WILL. ILL DRAG YOU ALL TO THE DEEPEST PART OF HELL"

"You'll be there long before we get there"

"I don't mind waiting for a few hundred years"

Douma opened his eyes, and his surroundings were dark. All pitch black, he looked down at his hands, he didn't see his long sharp fingernails and didn't feel any demonic power going through him. Before he could continue his thoughts, he felt something grab his leg.

"SIR DOUMA I FOUND YOU!"

"Y/N!"

Douma gives Y/n a hug while crying

"Sir Douma, I got so scared I was in my room playing when a man with black hair wearing a suit came in, and I've been here ever since....where are we did that man get you too?"

"There is no need to worry all that matters is that we are together and we will be together forever"

"Sir Douma, why is there fire over there?

"That's where we'll have to go. Are you ready, Y/n?"

Douma puts his hand out for Y/n to grab

"READY!"

Both Douma and Y/n walk towards the fire while Y/n was babbling about her day before the attack.

--------------‐-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I really do hope you all enjoyed this and again if you have any advice feel free to say just don't be a bitch or rude about

Have a great day/afternoon/night

#douma x reader #douma #kny x child reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #platonic #douma x y/n #douma x you #gn reader #kny angst #fluff?

[colibrie]

So @trilobitepunch had this GORGEOUS art for a crossover between Rottmnt and Star Wars (if you haven't seen it, then what are you reading this for?! Go check it out!). Being two nerds, we got to chatting, and here is a little piece of the results.

RISE OF THE TENNAGE MUTANT NINJA JEDI (working title)

1. Mikey and Leo

Someone was crying, yet everywhere he turned dark walls rose to block his path. Otherworldly shrieks and howls ricochet, pounding a cruel spike ever deeper into his brain until he could not move, see, or speak. Hot iron coated his tounge as the cry came again, as he blindly threw out an arm, reaching and groping in the dark for a faint spark of...

"Leo! Hey. Hey, Leo!"

The smell of paint and moss replaced the fetid oder of sewage and blood, dragging his mind from the mangled remains of its dream into the irritatingly soothing bounds of predawn reality.

"G'way Mikey," he groaned, burying his face in the sleeve of his sleep shirt.

"Nope! Today's the day baby!" His little brother cheered, sunny voice barely contained to a serviceable whisper as his fingers moved to tickle the back of Leo's vulnerable neck. "Get up lazy shell!

"Aren't you the one always after me to get more sleep?" Leo grumbled as he cringed, one baleful eye slitting open to glare at Mikey. Not that his ire seemed to matter to the younger terrapin as he bounced around their shared room, collecting their clothes and belts as well as a handful of Leo's preferred ration bars.

"Aren't you the one always ignoring me? Besides, it didn't look like you were having a particularly good time anyway."

Warm brown eyes peaked over one green shoulder as Leo slowly worked himself upright, softness in the words that followed wrapping carefully around his frayed nerves.

"Same one as usual?"

Leo nodded, keeping his head down as he accepted his shirt and pants.

"Still don't remember what it was about?"

He nodded again.

"Wanna talk about it anyway?"

"There's not much to say Mikey," he sighed, tugging at the hem of his shirt until it sat properly over his shell. "I'll be fine. I always am, right?"

"Yeah... but you know, if you ever do..."

"You'll be the first in line Dr. Feelings," Leo teased, playfully knocking his knuckles against his baby brother plastron before gently pushing him back so he could stand and fasten his pants. "Now what did you do with my jacket?"

"What did you do with dad's holocron?"

"What makes you think I have it?"

"Because I went to steal it before I woke you up and it was gone."

"Gasp! My own brother, a thief! Where could I have gone so wrong!" Leo warbled, hands flying to his face in a poignant display of heartbreak and shock.

The snort Mikey gave in reply, coupled with an eye roll he did not even attempt to hide suggested Leo's performance had once again gone unappreciated.

"Come on Lee, we're wasting time! Cough up the holocron, or no jacket!"

"Ugh. My talents are clearly wasted here," Leo mumbled, petulantly drawing out the moment by fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Leo..."

"Fine, fine. Behold Mr. Grumpy shell."

Leo reached out, deft fingers brushing the joint between Mikey's neck and carapace, a place that never failed to make his sensitive brother squirm and giggle like youngling. By the time Mikey looked again, the holocron sat innocently in Leo's palm, it's serene blue-white glow softly lighting the shadows of their little room.

"How do you do that?!" Mikey gaped, begrudgingly pulling Leo's coat and mask from beneath his bed when Leo simply smirked in reply.

"That, dearest Angelo, oh wise jedi master, is for me to know and you to figure out."

"Show off," Mikey huffed, plucking the cube from Leo's palm. "Finished getting dressed and meet me outside. We have training to do!"

#rottmnt #star wars #angst fairy writes #its not angsty yet but trust me #it's coming #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #jedi turtles

[enm-enthusiast]

The Exhibitionists' Club Ch. 7 - Sebastian Part 1

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Last chapter followed Sebastian's boyfriend Thomas entering a male arousal study for extra credit, and ended up being milked by his insanely hot anatomy professor, and now he confronts his lover with the possible desire to have sex with the older man...

Sebastian

"Wait...you mean professor, ass of a Greek God, Ethan?" I said in response to Thomas bursting into the dorm room and shouting about how much he wanted to fuck a professor on campus.

"...yes" he said, meekly.

His eyes looked downcast, like he was ashamed. My heart sunk in my own chest and beckoned him over to me. He closed the door behind him and practically jumped into my arms on his bed. As I caressed his soft, wavy black hair I worked out the words I wanted to say:

"Babe, your going to run into certain guys that you are extremely attracted to, its natural. Like, there's a few bros in my Frat I'd love to bend over but I know I can't not just because they're straight, but also because it'd complicate things too much" I said.

He looked up at me, those sweet and sad puppy dog eyes never failed to make my heart melt.

"I won't forbid it, but I do want you to be careful, okay? don't do anything to get yourself hurt or in trouble, you got it?" I said.

"Don't worry Seb, I have it all handled" he said, smiling so warmly I couldn't resist kissing him, his warm velvety lips inviting further exploration which caused a stir in my groin.

But....I had somewhere to be, I had to get back to the Frat house and clean up my room and study for the rest of the night before bed. So I reluctantly pulled away before I found myself pounding away inside him once again.

He had a slightly pouty look on his face as I got up, but I merely smiled in return and said "Don't give me that look mister, you were supposed to strip down as soon as you got home, remember? be glad I didn't spank you again as punishment" I finished and a deep blush flooded his cheeks.

"I'll let it slide this time, but next time that ass is getting both a pounding AND a spanking, and I don't think you want both in a row" I said, giving him a mischievous wink as I closed the door behind me and started down the stairs of Thomas' dorm building.

I didn't tell Thomas this, but I was having some problems with the Frat lately ever since I bested the president, a real prick named Eric at a strip wrestling match in the Rainbow Room. The whole thing happened because of pledge week where we had to do one dare no matter how bad it was, and the vide president had dared me to wrestle Eric but I got to choose the time, place, and rules.

Eric lost. Badly. He ended up naked before his entire frat, who made sure to take plenty of photos of their senior's humiliation. He had been so angry lately, he was pissing off everybody and by extension some people were avoiding me because I was the source of his ire.

I got the impression that many of the seniors and other officers had grown increasingly tired of Eric's antics, I felt they were waiting for the proverbial straw. Until then I did my best to avoid Eric when I could, even try to apologize for things going so far but to no avail and I got the distinct feeling that he was planning some sort of payback.

Thomas already had enough to worry about with all this medical study business (which I found kinda hot, in a way) that I didn't want him to worry about me, besides I could take care of myself.

I was completely lost in my own thoughts as I walked across campus towards the frat houses I passed by a few security patrols. I recognized a few since I had recently landed a position as a student assistant to help pay my college expenses. This time it was that cute, blonde twink named....Daniel? and a bigger, beefy muscle dad named Jack who filled out every inch of his uniform which never failed to make me drool.

I waved at them politely but moved on without speaking a word, I had precious little time left in the day. I began walking up the steps to my two-story frat house and to my surprise there was a lot of noise going on inside. I heard loud, angry shouts coming a male voice from the main living room and a few others shouted back in response.

I opened the door and walked in and suddenly I heard the words much more clearly:

"-should be here to defend himself, you have no right to just go through a brother's room without him present or reasonable suspicion of banned items" I heard the vice president James say, who was unusually a nerdy tall kid with glasses and short brown hair. He was the smartest guy here and everyone knew it, and if Eric wasn't your atypical "popular jock" he'd be president instead.

"I have every right if I have personally witnessed him smuggling banned items into said room, and because those items were indeed found in his room, he needs to be punished accordingly" Eric, I now realized, said.

I felt a slight sense of dread as I suspected who he was talking about and slowly entered the living room and all eyes turned to me, some in sympathy, others in indifference to Eric's latest bullshit. James was up in Eric's face, and the latter had a sinister smirk that grew wide upon seeing me enter.

"Ah, the guest of honor has arrived, tell us brother Sebastian, why did I find *these* in your room today?" Eric said and held up a bag of weed in his hand.

My blood boiled as I realized what he was doing, I was being set up! but I wasn't going down without a fight.

"What?! But I've never seen that before, did you find a lighter, a bong or anything I could use to smoke all that with?" I said, as a point of fact. Some of the guys turned to whisper with each other, they seemed split on the issue.

"It's not just me, I have witnesses who say they saw you bring this bag into your room, besides myself" Eric said, and smugly gestured towards another frat brother, a junior named Casey who was reputed to be one of Eric's rivals. He also pointed to another guy next to him, Henry who was another freshman, rather fresh-faced and right now he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else right now. I was starting to feel the same.

"Hold on Eric, first let's hear it from them personally before dealing out any punishments" James said, and gestured to the two guys to come forward. Eric seemed a little annoyed at James's interference but said nothing in response, letting the boys speak for him.

"Now, did you or did you not witness Sebastian smuggle this into his room?" James asked them both.

"We both did, he came home late one night after seeing that boytoy of his, me and Henry here saw him slip the bag inside his room, isn't that right, Henry?" Casey said.

I clenched my fist at the way he talked about Thomas, but instead I bore my eyes right into Henry's who could barely look back at me and flinched every time. He knew full well what he was supposed to say was a lie, I only hoped that his conscience was stronger than his fear of angering the frat president.

"y-....y-yes, we both saw him" Henry said, his eyes glued to the floor like he was a child being scolded by his parents.

"But...that's a lie! can't you see James? they're both up to something!" I yelled in my defense, my face red.

James looked at both of them for a few long moments, scrutinizing them and asked one final time if that was indeed what they saw and they both repeated their stories, word for word.

The vice president finally turned to me with a look of pity and sympathy, one that wished he could stop this but his hands were tied, and said "I'm sorry Sebastian, but in light of this...you need to be punished" he said and folded his arms in disgust.

"That's right James, and as Frat president it is up to me to determine what befits our brother's crimes" he said.

"Don't forget Eric, first punishments should be handed out lightly, don't do a repeat of last year or I swear I'll..."

"You'll what? Report me? I will count that as interference in the performance of my duties as president, and I'll be extending Sebastian's punishment to you if you do" He said, viciously.

"Fine Eric, have it your way, freshman clear out this is not something you'll want to see" James said, giving me one last look of sympathy and escorted the Freshman out. Some of the sophomores and juniors left too leaving just me, Eric, and a majority of the seniors.

"Alright Sebastian, as punishment for smuggling of banned substances your clothing privileges have been revoked for two weeks. Strip." Eric said.

My eyes widened and I couldn't help but laugh a little despite my rising anxiety.

"Excuse me? What the fuck do you mean 'clothing privileges'?" I said.

"You heard me Sebastian, when freshman are punished we take all of their clothes and force them to walk around the house naked except for when they leave, I won't say it again. Strip." he said, this time more forcefully.

I looked around the room and noticed that some of the seniors were circling me like vultures, Eric's little sycophants no doubt, ready to jump at his command if I disobeyed.

Realizing I was trapped, I reluctantly, and very slowly I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it up over my head, exposing my bare torso to everyone. A few of the seniors grabbed my nipples and twisted them, I slapped their hands away and felt heat flush in my face.

"I didn't say stop, drop your pants. Now. Or we do it for you." Eric said, stepping closer to me threateningly, along with his cronies.

I held my hands up before lowering them down to the hem of my pants and started unzipping them and to my embarrassment and shock...I realized my cock was beginning to stir within my boxer briefs!

I didn't stop but I felt a sudden feeling of humiliation as these guys might just be about to see my fully erect penis...I tried to ignore it but as I lowered my pants down my legs and stepping out of them I was sporting a very prominent bulge which I was quick to cover up.

Unfortunately, Eric noticed.

"What you hiding there Seb? or what are you...*not* hiding?" He said, chuckling derisively, his cronies mimicking him. He stepped closer to me, and we were face to face, my own expression was defiant despite the redness and when he said:

"Drop the undies." He said.

"Come on Eric, please don't make me do this" I said and Eric was about to call his brothers into action when I stepped in and slowly, every so slowly I slid my last garment down my legs. I felt my cock springing to life and my fully erect cock slapped against my stomach and was already leaking!

I stood back up, fully naked as the seniors gathered up my clothes and I attempted to cover myself but Eric was having none of it. "No no, keep your arms at your sides" he said but this time I wasn't having it.

"What the hell Eric? I'm not showing you guys my dick" I said.

"Awww, he's shy, let's help him come out of his shell you guys, grab him!" he said and on command I had two guys pounce on me, grabbing my arms and forcing them away from my crotch, exposing my erect penis as each of them held my arms behind my back. My dick was 7.5 inches long fully hard, cut, and was a caramel shade of tan that matched the rest of my body.

"Wow, he's not so little after all, we might need to change that" Eric said and I whipped my head towards him on confusion.

Suddenly he slapped my hard dick, and I groaned as he did it again, and again, and again. Tears stung the back of my eyes as my dick throbbed with pain and yet somehow was still leaking precum.

"Ha, not so mighty now, are you?" Eric said.

"He's crying like a little baby!" One of the seniors said.

"We should shave him smooth, make him into a little bitch boi" another said.

"Quiet you two, no, I got a better idea in mind for him" he said and nodded to one of the other seniors nearby who ran off to get something.

"What are you going to do?" I whimpered and my face was flooded with embarrassment and humiliation as I stood there naked and exposed in front of practically half of the entire frat! and if they kept to these rules I'd be showing myself off naked to them for two weeks...

"Just completing your punishment dear Sebastian, don't worry your pretty boy head about it" Eric said, ruffling my hair.

The other senior came back with a small bag and and reached inside, my eyes widened in horror as I saw him produce a cock cage from it and hand it to Eric and renewed struggling against the guys holding me, my cock deflating to the point it swung between my legs as I did so.

"Eric, come on this is going too far now, stop this" I said.

"No dear Seb, I decide when we stop, now then, Taylor!, Pierce!, shave his crotch so the cage will fit better" he said.

I felt my anxiety increase a hundredfold, my heart beat thunderously in my chest as the two guys on either side of me let go and walked to the front of me and each of them took out small electric razors from their pockets and didn't waste any time in shaving my crotch, already I could feel my man hair being forcefully taken from me.

I started to realize just how much this was planned in advance, I hadn't stood a chance the minute I walked in here tonight. Now here I was, stripped of all my clothes, and was being shaved of all my pubes.

Their razors cut through my bush like a hot knife through butter, I looked down in abject horror as they kept moving my dick to reach around my crotch, the stimulation was getting me hard again.

I wasn't especially hairy, but it still took them a minute to shave my bare crotch completely smooth, all the guys proceeded to practically point and laugh which just made my balls shrivel up and my face flooded with shame and embarrassment.

"Where's your man-hair? wow, what a loser!"

"His cock looks like a kid's cock, not like a real man's"

"If he didn't have such a big dick, it WOULD be a kids cock!"

I heard guys shout from all over, and Eric picked up on that last one and said "Don't worry guys, time to shrink him down to size, this cock cage here is specially designed to absolutely restrict blood flow to your dick while allowing you to piss freely without getting it dirty."

"And just how long are you making me wear this thing?" I asked.

A bunch of the guys started shouting off random different lengths of time. Eric ignored them all until they quieted down and said "I think....a month ought to teach you to learn your lesson" he said.

"Eric...you can't do this!" I said in protest but no matter how much I struggled I couldn't stop him as I felt Eric grab my dick and begin to wrap the cage around my cock. I had gone soft again and before it had a chance to get hard, he fit the cage right onto my manhood and proceeded to lock it with a key that he wrapped around his neck.

I looked down and saw the cage was small, round and made of metal and like Eric said put pressure on the base of my shaft which prevented any sort of blood flow. My face flooded with red once more, as well as anger, but the guys finally let me go and I fell on the floor in surprise.

The guys all began filing out, some of them muttering 'loser' and 'bitch' under their breaths, and maybe they were right, Eric had won. Here I lay, my clothes and dignity stripped away from me, Eric gave me one last look of triumph before leaving me there, completely humiliated, and I was left to stew in my shame.

I slowly got up and tried to make it up to my room, as soon as I reached the 2nd floor I heard a voice behind me say "Seb, over here" and I turned to see James come out from behind a corner at the top of the stairs.

"Please James, I just want to go to bed before anyone else sees" I said and James gave me a flat look in response.

"Show me" he said.

I guess there was no point in trying to hide it, soon enough I would be the laughingstock of the entire frat, so I moved my hands away from my crotch.

"Wow, that son of a bitch really did it again" he said, chuckling angrily.

"Wait, what do you mean *again*?" I said.

"Eric did almost the same thing last year to a sophomore who embarrassed him, no one dared contradict his blatant manipulation of the house rules, but I couldn't do anything about it then, I thought as vice president I could...but its still the same now" James said, sadly.

"He is *not* getting away with this" I said, baring my teeth.

"I never said he would, but I realize I can't do it alone now, I'm going to need your help" he said, smiling slightly.

"Help with what?" I asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but somehow Eric needs to be dealt with, play along for now until I can come up with something more, stay low if you can, but...I'm sorry I couldn't do more" he said, before finally walking away.

I walked the rest of the way to my room in silence, I decided I needed to trust James, he seemed decent enough and right now anything seemed better than Eric. I opened the door and my faint glimmer of hope was gone as I found my room stripped bare of any clothing, my cock cage clinked as I took the first step inside and just sat on my bed.

I looked down and the humiliation returned as I felt my smooth crotch and poked at the cage, I only hoped Eric would be satisfied by this, I just had to make it through the next two weeks and I'd get my clothes back at least.

I opened my phone, which Eric's cronies had left behind along with my wallet, and saw my text chat bubble with Thomas and thought about calling him, telling him what happened but right now I just needed to sleep. But as fitful sleep came, finally, I swore to myself that Eric would regret the day he messed with me, and by the time I was done with him he'll be remembered as the president who lost his frat.

End of Chapter Six.

Author's Note: Uh oh! the tables have turned on Seb at last as he finds himself at the mercy of Eric and his cronies, find out what else is in store for poor Sebastian as he faces the two most humiliating weeks of his life.

Keep an eye on the current timeline I have setup which you can see on my recent Tumblr posts, and in the meantime please enjoy this latest installment, and have a great week!

#enm #cmnm #enm stripped humiliation #stripped #enm story

[spanishskulduggery]

Can you clarify/explain reflexive verbs vs base forms? Ex: yo duermo vs me duermo. I think it's basically I sleep vs I go to sleep, maybe? But for other reflexive verbs especially I don't understand the difference

It's a little difficult because dormirse is one of the weird reflexives

In general, the reflexive ending -se to an infinitive just means that the action can be done to oneself; the subject and object are the same

As an example: lavar "to wash" can be done with laundry, the floor, pets, children... etc. but then you have lavarse which is "to wash oneself", as in lavarse las manos "to wash one's own hands"

[lit. "I wash myself the hands"; body parts rarely have possessive adjectives like "my" if it's obvious whose body parts they are, similar to me duele la garganta "my throat hurts" or literally "the throat hurts me"]

Many verbs can be reflexive this way, like hablarse "to talk to oneself"... or they can be reciprocal which just means that two or more subjects do something to one another like conocerse "to meet one another" or "to get to know one another"

Sometimes verbs can be either plain reflexive or reciprocal depending on context; casarse can be "to get married" as in one person, or casarse as "for two people to get married to each other"

With other reflexives you sometimes stumble across weird ones. You can usually tell something is up when it doesn't make sense in the traditional reflexive sense - where "oneself" doesn't make sense

In your case, dormir is "to sleep" and dormirse is "to fall asleep" or "to go to sleep"

It gets a little more confusing than this with reflexives. I'll try to be comprehensive and clear, but just know that reflexives opens up to a whole lot of grammatical concepts that are weird and confusing and VERY advanced - I'm talking advanced in a way that native speakers don't often know how to explain, it's just the way things are and what sounds right

-

The reflexive here is a special kind of reflexive where it adds a little something to it; sometimes the difference seems minimal to non-native speakers [like comerse with food is MUCH more common than regular comer; like me como la pizza is "I eat the pizza" and is much more common]

Other times you get an entirely new expression... like acordar is "to come to an agreement" while acordarse is "to remember"

And sometimes the difference is very subtle but significant like dormirse, or something like olvidarse "to forget" being a little more common than regular olvidar

The exact reasoning depends on the actual verb, sometimes it's a more passive expression (like romperse is "to break down" where it's implied "on one's own" rather than actually breaking something which feels purposeful)

And other times it's like dormirse where the meaning seems to be subtly different. When I explain it to people I try to tell them to think of verbs that change meaning depending on prepositions or additional words... like caer is "to fall", but caerse can either be "to fall down" or it can be "to fall out" as in teeth or hair etc.

A few common ones to keep in mind:

ir = to go irse = to go away

dormir = to sleep dormirse = to fall asleep, to go to sleep [can also be "to go numb" the same way you might say "my leg fell asleep"]

morir = to die morirse = to pass away (suddenly or it impacts you emotionally)

acabar = to finish acabarse = to run out, to be depleted

romper = to break [active] romperse = to break [passive], to break down, to break on its own

encontrar = to find encontrarse = to feel [like ¿te encuentras bien? is "are you (feeling) okay?"]

creer = to believe creerse = to believe (usually without evidence)

parecer = to seem parecerse (a) = to look like, to resemble

acordar = to come to an agreement acordarse (de) = to remember

fijar = to affix, to put in place fijarse = to stare at, to look at

imaginar = to imagine (as in to use one's imagination or to think) imaginarse = to imagine, to put oneself in a situation

preguntar = to ask preguntarse = to wonder, to consider, to contemplate

olvidar = to forget [feels active] olivdarse (de) = to forget, to slip one's mind [feels passive]

pasar = to pass / to spend pasarse = to overindulge / to be out of line / to exceed, to outdo

caer = to fall caerse = to fall down, to fall out

concentrar = to gather / to pool, to pool together, to accumulate concentrarse = to concentrate, to focus, to pay attention

dar = to give darse cuenta = to realize, to come to an understanding

quedar = to remain, to be left quedarse = to stay behind [as in quedarse en casa "to stay home"]

hundir = to drive into, to plunge, to sink hundirse = to sink down, to sink (boats)

ahogar = to smother / to stifle / to overwhelm ahogarse = to drown, to suffocate

despedir = to expel, to emit / to get rid of / to fire someone despedirse (de alguien) = to say goodbye, to say one's goodbyes

You are also going to want to be aware what's called los verbos de cambio or "verbs of change". These are verbs that mean "to become", and they're reflexive and used in different situations:

convertirse en = to become, to be converted to

transformarse en = to transform into

ponerse = to become (emotions) [as in ponerse triste "to get sad", ponerse enojado/a "to get angry", there's ponerse rojo/a which could be "to blush" or "to get red"... these are understood as very temporary and usually emotions]

volverse = to become, to turn (drastic) [most common is volverse loco/a "to go crazy" or "to go mad"; if volverse is being used as "to become" it's usually very drastic and unexpected]

quedarse = to become, to be struck + physical condition [as in quedarse de piedra "to be stunned" which is literally "turned to stone", or quedarse mudo/a "to be struck silent/dumb/mute", or quedarse ciego/a "to be blinded", quedarse sordo/a "to be struck deaf", or quedarse paralizado/a "to be paralyzed"... also used as quedarse embarazada sometimes as "to get knocked up" or "to become pregnant", and there's an expression quedarse de brazos cruzados which is understood as "to stand around doing nothing" but literally "to stay behind/be left with arms crossed"]

hacerse = to become (with effort) [most understood as "to make oneself" - this is used for something you achieve with personal effort often times; hacerse rico/a "to get rich", hacerse famoso/a "to become famous"... it's also often used for dietary restrictions or religious conversions; hacerse vegetariano/a "to become a vegetarian" or hacerse budista "to become Buddhist" as an example; it's also sometimes used for vocations or something you study and work at for a long time or with a vow like hacerse monja "to become a nun"... while not 100% the most common expression it expresses a devotion and work ethic rather than just expressions that use ser as "to be/become" with professions]

Be especially wary of ponerse because it honestly has so many additional meanings: ponerse la ropa is "to put on clothes", ponerse el sol is "for the sun to set", ponerse could be "to become", or an expression like ponerse las pilas is "to get your act together" or "to get yourself in gear" but literally it's "to put one's batteries in"

There are also some verbs that are just more commonly reflexive for your purposes... like concentrarse, or a verb like graduarse "to graduate" where simple graduar is "to calibrate", a couple others are jubilarse "to retire" or something like desahogarse which is "to vent" [lit. "to un-drown oneself"; in the sense of "get off one's chest" to make them feel better]

-

Addendum: I do have to mention that reflexive endings get used for many things so it is sometimes weirder and more complicated and no one explains why; the umbrella term is "pronomial" which includes the reflexives, but it just means any time you see a reflexive ending but it might not fit the typical "to onself" definition

And, the weirdest one of all is se which you might think is reflexive but it also might not be

There are going to be times you see a se that isn't reflexive; sometimes it's passive, sometimes it's impersonal, sometimes it's taking the place of le or les in a sentence with indirect and direct objects

Really, se is the weirdest one and I only mention it because you're going to be confused by se many times; it's just versatile

In general, a se refers to a 3rd person something and it gets used in descriptions of 3rd person unspecified, or to mean "itself" or "oneself" in some cases. There's almost always a 3rd person-ness to se where something is happening but it might not be a "thing" so much as it happening "on its own", if that makes sense

I know, it's weird, I'm sorry

#Spanish #language learning #langblr #language #learning spanish #la gramatica #vocabulario #verbos #reflexivos #asks #long post

[cloudinterlude]

I don't understand how people can watch Steve's trilogy (mainly CATFA) and come to the conclusion that he's an "angry chihuahua" that is actively picking fights with the first person who looks at him wrong. Where did people get this impression? Steve's a lot less confrontational than he's portrayed by fandom. He's not bucking at any and everyone, especially if he's the sole target of someone's insults.

What we do see is how defensive he gets if there's someone behind him who could use defending. A lot of people like to use the theater scene in CATFA to say that Steve was picking a fight, but that's not what I got from that at all lmao? A woman was crying, that guy was being very disruptive and Steve asked him politely enough to cut it out the first time and then he got more snappy with it which caused the guy to pick a fight with him. Steve didn't back down from it, is all.

When Steve was being teased in the army, he didn't even cause a scene. He grit his teeth and finished his task. Because he was the primary target of their ire. And he's good enough at brushing off insults directed at him. He kind of has to be, growing up the way he did.

Then people bring up the TonySteve helicarrier scene and I already have a few posts on that but it comes down to: scepter, tesseract angst, Tony needled Steve first earlier, general defrosting whump, ect. I'll link back specific post where I draw it out if I can find them.

Point is, Steve is not....well, a fucking trigger happy jerk ready to jump down random people's throats. Sorry if this info is new and disturbing to you 😱 The things he objects to throughout the MCU aren't driven by a need to simply argue - he disagrees with things that conflict with his moral compass. It's that simple.

I don't know what else to add without rambling. I can elaborate on some things, so if you want clarification or anything, feel free to ask ♡

#steve rogers #steve my beloved #everything special #mcu #catfa #pro steve rogers #steve rogers defense squad #finally released this draft into the wild

[strwberri-milk]

May I request kaeya x reader enemies to lovers? Or it can be academic rivals to lovers. I’m such a sucker for those tropes!

since i just did academic rivals i'll tackle the enemies to lovers!! its definitely. such a big favourite trope of mine!!

Kaeya didn't really hate you. It's more that he thought you were a little annoying, and he didn't see the point in employing your help. He felt that he did a fine job being the main source of intelligence, but clearly, that didn't exactly ring true for everyone.

Enter you. Unfortunately for him, Jean said your information network was just as vast, but in opposite directions of him. That means you were able to get knowledge on some things faster than he could, but it also means he could beat you in some regards.

You were sure you could at least have a friendly relationship with Kaeya. He seemed nice after all and a lot of people talk about how he's a very good captain who takes care of his team. Your dreams were shot into the dirt when he blew you off on your first day of work, telling you to go help somebody else because he didn't need it.

You were pretty turned off by him at that point, unsure what you did to gain his ire right off the bat. You were thankful you were given your own office opposite the hall from his. The two of you were close enough that it wouldn't be a pain to talk to him, but far away enough that you wouldn't have to know that he was just right there on the other side of the wall.

The two of you did your best to keep things cordial, never fighting in front of Jean to avoid her forcing the two of you together to make up to each other. Everyone knew you two were fighting, but nobody knew why.

You took it upon yourself to work twice as hard, gaining the respect of everyone around you much to Kaeya's disappointment. He wants to see that smug look on your face go away as you concede that he's the better between the two of you. He's going to make sure of it.

When the two of you were forced to work together on a longer expedition you two both sucked it up. As long as the job was finished everything would be fine, or at least that's what you thought.

Kaeya, for whatever reason found himself warming up to you a little, or at least to your tenacity. Once it was clear to him you weren't leaving any time soon, he decided it would be fun to start messing with you just a bit on the trip.

"This is why I told you I would do the booking," he sighs, running his hand through his hair as the two of you stare at the single bed.

It wasn't even big enough for two people, making you start looking around for an alternative way to sleep. Kaeya just puts his bags down on the ground and starts undressing for bed.

"Wow thanks for giving me the bed I appreciate it so much!" you say under your breath with a whine, meant to mock him. His sharp ears hear it and he frowns, deciding to keep it to himself for now.

You don't know what to think when you find yourself waking up on the mattress. You were so glad to be having a good sleep, cuddled up into the pillows and blankets that you forgot that Kaeya took the bed and left you on the ground.

When you looked down, you saw the sleeping bag you packed for yourself had already been wrapped up and put away with great care. There was even a plate of breakfast waiting for you on the nightstand, Kaeya's elegant writing mocking you as it called you a sleepy head. You put the card down with an amused scoff, deciding to hold it in until the trip ended.

The entire trip was like this though. He spent his time disparaging you, and then did kind things as though he didn't spend the day teasing you. You were getting sick of it, knowing that his niceties were just him trying to placate you because he knew he was wrong for treating you badly.

Or at least what's what you thought.

"Archons, could you stop being so irritating?" Kaeya says for that feels like the nth time, making you roll your eyes.

"At least I'm consistent. Where do you get off on, being so nice to me just to berate me in the day?" you complain, glad that you were beginning to see the wall of Mondstat.

"I just wanted to keep my junior on their toes. Is that so evil?"

The smile in his smirk feels far too smug and you just shake your head, deciding to ignore him for now.

"You're a strange man. I don't know why everyone likes you so much."

"They like me for a reason. You clearly have chosen no reason to hate me."

At this you turn to him sharply, glaring him down.

"That's unfair of you to say! I tried to play nice with you on the first day, and yet you're the one who's been keeping me at a distance for no reason! Do you seriously think that's fair of you! You know what - I don't have time for this right now."

You storm off to the gates, wanting to get home and take a shower right away. Kaeya just watches you, amused as he plans out his next little prank on you.

You looked absolutely adorable mad at him after all.

#kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact x reader

[birgittesilverbae]

In babea au who took the “first step” in the bealil relationship? Or was it more like both of them taking tiny steps towards each other and suddenly it’s a thing?

Bea's fifteen and long and lanky with it, still not quite grown into the fresh gangliness of her limbs. She's sprawled on the chapel roof having finished a workout and waiting for Mary and Shannon to get back from the train station so they can head over to the apartment.

Shannon had explained something about it the night previous, about new recruits and training classes, but she'd done so in between making the sappiest faces at Mary and so Bea had diverted her attention to literally anything else instead.

The girls who pile out of the van into the courtyard below are younger than she'd expected, some of them probably closer in age to her than to Mary and Shannon. It makes sense, she supposes, seeing as both of them had still been in their teens when they'd taken Bea in. It's always a bit of a shock for her to remember that. They'd seemed so grown up at the time. It's only been lately that she's realized just how far out of their depth they must have been. Just how far out of their depth they probably still are.

Shannon slides from the driver's seat as the girls begin to unload bags from the back of the van, and her eyes find Bea in an instant. She jerks her head and Bea nods, raises a finger. Just a minute.

She plots her course across the rooftops, scouts the drainpipe she'd re-secured to the wall in the dead of night a few weeks back when Mary had been on assignment. Flows across the tiles, lands on soft feet as she launches herself from roof to wall to trellis to drainpipe, as she arrests her drop between two weapons sheds with hands and feet pressed flat against the walls.

Shannon's shaking her head when Bea arrives at her side. "I wish you'd stop doing that," she murmurs, but there's no real ire to it. She slings an arm around Bea's shoulders and Bea leans into her side.

"New recruits?"

Shannon nods. "Five of them. Most are just a few years older than you. Do you want me to introduce you?"

Now that Bea's on their level, they don't look quite as small as they had from above, don't look quite as young, faces hard as they take in their surroundings. One of them catches her eye and an already thin mouth presses tighter, pulls down into a scowl.

"Not today," she mutters, the wind taken out of her sails by that single look.

Shannon sighs, but nods all the same. "Okay, not today," she agrees. "But soon, Bea, alright? Who knows, you might make some really good friends."

//

Beatrice has the day marked on her calendar for months, counting down to it with all the relentlessness of a ticking time bomb. She reels off the countdown every do often at the dinner table, but it's never "forty days until I turn sixteen". It's always "forty days until I get to fight."

"Did we fuck this up?" Mary asks, face pressed to the centre of Shannon's back as they drift towards sleep. (One week, Bea had announced earlier over their Saturday night sushi, bruised fingers gesturing pointedly with her chopsticks.)

"Hmm?"

"Did we make her want it more by not allowing her to have it?"

Shannon rolls over, tugs Mary's arm back over her hip before raising her hand to cradle Mary's jaw. "I think the only way we went wrong was thinking this outcome wouldn't be inevitable," she murmurs, thumb drifting over the curve of Mary's cheekbone. "And we did the best we could with that, but she's been watching sixteen year old after sixteen year old be allowed to make the choice to join the OCS. If we tried to keep that choice from her, I don't know that she'd ever forgive us."

Mary grimaces. "I don't know that I'll ever forgive myself for not getting her as far away from here as possible when I still had the chance."

"You know that was never an option."

"I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it." She tips her head forward, presses her forehead to Shannon's. "Can you say something to Anna about it? Get her to talk to Bea? The cons of the decision might have more sway coming from the Halo Bearer than from us."

Shannon's jaw hardens and she shakes her head. "Anna and Suzanne and Vincent have all been almost more excited for Bea to join than Bea has. You have to have seen the way they look at her. They all but earmarked her for the Halo the moment we let her start hanging around the Cradle." She dips forward to kiss the bridge of Mary's nose. "If it's any consolation, I think Lilith has superseded her in the Bearer queue."

Mary cracks a tiny smile. "Yes, nepotism." Her hand tightens on Shannon's hip. "Wish she'd supersede you, too."

"Mary, you don't mean that."

"I really, really do. Better her than Beatrice. Better her than you."

Shannon's brows pinch together, and she shakes her head. "Mary," she says as gently as she can manage, "this is what I've been trained for. It's what I've worked towards for a decade. There's nothing that can stop it now."

"We could go. The three of us. We could go and run and not look back." There's a sharp edge of desperation to her voice.

Shannon shakes her head. "We can't. You know we can't."

"A girl can dream."

//

Bea's sixteenth birthday finds her bruised and bloodied and grinning through it all. She's been called to the mat again and again, thrown against Sister Warrior after Sister Warrior like a sword whose edge is being tested. Every move is practiced perfection, and she holds her own even against sisters who have a handful of inches and tens of kilos on her, doesn't buckle when faced with overwhelming force. Loses, yes, but there's no shame in it, and the hands that pull her to her feet, that give camaraderie-steeped slaps to her shoulders, buoy her up.

It's late in the afternoon when Lilith steps onto the mat, an arrogant ease to her walk. Beatrice readies herself, steadies her hands, but is caught out by the fierce glint in Lilith's eyes, the sharpness of her grin. She finds herself laid gently on her back within three moves, not entirely sure what had happened. Her heartbeat screams in her ears as Lilith smirks down at her, one hand still clasping her wrist as she leans in close enough that only Beatrice can catch the murmured "you really ought to work on that."

//

Bea's annoyed with it, the ease with which Lilith had unhanded her, had laid her flat. Her only thought to rectify it is to fight Lilith again and again and again until she figures out exactly why she'd been so easily undone. Every day after school she does her 5K up to the Cradle, and every day that Lilith's around she faces off against her.

There's no improvement. She gets past the smirk and gets hooked by the warmth of Lilith's skin on her wrists, by the ocean breeze scent of her pulse point, by the grounding weight of Lilith atop her after a particularly embarrassing flip.

Lilith takes to that particular disarmament, sits astride her hips and picks idly at her nails with a knife or pins Bea's hands above her head when she tries to free herself, or, in one memorable and horrific incident, pressing a hand over Bea's mouth to hold her down as she answered a call from Shannon. Lilith takes to that particular disarmament again and again, until the day her leg unintentionally slips between Bea's at the movement. Until the muscle of her quad presses up into the apex of Bea's thighs and Bea's hips jump at the contact. Until Bea's mouth makes the worst sound it's ever made against her will, a low needy keen that stains her face bright red when she realizes it had been produced by her own vocal cords.

Lilith snaps away from her in an instant and it's the first time Bea's ever seen her on the back foot. She stumbles back, gestures abruptly towards the chapel, mutters a series of aborted apologies before she all but turns tail and flees.

Bea drops her head back to the mat, drapes an arm across her eyes, and berates herself for her own blindness.

//

Lilith avoids her. Stops sitting with her and Shannon on those rare occasions that Mary's away and they take their meals in the refectory. Stops smirking at her in passing. Stops suggesting sparring matches. Bea bristles at it but doesn't push, says yes to the classmate who asks her out for ice cream after school.

Lilith goes on her first real mission, Shannon and Mary at her side, and Bea lapses into her waiting pattern, working herself to fatigue before hitting the showers. She's drying her hair when they return, when Lilith stumbles into the changing room looking vaguely haunted. Bea boosts herself up onto the sink counter and watches Lilith move, purposeless and adrift.

"How was it?"

Lilith must not have realized she was there, the way she jumps at her voice. She moves towards Bea as though drawn to her, shakes her head, can't find her words. She's still in her combat gear, and when she comes to a halt in front of Bea she hooks her fingers through the straps of Lilith's kevlar vest and tugs her closer.

Lilith makes a noise in the back of her throat that destroys every shred of Bea's self-restraint, haunted and scared and wanting, and Beatrice tugs her into the cradle of her thighs and dips her head to swallow the sounds whole.

#ask #loveshroom #babea au #myfic #mywn #warrior nun #beatrice x lilith

[s-brant]

Super 8

When the hit gets moved up to the end of the week, Harry and Y/N have little time left to sort out their issues. With the added pressure of the time constraint and the possibility of death on the horizon, their relationship becomes more serious than either of them expected. (or hitman!h part seven)

21k (18+)

Warnings: smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), penetrative sex, role-playing, daddy kink, strong language, referenced torture, referenced violence/murder/threats of murder, referenced drink-spiking, referenced past self harm, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

-

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Y/N immediately turns to the side in hopes that her wig, as well as her dripping makeup, will conceal her identity from Zayn as he interrogates Harry for his presence here. The rain beats down on them hard enough for every drop to hurt where it meets her skin, and she can feel the synthetic hair of her wig starting to stick to the sides of her face, drenched from it. Thankfully, the coat they stole from the club keeps her shielded from the full brunt of the cold that threatens to freeze her.

He's having none of it, though, he marches right up to them and holds out his hand in her direction, saying, "You think I don't recognize her? We've been working together for almost two months, Harry, I'm not stupid!" He doesn't dare put his hand on the gun they both know is stowed away in the waistband of his jeans, but he does speak to him with an ire few people ever get away with. "Don't make me ask again. What the fuck are you two doing here?"

She's already reaching to hold Harry back by his arm, both of her hands wrapping around the forearm reaching for the gun on his hip, but he shakes her off. Before her or Zayn can react, he has the gun pulled out of its holster and aimed point-blank at the center of his friend's head.

Zayn's shrieking voice overpowers the sound of the rain pummeling the pavement, "What the fuck—"

"Get in the car," Harry says. He doesn't yell or put his hand on the trigger. Everything that leaves his mouth is calm and collected, which scares Zayn more than it would if he were loud or emotional about it. He doesn't say anything else except, "I'll tell you why we're here, just get in the car."

As if she'll do anything to stop him, Zayn looks over at her in a silent plea for help, but all she does is cross her arms over her chest and tilt her head toward the car. The hand he shoved the keys into grapples with them for a second before the sound of the car unlocking indicates she found the right button on the remote.

She says, "You heard him."

With a gun pointed at his head by a man he knows has no qualms about firing it, he sees no other choice but to comply. He mutters, "Fucking unbelievable," under his breath and turns to open the passenger's side door only to be interrupted by Harry making a "tsk" sound with his mouth. The gun still being aimed at his head is gestured to the backseat.

"The lady gets shotgun, you get the backseat."

What he doesn't have to tell her is that not only does he reserve the front seat for her out of respect, but he also does it in order to keep him from being able to jump out of the backseat while they're en route to wherever it is he plans on taking them. It's hard for her to refrain from smiling at him, from walking over and planting a kiss on his cheek for being so quick-witted. If Zayn sits in the back, he can keep him there with the child lock settings on the doors.

They both wait until he's locked in to get inside the car themselves, but, when they do, they remain utterly silent. They don't give him anything to go off of without being in a place far away from the lounge Leo and Ryan are currently at.

As the car's engine turns over and Harry pulls out of the parking spot, Zayn finally caves and speaks up.

"I'm his escort there tonight. If he comes back and sees I'm not there, he'll lose his shit."

She asks, "Well, what time did he say he'd be finished?"

There's a long pause following this that she takes as a promising sign. In the rearview mirror, the couple watches him and allows him to stew in the uncomfortable silence until he can't stand it any longer.

He sighs.

"One."

It couldn't be much later than it was when she checked the digital clock in the dressing room twenty-ish minutes ago, but she checks anyway to confirm they have a large enough time window to pull off the plan he likely concocting at this very moment. That gives them two and a half hours.

Without looking away from the road, Harry sets his gun down on her lap and says, "We have plenty of time.

-

Joe's Diner is, quite possibly, Y/N's favorite restaurant in the world.

Its food isn't anything special, nor are the milkshakes, lazy wait staff, and bathrooms that appear to have not been cleaned thoroughly since the early 2000s, but what makes it her favorite place are the memories attached to it. She first came here with her family, as a young girl, when they were visiting the city for Mardi Gras. Her dad thought it was a charming little place to stop by for lunch and, seeing that she and Peter, who'd been a mere nine years old at the time, were tugging on their parents' pant legs and moaning about how starving they were, it was the closest option.

Then, after her dad's funeral, while their mom was locked in her room crying herself to sleep, Peter drove her and Alanis down here for dinner and promised them he'd take their minds off of what happened for the rest of the night. They walked all around the French Quarter together after, and they weren't happy but they were okay. For the few hours they spent here, walking in a line and swinging their interlaced hands between them to the sound of jazz musicians playing their instruments on the street, the world felt less heavy.

Once her family dwindled down to her and Alanis after everything with her mom, Peter, and having to sell the house to afford to move to the city where she could find work fixing up cars, they'd go as many times as they could afford to. It seems fitting, she thinks, that this is the place he would take them for the conversation they have to have with Zayn

Harry sits on the same side of the booth as her, one hand resting on her thigh beneath the table where no one else can see, and Zayn sits opposite to them with a strange mixture of fear and aggression shown on his face. The waitress took their food orders seconds ago and, as she walks off, he stares at them.

"So?" he asks.

She shrugs and turns her gaze to Harry expectantly.

All he does is lean back against the booth seat and reach for the coffee pot the kind lady tending to them placed on the table. He told her they'd need quite a few cups, so she took it upon herself to leave the pot behind with them. It's not like there are any other customers in here right now. Y/N may not be fond of coffee herself, but between the two men accompanying her, she has no doubt they'll do some damage to it. It spills over the lip of the cup and forms a ring around the bottom of it when he pours it, but he doesn't make any move to clean it for now.

Unlike her, it's difficult for Zayn to read him behind the front he puts on to conceal the truth. He tries to gather something, anything, from the way Harry stares as he fills his cup with the steaming liquid, but he reveals nothing. She knows that it'll remain that way until he gives them proof that they can take him at his word and trust that he won't go running off to Leo the second they part ways. That is if they part ways.

Zayn may be his coworker and a loyal companion over the past decade, but if it comes down to it, he chooses her. Every single time, in every universe, he chooses her. He's gone through too much by her side and done too many things in the name of his worship for her to stop here. That's not to say he wouldn't mourn the loss of his closest coworker, he would, but he could make himself do it if he had to. If it was what it took to protect what's his.

"Perez is an FBI agent," Harry says quietly. "Tate drugged Y/N on his orders to provoke me and allow him to send a few of his men after Leo. He knew I'd get sent after the ones that lived, and when we went on that hit, he captured us. If m'gonna tell you the rest, I need you to prove to me that y'aren't gonna take this back to him."

There is no visible reaction to the news on his face. At first, she doesn't know whether or not he heard what he said with how blank his face has gone. If someone told her that without her having any prior knowledge, her eyes would pop out of her skull in shock. Actually, she's pretty sure she did react that way that night they met Garrett. Either he already knows about it or he doesn't believe a word Harry's saying. She's willing to bet all of the money she's earned in the time since she started working for Leo that it's the latter.

Then, he laughs.

He lets out a howling laugh and buries his face in his hands, shaking his head while they watch in anticipation of what he'll have to say next. Whether it'll be "Go fuck yourself" or "Are you stupid?", Harry isn't sure, but he's hoping it's neither. He's hoping to God that it's some form of compliance so he doesn't have to hurt someone he considers a friend for the sake of protecting everything they've done to get their freedom.

Zayn lets hands fall from his face and shifts in his place, reaching back to rest one arm on the back of the seat as he looks between the two of them in assessment.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

Neither of them laughs or smiles to indicate that being the truth. They simply stare back at him with the seriousness of the situation shown on their faces, silently praying that he won't do anything stupid in reaction to what they've told him as well as what they might go on to tell him. They can't blame him for thinking it's a joke, though. She probably would've thought it a joke too if she hadn't been told while she was restrained to a chair with a group of terrifying men surrounding her and threatening them with jail should they not comply.

Harry's head hangs lower than usual as he shakes his head.

"How am I supposed to prove it to you that I won't tell anyone? How does that even work?" he asks.

This time, it's Y/N who takes the lead in the conversation.

"You tell us something worthwhile. Something equally as dangerous that Leo can't know about," she says. "Trust us and we'll trust you."

It's a risky proposition to be sure, but it's not like they have any other choice. How else would he prove his loyalty to them? Without him having to talk to her about it, she knows that Harry is almost one-hundred percent sure Zayn won't run off and tell Leo about anything they discuss here, but there is no room for "almost" here. Not anymore.

Zayn's mouth opens and closes for a second before he keeps it shut while contemplating what to offer them. A muscle in his jaw clenches as he thinks it over in his mind, staring off at the table and tapping his fingers against it in thought. The lights from passing cars on the street flash over his face in whites and reds that either illuminate or darken his expression. It makes him harder to read.

After taking in a deep breath, he says, refusing to look anywhere but into Harry's eyes, "Alanis and I are together. We have been for a few weeks."

Beneath the table, the hand Harry has resting on her thigh instantly jerks in the direction of her hand to grab on and give it a firm squeeze. An order to stand down for the time being and postpone her freak-out for another time. He can see her expression transforming into one of outrage in his periphery, and he thinks based on that look alone that it might take all of his strength to hold her back from leaping over the table at their friend.

"Y/N..." he says softly in warning, but there is no stopping her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she asks. Her lips curl up from her teeth in a snarl as she rips her hand out of Harry's grasp. "I told you to stay away. You know how important she is to me, you know how dangerous it is for Leo to know who we care about, so why would you do that? How could you?"

Seeing her eyes turning watery with tears sets off an alarm in the back of Harry's mind that urges him to do something, anything he can, to fix it. Of course, there isn't anything he can do short of joining her in berating him or beating the shit out of him, but neither are advisable courses of action. Not to mention, he isn't too keen on hurting one of his friends. Although he's the reason for her tears, he can't do anything except over her comfort.

He reaches back for her hand and, this time, doesn't squeeze it tightly to tell her to calm down. Instead, he rips his glove off without thinking and entwines their fingers to convey a different message than the first. The feeling of his scarred flesh beneath her fingertips causes her to go still, her mind blanking on all the things she imagined saying or doing to Zayn in retribution for him breaking his word.

The discomfort felt deep in his chest isn't lost on him, but none of it matters as much as providing her the comfort she needs at a time like this. Suddenly, it's tolerable when it's done for her sake. The memories of when Leo, along with five other men to hold him down, held his hand in the flames crackling in his fireplace do not take over the way they once would have.

"Oh, cut the shit," he says, and Harry shoots him a stare that seems to say, "Watch it," without having to speak it aloud, "I'm serious. Everyone else may be too stupid to see it, but I know you guys are together. What's the difference between you two and me and Alanis?"

She leans closer over their side of the table.

"The difference is that she's all I have left of my family. I already work with Leo, she doesn't, that's the difference."

"Leo already knows about her. As long as we keep it quiet, nothing changes," he says.

Deciding it's gone too far, or, rather, it will go too far should he not intervene, Harry holds a hand up to stop the two of them from ripping each other's heads off.

"Alright, enough." He gives Zayn a pointed look. "Y'did what she asked." His gaze then turns to find Y/N sitting beside him, their bare hands held together on her lap. "And we can talk about this later, but there's bigger shit to worry about right now. M'serious, Zayn, if you tell anyone..."

The weight of what they're soon to tell Zayn comes crashing down on her all at once now that Harry has started to prep him for it. Nothing he's assuming in his head could measure up to the truth. Every table around them is empty, and the wait staff are either on the phones behind the counter or on an extended cigarette break, so he doesn't waste much time. No need to torture him with the wait.

He looks over his shoulder to check if anyone is paying attention to them, then says it.

"Perez has us working for him to off Leo's brother. He's the director of the FBI. That's why Leo gets away with everything. That's why so many of the cops are paid off and do his dirty work, and, if we manage to get rid of Ryan, they can lock Leo up for the rest of his life or let me have him," he explains. "Once that's done, we can get out."

Before he can fully wrap his head around the information, Zayn asks, "When?"

She shrugs.

"It's planned for one of the days between Christmas and New Year's but depending on what Leo or Ryan know, it could be sooner. All we know is the timeframe at this point."

Before he can respond, the waitress comes back with her arms full of plates.

It's hard for her to remain seated here for the rest of their meal without bringing up Alanis or picking a fight with Zayn, but she tries. She instead focuses on the feeling of Harry holding her hand with his burnt one and allows it to distract her from the rage begging to release from inside of her. Well, that and the stack of blueberry pancakes she ordered. Not that Harry ever knew, but she grew to enjoy them after spending countless mornings eating what he made for her. The blueberry was a surprise addition, however. She shocked herself by actually enjoying it when she cut them up and ate them without the usual lake of maple syrup poured over them.

It's the most awkward forty minutes of their lives.

Harry keeps eyeing her up in his peripheral vision to make sure she won't sucker punch Zayn from across the table or start another argument, Zayn doesn't look up from his plate of waffles, and Y/N devours all of her pancakes with the thought of beating him to a bloody pulp on the mind.

Just after the waitress drops off the check, Zayn's phone rings.

The second he picks it up and reads the contact name, she knows who it is based on his face alone, yet he still dares to answer it in front of her. How she hasn't bitch slapped him yet, she isn't sure, but she's pretty damn close to snapping and allowing herself to do it.

"Hey," he says the word as though he fears it.

Through the speakers, she can faintly pick up on the familiar pattern of Alanis' voice from across the table. The hand Harry holds squeezes so tightly, he fears she may cut off the circulation to his fingers.

He stands from the booth in response to whatever she says, nodding his head and muttering that he can come over. When he drops two fifty dollar bills onto the table and tries to walk off without even sparing them a word, she lurches from the booth seat after him, wrenching her hand from Harry's grip to allow her to catch up to him. The sound of her heels clicking on the tiled floor echoes in the empty room, and she's just about to reach him when she feels a pair of hands grabbing her from behind by her shoulders.

"No."

She jerks forward against the strength of the arms restraining her to no avail.

"Let me go after him!"

But he doesn't budge. He holds on tighter and keeps her locked in his embrace until the headlights of Zayn's car shine through the windows. Since he has the keys, not her, it won't end in a chase that's designed for him to lose. By the time he lets go and allows her to rush out through the front doors to the diner, Zayn's sports car is already flying down the street in the direction of the apartment building a few blocks away.

The rain soaks her damp wig again and leaves her to shiver in the long coat wrapped around her naked frame as she watches the car disappear in the foggy night. Behind her, she can hear the door opening and closing, and she doesn't have to guess who it is before whipping around to face Harry with the promise of fury evident in her eyes.

"Why didn't you let me go?"

Her voice is a shrill yell over the sound of the rain pounding the pavement and cars speeding by, sending puddles of water washing over the sidewalk in waves. His arms are crossed over his chest, his back against the wall of the building, and he doesn't give into her demanding tone by reacting how she wants him to. Those fluffy waves are flattened to the shape of his head as he stares her down as if to ask, "Why would I?"

He sighs, taking a few steps closer to her, and murmurs, "C'mere," with his arms extended in invitation.

"Yeah, no," she says with a scoff, "Fuck this. Give me the keys."

"Not gonna happen, sweetheart."

"He's fucking my best friend! It was the one thing I asked him not to do, and he went behind my back to do it! She has no business being involved in any of this! If Leo finds out, it won't be good, you know that! You fucking know that, so give me the keys!"

She holds her hand out with her palm facing up with the expectation of him bending to her will, but she's in for a rude awakening if she thinks she can order him around. He steps into her space and tilts his head down to speak to her, forcing her to see the seriousness of his words.

"Let them be," he says with a sharp edge to his voice. "Y'can't control who she dates, and you were being stupid telling Zayn to stay away."

Her brows furrow.

"Excuse me?"

"What did y'think was gonna happen? When y'tell someone not to do something, it's the first thing they're gonna do. He was probably not even serious about asking her out until you made her off-limits. That's how guys like us are."

All of that pent-up anger felt for Zayn is now aimed at him as they face off with each other in the vacant parking lot of the diner. Neither of them backs down, as expected whenever the two of them start fighting. To his outrage, she actually has the audacity to laugh in his face. Her hands come up to wipe the soaked bangs out of her eyes, and she shakes her head.

"What does that even mean? Guys like you?" Every word is laced with enough aggression to strike him down where he stands. "What? Is that what happened with me? I was off-limits and you decided that was what made me interesting?"

He doesn't know what to go with other than the truth.

"I mean, yeah. I assumed y'had a boyfriend when I saw Peter's picture in your apartment, and Leo told me not to fuck you the day after he hired you. He didn't want me to complicate things, and I always took any chance I could to get back at him, so I did."

And, with that, she thinks her heart cracks open. He may not realize what he said, but, fuck, it makes her chest ache from the cruelty of it. She knew she didn't mean anything to him at the beginning of whatever they have together, but being reduced to nothing more than a pawn to get back at his boss hits her right where it hurts after weeks of being treated like she matters. Like she was more than just a quick fuck that he decided he didn't mind befriending for the sheer convenience of it all.

She asks, bottom lip trembling, "What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought"—Tears roll down her cheeks as she stumbles a step away from him—"I know you hate talking about how you feel, but, even then, I thought a small part of you cared. At least a little bit."

Was it all in her head? Did she make up every sweet moment and gesture, every time he let the mask slip a little, because she wanted them to be true? By the time he first saw her apartment, she thought he was starting to befriend and trust her, but, apparently, it was an act he put on to get into her pants. She wants to hate him for it. She wants to loathe him forever for starting their partnership on something as vile as using her for revenge against Leo, but the only person she loathes is herself. For wanting it. For viewing him through rose-tinted glasses and being so lonely, she led him by the hand right into her heart.

Harry follows her to where she has retreated off the curb of the walkway and says, his face flushed, "I don't know when y'started with this delusion of me being a good guy, but I'm not. I fucking kill people for a living! I treated you like shit when we first met and got off on thinking y'cheated on your boyfriend with me! I'm a bad person, Y/N, you should know who you're dating!"

Everything stops. The thoughts racing through her mind, the words that were on the tip of her tongue, her anger—everything. It takes a few seconds for him to even register why her entire face shifted from a look of fury to shock, but once he does, his face softens too.

She says softly, "Harry..."

Just like that, the wall between them comes back down, and he rushes past her in the direction of the Escalade parked in one of the front spots. His steps splash water up on his pant legs, but he doesn't pay it any mind in the face of what he thinks was a grave mistake he made. The quiet cries escaping her grow louder as she watches him walk away from her. No sign of the sweet, caring man from minutes ago who held her hand without his glove to protect him.

"Get in the car. We're going home."

-

Y/N spent the rest of the night crying herself to sleep.

Curled up in sheets and pillows that smelled of him, she sobbed hard enough to give herself a throbbing headache that she was forced to sleep off rather than risk going out into the kitchen to take a pain reliever. She hoped that once they got in the apartment, he might be willing to talk about any of what happened tonight, but he didn't. He locked himself in his office room the second he got the door open and left her with no company but her own. She wandered around the living room and kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and half-heartedly watching the next episode of the show they were watching, before retiring to the bedroom for the night.

She hadn't bothered to shut the blinds covering the floor-to-ceiling windows when she passed out without even washing off her smeared makeup, so the sunlight is what wakes her. The wig she ripped off of her head sits where it was thrown on the bottom of the bed, and she groans at the lingering ache felt in the front of her head from last night's hysterics as she pokes her head up to see it.

Her hand slaps over her face as she mutters, "Fuck," under her breath.

Last night.

What he said hurt her, yes, but she can't deny that she'd been quick to escalate things in the wake of what she learned about Zayn and Alanis. Not to mention, it's harder to be angry about his intentions at the beginning of their relationship after what he said at the end of their conversation.

You should know who you're dating.

Is that what he sees their relationship as? This whole time, she never thought it more than a matter of convenience on his part. It made sense to her, but, now, she can't seem to wrap her head around it. If they weren't just fuck buddies who happened to be friends, what were they? How long have they been dating? It's not as if he asked her officially or took her on any dates to imply that's what they were to each other.

She tosses the sheet off of her and sits up on the side of the bed with a heavy sigh. There's no point in drawing out the torture, is there? She should simply stroll out there and act like everything is normal, not giving him the chance to continue last night's argument or act with cruelty toward her for the sake of pushing her away again. It's her apartment now too, she shouldn't have to hide in the bedroom like a scared little kid. He doesn't scare her.

Although she hadn't washed her makeup off, she did peel off the nipple stickers and change into one of his shirts for bed, only wearing a comfortable pair of leggings underneath. As she walks out into the living room, she's thankful to at least be covered by that when seeing him again for the first time since last night.

At first, she doesn't spot him in the kitchen. Her gaze goes straight to the couch to find him where he usually lounges, either watching something in the morning or scrolling through stuff on his phone, but he isn't there. It isn't until she searches around the room a second time and turns to head into the kitchen to start making herself breakfast that she sees him.

If the sight of him alone didn't concern her, she might have fought a smile at the fact that he still made her pancakes despite the small rift put between them yesterday. But, the way he's hunched over the kitchen counter with his head hung low between his shoulders prevents her from feeling anything but worry, even after what he admitted to her last night.

"Harry?"

Her voice is timid when she asks it, approaching slowly as one would when walking up to a wounded animal.

Throughout most things, he keeps his cool. He forces himself to maintain an appearance of a calm, collected man who doesn't let anything get under his skin, but the way he looks right now...It must be something bad, so bad that he can't be bothered to care about whatever trivial relationship issues they have going on.

She stops a few feet behind him and asks, "What's wrong?"

Her heart almost stops when she hears him speak next.

"The hit was moved up to Saturday."

Saturday? Today is Thursday. It's the first of December, what happened to it being planned for after Christmas? That's two days away. Only two days of time to mentally prepare herself for either the end of her life or picking up and moving to a new country, always on the run for what they've done. Thank God she already knows how to ride a motorcycle and was taught to shoot by Harry last week. If not, they'd have to cram everything into the next forty-eight hours.

She walks the rest of the way up to him and leans against the counter, tilting her head to the side to make him look at her.

"I don't understand. Why would they do that?"

He shrugs, feigning indifference despite the obvious tears in his eyes. She has never seen him this distraught over having to complete a job in the entirety of their time working together, and it stuns her to silence as she watches him.

"Ryan suspects there's a rat in his team and warned Leo. He asked him for additional protection because he doesn't feel safe, so Garrett is moving it up. Says we have to act fast if we want to make it out alive," he explains, his voice dull and monotonous.

Two days.

That's potentially all they have left together before everything changes. All of that rage she felt last night is scattered to the wind now that she realizes how temporary it all is. Any second of any day, it could all end, and she feels foolish for wasting any time being mad at Alanis, Zayn, or Harry. He wasn't right in whatever cruelty he showed her last night, but she wasn't right either. It hurts to be lied to, but she has no right to dictate who anyone does or doesn't love.

The thought of it makes her chest muscles tighten up, constricting her ability to breathe, and she can feel a lump forming in the back of her throat that she cannot manage to swallow. It sends her stepping back away from him. Her eyes flood with tears as she shakes her head in response to the chaos of her own thoughts and feels the safety of the world she created with him come crashing down around her.

"I"—she stammers—"I need to go. I need to talk to Alanis. I'm sorry."

She gives him no opportunity to stop her, rushing herself off toward the front door and swiping the keys to one of his lesser used cars off the small rack mounted to the wall before disappearing from view.

Everything is a blur.

In all honesty, she shouldn't be driving in such an emotional state but getting to Alanis is all she can think of as she speeds from street to street away from his apartment building in pursuit of hers. Cars honk their horns at her for how she weaves in and out of traffic and nearly rear-ends multiple people, but, at this point, why should she care? She and Harry might be dead within days anyway, so what's to fear about a car accident? Or getting pulled over for a speeding ticket?

No one pulls her over by the time she screeches to a halt in the parking lot of Alanis' apartment building, though. Not even passing pedestrians turn their heads to observe her as she slams the door to the Mercedes shut and sprints around the side of the building to the locked front doors, frantically digging through her purse for the key Alanis had made for her when she first moved in. Her trembling hands make turning the key in the lock nearly impossible, but once she manages to do it, she is flinging it open into the sidewalk and running as fast as she can up flight after flight of stairs.

The elevator would take too long. She needs to see her now, she needs to say everything she hasn't yet and pray it's enough should she never come back into her life again. This time, Harry isn't here to help her up whenever she trips or stumbles due to the tears blurring her vision, and it takes her longer than she wishes to reach the second to last floor of the fifteen-floor building.

She slumps against the door to her apartment and pounds on it with a closed fist, calling out her friend's name.

"Alanis!"

Her voice breaks when she speaks again.

"Please, open the door! I need you," she cries, "I'm really scared and I just need to be with you right now. Please..."

The silence that follows is louder than anything she has ever heard. Not even her neighbors move around or crack open their doors to see which crazy woman is making a scene at eight in the morning on a random Thursday. There are no footsteps behind the locked door, nor are there any voices speaking to indicate that Zayn came back after escorting Leo back home last night to sleep over. Anyone who walks by would likely take pity on her. What a sorry sight she is, sliding down to her knees in front of the door with tears wetting her face and further smudging the makeup leftover from last night.

She sits here for five whole minutes, pressing her forehead against the wall and sobbing so hard, she's shocked she hasn't woken up everyone residing on the floor nearby, before she finally hears the sound of a door opening and shutting inside the apartment. The sound of her friend's footsteps coming down the hall leading to the door might as well be a choir of angels singing to her, all crescendoing in unison until they are snuffed out like the light of a candle with the door swinging open.

"Y/N?"

Hearing her voice breathes life back into her weary body and lifts her head from its place against the wall to see Alanis standing there with concern written across her pretty face. Harry is the one who makes her feel the safest, and that will never change, but Alanis has always been the one person in the world who has never turned her away. Not even when they've fought has she denied her a place to stay if she needed it, or a chance to be heard or given a second chance should she have done anything to warrant it. The reason she came here is that she knew, no matter what, that she would never ice her out.

She sniffles and asks, "Can I come in?"

The question isn't even dignified with a verbal response. She's already crouching down to help Y/N up from her spot on the ground and guiding her past the open door by the tail end of the question.

Once the door is kicked shut, Alanis stops her and cups her face between her hands.

"What happened, babe?"

This only makes her sob louder and harder, crumbling in her arms and bearing most of her weight against the front of her body. She buries her face in the crook of her neck, unable to say it directly to her face.

"Everything is so fucked. Harry and I have to do something really, really risky in a few days that I can't even tell you about or else you might get killed, and he's been ignoring me all night because, apparently, we're dating and he doesn't know how to feel about it! I feel like"—she takes a gasping breath and clings onto her waist as if she'll disappear whenever she lets go—"I feel like I might die if I don't talk about it, and I can't even do it with him because he's probably still pissed at me after our argument last night! I just miss the way everything used to be! I miss my parents, I miss Peter, I just want my old life back!"

Alanis doesn't do anything other than wrap her up in her arms and whisper soothing words. At this point, none of this can surprise her. Dating Zayn and being exposed to this life through both him and Y/N has left her with little room to be taken aback by anything anymore. So, rather than reacting with the type of shock that most people would, she just holds her there in her arms and strokes the back of her head as she whispers to her.

After her breathing has started to slow, Alanis says softly, "I know, Zayn told me about everything last night..."

This pauses every thought whirling in Y/N's head, and she pulls back from her cherished spot in the crook of her friend's neck to look at her through narrowed eyes. That lost anger washes back over her.

"Why? We told him he can't say anything—"

"No, no, it's not like that. You can trust him to keep your secrets," she says, then sighs. "He only told me because he wants me to leave the country before it happens. He said that if it goes wrong and Leo comes after me because of either of you, he wants me to be as far away as possible."

Y/N cannot lie and say that doesn't do wonders to dissolve whatever anger just came rushing over her again. It shifts something in her mind, altering the part of her that took to heart what Harry said last night about "guys like us" and setting it straight. It hits her like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh my god...he loves you," Y/N mutters, not even aware that she's saying it out loud and not in her head.

To this, Alanis chuckles, raising one hand to wipe at the tears that have sprung to her eyes at the sight of her friend being in a state of severe distress.

"You're one to talk. Zayn said he's never seen Harry treat anyone the way he treats you." Her voice then switches to one of gentle teasing, "He's in looooove."

This gets Y/N to break her fifteen-minute streak of sobbing to laugh along with her. Once again, she's left wondering how Alanis always manages to do this. To take her worst moments and turn them into something golden, something precious. It happened countless times after her family passed too. There's an innate talent inside of her for it, and, when she thinks about this, she realizes that her brother and Zayn were lucky to have her in whatever way they could. No wonder every person who spots her falls face-first into the pavement in love with her. It's rare that anyone with her degree of outer beauty has an inner beauty that outruns it by such a landslide.

Y/N says, "For what it's worth, I agree with him, and I'm glad he cares enough about you to help you escape before shit gets bad. It's what Peter would've done, and I was coming here to ask you to do the same exact thing too." She sniffles. "Well, that and to help me figure out how the fuck I'm supposed to talk to Harry about our relationship when I go back home"

Her friend cocks a brow at her.

"Home?" she asks. "As in his home? Okay, that's it, you're staying here and telling me everything now that you've decided to stop being a liar!"

That's all it takes for Alanis to drag her off in the direction of the living room with the sound of their giggles echoing off the walls of the small hallway in their wake.

-

The next ten hours of the day at Alanis' soon-to-be abandoned apartment were a blissful reprieve from the reality of her future. They decided not to talk about what was planned to happen on Saturday, instead opting to gossip about their men and have one last movie night before they're to part ways for a little while. In her heart, Y/N knew that everything would end up alright. She and Harry would do what they were ordered to and find her in whatever far-off country Zayn told her to flee to, but the small part of her that remained uncertain needed to stay with her for as long as she could.

Just in case it was the final time.

It wasn't Y/N who decided when it was time to leave, though, it was Alanis. Having a best friend who understands you to your very core is a double-edged sword, in her opinion, because while it makes for wonderful days like the one they spent together, it also means that they can spot the true intentions of your heart from miles away.

She could tell that Y/N was lingering long after the last movie ended not because she wanted to stay the night but because she was afraid of what might happen when she went back home. Not in a way that meant she was concerned for her safety—as Harry once said, he would never—but in a way that meant she was concerned for the outcome of the conversation they were due to have.

But, according to Alanis' take on it, there wasn't much to worry about.

"Babe, if you think he isn't in love with you, you're stupid, okay? If you forgive him for what he did, then tell him that. If you don't, then say that. Men aren't that complicated. I know he seems like he is, but I bet he's just scared shitless that you won't feel the same way."

So, she drove back over to their apartment building with that on replay in her mind, hoping against hope that Alanis was somehow right and everything will be okay between her and Harry again the second she walked through the front door.

The front door sits in front of her for a long moment before she can summon the strength to unlock it. She stands there for a long time, imagining all the different ways this could go wrong and end in her never getting to have him in the way she has for the past month or so, and tries to keep herself from getting worked up over it before they even have a conversation. For all she knows, Alanis could've been right. What if, just this once, something goes her way? She has lost everything—her brother, her parents, her autonomy, her potential in life—but the one thing she couldn't survive losing is him.

If she didn't push through all of the hardship for a reason, if it wasn't for him, for something at least, then she won't know what to do with herself. When Alanis leaves New Orleans and gets shipped off to whatever country of her choosing, Harry is the one person she will have left in this world. What happens if he casts her aside because he can't handle the pressure of meaning that much to her? The question she didn't dare present to Alanis when she said he probably feared her rejection was: What if what he's afraid of is her loving him back?

In the end, she opens the door like she would rip off a bandaid. The last thing she expected to see when rushing through the front door, however, is this.

Harry spins around, on defense immediately with a pair of Christmas tree ornaments raised as make-shift weapons before he sees who it is and visibly relaxes for a second, then halts as though he remembers the sour note they left off on. In the corner of the living room, a real tree is propped up in a stand and lit up with white string lights. Dozens of ornaments, which she assumes are brand new considering the fact that she has never pegged him for an avid celebrator of Jesus's birthday, already hang from the limbs of fresh pine that extend out from the trunk and sprinkle needles onto the towels he laid out on the hardwood floor.

For a second, they can't do anything but stare at one another across the immeasurable distance that has grown between them in less than a day and, somehow, shrinks into nothing the second he realizes that she came back. Part of him couldn't help but wonder as he paced around the kitchen in the moments following her departure if she was leaving him forever. If last night was the final straw and she was going to ask him if they could fulfill the plan he offered her in her kitchen early last month. For her to flee and leave him as the sacrificial lamb to pay the price for her escape. He decided as he went out to shop for Christmas decorations that he'd do it if she asked. If that was what she wanted, he would do it for her. It would be the least he could do.

He says as means of greeting, "Um, I thought we could do Christmas tonight since we might not get the chance to spend it together after everything coming up."

His lips press together tightly, likely to keep himself from saying more and begging her to have mercy on him after yesterday, and he stares at her with hope swimming laps in his irises. Back at Alanis' apartment, she already knew she forgave him for everything, but, now, nothing could stop her from crawling back into his arms and accepting his apology with as many kisses as she can manage.

Y/N shuts the door behind her, rushing forward across the open space and throwing herself into his arms once she reaches the other side of the room. The ornaments in his hands make it difficult to hold her up, but he manages, and he doesn't have the chance to say or ask anything before she's kissing him. Without thinking, he kisses her back, but not the way he usually does. This kiss is softer, and sweeter, and they both realize around the same time that it's their first real kiss as a couple.

His hands drift up the sides of her body and squeeze her waist, using this as his leverage to tug her as close to him as he can. The second she feels this happen, she smiles into the kiss because she knows. She knows that he isn't pushing her away this time, and she doesn't have to fear losing him, not unless Saturday's plans go awry.

He pulls away earlier than he wishes for the sake of saying, "I got you a present."

This blossoms a warmth in her heart that she never would've guessed she'd feel upon coming home tonight. On the car ride home, she anticipated a disaster of stifled emotions and cruelty aimed to put her at a comfortable distance yet again, but this...This is new. This something strange and beautiful that she has never felt before, and she doesn't know whether or not telling him this would ruin the feeling before she's had the chance to truly enjoy it.

His gloved hand slips into hers to guide her away from the tree and over to the couch where a small, square-shaped box sits on the coffee table in front of it. Neither of them speaks until they're seated side by side, the curve of her hip fitting to his body perfectly as he settles into place with an arm wrapped around her back. The other arm outstretches to reach for the little black gift box she assumes is the present he spoke of seconds ago, and her cheeks ache from how hard she smiles.

"Please, don't tell me it's too much," he murmurs as his only warning before putting the box in her waiting hands. "I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now. This isn't an apology gift, I just"—he stops himself, his lips curving upwards in a shy smile—"I want you to have it. Honestly."

With that being said, she lifts the lid of the box and unwraps the tissue paper concealing the gift from view to find an old key laying at the bottom. But, it isn't just any old key, it's the same key she remembers stealing from him last month and turning in the ignition of the Cobra to drive to the race track. The realization of what he's trying to do hits her with a brutality she never saw coming.

"Harry," she starts, "This is..." Remembering what he just said, she pushes away any suspicions of this being a desperate bid to win her forgiveness and turns her head to find him staring at her, his eyes soft with affection. "Are you sure?"

He nods.

"Positive."

For what feels like the fifth time in the last twenty-four hours, she can sense her eyes welling up with tears, and when she feels his arm tighten around her waist, she falls forward with her face in his shoulder to embrace him. Her tears wet his shirt as she remains there, her arm slung around the back of his neck to force him to stay right there, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything except for the happiness and appreciation he witnessed on her face before she threw herself on him.

When she pulls back, one of his hands is caressing along the edge of her jaw to bring her chin up so their faces are level. Happy tears. He has never been so glad to see her cry in the time they've known one another. Every other time, it was a result of his callous behavior that he loathed himself for causing, but this is something he takes pride in doing to her.

"I know this isn't an apology gift, but I am sorry for what I said last night," he says softly, nudging her nose with his. "I can't lie and say some of it wasn't true, but...I don't feel like that anymore. And it scares me, baby, it really does. M'not used to this. I've never dated anyone before. I don't know how this works."

The room seems to buzz with silence in the gaps of their speech, yet it isn't a silence either of them are needing to fill. If they say anything, they want it to be meaningful, not a useless string of words only said to lessen the tension hanging in the air. But, if she's honest with herself, there isn't any tension. Not anymore. All of it dissolved the second she saw him standing there with tree ornaments in his hands and hope in his eyes.

Her fingers card through his hair to brush it back from his face, taming the unbrushed curls that tickle her forehead the closer she nears to him, and his eyes flutter shut in appreciation of the gesture.

She says softly, but not weakly, "Well, I have, so believe me when I say I'm just as fucking lost as you are. I haven't felt this way about anyone before." Their lips are nearly touching. "But, I want it. Whatever you'll let me have of you, I want it."

Just as he juts his chin out to close the distance between their waiting lips, the feeling of her hand pushing flat against his chest halts him in his tracks.

"Wait."

His brows furrow in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

A smile lights up her face as she disentangles herself from him and stands from the couch with little explanation other than her saying, "I'll be right back," before scurrying off in the direction of the bedroom. He watches her disappear through the open doorway with a swing in her step that he hasn't seen since the night they spent together on the race track and waits eagerly for her return.

When she's out of sight, he finally lets out the sigh he's been holding in since she left early this morning for Alanis. She may not know it, but he spent every second of her absence making himself sick with worry over whether or not she'd forgive him for, well, everything. Yet, now that she's back, he realizes how stupid he was to think she'd leave him, and, for once in his life, he thinks he can see a light at the end of the tunnel. Should everything go well this weekend and Garrett manages to get them to safety with Ryan out of the way, they could have any life they want together. He could work on film sets somewhere across the world while she opens a bakery of her own and spends every day doing something she loves. They could have it all.

Her soft footfalls on the floor are what wakes him from his daydream of a future with her, and when he looks up to see her walking across the room to him, he grins.

"Y'didn't have to get me anything," he says only to be shushed by her.

The couch dips with her added weight sitting back down on the cushion beside him, and he relishes the warmth of her body as it presses against his without an inch of space left for them to cross. Her gift for him is wrapped in a box at least ten times the size of the one he used to give her the keys to the Cobra, and he raises his brows at her when she sets it down on his lap. It has a heavy weight to it.

In answer to his unspoken question, she says, "I—uh—I got it for you soon after you got me the tattoos." A deep breath, then, "I used the money I stole from you in October."

He goes as silent as death, and she takes it as the time she needs to explain herself after dropping the confession on him with little to no warning.

"I didn't do it on purpose, okay? It was a complete accident, and that doesn't make it any better, I know that, but I was afraid of you back then and didn't want you to think I took it to get back at you after you hijacked my car—"

"Hold on," he says, and she complies without protest. There's a pregnant pause, then—"Are y'talking about the money I put in your sweatshirt pocket the night we met?"

She nods. And, for some reason, this amuses him rather than upsets him. Seeing her nod, admitting that she stole from him after months of lying, makes him chuckle, shaking his head at her. One of his hands cups the side of her neck to keep her from hanging her head in shame to avoid meeting eyes with him.

"You silly girl," Harry whispers, "I did that on purpose."

This time, it's her turn to be shocked.

"What?"

This only makes him laugh harder at her, making her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she thinks back on everything that happened that night and realizes that she'd had it wrong. That night, when he interrogated her about why she was dealing drugs in Leo's territory, she told him she was doing it in an act of desperation. To make enough money to pay her rent. And when he shoved her driver's license and insurance papers back into the pocket of her hoodie, he slipped in all of the cash he had on him at the time for her to pay rent with. He knew her rent probably didn't cost six-thousand dollars a month, but it isn't like he had the chance to ask her how much she needed and count it out. He didn't want her to know he did it until she got home. When he assumed they'd never see each other again.

He unties the bow she wrapped around the large box and says, "I was giving you the money for rent. Y'didnt steal anything from me."

While she's too busy reeling from the shock of this news, Harry is ripping open his Christmas gift like a little kid does when sitting under the tree in their pajamas. It's endearing to see him so excited about something she's done for him when he typically has all the emotion of a brick wall in everyday circumstances. Although, she thinks he'd be excited about anything that involves her at this point, and knowing that pleases her more than he will ever know.

Under a blanket of tissue paper, he wraps his gift inside the box to find something he never anticipated getting from her. He mentioned his aspirations to make films once or twice at most and figured she wasn't even paying that close of attention, but she was. The interior of the box is packed with Styrofoam to keep the vintage Super 8 camera she bought him safe from any bumps or falls, and he doesn't know what to say when he sees it.

It's in beautiful condition based on his first glance at it, probably manufactured sometime in the mid-70s if he had to give it a good guess. It must have taken her a day or two to find a good store and cost her a few hundred dollars to get this, as well as the film and tools he needs to operate the old device as though it's brand new.

He looks up from the box to find her there, smiling at him, and doesn't hesitate to lean in to kiss her. It's short, way too short, but he must pull away from the small peck to speak. When he withdraws from her, she follows him with her eyes still closed, thinking he was going to come back to her with a passion that'd make that first kiss seem pitiful by comparison, only to find him watching her again.

When he doesn't say anything, she asks, "What?" and he shakes his head as if to dismiss any of the worries he knows are springing to life in the back of her mind.

"This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has gotten me," he says. That wall that fell into place between them after what he said last night crumbles at this moment, and she can tell that every word he speaks is genuine. "Thank you so much, baby. You totally beat my present for you."

To this, she laughs.

"You literally gifted me my dream car, Harry, which was so thoughtful considering my dad and everything. I'm gonna have to find a hundred vintage cameras to one-up you now!"

"No, absolutely not, I'm the one who spoils you here, not the other way around. M'gonna buy you as many cars as you buy me cameras, so we're gonna need a bigger car park pretty soon."

Y/N's face aches from how hard she's been smiling since she got home as she leans over to rest her head on his shoulder again. Of course, he has no qualms with this change in position and adapts straight away to throw his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as an additional "Thank you" for the gift.

With her tucked under his arm, he uses his free hand to lift the camera from the box by the monopod and bring the viewfinder to his right eye. He doesn't waste the film she loaded it up with on random footage of the living room, but finally having a camera in his hands touches a place deep in his heart regardless of whether or not its rolling. And it suddenly hits him as he sits here and moves the camera to observe different parts of his living room that this is what he could've had for a decade. Her, a camera, and hope for the future rather than spending every minute wishing he could fall asleep and never wake up again.

"I was thinking since we're about to pick up everything and move to a new place this weekend, you could use a good camera to capture it. I was kind of hoping for New Zealand or Japan if Garrett is really gonna let us go wherever we want. They film a lot of movies in New Zealand, I heard," she says. "What about you?"

He takes a second to think it over, then says, "I'll follow you anywhere. Japan, New Zealand—it's your choice."

The threat of death on the horizon should they fail pushes him to a place of honesty he has never inhabited in her presence yet, but it feels strangely good. Every time he imagined allowing himself to say what he feels with her, he thought it'd feel wrong or terrifying, but it feels right. She feels right, and he couldn't be any happier than he is at this moment. He tries not to think about the fact that they could fail on Saturday, though. For once in his life, he wants to stay alive to experience how it feels to exist in peace with her, and, if he dies weeks after he finally began to enjoy living, he'd have to crawl his way out of hell to take his anger out on those who put him there. And if they killed her too...not even death could prevent him from seeking vengeance.

From where her face is nuzzled in his neck, her voice is partly muffled when she speaks next, but he hears it.

"I was also thinking...maybe the first thing you film could be us."

The thing is, Harry is notorious with her for having a dirty mind, so he doesn't want to assume that the first thing he thinks of is what she meant by that, but, then again, it is Y/N he's dealing with. She is just as filthy-minded, if not more, than he is when you truly get her going, and the way she said it leads him to think his assumption is true. This is the same woman who begged him to fuck her on a motorcycle in public, the same woman who got off on him calling a guy she rejected while they were fucking—she is many things, but she is not pure-minded.

He slowly lowers the camera back into the box and shifts a little in his spot to get a good look at her, knowing that one glance at her face will either confirm or deny his suspicion. And, just as he thought, when he tilts her head up from his shoulder to make her look at him, there's a mischievous smirk on her face.

"What?" she asks. "You really thought you weren't getting any more gifts?"

Soon enough, a smirk to match her own appear on his face.

"Y'wanna make a movie with me, Y/N?"

Before he can lift a finger to touch her or speak another word to order her to strip her clothes off, she jumps up from the couch and runs—actually runs—to the bedroom as if to ask, "Does this answer your question?" And he can't even make fun of her for her eagerness, because as soon as he sees her disappear behind the door, he is getting himself off of the couch with his new camera in hand and running after her. It's been a few days since they last had sex, so it isn't surprising to him in the least that he can feel himself getting hard at the mere suggestion of it. They were so busy doing Leo and Garrett's bidding that they didn't have a spare moment, or the energy, to do anything together, and he hasn't jerked off since they started living together, so...

On the way over, it takes a few fumbling seconds to find out how to turn the camera on and begin rolling, but he figures it out by the time he reaches the bedroom. The first shot he ever films is of her, laying on the bed with her legs curled up into a ball and her top already thrown across the room to reveal the expanse of her bare torso to him. When he zooms in, she waves at the camera with a radiant smile lighting up the frame, then beckons him to her with a plea for him to come to bed.

Harry approaches the edge of the bed slowly and watches her, making sure to move the camera to capture every one of her movements, as she crawls down to meet him at the end of it. When she looks up at the lens of the camera through her lashes, her cheeks turn hot and she averts her eyes. But he doesn't let her do it for any longer than a second. The hand not holding the camera grabs her by the chin and forced her to face it again.

"What?" he asks in a condescending tone that makes her press her thighs together. "Y'getting camera shy on me now, baby? I thought I found my leading lady."

Falling right into the scene he sets with those two sentences, she shakes her head with wide, pleading eyes staring right past the camera at his face. The angle he looks down at paired with her arms crossing over her chest accentuates the swell of her breasts for the camera. A purposeful tactic on her part, he assumes.

"No. No, I wanna be a big star, Mr. Styles. Put me in one of your movies." Her hands lift to settle on the waistband of his jeans, sliding into the middle to play absentmindedly with his belt buckle. "Please?"

One of her hands drifts lower until she can palm his half-hard cock through his pants to elicit a sharp breath from him. He lets her do it for as long as it takes to get him the rest of the way there, looking up at the camera like the good girl she always is—dying to please him at any cost. The hand still working his belt takes forever, but, finally, it comes undone for her after a solid minute of effort and allows her to then move on to the button and zipper of his jeans.

She leans forward off the edge of the bed and kisses the trail of sparse hair leading down from his belly button into the familiar territory concealed by his unzipped pants and underwear beneath, moaning when her cunt presses down against the heel of her foot during the change in position. He can sense that she's about to reach up and pull his clothes down his legs, but, before she can, he remembers something she said to him at the gun range. Before any of the heavy stuff came out, she joked about him holding her at gunpoint while they fucked, and seeing that his gun is tucked right there in the holster hidden in the waistband of his jeans, he doesn't see why he can't bring her fantasy to life.

Her eyes were closed as she kissed her way down the length of his stomach, so when she feels the barrel of a pistol digging into her temple, they shoot open in surprise. It makes her entire body go still until she peeks up at him and sees the look on his face. Without speaking, it tells her that she can call it all off. That if he took it too far and mistook a joke as a request the other week, she has every right to knee him in the balls and banish him to the couch tonight.

Much to his enjoyment, it ignites a sick pleasure between her thighs that he can sense by how she looks at him alone. He's become well-versed in the complexities of her expressions and mannerisms over the time they've spent together. He knows when she's angry with him, upset, happy, or, more appropriately for their current situation, aroused. Right now, she looks like she could eat him alive.

He says, "Go on," and presses the gun into her head with added pressure.

His jeans and underwear are practically torn down his legs seconds after he finishes ordering her around.

The contact of her warm palm wrapping around his cock once it's freed from the confines of his clothes tenses his abdomen muscles. It's heavy in her hand, hot to the touch, and it twitches with the caress of her fingers rubbing the sensitive underside where the tip connects to the rest of his length. She pushes up to stand taller on her knees and allows a string of spit to dribble out of her lips—still visible for the camera, of course—onto it for lubrication as she jerks him off with her head tilted to look up at him.

Once she's sure he got the shot she envisioned in her head, she then sinks back down into her previous position and takes him into her mouth. He's given no chance to prepare himself for it, so when he feels the wet heat of her mouth suctioned around his cock, he can't help how he moans in response to it. Her hand pumps what she can't take all the way into her throat as she pushes her head down as far as she can without gagging, trying to do it exactly how he likes.

"Fuck," he groans, head tipping back to the ceiling, "That's it, baby."

The vibration of her humming with her mouth encasing his cock has him fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward to thrust deeper into her throat. His free hand reaches down and wraps itself in her hair, bringing it away from her face and using it to guide the steady pace of her head bobbing up and down.

There's something particularly thrilling to her about being allowed to do this to him. She likes the idea of being the only person on this earth allowed to touch him, allowed to render him weak from her touch and leave him at her mercy. It helps her understand why he enjoys the power he has over her. It can be intoxicating, in a way, to look at a person and know they would do anything should you request it for nothing in return.

Her other hand comes up to cup his balls, massaging them in her palm and delighting in the reaction of his hips jerking forward to press himself deeper into her mouth. She allows her jaw to go slack at this, relaxing her throat, and glances up at him with a pointed look that tells him exactly what she wants him to do.

The hand he has wrapped up in her hair remains there, gripping the back of her head for leverage as he starts to thrust in and out of her open mouth with little care for how the camera begins to jostle with his sudden movements. It feels far too good to care about whether or not he's getting it on film right now. Every time he feels her throat constrict around the head of his cock, he has to actively fight the urge to come. He typically has the stamina to keep going for a while, but the eroticism of the situation with him filming it and her letting him fuck her mouth pushes everything to a degree of intensity he can't escape from.

They've only done this once before, so the novelty of it has yet to wear off this time around. Every time he pulls away until he's almost slipping out of her mouth, the end of her tongue flicks against his tip in a teasing motion that beckons him back into the tight heat of her mouth.

"Good girl," he murmurs in praise, cut off at the end by his own breathy moan when she swallows around him.

It isn't until he presses a little too deep on the upstroke of one of the thrusts, causing her to gag and take in a sharp breath through her nose, that he uses the hand in her hair to pull her off of him. Her lips are smeared with spit, a string of it connecting from them to the leaking tip of his cock until it breaks and falls onto her breasts, and her hair is a downright mess from the grip he had on it. She gulps down air desperately as she looks up at him, her brows furrowing as if to ask why he stopped.

When he takes too long to answer while staring down at her, she asks him, "What?"

"Take the rest of your clothes off."

He takes a step back with the camera lifting to get a better shot of her and tries to ignore the throbbing of his cock that urges him to bend her over the edge of the bed in order to push him over the edge he's so dangerously close to. The leggings she wore to sleep last night aren't accompanied by any of the skimpy undergarments he's gifted her, so when she dips her fingers under the band and starts to shimmy them down her legs, he's met with the sight of her bare cunt sooner than he expected.

Being the little temptress she is, she takes it slow for the camera. She truly puts on a good show for both him in the present and the future version of him that'll no doubt rewatch it. From where he stands, he can see how wet she is. It glistens on her pussy and inner thighs in the light shining down from the ceiling, and though he wants to get a taste of her, the need to be inside of her already outweighs it greatly. Three days without fucking is far too long for him to resist it now.

He passes the camera off to her, allowing Y/N to scoot back up the bed enough to keep her feet from dangling off as she raises the viewfinder to her eye to capture him tugging his shirt off. Shamelessly, she zooms in on his chest and pans the camera down from the birds on either side of his crucifix necklace, past the butterfly, and to the ferns that decorate his hips before zooming back out to capture him in his entirety.

The bed creaks beneath his shifting weight as he kneels on the edge, crawling over her body until he's settling between her eagerly spread thighs. The gun is set down on the empty space of mattress beside her. She makes sure to point the camera lens down the small gap left between their bodies the best she can to capture everything he does, but it gets increasingly more difficult when he guides his length forward to rub between her folds and soak it with her arousal. The contact of it sitting heavy against her clit has her rocking her hips up against him in a silent urging to hurry up.

He doesn't, though.

He takes his time inflicting this torture, grinding against her and leaving the hand that holds the camera up shaky from the stimulation that is simultaneously too much and not enough. This goes on for as long as he can stand it for the sake of getting her as needy for him as possible. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the least sexy things he can conjure—you know, a cold shower, his grandparents, and so on—to keep himself from getting too excited too fast. If he blows his load the second he pushes into her, he'll probably have to hide his face into one of the pillows to shield himself from the embarrassment.

"Please," she breathes out and rolls her hips up into his to guide his tip closer to her entrance, "Wanna feel full, daddy."

"No," he says.

This halts everything. The movement of her hips, the hand she had rubbing up and down the length of his arm, and the additional pleading words that'd been on the top of her tongue. Right before she can ask him if he wants to stop, he leans down and claims her mouth with his own. It's a deep, surging fire of a kiss. It whisks away any of the thoughts floating around in that head of hers as he uses the distraction to line himself up with her dripping hole and presses the tip inside.

His voice is soft and sweet when he says into her parted lips, "Use my name"—his tongue licks into her mouth playfully—"Say my name and I'll fuck you."

And, of course, it isn't even a full second that passes by the time she's whispering, "Harry, please," into the messy kiss they share.

The stretch of him pushing into her after a few days without intimacy of any kind has her biting down hard on her lip to stifle the whimper that rises out of her from the strange blend of pleasure and pain it elicits. He isn't above average in the way that men are portrayed in porn, but she can't deny that his cock is the biggest she's ever taken. The first time they had sex in Leo's parking garage, he had been behind her, so it wasn't until he entered her and began pounding away with little care for whether or not she needed time to adjust that she realized it.

She loves it. There's nobody else that could compare, which isn't solely to do with his size but rather what he does with it. If she were to tell him the things she thinks when he first thrusts into her every time, his ego would likely inflate to a size ten times the one it typically is. And, when it comes to sex, his ego doesn't need any more stroking than it has gotten already.

The initial pace he sets is not as brutal as it was their first time.

He fucks into her in deep, slow strokes that leave him lingering inside her, aligning their bodies so he rubs against her clit every time he slides in to the hilt. If anything, it's a less hurried recreation of the time they fucked on the motorcycle at the race track. Unlike that time, they have time and privacy to do whatever they'd like for however long they'd like to do it, so he takes his time and tries to savor it with her. Though she may like getting it rough and fast most of the time, neither of them is opposed to something as loving and tender as this.

Softly, she asks, "Can I take these off?" and reaches for one of the hands he has braced on either side of her waist against the mattress. More specifically, she reaches for the gloves he still wears while every other article of clothing has been shed from his body and tossed to the floor. "I wanna feel you touching me. I'll keep them out of view of the camera. I promise."

There's a moment in which the practiced cadence of his thrusts falters in reaction to the question, and it takes a few seconds to make up his mind. She can feel him tensing up on top of her as he becomes aware of his scarred hand again after being buried beneath the blissful haze of pleasure and glances down at where it presses flat against the bed.

I trust her, he reminds himself. I trust her. I trust her. I trust her. I trust her—

He brings his scarred hand up to his face first and bites the end of the glove on his middle finger to tug it off. The camera is immediately turned to the side before it comes all the way off, facing the windows that display the skyline of the city under the dark night sky, to give him the privacy she promised as he lays himself fully bare before her. It isn't the first time, technically, but it is the first time she's asked him to do it. Every other time, he did it of his own choice and made certain to keep it from her line of sight as much as possible, but, tonight, he lets her watch as he pulls both of them off and tosses them in the direction of their other clothes.

During this, he hasn't stopped the slow undulations of his hips that press his cock deep into her, consistently rubbing a sensitive spot inside that draws a series of quiet moans from her open mouth as she pants for breath. What she does next, however, makes him stop for the short second it takes his brain to process what he sees.

She takes the burnt hand that cups her breast and brings it up to her face, setting the camera on the bed to wrap it in both of hers until it's closed into a loose fist. The sensation of her soft, unmarred skin against the ridges and scars covering every inch of his larger hand satisfies something in him that he hadn't known existed, but she isn't done. If he thought he liked the contrast of her skin touching his, the feeling of her lips pressing kisses onto the heel of his hand and curled-up fingers might as well be heaven-sent.

"I love you," she whispers with her eyes fluttering shut to avoid the rejection she assumes is displayed on his face the second she says it. She tries not to cry as she holds his hand to her face, Harry already having gone still inside of her, but there's little she can do to fight it. "You don't have to say it back, but I'm just so tired of not being able to tell you."

There is no part of her that expects him to say the words back. The first time she felt the urge to say them was the day he came back home and apologized to her for leaving by letting her shave off his beard. It was something about the way he looked at her, and she knew at that moment, as he watched her while she pretended not to pay attention, that she was a goner. Truth be told, she had been falling for him long before that. She may have even been in love with him from that first night in the parking garage and hadn't known it until she'd been sitting on his lap to shave his beard for him. Perhaps that was what made her so enraged with him—how desperately she wanted him underneath it all.

Harry mutters, "Open your eyes."

He knows the power he holds over her, so when he tells her to do this, he has no doubt that she will listen to him, especially in the delicate situation they're in currently. Sex has a way of making her more pliant than she is otherwise. Outside of it, there is no doubt that they hold the power in equal amounts between them in their relationship, but during it, she surrenders herself to him in a way she never does elsewhere.

When her eyes open to find him laying atop her body, their chest fitting to one another's with every rise and fall of their breaths, she doesn't find him scowling or withdrawing from her in discomfort. Instead, she finds him looking at her the way he had that day she shaved his beard for him. Those green eyes are softened to a degree they never do unless it's her they're focused on. He has nothing but fondness for her, even after what she just confessed.

"I feel," he says, pausing as though trying to get the words out is harder than anything he's ever done before, "so much for you...I can't—I can't say that yet, but that doesn't mean I don't feel similarly." He pulls his burnt hand out of her grasp to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear while he looks down at her. "I've always been yours."

This stuns her to silence.

Never in her life did she think she'd receive something like that from him—not refusal, rejection, or cruelty, but honesty and validation. Hell froze over, basically, and she couldn't be happier about it.

She says, "Then let me treat you like you belong to me."

Y/N guides him to roll over onto his back, careful as he pulls out of her to shift their position in order for her to straddle his lap. Her legs sit on either side of his hips, and she rises up on her knees just enough to allow him to guide his cock back inside of her. As soon as she sinks down onto him, they're both moaning out into the empty apartment with their hands clinging onto one another for support. Hers brace themselves on his pecs, fingers splayed over his swallow tattoos, and she uses this to keep herself steady as she begins to rock her hips back and forth on him. In this position, she can feel him even deeper than she did seconds ago.

He reaches for the camera that has been laying on its side on the mattress for the past two minutes and brings it back up to his face to capture his point of view. Her hair falls around her face as she drops her head down to meet his gaze, and he can't tear his eyes away from her for any longer than a second before he feels the need to find her again. With every thrust, she rides him harder. Fully in control, she sets the pace and depth she enjoys most and lets him come along for the ride with her, his hand holding onto her hip so hard that he runs the risk of bruising her.

"Harry," she whines, her eyes shining with tears, "Fuck—I love you."

The hand squeezing her hips guide her through the motions as she begins to get too immersed in the pleasure to keep it up. Her breasts bounce with the jolting motions of their bodies colliding, the wet sound of their rutting invading the room and accompanying the symphony of moans and sighs that otherwise fill the silence. It takes everything he has to keep himself from coming pathetically early from the sight and sound of her being split open on his cock. He had already noticed how close he was getting when she let him fuck her mouth, but now he's barely hanging on.

He has to close his eyes, knowing that if he keeps looking up at her while they do this, he'll finish in a matter of seconds and leave her unsatisfied. This has never happened to him before. In all the times he hooked up with random people over the years, treating sex more like a chore to release his volatile emotions than anything else, he never felt as though he was going to come less than a minute in. If anything, he took pride in the fact that he had stamina in bed, but he's beginning to realize now that it had little to do with his ability and everything to do with how he was treating the actual act of having sex with someone. They were physically attractive to him, yes, but they weren't her. And they certainly weren't crying out his name and telling him they loved him the way she is right now.

"Hey," she whispers, "what's wrong?"

The rapid pace she set begins to slow with her growing concern for him, but he doesn't let her. He uses the hand he has on her hip to keep her moving on his cock, shaking his head to dispel her worry as he tries to string together a sentence amidst the euphoria.

His eyes remain clamped shut when he mutters, "M'gonna come too fast if I look at you."

To this, she squeezes around him as tightly as she can as if to egg him on, invigorated by the thrill of knowing what she does to him and using it to bounce her hips on him like her life depends on it. She even exaggerates the sound of her soft moans for the sake of pushing him closer to the edge, and if he weren't so close to his orgasm, he'd probably laugh and call her out for being such a tease. At this point, he doesn't care about the camera capturing any of it. It ends up falling to the bed next to their bodies as he throws his head back against the mattress and tries to pull himself back from the brink of climax.

Then, he feels the hard steel of the pistol he left on the bed pressing into the side of his head.

"Go on," she says, and he can hear the smirk in her voice, "I want you to."

When he opens his eyes to take in the sight of her on top of him, there's no turning back. From the delicate curves of her hips leading up to her waist to the look in her eyes as she stares him down with his own gun pressed to his temple, this visual of her at the moment is nothing short of pornographic. Everything about it overstimulates him—watching her, hearing her breathy moans, and feeling her cunt squeezing around him as if she's trying to milk every drop of cum from his thick cock.

His brows scrunch up as he teeters on the edge, begging her, "Say it again. Please," he starts to thrust up to meet her movements, holding her still by her hip to allow him to pound into her with all of his strength, "Tell me."

Without even having to ask for clarity, she knows that what he wants to hear isn't the last thing she said. It's the confession that she's kept from spewing for weeks, and knowing that hearing her say it pushes him closer brings a tired smile to her kiss-swollen lips. She tosses the loaded gun aside and it clatters along the floor, sliding until it hits the far-off wall, then leans down to kiss him. Her lips taste of the flavored gloss she borrowed from Alanis this afternoon, and he slides his arms around her waist to tug her closer, chasing his release with little care for anything other than the woman before him.

He bites down on her lower lip in punishment when she takes too long to give him what he asked.

"Say it," Harry demands.

​​She gasps at the brutality of his thrusts and falls into his chest with no strength left to keep herself held up, whining every time he buries himself inside her hard enough that she knows she'll be sore tomorrow. The gun slips out of her hand and onto the sheets beside the forgotten camera she gifted him.

She cries out, "I love you, I love you—"

Her emphatic declarations of love are cut short by Harry kissing her, using her gasps for air as his chance to lick into her mouth with his tongue as he gives himself to the pleasure that has been begging to consume him since they began.

It's unlike anything he's experienced before. He never thought that sex could feel like this until he met her, and, more specifically, until he realizes what it felt like to do it with someone who loves you. With each spurt of his release, he feels like his life force is being drained out of him and given to her—it feels as if his soul belongs to her now. The arms wrapped around her are squeezing with enough force to limit her breathing, and he doesn't dream of letting her go. Not yet. He holds her as close to him as possible while he rides out the blissful rush of endorphins pumping through his body as his thrusts slow to a lazy grinding of his hips into hers.

She dips her head down to kiss his neck in the aftermath, giving him the space he needs to catch his breath now that he's on the comedown. His chest rises and falls at a rapid rate beneath hers, but it isn't a steady one. It jerks and stutters in a way she's only felt or seen when the person she's holding is crying, and it makes her come back up from the warm curve of his neck to check on him.

Those long lashes are wet with the tears he attempts to blink away. He is crying, but she doesn't feel alarmed by it. It's obvious to her that it isn't the type of crying bred from sorrow or regret, it's the type of crying bred from happiness. From love. They're the same kind of tears that she shed moments ago when she confessed her feelings for him.

As soon as he catches her watching him, though, he stops. Not because he isn't comfortable with her crying but, instead, because it occurs to him for the first time since coming back from the intense pleasure of his orgasm that she didn't come. And that simply won't do.

Harry pecks her once on the mouth before using the arms still encasing her waist to flip them over. With his considerable strength, it's a smooth transition that is over as soon as it begins, and she hardly has the chance to laugh before her back hits the mattress. He's already descending the length of her body by the time she lifts her head to look at him. His hands push her legs apart with little formality, exposing her sodden cunt to him.

"You don't have to—"

She can't even finish the sentence before his face is buried between her thighs, his tongue spreading her open and feasting on her unashamedly. He could tell that she was getting close by the time he came, so he didn't want to waste any time and risk her losing it.

It's hard for her to hold her head up off of the bed to look down at him, but she holds out for as long as she can because seeing him looking up at her with his tongue lapping up his own cum that drips from her is undoing in and of itself. Knowing he close she was before, once he's swallowed all of the release that was dripping from her hole, he moves his attention up to her clit. The difference is immediately noticeable in how she tenses up in his hold and starts to grind her pussy against his face in a desperate plea for more, more, more.

Although his cheeks are burning scarlet from coming prematurely, it is all forgotten in her mind and replaced by the budding pleasure building in the pit of her tummy. His lips close around her clit and suck hard, his tongue flicking against it repeatedly, and she can't help but throw her head back against the mattress in ecstasy. It has her breath turning from a steady, deep rhythm to heavy pants that are never enough. From his place down low, he watches her back arch and exaggerate the size of her breasts as they fall up and down with the dramatic breaths she takes.

He parts from her for only a second to murmur in between kisses placed on her sticky inner thighs, "Could stay here all night, baby, y'taste so fucking good."

The arms he has wrapped around her thighs rug her closer to his face, and he begins to lose himself in it now. Whenever she sneaks a glance down at him, his eyes are closed and the movements of his tongue and lips on her clit are executed with a practiced perfection. God, she cannot believe that she has him all to herself. Now that she knows he's with her for the long haul, she finds it difficult to wrap her head around the fact that she is the only one who gets to experience this with him. Plenty of women and men take lingering looks at him whenever they're out in public, but his eyes never stray from her. Hers is the only body he will kneel before to worship like a devout believer praying at an altar before the Almighty.

She babbles incoherently as he lifts her hips up from the bed and eats her like a man starved, licking and sucking at her puffy clit like he'll never get the chance to do it again. He's in a trance at this point. Even when she whines his name and reaches down to grab a handful of his hair to tug on, he doesn't react or look up at her, he just continues his relentless assault on her sensitive cunt until she starts to feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm stirring inside of her.

Having been warmed up for it by him fucking her, it doesn't take much to get her back to where she'd been before he came. She was already easy to rile when they were strangers to each other's bodies, but now that he knows her better than he's ever known a partner before, he could get the job done in less than two minutes if he wants to. And, he thinks that just might happen tonight if the way she's saying his name and clawing at his shoulders has anything to say about it.

"Harry!" she sobs, "M'gonna come—fuck—right there!"

One more flick of his tongue against her clit as his lips suck hard around it and she is sent careening over the edge into oblivion with nothing to tether her to reality except for him. She digs her nails into his shoulders as she jerks and tenses with every pulsating wave of her climax. It robs her of her breath, leaving her with nothing to do but writhe throughout it all and leave her mouth fallen open to sing her praises to him with what little breath she manages to take in. It's the type of orgasm that wipes the slate clean and empties her mind of every worry it held onto prior to this. The hit on Saturday, Alanis leaving the country, either of them being hurt on the next job—none of it can reach her.

When the final peak of it drops her back off into her body, he remains between her thighs, ever the diligent lover, to help her through the aftershocks before she becomes too sensitive to handle his touch for a bit. It isn't until she pulls on his hair, mumbling a soft, "Too much," at him while she jerks her hips away, that he pulls away. The back of his hand wipes his mouth and chin to clean it of the mixture of his cum and her slick arousal.

With the absence of their moans and the sounds of their bodies converging, the room rings with silence as he crawls back up the length of her body and collapses onto her chest with a tired sigh. She accepts him with open arms, her mind too muddled from her climax to even realize that this is the first time he's cuddled with her. His body is a furnace atop hers, and she savors every second of the warmth seeping into her body, the thin layers of sweat coating them blending at each place they connect.

It takes a long time for either of them to say anything.

Harry lays with his head cradled against her heaving chest, eyes closed, and takes it all in. Every word, every touch, every kiss—he rewinds the events of the night and relives them until he has them memorized inside and out. The burnt hand slides up the side of her waist until it finds one of the hands resting on his shoulders, removing it for the sake of entwining their fingers together.

Meanwhile, Y/N lies beneath him in utter shock.

Tonight went in the opposite of every direction she assumed it would. The aforementioned shock doesn't mean she is displeased by the turn of events, not in the slightest, but she can't say that their previous track record indicated any of this going as smoothly as it has.

"Can I tell y'something?"

His voice is the first to break the silence.

A lazy smile appears on her face as she cranes her neck to allow herself to meet his gaze. His head is tilted back, her breast a soft cushion beneath it, and his heavy-lidded eyes never stray from her face.

"Anything," she says.

There's a pause, then—

"I stole your knives."

She sits up as much as their current position will allow with her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Her upper body is supported on her elbows when she sits up, disrupting his comfortable spot on her chest in favor of checking his face for any sign of dishonesty or playful teasing. There is only honesty found in his unflinching stare.

"What?"

He sighs, pushing himself up so that he's no longer bearing all of his weight on her body and, instead, braces most of it on his arms while he lays between her legs.

"After I brought you home from Leo's place," he clarifies, "when y'were too distracted with Alanis and Zayn to notice, I stole them."

"Why?"

In her heart, she already knows the answer to that question, but she must ask. For the sake of the heart that aches for him at the mere thought of his possible reasoning for doing such a thing, she must ask.

He says softly, "I didn't want you to hurt yourself again."

That statement alone could be replayed and analyzed in the back of her mind until the end of time. How could he claim he never cared when they fought last night if everything else he says when they talk contradicts it? First, it was him sparing her life, then giving her rent money, then saving her from being tortured and murdered at Leo's hand, and countless other actions no terrible man would bother going through with. If he's a monster, then why was he the only one to see her drowning and extend a hand to pull her from the rough current?

"You know what I think?" she asks.

He doesn't dare respond with anything other than a glance. Should this go south in the way he's assuming it will—because, let's be honest, it always goes south eventually when it comes to him—he doesn't want to say anything more to ruin it than he already has. She's probably preparing to scold him for assuming she couldn't handle her urges on her own, for assuming she needed to be looked after like a child—

"I think you're a good man, Harry."

Everything stops at that.

The thoughts racing around in his head, his heart hammering against his ribcage in his chest, and every other part of him that has been on alert to assess the next threat for the past decade—it all stops, and, for the first time since he was dragged into this abhorrent world of murder and heartache, he can breathe.

No one has ever said that to him. Growing up, it was because it was a given. He was a sweet boy, a mama's boy, and the few times he got in trouble were due to misunderstandings and typical childhood mood swings. So, no one felt the need to point it out. But, after he began "working" for Leo, everyone pointed out the opposite. Everyone called him a monster, not that he ever disagreed, and he welcomed it. The more people who feared him, who loathed him, the better. The distance would protect him. Everyone he's met in the last ten years has come to the same consensus that he is a terrible man worthy of nothing. Until her.

"You're just a good man who's been forced to become someone he's not," she whispers, "and I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that, but I do now." Her hand reaches down to brush the hair hanging in his eyes out of his face as she looks at him with a softened gaze. Tears flood her eyes once more, and she wishes she could get through it without becoming overwhelmed with emotion, but she can't. Her voice even trembles when she says, "And I love you so much."

He cannot do anything but stare at her with every word he wants to say stuck in the back of his throat, barred from coming out until he processes what she said and allows the full emotion of it to rush through him. And even though he can't say it back yet, hearing it from her over and over tonight has reached a place in his threat he thought was long since dead.

His mouth opens to speak, but he's cut off.

The sound of his phone ringing where he left it in the living room cuts through the blissful haze created by the night they've spent together, and she can instantly feel him tensing up on top of her. His eyes shut, and it's almost as if he pretends that if he stays as still as possible, nothing will have to change. But, of course, they have a harsh reality to face whenever either of their phones ring, so he has no choice but to part with her to answer it.

"Stay here, baby," he murmurs, then pushes himself off of her and stalks off toward the living room in pursuit of his phone.

Unlike the night at the race track, Harry doesn't keep a distance between them once he picks up the call. He actually comes back into the room and sits at the end of the bed as he hits the button to answer it. She doesn't invade his privacy by crawling up from behind and wrapping her arms around him as she wishes to, but she does watch him throughout for any signs of it being Leo or Garrett calling them to action.

She can't hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but with the way his brows raise and his eyes widen, she assumes the worst. She assumes that Garrett is calling to tell them that they have to get in the car and drive to the place where the hit will take place as soon as possible.

Harry nods his head along to whatever the person is saying, even glancing over his shoulder at her once or twice. But, much to her surprise, he doesn't hide his true feeling from her by schooling his face into the typical mask of neutrality.

“Can I bring someone with me?” he asks, then spins a little white lie in order to convince them to let him bring her along. “I know it’s supposed to be family only, but I just got married yesterday. I’d like my wife to come along.”

Her heart begins to pound at the thought of the title he just placed on her. Even if it’s not the truth.

A second later, he says, "Good. We'll be there tonight."

-

The whole car ride over, which ended up being a little over an hour, he briefed her on where they were going and why they were going there. As soon as the call dropped, he was quick to reassure her that it wasn't Leo or Garrett calling upon them for their services. She watched in confusion as he stood up from the bed and began getting dressed, digging through the dresser drawers for a clean set of casual clothes as he told her to do the same.

It wasn't until she stood from the bed and began dressing beside him, slipping on a loose pair of jeans and one of his vintage band tees, that he offered any form of an explanation for the interruption. Apparently, it was the same place or person that called him the night on the race track when he had a "family emergency", the only difference this time being that she was allowed to peek behind the curtain and know what was going on.

Harry stuffed his gun back into the holster he switched from his dirty pants to his new ones, saying to her as he searched the room for his backpack, "My mother's in a nursing home. Whenever they call, I go. M'sorry to cut our Christmas short, but they called with good news. I'll explain it all in the car. C'mon."

With that, he grabbed her arm by the wrist and pulled her along to follow him. They made it all the way out of the apartment, into the elevator, and to the top level of the garage where he always kept his cars parked before he proceeded with his promised explanation. It was all a bit jarring, honestly. To receive such pivotal information in a matter of seconds, all while her head was still reeling from the night they shared, dizzied her.

They were about ten minutes into the ride when he spoke again.

"She has Alzheimer's," he said, cutting her a sorrowful look before looking back at the road. "When I was eighteen, she needed to be put into full-time care. S'why I had to borrow so much money from Leo, I couldn't afford any of it at the time. I mean, what eighteen-year-old living in the states can?" The music playing from the phone he plugged into the aux cord filled the gaps in speech as she stared at him with watering eyes. "Anyway, they called and said she had a fall last month. Broke her hip and needed surgery, that's why I left so fast. But, this time, it's good. The nurse said she's been lucid for hours. It never usually happens for any longer than thirty minutes with her, so by the time I get there, she doesn't even know who I am."

That's what led her here, standing hand in hand with him in the lobby of the nursing home with her head spinning from the overload of information dumped on her.

That was what Leo had to keep him in it, wasn't it? It didn't make sense to her why he stayed if he was so close to killing himself as a way out at one point, but, now, everything clicks. If he killed himself, his mother would be left with no one to pay for her care, and if he left...It's the same situation she faced with Alanis. It's Leo's best tactic at getting people to obey him—find out who they love and keep them under the threat of death or torture at all times should the person working under him step out of line.

From what she knows of Alzheimer's and Dementia patients, terminal lucidity is often a sign of death waiting right around the corner, but she doesn't dare to say that to him. How could she ruin this ray of sunshine that has found its way into his life after years of perpetual night?

He squeezes her hand hard in his, tapping his foot against the tiled floor to the anxious beat of his heart, and keeps searching down the long hallway for the nurse that said she'd go and ask her if she wanted to see her visitors.

"It's been, like, seven years since she remembered me," he says with a smile growing on his face. "Do y'think she'll remember me now?"

Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at him with a smile to match his own.

"If they're saying she's lucid, I don't see why she wouldn't."

It's difficult for her to enjoy the happiness emanating from him. All she can think of is how young he was when it all began and how terrified he must've been. He told her on the car ride over that his dad never spoke to them again once she got the diagnosis, leaving him to handle everything in his absence, and it made her heart snap in two. He was just a boy. He's never had the chance to truly live as an adult, every second has been consumed by the debt, Leo, and murdering people against his will, and it enrages her. If the promise of his imminent downfall weren't already planned out, she'd likely steal his gun and hunt their boss down herself for stealing his life away.

He saw a sweet young boy in need of help, desperate to latch onto any older man he could out of a need for a father figure to replace the one that abandoned him, and chose to destroy him rather than lend a hand. So, while Harry smiles and waits in excitement for the nurse to bring them to his mother, she's trying not to cry for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

The sound of a woman's gentle voice breaks her from her trance.

"Mr. Styles?" she asks, then turns her gaze to her. "Mrs. Styles?"

The ring sitting on her left hand is an old one he dug out of the jewelry stand in the bathroom. It isn't what most people would view as a traditional wedding ring, but it was the only one he had that fit her ring finger, so it would have to work. If anyone questioned him, he'd happily tell them fuck right off. The nurse's unbreaking stare makes her realize she forgot to take off the sunglasses he gave her, and she reaches up to snatch them off of her face.

It was dark outside, but she put them on on the off chance that she'd cry more tonight and need to hide her puffy red eyes from any curious passerby. And, considering the fact that she was two seconds from shedding tears from merely thinking of what he's gone through, that wasn't an unrealistic worry to have.

"Yes?" Harry responds.

The badge clipped to the front of her pink scrub shirt reads, "Kaitlyn," and she smiles so widely, her eyes crinkle at the sides from behind the thick lenses of eyeglasses.

"Come with me."

It takes a decent minute or so to get from the lobby to the open door to his mother's assigned room. The nurse had to use her badge to swipe them into the patient's side of the of building, explaining away about their safety precautions to protect the inhabitants as both of them ignored her in favor of their own thoughts. Down another long hallway of rooms, to the left, and there it is. Her name is written on a dry-erase board hanging from the front of the door.

Elise.

What a lovely name, she thinks to herself.

Kaitlyn comes to a stop outside of the threshold and offers them a bright smile as a parting gift, saying, "She's waiting for you. She just took her sleeping meds, so she'll probably be out pretty soon, but you've got thirty minutes before visiting is done, so enjoy."

Harry walks in ahead of her with his gloved hand still holding on tight, arm extending behind to guide her in after him as he hurries into the room with an excitement that cannot be contained within it. The first thing she sees are walls covered from top to bottom with artwork. Paintings, drawings, sketches, and more framed forms of art that cover the beige walls and enliven them with color. It makes sense now that she sees how his mother chose to decorate her room why Harry has such an artistic, romantic soul.

And when she turns her attention over to the woman sitting up in a reclining chair, even deteriorating with age and sickness, Harry's good looks make even more sense to her. Long hair the same shade as his, following the same loose curl pattern, is streaked with grays and braided in two sides.

"Mum," he says as a way of greeting.

Their smiles are exactly the same, she soon realizes. Dimples form on either side of her lips as they pull away from her teeth in a grin, and her two front teeth are a tad bit longer than the others beside them. Just like his.

She holds out her hands in an invitation for him to come closer.

"My baby boy," Elise says softly.

Neither of them is sure how lucid she is, whether or not she knows he's not still an eighteen-year-old kid or younger even, but he got what he wished for the past seven years. His mother remembers who he is. For once in his adult life, he doesn't come to visit her only to be met with confusion and violent outbursts. The last time he came here, she was so high off of the pills they gave her in her recovery from hip surgery that when she woke up to see him sitting at her bedside in the middle of the night, she began screaming and throwing every nearest object she could reach at the "intruder"

The two of them share a lingering embrace, and Y/N doesn't do much other than take in the small room, picking at the sleeve of the shirt she stole from him to keep her hands occupied.

When they pull apart, Elise's eyes land on her and narrow. They scan up and down, almost analytically, until she seems to get a general grip on who the woman standing in front of her is. She inevitably comes to the conclusion that she is a stranger to her but not to her dear son.

"This is my girlfriend," Harry says. He stares at her with affection shining through in his eyes and reaches out his hand to beckon her closer. "Her name is Y/N. We were just exchanging our Christmas gifts"—a subtle wink direction at her while he brings her over to the same side of the recliner chair he stands on—"when Kaitlyn called me."

There's a moment of silence.

"Are those mine?"

Y/n follows the path of Elise's finger pointing to the center of her chest and finds that the sunglasses Harry gifted her last month are the subject of interest.

He squeezes her hand a few times in his before letting it go to kneel beside his mother.

"They are," he says quietly, which is news to Y/N. "You told me when I was twenty to give them to the woman I want to marry...I think she's the one, Mum. You'll love her once you two get talking for a bit."

Elise watches her for a couple more seconds before settling her attention back on her son and nodding in acceptance of his choice. It must be overwhelming—meeting your grown son and his girlfriend for the first time after years of not knowing who you are or where you live except for short moments of clarity that never last more than thirty minutes. The last time she was fully lucid in his presence, he was on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood. His hair was overgrown, shaggy and wild with the same curls growing from her head, and his eyes were brighter back then. It was before Leo had broken him.

When she looks around the room, Y/N notices framed pictures on her bedside table and ones that hang on the walls between art pieces carefully chosen from her large collection locked away in a storage unit he pays for monthly. It isn't so bad, but when she pays attention, it saddens her. The carpet is stained in places, whether it be with blood or urine, there's no way to tell, but the smell is suffocating. Clearly, she's had many accidents relating to incontinence, and the staff must not properly clean the rug enough to keep the stench from permeating through the air of the closed area.

It starts to get so bad to her over the next minute, she feels the need to hold her breath, and she can't stand it for another second before she has to excuse herself.

"Um, I'm gonna go to the ladies' room," she says with a forced smile, then shoots him a look that tells him not to worry about her. "Be right back."

Neither of them puts up a fight when she turns to walk out of the room, they're far too distracted with each other to notice the undercurrent of tension that lives within her at the moment. The sense of sickness persists the entire way down the hall until she passes through the double doors Kaitlyn had to swipe her badge to get them through. She isn't concerned with getting back to Elise's room at the moment, though. Her main concern is whether or not she can stifle the sickness rising in her throat.

Thankfully for her, the strong scent is evaporated once she reaches the bathrooms stationed at the front lobby and replaced with the overpowering disinfectant used to wipe down the mirrors, sinks, toilets, and floors. It's unpleasant but not nearly as bad as she found the scent of urine in the hall of patient rooms.

Y/N comes to a halt in front of one of the mirrors, bracing her hands against the sink, and takes deep breaths in and out of her mouth until she feels stable enough in her ability to keep her food down. The relief of knowing she won't have to throw up releases the tension that built in her shoulders and neck, allowing her to sigh a heavy breath of relief and turn away from the sink now that she knows she won't be sick.

Her head hangs low as she turns to lean against the porcelain, her fingers gripping it hard enough to turn her knuckles white, and tries to calm herself amidst all that has happened today. From beginning to end, it took her for enough twists and turns to give her whiplash.

Hopefully, she won't feel sick again when she goes back in there, but she doesn't have any other choice. It's his mother. His mother he avoided mentioning to her like the plague and didn't trust her knowing was alive until tonight. The fact that he brought her here to meet her while she's lucid is an honor she could never thank him enough for bestowing upon her. Not to mention, the sunglasses, him calling her his girlfriend, and the lie he told to the nurses about her being his new wife.

A subdued little smirk finds its way to her face as she lifts her head up and turns to make her way back to the patient rooms, but something hanging on the wall catches her eye.

It's a dispenser for feminine hygiene products.

And that is all it takes for her to be stopped in her tracks. She typically gets prone to nausea in the days before her period, but not without the presence of dull cramps that don't require any more than a dose of over-the-counter pain medication. This nausea she has can't be her period, not if she doesn't have any other symptoms or even a little spotting in her panties.

The longer she looks at the dispenser, the more it dawns on her what might be happening to her.

She didn't get her period in November, did she? It's most often toward the end of the month, so she didn't worry about it, but with everything that's been going on, she got so distracted that she—

Her hand slaps over her mouth as she hurries out of the restroom and flees for the colder night air in hopes that it'll cool her down from the anxiety causing her to perspire beneath her clothes. Going back to the memory of her last period verges on impossible considering the more important information she's had to keep track of in the time since the middle of October, but she knows it didn't come last month. And if her last period was two weeks before Halloween and she vomited her guts out after being drugged by Tate?

The wind blows cold against her stunned face, and she can't do anything but pace around in a blind panic.

She took the pill regularly every single day, and she made sure of that, but Halloween night was the only time she fucked up. The alarm for her pill is seven in the afternoon, and it wasn't much later that she was on her knees puking into a trash can. That paired with the fact that she and Harry had sex first thing in the morning—

"Fuck..."

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #getaway car #dark!harry #don’t worry darling #fanfiction

[vidalinav]

https://www.tumblr.com/vidalinav/712546999526998016/omega-verse-nessian-with-nesta-nesting-haha

I’m sorry you can’t just say this and leave it at that (jokes of course)

I would give you my firstborn child for this

I said a lot of things in this post so which one was I leaving you hanging on? I just chose one at random since I felt like writing, but not finishing something.

~ "Where are you going?" Azriel asked, raising a brow at the blankets in his arms.

There was six if his brother bothered to count and Cassian hoped he didn't, because he wouldn't know what to say to explain why he had so many. He couldn't help himself was the only thing that came to mind, but then again, when could he help himself?

Certainly not when they'd first met the Archeron sisters in all their glory and Nesta had raised her haughty nose and he'd insulted her very existence. Certainly not when he'd spent three days servicing her heat after she'd opened the door, flushed and squirming, and she'd become so desperate for him that he nearly bit her right then. She'd kicked him square in the nuts the next morning and still Cassian held the blasphemous blankets in his arms.

Maybe it was when he caught her tear and he'd made a number of promises that he couldn't keep and not keeping them was as good as a knife wound he could never heal from. She could twist it, he decided. If she wanted to, she could take take the knife out and stab him again, and he'd come right back so she could do it again, because Cassian couldn't help himself.

But Cassian couldn't rightfully explain why he had one blanket of wool so as to keep Nesta warm when she was holed up in the house of all places and one of cashmere incase she wanted something soft. One in a greyish blue he'd only seen in her eyes. One in a bright red... just in case she thought of him. One in a knitted pattern that reminded him of her and another so plush he could see her hoarding it into her nest like a little dragon.

He didn't get to see much of her nest the last time. The only thing he'd paid attention to was her scent and her body, begging for his touch. Cassian wished he'd paid more attention to the blankets and the baskets and the color of her room, and the trinkets on her nightstand and the books along her wall. The things she wore when she was home and alone, though she didn't wear much after he'd arrived.

Cassian was trying his best to fill in the gaps, and he'd hoped any of these provided the comfort she desperately deserved. Especially now, when she'd lost the human comforts that once was her whole life.

So, Cassian lifted his wings to Azriel in answer and casually offered, "I'm going to stretch my wings."

But that wasn't a good enough explanation for the shadowsinger and not for his high lord either, who shuffled down his newspaper and gave him a look that meant he didn't need to read his mind to know he was lying.

Rhys hummed a non-committed sound, squinting at the sheer volume. "And the blankets?"

"If I get cold, I'll have something to keep me warm. You, of all people, told me to take extra care of them while they're still healing."

"Yes, but why six?"

Azriel jutted his chin to the basket encased in his hand. "And what's in there?"

Cassian rolled his eyes and even that movement made him think of the female locked away in a mountain top who needed to eat something before she withered away. "Why do you need to know?"

It was Rhys who answered, fluffing his newspaper as if a dismissal. "Because I don't want to hear a complaint from an Archeron sister about a harassment from a moony Illyrian... especially when she still won't let us help her."

Which is why, Cassian wanted to argue, this was exactly what he needed to do. He'd been up there every morning for two weeks and she'd thrown a book at him, roared at him, flipped him off, but it had taken effort.

She'd been quiet, always looking to check on Elain as if she wasn't also irrevocably changed. It had taken him too long to see that ire, hear that scoff, summon that storm in her eyes, and it had scared him almost as much as seeing her head dunked under that cauldron. Cassian wasn't sure when it started--when he began to bring gifts with him and tiny trinkets and books-- but he'd done it every day this week.

If she'd thrown it out the window when he left, he didn't know. Cassian didn't care, because at least it was a movement, a moment, a true emotion.

The basket had food. Sweets, in fact, because it was the only thing he knew she would eat. She'd refused the chicken, the roast, the curry, the stew, but after every day the one thing she'd touch was the dessert.

So today, he'd brought enough dessert to feed a small army and maybe he'd snuck in the zucchini bread and the carrot cake to provide some semblance of a vegetable intake and maybe he'd still packed bread albeit with honey butter, and maybe he'd still packed a meal she could share with Elain. Pasta with roasted butternut squash.

But she would eat, if it was the last thing he'd do.

Rhys snorted, " and if you're not careful, she might hang you from the House of Wind with those blankets and how will I explain that to the people of Velaris."

To be continued

#nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #omegaverse nessian

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Stolen

Summary:you originally from rise accidentally get teleported to the 2012 universe by leo and while your there steal Donnie from April.

April is pink Splinter is slanted your bold and Casey is normal

Type:scenario:Donnie x male reader

Version:2012(with a little rise)

~

You were just relaxing in the lair when you heard the twins going crazy over somethin.

"What's going on over there?"

You looked towards donnies lab

"That's a great question y/n, who knows those two are a wild duo"

You nodded agreeing before standing up to go check it out. When you got there leo had opened a portal and trying to get Donnie to send shelldon through it.

"Come on Donnie it come be so cool"

"Yeah or complete DISASTER"

You started to walk over to them.

"Hey wh-"

Before you could finish leo had pushed you through. Now it was on accident but you couldn't tell. It just felt like leo pushed you bit he actually elbowed you. You fell quickly surprisingly. You landed on your face. When you looked up you seen April, Cassandra, and splinter. And you seen your in the dojo ir also looked different

"Oh hey guys, how's it going. Cassandra you look different, did you get a haircut"

They looked different yes but you could tell who they were.

"Cassandra? Nah my names Casey"

"Oh Casey? Mm, I really am in a different universe, can yall remind me to kill leo when I get back"

They all looked at you weird

"Yeah don't mind me"

You stood up and dusted yourself off.

"You are you?"

You looked up at splinter a bit shocked.

"The names y/n"

They all nodded, still confused.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I don't have a reason Leo kept elbowed me I here"

"Leo elbowed you!"

Everyone looked towards Mikey who was standing in the door way with his brothers behind him.

"Leo, what did he do to you"

"I didn't elbow him, I've never seen him in by life"

"Mikey, it was a different leo"

Mikey looked at you, and smiled.

"Oh, well anyways I'm-"

He looked at you terrified.

"Let me explain"

After explaining what happened and answering all questions asked, they sat up a room for you. April wasn't to pleased with you there so she ignored you. After a couple months of being there you started to realized April and donnie were dating but April was horrible to him, so like any good friend you took the matter into your own hands. Your mission, make the cute need fall in love with you and take him from April. He deserves better. And you did just that. A month of takin care for Donnie, doing nice things for him, helping him,listening to him, etc. You went the whole mile. And he fall in love but felt bad since he was dating April. And you could tell, so one day you ask him out completely ignoring the fact he was dating April.

"Hey Donnie quick question"

You sat on his desk in front of him to gain his full attention. You could tell he got frustrated by the act. But his small nod let you know to continue.

"So i was wondering if you'd like to go out with me"

"But what about April?"

You smirked, knowing your plan was gonna work.

"Break up with her. I mean who's stopping you?"

Donnie stopped and thought about it. You couldn't see his face so you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Okay"

You smiled, and watched him stand up. Following him, you watched as he went to April who was talking to Casey in the kitchen. You only followed Donnie to the doorway of the lab so you couldn't hear what they were saying. But you could see April's face change, and you knew Donnie broke up with her. You chucked and walked back into the lab and sat back down were you were I the first place. You heard Donnie open the doors and come sit down in front of you.

"I did it"

Donnie looked up at you smiling a little.

"So about early?"

"Yeah, I'll go out with you"

You smirked and knew April was currently getting mad.

"That's great"

You leaned in, and gently grabbed donnies chin. You felt his breath hitch, as he looked from your eyes to your lips.

"May I?"

Donnie nodded, a bit faster than you expected. You leaned In and kissed him. It wasn't a short kiss, it wasn't steamy either. But it was long enough for April to see. And that's why you did it. You had some experience with kissing so you weren't bad. But when you heard the door open you opened one eye and looked over. Seeing April you deepened the kiss just a little. And you heard the door slam. You kept going for a hit second before pulling away. Donnie was very flustered and couldn't look you in the eye. He was breathing heavily too.

"Sorry, got carried away"

"I-its fine"

You hummed and looked towards the door knowing full well April is storming home right now all pissed off.

~

A/n:I hope yall enjoyed

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt imagine #tmnt x male reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt 2012 x male reader

[veysxrge]

OMG HI I saw u write for tkc I was wo define if you could write an Amos x Sett fic ir HCS or just some HCS for Amos if youre not comfy with the ship!

Thank you in advance!!!!

Amos Kane HCs (T.K.C)

I haven't read the books in a while so I don't feel uncomfortable with the ship I just feel like I wouldn't portray the characters correctly! Once I reread the series I'll definitely post smth on them, I've been planning on doing that for a while anyways!

I remember Amos more than Sett, so here are some hcs for him! (Also read some of his wiki so I'd get facts & names right)

I feel like he would definitely be a regular at the local library, so much to the point where the librarians know him by name and he knows them by name (if he likes them he brings them their favorite coffee/snack when he comes in)

He definitely knows how to cook, and when he cooks he cooks for an army. Amos definitely is in the kitchen during family gatherings.

I'd like to think he is the type of person who shows he cares through gifts. Since he's gotten close to Carter and Sadie again, whenever he goes on trips he brings them both back something he thinks they'd like.

He's definitely brought back Sadie a tiara when they first started getting close again because he remembers when she was younger she always wanted a tiara. (She didn't want it but Carter gave her a look and she put it on)

I feel like he visits the Brooklyn house a lot, whether it be to help out the kids or to just relive some fond memories from his past.

Even if he became the most powerful magician Amos would be pretty chill about it, never flaunting his status and showing up at random events where people wouldn't expect him to be.

I think he wouldn't listen to music much, but when he did it would be jazz or blues. I think he enjoys the music from it mostly, but if the lyrics are relatable he'll learn them within 2 listens of the song and sing along.

Amos would love to start gardening but unfortunately while he is great in the kitchen he is terrible in the garden. I feel like he would have had a plant in the Brooklyn house and he didn't know what he was doing wrong then Sadie came around and was like 'that plant is long gone dude' and he's just sigh and get rid of it.

He's definitely bi, I feel like he would've experimented a bit and was like 'Yeah, makes sense' and moved on.

I feel like he would be affiliated with Chiron from the Greek side of Rick Riordan's books, they may send like letters to each other to let them know if the world is ending in their side of things.

Since he knows there Olympus is located in Manhattan I feel like he would avoid Manhattan when he was doing things related to his gods out of respect for the Greek gods.

I love making hcs and I hope these made sense with my terrible memory! Again sorry I couldn't write a fic/hcs on the ship but after I finish rereading Michael Vey I'll look into rereading TKC and get started on that (I have a list and your req is on the top!! :D) - Vey

#the kane chronicles #kane chronicles #amos kane #amos #sadie kane #carter kane #headcanon