#SHOT Show coverage

[theroguebanshee]

Tactaload Flash-5 Stock: The Revolutionary Shotgun Upgrade You Can’t Ignore

Tactaload Flash-5 Stock at SHOT Show 2025: Revolutionary Shotgun Upgrades SHOT Show 2025 was packed with exciting innovations, and Tactaload once again delivered with the Flash-5 Stock and their all-new shotgun forend. The Tactaload Flash-5 Stock remains one of the most innovative shotgun upgrades available, offering fast reloads and integrated ammo storage. This year, they’ve expanded their…

[petit-papillion]

Twitch Quartet + Pierre + Zhou

Lando: "…but I had the red flag in FP1 on my lap and then the second lap was just shit, then I went off in turn 9 in FP3…"

Drivers' Parade | Japanese Grand Prix | 7 April 2024

📸 ln4norris

[orpheusilver]

fascinating shot for what is essentially a conversation scene

[labelleizzy]

It's important to know what is going on.

Written by US Senator Chris Murphy (D - CT)

Report from the Senate Floor:

Last night in the Senate, something really important happened. Republicans forced us to debate their billionaire bailout budget framework. We started voting at 6 PM because they knew doing it in the dark of night would minimize media coverage. And they do not want the American people to see how blatant their handover of our government to the billionaire class is.

So I want to explain what happened last night and what we did to fight back. The apex of Republicans’ plan to turn over our government to their wealthy cronies is a giant tax cut for billionaires and corporations. And they plan to pay for it with cuts to programs that working people rely on. Popular and necessary programs like Medicaid, Medicare, and SNAP, are all being targeted.

In order to pass the tax cut, Republicans have to go through a series of procedural steps. Last night, they took the first step which requires them to pass an outline of their plan, but with it, any senator can offer as many amendments as we want. So my Democratic colleagues and I did just that.

Now, we knew that Republicans would largely unanimously oppose them, but we had two objectives here. One, Republicans were forced to put their opinion on record — many for the first time — on the most corrupt parts of Trump and Musk’s agenda. Two, as I’ve been saying, I am going to make every process and procedure as slow and painful as possible for as long as my colleagues choose to ignore the constitutional crisis happening before our eyes.

So what did we propose? We proposed no tax cuts for anyone who makes a billion dollars a year. We made them vote on whether or not Elon Musk and DOGE should have limitless access to Americans’ personal data. We made them vote on whether to protect IVF and require insurers to cover it. Every single amendment Democrats proposed was shot down. On almost every single amendment, Republicans universally opposed it. Every Republican voted against our proposal to prevent more tax cuts for billionaires. The corruption and theft is happening in the open here.

The whole game for Republicans is taking your money and giving it to the wealthiest corporations and billionaires — even if it means kicking your parents out of a nursing home or turning off Medicaid for the poorest children. They know what they are doing is deeply unpopular. They are offering a tax cut to the most wealthy that is 850 times larger than what they are offering working people. Oh and by the way, any tax cuts for working people are going to be washed out by higher costs for basic necessities, like health care and food. It’s a fundamental injustice.

Thanks to your pressure and support, many of my Democratic colleagues have joined my effort to do everything we can to make sure they cannot destroy democracy and steal your money in the dark of the night. We are being loud about what is happening. I’m going to continue to grind the gears of Congress down as much as possible to make it that much harder and slower to get away with this corruption. That’s why the votes lasted until nearly 5 AM.

This is a five-alarm fire. I don’t think we have two years to plan and fight back. I think we have months. It’s still in our power to stop the destruction of our democracy with mass mobilization and effective opposition from elected officials. So we can’t miss any opportunity to take advantage of opportunities to put Republicans on the record and shine a light on what is happening.

And you have a role to play in this as well. I need you to amplify what’s happening, support the leaders who are fighting for you to make sure they can continue speaking truth to power against Musk and Trump’s billionaire cronies, and show up at rallies and town halls. Use every tool at your disposal to send a message loud and clear about how you expect my colleagues to lead and fight in this moment.

Every best wish,

US Senator Chris Murphy (D - CT)

[malasquid]

So. I've Cracked The Code On The Appearance Changes in Side Order.

Wall of photos and such incoming.

After a lot of testing, I've discovered there are 7 different little lights and doodads that are added to Agent 8 via upgrading certain chips, each with a basic 1st tier and and upgraded 2nd tier. The 1st tier of upgrades appear after picking up two of the same chips in that changes pool (ex: 2 Homing Shots chips), with the 2nd tier appearing after picking up five of them (ex: 5 Homing Shot chips). There is no further visual indicators added for maxing chips that go beyond 5, such as Splash Damage or Rush Attack.

Full disclaimer: This is the result of researching a LOT of my own runs, so I can say this is true with about 95% certainty. If I labeled an ability chip in the wrong visual pool, please let me know!

Let's start with the basics - our control group. No Teal upgrades provide any visible changes to Agent 8 (or Pearl-bot for that matter), so I ran an all-teal palette to demonstrate.

First is likely one of the more requested visual changes - the Headset. The 1st tier sports a basic metallic earpiece, with the 2nd adding an antenna and eyepiece that match your primary ink color.

Maxing Splash Damage, Sound Wave Damage, Splash Radius, Special Charge Up, Turf Lucky Chain, Rush Knockback, and Homing Shots all provide the headset!

Next up is Ink Bubbles. The 1st tier shows transparent, slower bubbles flowing in 8's ink tank, with the bubbles being faster and more opaque in the 2nd tier.

Nabbing Poison Ink, Splat Ink Recovery, Ink Saver Sub, Ink Recovery Rate, Sticky Ink, and Explosion Knockback all provide Ink Bubbles.

Following that is the Fins. The 1st tier shows the base shackles being added to 8's boots, with the fins themselves being added for the 2nd tier.

Picking up Run Speed, Swim Speed, Rush Attack, Mobile Ink Recovery, Mobile Special Charge, and Mobile Drone Gauge all provide the Fins.

Now, moving on to the weapon upgrades!

First we have the Muzzle Lights, which appear at the muzzle of most weapons, and the sides of the brush and roller nearest the base. The 1st tier shows a circle and squares circling around the muzzle, with the 2nd tier being more exaggerated, with alternating squares and rectangles forming a hexagon pattern in the center.

These are exclusive to the Ink Damage, Main Damage (Close), and Main Damage (Distant) chips.

Next up is likely the most common visual one can see on their run - the Arrows. The 1st tier shows a circle with three arrows pointing down the weapon, with the 2nd tier adding some blowback markers behind the circle.

These are on a whopping TEN upgrades, being Splatling Barrage, Main Firing Speed, Horizontal Slash Speed, Main Range, Main Piercing, Main Ink Coverage, Rush Ink Coverage, Quick Charge, Shot Spread Reduction, and Ink Saver Main.

Last of the weapon upgrades are the Dots. The 1st tier is 3 large dots and a circle spinning at the bottom of your weapon or around your wrist, with the 2nd tier adding another circle around the dots.

These can be found on the Hindrance Damage, Ink Attack Size, Charge Storage, Moving Ink Speed, Extra Dodge Roll, Brella Cooldown, and Knockback upgrades.

And finally, my favorite little knick-knack, the Shrimp Hook. This little guy appears on your ink tank after picking up 2 matching Luck upgrades (ex: Lucky Bomb Drop, Canned Special Drop, etc), and begins to glow after picking up 5. However, the glowing effect is not visible in the post-game screen. 😔 (I would totally buy one of these if someone made one, btw)

By the way, 7 visual upgrades * 5 chips needed to max each visual is 35 chips, which is just shy of the 36 total chips you can have on one palette, which means, in theory, you could. Have every maxed visual indicator on in one run.

Just a thought. : )

[assumptionprime]

"I Just Don't Think That's Going To Happen"

Good news: I finally made a new comic!

Bad news: It's about something that sucks! If the good news here outweighs the bad, maybe support me on Patreon.

In the midst of talking about how much this sucks, I am extremely fortunate to even be able to move to somewhere safer. Please support those who can't, or who need a helping hand to go somewhere they can be themselves. (Give trans people money)

[Image description: Comic, sixteen panels. Panel 1: Robin speaking on her phone, clearly distressed, tears in her eyes: "I'm telling you that I'm scared. These people-- the kind of people you vote for-- want to take my health care, my rights away from me. I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave my home." The voice from the phone answers: "Well," Large dialogue text in a large white space between panels: "I just don't think that's going to happen." Panel 2: Robin, wide eyes still tearing up, stares in disbelief at her phone. Panel 3: A website heading "Home > News" above a headline that reads "Utah just banned gender-affirming healthcare for transgender kids. These 21 other states are considering similar bills in 2023." Panel 4: Another headline reads "Health care for transgender adults becomes new target in 2023 legislative session." sub heading continues: "Lawmakers prefiled many anti-trans bills ahead of state--" Panel 5: Robin looking at a tablet screen, concerned. Panel 6: Robin siting on a couch, watching TV. A speaker on the TV says: "After the anti-LGBTQ+ campaign prompted several protests and bomb threats made against the Boston facility, the group has now turned its gaze toward the Gender Health Program at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville." Panel 7: Several headlines: "New Tennessee bill banning 'male or female impersonators' in public could criminalize drag performers and trans people" "Missouri lawmakers ban transgender care for minors, restrict coverage for adults" "Tennessee has passed a ban on gender affirming health care for trans kids. The bill's exceptions may only exist on paper" They headlines are accompanied by a map showing the severity of anti-transgender legislation in different US states. Panel 8: Robin's spouse Jordan sitting on the couch, looking up from her laptop toward Robin. Robin is gripping her arm tightly, a look of distress and sadness on her face, tears welling in her eyes. Jordan says "That's it. We're leaving." Panel 9: Robin taping the top of a cardboard moving box, looking over her shoulder toward Jordan, who is saying something as she walks away holding another box. More boxes are stacked behind them. Panel 10: Robin sitting at a table with a large stack of paperwork and holding a pen. She is leaning back and groaning: "Eughhhhhh" Panel 11: Robin standing with three friends, embracing as one of them speaks "I'm glad we got to see you before you left. We'll miss you." Panel 12: Jordan and Robin standing by the open trunk of their car. Several bags and suitcases are loading into the back. Jordan is shoving things in tighter and grumbling "It WILL fit!" Robin, holding a vacuum compression bag of full of clothing that has yet to go in the trunk, looks unsure. Panel 13: Robin and Jordan standing in the empty house, lights off, with sunlight coming in from the windows in the back doors and lighting them from behind. Robin looks upset, Jordan has a comforting hand on her shoulder. Panel 14: Jordan and robin sitting in the very full car, their dog in the back seat. Jordan is driving, Robin in the passenger seat looking out the window. Panel 15: Robin, still in the passenger seat of the car, now propping her head up with her hand on her cheek. She is looking down, seeming morose. Large dialogue text in a large white space between panels: "I just don't think that's going to happen." Panel 16: closer shot on Robin. Her gaze has shifted outside the window, her expression is now bitter, with tears gathering in her eyes.]

[murmeloni]

I need more fanboy Clark Kent in my life.

Like, he's seen Bruce Wayne interact with a child once and immediately fell in love with the guy. Now his bedroom walls are plastered with posters and he follows several social media accounts focused on capturing pictures of Bruce with kids and/or animals etc. He defends Bruce to anyone, no matter the antics he gets up to and it has become a bit of a running gag around the office.

Then, one day, Cat is out sick and someone jokingly suggests Clark should cover the gala in her stead, seeing as Bruce Wayne will be there and maybe this'll be Clark's shot to finally get his man? To everyone's surprise, Perry really does assign the gala coverage to Clark, who spends the days leading up to the event in a state somewhere between absolute panic and ultimate bliss.

But when the day finally arrives, Bruce doesn't show.

Of course Clark does his job and interviews everyone there (yes, even Lex Luthor) but a part of him spends all night waiting for Bruce to crash the party late, like he so often does.

Eventually, Clark gives up hope and it's shortly after that, that he stumbles upon one of the children dragged along to the event by their parents. Because apparently someone thought a charity gala was a good environment for an eight year old. The parents are nowhere in sight and the child is close to tears, so Clark makes it his mission to cheer the little girl up, regaling her with stories from his upbringing on a Kansas farm while he searches the crowd for her family.

With Clark thus occupied, he doesn't notice Bruce Wayne finally making his appearance for the night. But Bruce definitely notices him. The gentle giant who's all kind smiles and corny jokes... Until he finds the girl's parents. Uncaring of the fact that he's here on a job and that these people are richer than any one person should be and could easily sue him into oblivion, he takes them aside, fire in his eyes, and tears them a new one for losing track of their kid like this. Anything could have happened to her and maybe the readers of the Daily Planet would like to know about that? After all, how reliable and trustworthy could a company whose CEOs won't even look after their own daughter really be?

Bruce is immediately smitten. The passive-aggressive lecture and subtle threats - not to mention the broad shoulders and handsome face - are incredibly attractive to him and he wastes no time cornering the man afterwards.

Clark, who is so starstruck by the mere sight of Bruce coming towards him that he loses the ability to speak, nearly faints when Bruce just straight up shoves his tongue into his mouth. They end up in one of the coat rooms and Clark thinks that's it, just a one night stand. It sucks that he won't see Bruce again, but the night was amazing and at least he has the memory to treasure, right?

He thinks that right up until he gets to work the next day and two dozen red roses are waiting for him on his desk. There's a handwritten card nestled inbetween the petals and on it is the name of a restaurant along with a date and time. It's signed by Bruce.

And that is how Clark gets together with his celebrity crush.

[oystermark]

No goggles, Mohawk, and Viltrumite mark with a poison ivy like reader? I’ve been OBSESSED with this idea for a while. Like during the war Cecil tried to deploy reader even tho he’s a villain (kinda) and reader is on his plant throne surrounded by poison kiss/mind controlled servants like “why should I help? Let the boys have their fun, I want humanity to be wiped out too.” Basically he wants to part in ‘helping save humanity’ and just wants to sit in his greenhouse and be fawned over.

Poison Ivy M!Reader x Mark variants (no goggles & viltrumite mark)

a/n: loved this idea, just changed the reader a bit. i think them having plants that act like pets, ones that purr and have responses to their affection (petting, feeding etc.) made it a little bit more interesting (no offense to your request at all! 🫂 i genuinely loved the idea i just want to make the reader a naked, isolated plant mess that hates humanity and heroes especially because they destroy the planet faster than anyone else) also the intro got wayyy too long im sorry about that. sorry if this is dumb in general and sorry i couldnt do mohawk aghhhhhhh i had a migraine while writing this :(((

🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴

a small smile blossomed on your face as the jasmine's you were petting gently started to purr, like a cat. adorable. a sigh leaves your lips as you let yourself get a little comfortable, the tree you're on straining itself to give you more coverage from the sun as the heat was getting to you.

you need some water, which means you have to leave your home, deep in the forest. for a little bit, but, you'll still, have to leave.

you hate that. you don't want to ve away from the only sentient beings that actually understand you, your purpose and you as a whole. you sigh, pouting like a child as the tree puts you down and long, tentacle like tree branches along with ivy trailing along your arms to soothe your nerves.

running into a human or one of those 'heroes' was slim but not zero and that made you more uneasy and angry then you'd like to admit to yourself.

as soon as you step outside of your cave -made up of trees and beautiful plants, bees buzzing and- okay stop, focus- you stop dead in your tracks.

the forest, it's heaving. and the pain slowly crawls up from your feet to your head, the sharp tinge of burning wood, desperate sounds of flowers dying, your eyes sting with tears and your hand flies to your forehead, clutching it with dear life.

"oh, good. you're already out of your man cave,"

your head snaps down as you hear cecil's voice, being a...plant person, you're well over 6 ft tall, "cecil, what is the meaning of this!? this is why i never worked for you, whatever you do whenever you do you hurt us," he interrupts you with a sharp sigh, looks at you with the most grim expression you've seen from him.

"i know, which is why i've never asked for your help before, our relationship isn't the best, i know, but (y/n)," his voice tinged with desperation, he takes a step forward, you can feel your branches and ivy stiffen with alarm. "we need your help, people, homes, animals, trees, flowers anything and everything is being destroyed at a rapid pace which we've never seen before it's a goddamn massacre out there," he then pulls up his phone and shows you an image of a boy wearing a spandex suit, "this is invincible, and there are versions of him from multiple dimensions destroying your plant life,"

he sighs and pulls the phone back as you stay silent, looking up at you with a grim expression, "every one of them except the one i showed you, is a hostile, having them alive for us to contain would be preferable but you have the order to eliminate them as well," he looks at your eyes, trying to read you as best as he can. you've always been a recluse, stating that clothes and this stupid standard of living would never go over well with you, you've killed some of his heroes and some villains for ravaging forests. right now though, you're the best shot he has. you're goddamn strong.

his shoulders drop subtly with relief as you nod sharply, "fine, but i am not doing this for you, i am doing this for us," he nods, "and that's more than enough for me, you can find-" you shush him, "i can already smell them, old man. i know where they are, the forest has eyes everywhere, now go."

he takes his leave and you growl as the pain in your head grows stronger,

you're going to kill these bastards.

🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴

no goggles mark

he hears you shouting before he's able to have his monologue after murdering the new guardians, he doesn't even dodge, interested in your... familiar scent.

your body slams into him, blood spills from his mouth and nose from the impact of the contact with your body alone as he's slammed down onto the floor. your branches trapping him under your body and your ivy finding his throat, no mercy, no talking, and as he opens his eyes, as the fog clears his vision, he sees...

you.

"holy fuck..."

he breathes out as he coughs up blood, some of it landing on your face but no muscles twitch. "leave this planet, surrender yourself, or witness the wrath of the forest," your voice rough and low, most likely from unuse, so you did have the same powers but now...you were less mister seductive and more mister... recluse. he could work with that, he could work with whatever you give him and more. it always has been like that. the ivy around his neck gripping his neck tighter pulled him back from his thoughts with a whine leaving his bloody lips,

"fuckin' hell babe, you still look... you still... look so hot..." he feels the ivy go still, your thighs tense above him, he bites his bottom lip in satisfaction, oh he's got you huh?

he only notices that you're like, fully naked when you press your body harder against him, your hand replacing the ivy on his throat, you pull his head up a little bit and smash his head through the concrete, "seems all that brain damage has got to you, who do you think you're talking to, boy?" he groans in pleasure from both the head smash on the concrete and your nails digging into his throat and your voice just right by his ear and-

"you're fucking intoxicating,"

he links his legs around you, caging you by your hips as he grinds your body closer to his, a small gasp of offense mixed with sudden weird sensation leaving your mouth as you look at him with as much a glare you can muster,

"come on, again. do it again, show me how much i've pissed you off, make me choke on my own blood,"

his voice gets louder with every word, his eyes never leaving yours,

"make me pay for what i've done, you want to hurt me, don't you? come on! go ahead, fuck-" he gasped out as your other hand pulled on his hair, pulling his hair to the side to break the eye contact.

he's getting to you, fuck he's actually...

this is what you get when you neglect the 'person' part of a plant person for so long, it seems.

you get up, untangling his legs from you by pulling him away from your body by his neck, his eyes sparkling with unmistakable glee as his body shakes from the pain, "show me you mean it then," you whisper as you get close to his face, you feel the ghost of his lips almost touching yours and you send him flying through the wall,

he lays there for a few seconds, his dick and whole body throbbing,

"god i fucking love you,"

you growl and leap at him as he giggles and does the same,

he can't wait to take you apart.

🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴

viltrum mark

looking at the carnage before him, he wills himself to feel something, anything for these people. anything to prove hes got some amount of humanity in him even after your death, the death that was his fault. he brought you to viltrum, he built you a room full of plants, he did his best, he really thought he did, but you couldn't take a month away from your own and you... passed away, because of the lack of, everything, you needed.

he won't make the same mistake twice, as soon as angstorm reached out to him, he had your room remade from as many plants he extracted and as many the scientists could make. he adorned your room with plants, flowers and bees and everything needed to keep you alive. because he needs you, needs you back with him, no one can stop that.

not even you.

he sighs and grabs the branch you shot at him, slamming you to the dirt. his heart pangs as he hears your struggle for breath, but he cannot relent, he has to have you under control, even for a viltrumite like him, you're strong. he pins you down by your chest, pressing his foot down, looking into your eyes, he-

fuck.

fuck. fuck. why did he do that, why did he look at those eyes that he knows disarm anything and everything he ever built up over the years, the eyes that hold the only key to his heart, he feels himself falter and you don't fail to take advantage of this, pushing him off of you with the combination of your branches and ivy, slamming him to the trees in your desperation and wincing when you feel the impact od his weight through the trees on your own body.

panting as you clutch your chest, you shake your head and look at him, he didn't even break a sweat! not even a scratch, a bloody nose, nothing.

your eyes widened as you took a wobbly step back, "what... what the hell are you?" his heart shattered and his brain rattled in his skull because of the scared but defiant look you gave him. thats not how you're supposed to look at him, you and this world's mark should be dating, you should be looking at him with all the love in the world, like you used to, not like-

like he's an abomination.

he walks closer to you and shoot your branches on him, he blocks them with ease before they even have a chance to wrap around any part of his body, "come with me," he finally spoke. your body reacted by setting off all the alarms in your head, "we'll get married, on our home planet, we'll be together again, you'll be happy i wont- i wont let you die again. never again,"

the implication that he had some part of the murder fo a version of you was more than enough for you to take a few steps back and try your luck with your own arms instead. if there is one thing about you thats never changing, its your stubborness, he notes to himself as both of you clash, hands tangled in each others as one tries to push the other over the non existent edge.

with a grunt, you root your legs down with the help of the surrounding trees, making yourself an immovable object, you feel a smirk growing on your face as he grunts, oh you're getting to him.

this was stupid, maybe, but its one less mark, less destruction for now.

or so you thought.

you feel him go weightless, your eyes widen in panic as your brain registers what he's about to do, "wait you fucking idio-" your words are cut off by your own screams of the excrutiating pain he's causing as he's ripping you apart from the dirt, from the roots that planted you there in the first place.

it feels like he's snapping your own legs, stretching them, like the branches are your own bones, you scream and tears flow from your eyes, his face is pained as your own, your screams making his head throb with guilt.

he has to do this, for your own good and his, he can't stand this pointless crusade anymore.

with a final scream from you that turns into a sob as you're finally fully snatched from the floor and up into the air, going limp in his arms as his grip tightens around your waist, your long height making it a bit awkward to hold you but he's never let things like that stop him before.

he places a kiss on your temple, cupping your face with one hand as the other is holding you up from your waist,

"you're coming with me, i dont care about anyone or anything else, not anymore."

🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴

i do not like this.... ghahhahj im so sorry anon

[queenie-ofthe-void]

No one's really surprised to see famous rockstar Eddie Munson show up to the 2024 Paris Olympics. His close friendship with three-time medalist gymnast Chrissy Cunningham had the press working over time when the pair were first spotted six years ago leaving a fundraising event.

However, no one can seem to figure out why- in Chrissy's down time- the metal head is frequently spotted at the men's swimming events. Everyone knows Munson's queer, but he's not the type to show up just to oggle some poor, unsuspecting athletes (he is, but the press don't need to know he's a bit of a freak).

Prime time news coverage chock it up to Eddie supporting the best of the USA's Olympians, including Steve Harrington, who just broke the world record for men's fastest 100m freestyle. They'd pointed out it wasn't odd he was there, since he also made appearances at other events with up and coming stars, such as Lucas Sinclair for men's basketball and Nancy Wheeler for women's skeet shooting. When asked about it, he'd laughed it off, saying swimming was Chrissy's favorite sport to watch and he promised he'd fill her in on what she missed.

That didn't stop fans online from obsessing over small details, including Eddie's repeat appearances at the swimming events, where he only showed once for anything else that wasn't Chrissy's competitions. There was no way he could keep Chrissy filled in on what she missed when he only showed up to meets Harrington competed in, not all men's swimming events.

Fan edits of Eddie Munson clapping a little too hard, screaming a little too loud, and overall just a little bit more excited for Harrington's podium than Chrissy's gold medal spread across the internet like wildfire. One blurry shot caught Harrington briefly look in his direction when he won his silver, but it was hard to be certain.

Tucked into bed after another long day of interviews, Eddie pulls up a few of the best fan edits Jeff and Gareth sent him earlier. It's become a bit of a habit over the past few weeks to watch his favorite ones before he goes to sleep. He feels the bed dip next to him, a warm hand slide over his chest and a leg push between his own.

"Aww babe," Steve coos, "did we get new ones today?"

Eddie leans down, dropping little kisses on his husband's forehead. "Apparently Jeff says these ones are even more convincing than last week's."

Steve hums a content little sigh before nuzzling into the crook of Eddie's neck. They've been riskier about public appearances this time around compared to Tokyo, but they've agreed to publicly come out after this year's games are over. So, why not have a little fun with it?

They release a fan edit of their own later that year posted on the official Corroded Coffin profile. It's a reaction video of them watching all of their favorite tiktoks and fanart and Tumblr posts. They laugh, point out inaccuracies, answer fan questions, and post a few pictures of their own, including the two of them standing under an arch of flowers exchanging rings.

[pinkboaclub]

Playboy Brother

Summery: A peaceful spring break at your best friends vacation house was supposed to be a quiet escape, just swimming, sunbathing, and relaxation. But when her older brother, Harry, unexpectedly shows up, the trip takes an unexpected turn when Sofia’s out for the night.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: smut, sleeping with friends brother, dom!Harry, zero protection, mention of alcohol, fem!reader

"You know what, Y/N?" Sofia turned towards you as you hung out in her dorm. "Let's ditch the party scene and do something actually fun for spring break."

You raised an eyebrow, though you weren't stoked about it, you both had agreed to go to Florida with your friend group for spring break. "What do you mean?"

Sofia's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'm talking about my family's vacation house. We can swim, read books, maybe even go hiking. And it will just be us...very peaceful and relaxing"

You thought for a moment, the thought of crowded beaches and noisy parties fading away. The vacation house sounded like a breath of fresh air. "Alright, let's do it," you said, a smile spreading across your face.

As it was not near your University, Sofia's parents' vacation house felt like it was out of a dream, completely different from your concrete dorms. As you pulled into the driveway, the serene beauty of the surroundings captured you. The house itself was a cozy mansion that sat among tall, beautiful trees, with a beautiful pool. The moment you stepped out of the car, the sweet scent of the warm spring air hit you.

Inside, the house was exactly how you imagined a vacation house should be, with wooden floors, large windows looking out at the pool. The kitchen was stocked with all sorts of goodies, courtesy of Sofia's mom.

With the sun peeking through the windows, the temperature outside was perfect for a swim. You followed Sofia's lead and headed to the guest room where your bags where you placed your bag on your bed. You threw open her suitcase and pulled out a bikini.

You both immediately jumped in the pool after running down the stairs, letting the water cool you down.

"This is heaven, I haven't been in a pool in so long." you sighed as you floated on your back, your eyes closed.

A sudden ding from Sofia’s phone broke the moment. She climbed out, swiping at the screen. “Oh, my brother’s stopping by.”

You cracked an eye open. “Your brother?”

“Yeah, Harry. He’s just going to drop something off to store in the garage.” She tossed her phone onto a pool chair. You nodded, but a small part of you suddenly wished you’d packed a swimsuit with a little more coverage. Not that it mattered.

You and Sofia continued to lounge by the pool, letting the sun dry your skin, the warmth making you lazy. The sound of the backyard sliding door caught your attention, and instinctively, you lifted your sunglasses, eyes locking onto the man who stepped through.

He was tall, his broad shoulders were tanned from the sun, a sleeve of tattoos trailed down his muscular arm. Brown hair that was just messy enough to look effortless, and when his green eyes flicked to you, a jolt of something sharp and sudden shot through your chest.

“Sof,” he called, his voice deep and easy. “I’m just moving some stuff into the garage.”

"Okay, that's fine." She nonchalantly replied. Harry's eyes continued to glance at you. You caught his eyes wandering up and down your body multiple times. "Oh, Harry, this is Y/N."

Harry smiled and walked from the door over to where you were lounging. "Pleasure to meet you." He said, charisma shining through his words and smirk. He stuck out his hand and gave you a firm handshake. "I'm Harry."

You felt your cheeks warm up a little. "Nice to meet you too," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"So you two are gonna be here all week?" Harry asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sofia nodded. "Yep, just us and the great outdoors. You're not staying, are you?" she said, hopefulness in her tone.

"Nah, I've got my own plans," Harry replied with a wink. "But I might drop by again if you don't mind."

As Harry disappeared into the garage, you couldn't help but steal glances as he left. His shorts were short enough to see the couple tattoos he had on his legs, his t-shirt was snug enough to reveal the outline of his abs. You quickly turned your gaze away, not wanting to be caught staring at him or Sofia.

“Sorry about that…he’s such a play boy. He flirts with anyone and everyone.”

You chuckled, suddenly feeling less special. “No worries.”

The next few days at the house were full of relaxation. You and Sofia swam in the pool, watched movies, and would only leave to go shopping. Harry did drop by a couple more times, mostly to grab or drop off stuff, but each time his visits grew longer. You found yourself looking forward to his visits, and he always made a point to sit and chat with you whenever he could.

Though, as Sofia made sure to remind you, you knew he was being as friendly and flirting as he would with any girl Sofia could have brought with her.

One evening, as the sun began to set, Sofia suggested a night out in the nearby town. "We should hit up the local bar," she said with excitement. "A couple of my friends from here want to meet up."

"I'm not sure, I'm pretty tired," you admitted, your voice a bit weak. "Don't let me stop you though."

"Are you sure? It's just going to be a casual hang out."

You nodded. "Yeah, I think I'll just chill here and catch up on some reading." You picked up the novel you had brought along. "You go have fun, I'll be fine."

"Alright, if you're sure," she said, squeezing your shoulder. "Text me if you need anything."

As the door closed behind her, you settled back into the plush sofa with your book. The lake house was so peaceful, and the thought of the noisy bar was less than appealing.

You had been reading for a few hours when your phone buzzed with a text from Sofia.

Hey, sorry to bother you but Harry's on his way again. He's got some more stuff to grab. I can come back if you want.

‘No worries! I don't mind.’ You replied, your mind wandering to Harry, and him being here with you...alone. You shook your head, trying to get rid of any inappropriate thoughts, that's your best friend's brother.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Harry's footsteps echoed through the house, and soon he was standing in the doorway of the living room. "Hey," he said, his eyes lit up immediately after finding you. "I didn't know you'd still be up."

"Couldn't resist the peace and quiet," you said, setting your book aside. "How's your night going?"

"It's been good," Harry replied, stepping into the room. He was dressed casually in a band tee and jeans that fit just right. "But I figured I'd come by and grab a couple more things before the weekend gets hectic."

You nodded, trying to ignore the way his voice made your heart flutter.

"How has your spring break been?" Harry asked, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It's been pretty good, just relaxing mostly."

"That's the way to do it," Harry said, his eyes scanning the room before returning to you. "You know, it's funny, I'm surprised we haven't met before."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I've met your parents...Sofia and I only met this year though." You shifted in your seat, your stomach turning in a knot. "I guess it was bound to happen eventually."

Harry chuckled, his eyes lingering on you. "I guess it was." He leaned closer, his gaze intense. "So, you're all alone here?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Sofia went out with some friends from around here."

"Ah, so it's just us then," Harry said, his voice dropping a notch. The air between you felt thick with something unspoken, and the room seemed to shrink with each passing second.

You nodded, feeling your pulse quicken. "Looks like it," you managed to murmur, your eyes flicking over to him.

The silence between you grew heavier, until Harry broke it with a smirk. "You know," he began, his eyes not leaving yours, "I've heard a lot about you."

Your heart raced as he moved closer, his arm brushing against yours. "Oh? Good things I hope." you asked, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting with you, or if that was his natural tone.

"Very good things," Harry said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your heart flutter again, and a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Well, I hope I can live up to the hype."

Harry leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm sure you can." His hand reached over and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, I've been wanting to get to know you better for a while now."

Your cheeks grew hotter and you swallowed, trying to find the right words. The chemistry between you was palpable, and it was getting harder to ignore. "Yeah? Did you have something in mind?" You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a mischievous grin, Harry leaned in closer. His eyes dropped to your lips.

"I have a few ideas," he murmured, his hand resting gently on the sofa beside you. His thumb brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, Harry leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss. His lips were firm and insistent, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he pulled you closer. You smelled his strong cologne, which caused you to melt into him. You felt your body react instinctively, leaning into him as his other arm wrapped around your waist.

The kiss grew deeper, his tongue slipping between your lips to explore yours. He stood, pulling you to your feet, and you wrapped your arms around his neck as the kiss grew more intense.

"Come with me," Harry murmured against your mouth, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He led you through the house and up the stairs to a room you hadn't been in before. "This is my old room," he said, pushing it open.

The room was like a time capsule of Harry's youth, with posters of old rock bands on the walls and a queen bed covered in a plaid comforter. When you turned back to him, you picked up right where you left off.

Without breaking the kiss, his other hand slid down to the small of your back, pressing you closer to his body. His dominance was surprising but thrilling, making your legs feel like jelly. You stumbled backward slightly, and he took it as an invitation, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed. He leaned over you, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress.

You felt the heat of him, his chest against yours, his thighs between your own. His hand trailed up your side, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin under your arm, sending goosebumps across your body. Harry's kiss grew more demanding, his tongue exploring yours with a passion that made you gasp for air. He took advantage of the moment, deepening the kiss even further.

With a gentle yet firm touch, Harry's hand began to travel upwards under your shirt, his fingers tracing the line of your ribs. You felt a thrill as he reached the clasp of your bra, flicking it open with surprising ease. His hand cupped your breast, his thumb circling your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. His kiss grew more insistent, his tongue dancing with yours as he explored your body.

You felt his body shift and before you knew it, your shirt was being pulled over your head. Harry's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your bare chest. He leaned down and kissed your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, and you gasped, arching your back to give him better access.

His hands slid over your body, sure and confident, as if he had done this a hundred times before. You couldn't deny that his experience was a turn on, and your body responded eagerly to his touch.

With a wicked smile, Harry kissed down your body, his mouth tracing a path from your neck to your navel, making you squirm with anticipation. You felt his hands slip down to the waistband of your shorts, his thumbs hooking into the fabric. He paused, his eyes searching yours for permission. You nodded immediately.

He kissed the skin just above the band of your shorts, his breath warm and teasing. His hands began to tug at the fabric, sliding it down over your hips, revealing your underwear. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. "God, you're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Without wasting a moment, Harry pushed your legs up to your chest, his strong arms holding you in place as he leaned in. His mouth found the damp fabric between your legs, and he bit down lightly, making you gasp. You felt his tongue slip beneath the material, tasting you for the first time. The sensation was intense, and you squirmed, trying to get closer to him. His grip tightened, keeping you in place as his mouth moved in a rough, insistent rhythm. You felt a buildup of pleasure, your muscles tensing as he worked his magic.

He hooked his thumbs into the sides of your panties and tugged them aside, revealing your wetness to the cool air. Harry groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, making your hips lift off the bed. He didn't hold back, his tongue plunging into you, stroking and teasing until you were writhing beneath him. You could feel his strong hands gripping your thighs, keeping you open to him as he feasted on you. You were lost in the feeling, your moans filling the room, your nails digging into the bed sheets.

Your body arched off the bed, but Harry's grip on your legs was firm, keeping you in place as he ate you out. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, making you squirm and gasp. He seemed to take delight in your reactions, his tongue becoming more demanding as he lapped at your clit, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thighs to keep you still. Your hand fell to his hair, tugging on it as he tongue continued to masterfully work over you. He groaned out at the harsh pull.

"Do you like that?" he murmured against you, his breath hot and his tongue continuing to dance against your sensitive flesh.

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words as his mouth worked its magic. His grip on your legs tightened, his thumbs digging into your inner thighs as he pushed them further apart. Harry's tongue grew rougher, his teeth grazing your skin as he devoured you with an animalistic hunger. You felt your body responding, your hips rocking up to meet his mouth.

He took two fingers, slowly sliding them into you before immediately pushing into your g-spot at a lightening fast pace.

Your moans grew louder, and you felt your body tightening around his digits. Harry's eyes watched you with a mix of pleasure and hunger, his strokes becoming more aggressive. He was in complete control, and the feeling was intoxicating. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

But just as you were about to climax, Harry pulled away, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. You whimpered in protest, your body begging for release.

"Patience," he said, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs as he sat up and pulled off his shirt. His abs were defined, a sprinkling of hair leading down to his shorts, which were now tented with his arousal. You bit your lip, trying to control the desperate need pulsing through you

Harry noticed your gaze and smirked, unbuckling his belt.

"You wanna suck my cock, slutty girl?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You blinked, the vulgarity of his words a stark contrast to the sweetness of the moment. But the heat in his eyes and the hardness pressing against his shorts told you that he was dead serious. Your heart raced as you nodded, his dominance a surprising turn on. Harry smirked, his hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt and pull his shorts down.

As he revealed himself, you took a deep breath, your eyes widening at the sight of his large, thick cock. You slid off the bed, dropping to your knees and leaning in.. You wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, feeling his pulse against your palm.

"That's it," Harry said, his voice a low growl of approval. "Suck it like you mean it."

You leaned in, taking him in your mouth, feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue. Harry's hand found your hair, his grip tightening as he guided your movements. He was not gentle, pushing deeper into your mouth with every thrust. You felt a mix of fear and excitement, his dominance making you wetter than you had ever been. You took a deep breath, focusing on pleasing him, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat with every bob of your head.

"That's right," Harry groaned, his hand tightening in your hair. "Take it all." You could feel his muscles tensing, his thighs trembling with the effort to hold back. His eyes stared into yours, his gaze never leaving you as he watched you suck him off. You moaned around his cock, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his body. He began to move his hips in a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with increasing force.

You felt your jaw ache, but the desperate need to please him overrode any discomfort. Harry's grip grew tighter, his hips moving faster as he approached climax. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained. You nodded, eager to taste him, to feel him come in your mouth. With a final thrust, Harry's body stiffened and he released into your mouth. You swallowed, feeling the warmth of his cum slide down your throat.

Pulling away, you sat back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Harry leaned back, a smug smile on his face. "I want to see you on your hands and knees, on the bed, facing away from me," he said, his voice still rough with passion. He stood and stripped off the rest of his clothes, revealing his still fully erect cock.

You scurried to the bed, doing as he said. The mattress dipped as Harry climbed onto it behind you. Running a couple fingers up your slit, causing your whole body to shudder. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You liked sucking my cock, didn't you?"

"Uh, huh," you breathed, the only thing you were able to choke out, barely audible.

"Good," Harry said, his voice thick with desire. He positioned his cock at your entrance.

With a firm grip on your hips, Harry pushed into you, his size making you gasp. He didn't hold back, thrusting deep and hard, his cock filling you completely. Each stroke sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bed. His dominance was like a drug, and you found yourself craving more.

"Is this what you wanted?" Harry asked, his voice a low growl as he fucked you. "You want my cock deep inside, don't you?" You could only nod, your eyes screwed shut as you tried to process the intense feeling of fullness. He was so deep, his cock hitting places that no one else had ever reached.

"I could tell from the moment I first saw you the other day...your pretty eyes staring at me."

You felt his hand on the back of your neck, he kept fucking into you, relentlessly. The power play was something new, something that sent a thrill through you that you hadn't felt before.

"Show me how much you've been waiting for this," he murmured as he pulled out of you and lay against the headboard.

With trembling hands, you climbed onto him and reached between your legs, gripping his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You felt the tip brush against you, and he groaned.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, his thick length filling you up, stretching you wider than you'd ever been. You threw your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips as you took all of him.

But as soon as you were fully seated, Harry's hands were on your hips, his grip tightening. He didn't let you set the pace, instead pulling you back down onto him before pushing you back up again. His strokes were powerful, his cock sliding up into you with a force that had you seeing stars. You tried to keep your eyes on his, but the pleasure was too intense, and they slammed shut as you threw your head back. He didn't even last one minute not being the one in control.

"Fuck, you're tight," he grunted, his eyes locked onto the place where your bodies connected. You could feel the tension in his muscles as he held onto your hips, his thrusts becoming more erratic. You grabbed his arms to keep yourself steady, feeling his hard biceps.

Without warning, Harry's grip tightened, his hands moving to your waist. He lifted you slightly before slamming you back down onto him. His eyes never left yours, watching as your mouth formed a silent 'o' of pleasure with every impact. You could feel him swell even more inside you, his cock pulsing with every thrust.

"You're so fucking perfect," Harry murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Riding me like a good little slut." He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You like it when I use you like this, huh?"

You nodded, unable to form words as he continued to fill you completely with every stroke. The dirty talk was something you never knew you liked, but with Harry, it just felt right. You felt your cheeks flush with both pleasure and embarrassment, but you couldn't help but crave more.

But just as Harry's pace grew even more aggressive, he abruptly stopped, his hand coming up to cup your face, gently tilting it to look at him. His eyes searched yours, concern flashing across his features. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Is this too much?"

You took a moment to catch your breath, the intensity of the moment making your heart race. "No, no" you panted, nodding. "It's just...I've never...it's great." Harry chuckled with a smirk on his lips.

"I’m corrupting you ," Harry groaned, his eyes never leaving yours. "I can't help it," he murmured, his voice strained.

"I need to see your face when I fuck your slutty pussy." He pushed you down onto the bed on your back, his hands moving to grip your thighs and roughly pull you to the end of your bed. The change in angle was intense, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

You couldn't help but whimper, your body reacting to his words and actions. You felt so exposed, so used, but in the best way possible. His strokes grew deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside you that made your toes curl. Harry's eyes searched yours, watching your reactions with a hunger that only grew with every moan that left your lips.

Your inner muscles started to pulse, your stomach started to churn, your orgasm was very close, and Harry's quick pace wasn't going to delay it.

"H–Harry." You stuttered quietly in an attempt to warn him of your nearing climax.

"Mm, I know," he murmured, his eyes dark with need. "I can feel you getting tighter around me." His thumb found your clit, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure to push you over the edge. "'Gonna scream my name? Let the neighbors know whose fucking you good?"

You screamed out his name over and over again, begging him not to stop. A smirk was painted on his face, his name continuously leaving your mouth inflating his ego.

You bit your lip to stifle the cry that wanted to escape as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Harry's eyes never left yours, watching you fall apart beneath him with a mix of satisfaction and hunger.

As the final waves of pleasure subsided, Harry leaned down, his body pressing you into the bed. His cock was still hard, still deep inside you, and he began to move again, slower now, savoring the feel of you around him. His kisses grew more gentle, his hands caressing your body as he whispered into your ear.

"Where can I cum, baby? Your tits? Your pretty face?"

"Inside me." Without thinking the words left your mouth, you froze in shock...you had just met this man days ago. For whatever reason his dominance made you think before speaking. "If-if you want to...I'm on birth control...you don't have to..."

He looked at you for a moment before a smug smirk grew on his face. "Here I was thinking you were a little innocent girl."

Without giving you time to process his words, Harry started to pick up his pace, his cock sliding in and out of you with renewed vigor. You felt your body respond, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. The feeling of his bare cock inside of you was something new and thrilling, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You want it all, don't you? You want to feel me fill you up."

Your body responded with a desperate nod, your legs tightening around his waist. Harry chuckled darkly, his grip on your ankles never wavering. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumbs pressing into your hips. He began to move faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The pleasure was almost unbearable, the friction of his bare cock against your sensitive walls making you scream his name.

With each stroke, Harry's eyes grew darker, his breaths more ragged. You could feel his muscles tensing, his body preparing for his release. The anticipation was exhilarating, and you found yourself giving him the sweet submissive look he was looking for, urging him to his release.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, his hips moving faster, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. "You're gonna make me cum, baby."

You felt your walls tighten around him, the sensation of him getting closer to climax making you even wetter. You nodded eagerly, your voice breathy and needy. "Fuck, Harry," you encouraged, the words coming out in a rush. "Cum inside me."

Harry thrust one last time, his cock swelling and pulsing as he emptied himself into you. You felt the warmth of his release fill you up, the sensation of his hot cum sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your body. He collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breaths mingling in the quiet room. The air was thick with the scent of sex, your bodies damp with sweat. Harry's heart pounded against your chest, and you could feel his breath against your neck as he kissed you softly.

He pulled out of you, his eyes searching yours, and you could see the gentle concern in them. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice tender. But even as he asked, there was a hint of the playboy in his tone...you could tell that was something he had asked plenty of girls before, a reminder of who he was and what this was.

"Yeah," there was an awkward silence between you. "We should get cleaned up...before Sofia gets home."

You felt Harry's weight shift as he stood up, leaving you feeling empty and cold without his warmth. He offered you a hand, helping you to your feet. His gentleness was surprising after the raw passion you had just shared, and it left you feeling a little off-balance. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

He grabbed a towel from the floor, handing it to you before grabbing one for himself. Harry's gaze was still intense, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush hair from your face. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you again, but instead, he leaned in and whispered, "You're something else."

The words hung in the air, leaving you feeling both flattered and a little unsure. He was still Harry, the playboy, but for a brief moment, you had seen a glimpse of something more vulnerable beneath the surface. He stepped back, the mask of nonchalance slipping back into place.

The sound of the front door opening downstairs jolted you back to reality. "Shit," you hissed, your eyes widening. "Sofia's home."

"Fuck," you whispered, your eyes darting around the room. You grabbed you clothes off the floor and began to quickly get dressed. "I better get back to my room." Before Harry could say anything, you left, peeking behind the door, before racing to your room when you saw the coast was clear.

You barely had time to sit down on the bed, your heart racing when you heard Harry's footsteps descending the stairs. His voice grew clearer as he approached the living room where you knew Sofia was waiting. "Hey," he called out, the sound of his voice so casual it was almost jarring after what had just happened. "Just dropping off some stuff in my old room."

Sofia's voice followed, a mix of curiosity and annoyance. "Okay, where's Y/N?"

You could hear Harry's footsteps stop, the beat of his heart echoing in the silence. He took a moment before responding, "Oh, she went to bed like an hour ago."

You had just had sex with your best friend's brother, in the house where you both would be staying for the weekend. The gravity of the situation settled heavily in the pit of your stomach, making you feel sick.

The sound of their conversation grew muffled as you lay back on the bed, trying to catch your breath. You had to play it cool, act like nothing had happened. You couldn't let this ruin your friendship with Sofia, or Harry's relationship with his sister.

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[thanosscross]

Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x english speaking reader who try to learn korean for him but fails at first cause learning knew language is hard ?

Yess! I love this idea!! I just hope you don't mind a little twist added! This was just too cute and I just had to make it into a series!!<333 So with Reader also being a performer, just think along the lines of Brittney Spears vibes, just younger :0

All for show 1/? - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x Amercian! Pop-Star! Reader

Summary: After meeting at an award show, Seung Hyun notices international pop-star, Y/n L/n was mainly all for show in the spotlight.

Warnings: Your manager is 100% a dick in this, him trying to sexualize the reader before Seung Hyun fixes it for you <3

Whenever you were invited to guest perform at a music awards show, you were excited to accept the offer, you were in your off year from tours, and shows, so you were itching to get back on stage. You always loved being on stage, it wasn't that you loved attention, or were fame hungry, quite the opposite, actually. You just loved doing what you found fun, and that was dancing and singing, while also having fun with fans during your shows, your agency, just liked to make it look like you were hungry for the attention and male gaze.

Flying to America for one of their award shows, was odd for the boys, not knowing they had actually been nominated for one of the 'highest streaming' awards, The four were excited, practically bouncing around in their seats as they went over show plans and the line-up for the award show. "Holy shit, They're going to have the one girl there, uh!..Shit! Seung Hyun's favorite person to dance to while drunk!" Tae-Yang shouted, trying his best to think of your name "Y/n L/n!" Ji-Yong smiled, having multiple of your songs in his playlist, he didn't care if your choreography and songs didn't fit into the usual K-pop female music, yours diving way more into sexual topics and themes, but you weren't in K-pop, you were an American singer, meaning you could get away with a lot more. "I bet she's awesome in person! Have you seen her on stage!?" Dae-Sung gasped, leaning over the first class seat, looking at the line-up that Tae-Yang had pulled up.

As you walked into the giant room, you'd be performing and rehearsing in, you smiled brightly "I'm so excited! I just hope management approved the outfits I submitted" You said excitedly, holding your best friend's hand tightly, she was actually your assistant, but who cared? You were around each other enough to be considered best friends. "I'm sorry, Y/n..." She whispered, motioning to your dressing room, you sighed walking back to see the clothing rack sitting proudly in the center of the room, of course they wouldn't approve it, why would you ever be allowed to wear pants? You pouted walking over to the rack, your face twisting with disgust as you saw the extremely short spandex shorts, rhinestones and colored jewels covering the cheap fabric underneath, paired with nothing but basically a bra covered in the same rhinestones and jewels. Moving it to the side, you felt a little better, seeing somewhat of a bodysuit, the only difference being, the pant legs of it being cut off into the same shortness as the shorts from before, at least this time you would have more coverage up top.

Making your way to your rehearsals, you waved to the sound workers, making sure your microphone was taped down on your cheek securely, before making your way onto the stage, nodding your head to the intro of your song "Are we doing full effort? Or just running through?" You asked softly, looking towards the stage manager and your manager "Let's just do full effort, You haven't performed in over six months? You're rusty" He replied, you just shot him a glare, rolling your eyes before starting your choreography, singing softly with your backtrack that played through the speakers at the side of the stage.

The boys tried their best to calmly walk inside, jumping up and down for a moment in excitement as they heard music echoing from down the hall, as they made their way closer, following the stage tech to the giant room, Seung Hyun's eyes immediately landing on you as you made your way down to the edge of the stage. You were more breathtaking in person, even in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, you still danced and dropped to the ground like it was absolutely nothing for you. As the music played in the background, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, you just continued to jump along to it, throwing your arms up as the beat faded out. The four boys quickly clapped loudly, bowing towards you as you turned your attention to them "Oh my god! I didn't know other people were here! I'm so sorry! I knew we should've just ran through it like usual" You apologized before turning to scold your manager, the boys just chuckled and protested "No! No! You're okay! That was amazing!" Seung Hyun argued, Dae-Sung smiling and nodding in agreement "Yea, we just got here! We're big fans!" He smiled, causing Seung Hyun to lightly smack his arm, not wanting to blow his cover of acting cool around you. "Awe! Thank you! I've heard your guys' music too, I have it in all of my workout playlists" You giggled, stepping down off of the stage, ignoring your managers protests that you still had one more song to run before you could run off. "BigBang right? Ji-Yong...Dae-Sung, Tae-Yang, and....Do you prefer Top or Seung Hyun?" You giggled, recalling their names the best you could, watching as each boy blushed brightly as your name fell from their lips. Each boy had their own crush on you for different reasons, but all of them fell almost under the same category, your confidence, especially whenever it came to your music videos and performances.

"U-Um..You can call me Seung Hyun" He smiled softly, watching as you smiled brightly, covering your cheeks slightly as you blushed slightly, his smile was even cuter in person. "Nice to meet you boys, I'm Y/n..as you know.." You giggled awkwardly, groaning as you heard the beginning of your song start to play, turning to flip your manager off before walking back to the stage. You two had a love-hate relationship, mainly hate, but with you being the biggest pop-star under your manager's contracts, he couldn't afford to lose you, and you were too big of a people pleaser to leave. Strutting around the stage to the music, you nodded your head lazily, it was your biggest song, so you had done the song and choreography a million times before. "Y/n." Your manager warned, you just rolled your eyes towards him before moving your arms, dragging your hands across your chest before flicking your hands with the beat of the music. As you kneeled down, you shot a glare to your manager, knowing damn well your ass would be on full view during this part if you wore either outfit you had, you rolled onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the edge of the stage for a few counts of the song, before rolling onto your back, bending on knee up as you rested a hand in your hair, panting loudly "I'm not doing that, and you can't force me, Christopher" You demanded, popping up to your feet "You will, or you can be on hiatus for another year" He threatened, narrowing your eyes as you marched towards him, you felt your blood boiling, how dare he threaten that? Whenever you've given the last eight years of your life to him, signing on with him at sixteen, and still staying at 24, even if you were tired of his shit. "You have me half naked on stage and on national television!" You shouted, jabbing his chest quickly, he was quick to catch your finger, holding it as he glared you down.

Seung Hyun clenched his fists, not liking the way your interaction seemed to be going, but Ji-Yong just stopped him from moving forward any "We have our arguments with YG, she has hers" He whispered, watching from afar as you yanked your hand away from your managers huffing loudly "It always responds better with audiences if you're dressed more revealing" You manager smirked, trying to keep his voice low as more of the artists started showing up, you just felt yourself become more angry, of course he was going to make it like you were the problem now. "I'm not wearing it, or I'm not doing the choreography." You snapped before storming towards your dressing room, feeling like you needed to leave before you ended up punching his stupid face. As you sat on your sofa, you glared harshly at the two outfits hanging on the rack, and then the one you had in your bag as a spare, the one you originally wanted. It was nothing special, just a pair of jeans and a crop-top that had come from your merch line that you had customized to be one of a kind by adding rips and adding pieces of your own Jewlery to it, along with a loose oversized flannel to go over.

You never noticed the knocking on your door, or your assistant letting in the tall K-pop star "If you keep glaring that hard, you might be lucky enough to cause them to catch fire" Seung Hyun noted, causing you to jump, turning your attention towards him as you caught your breath from the slight scare "Sorry! I'm so sorry, Aein!" He apologized quickly, he didn't mean to frighten you, he just wanted to make sure you were alright, and didn't need a teammate to kick your managers ass. "A..en?" You questioned, tilting your head as you continued to try and repeat the word, you weren't sure if he had just forgotten your name, or if it was some type of insult or compliment in Korean "Aein, It's um..Sweetheart" He replied, suddenly becoming flustered by his own flirty nickname for you "Oh...Ain" You tried, letting your head fall as you giggled "That's still not right is it?" You asked giggling, watching as Seung Hyun shook his head smiling "Aein.." He said slower this time, sounding out each syllable, watching as you nodded closely, excited to learn a new way to speak to others, and your fans from Korea. "Aein..You're an Aein too?" You questioned, he just laughed softly as your attempt, nodding as you finally somewhat pronounced it right "Very close, so, what's going on with grandpa out there?" He asked playfully, sitting on the chair across from you, you sighed looking at him "I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of that" You sighed, glancing at your watch, four hours until show time, Seung Hyun just shook his head sighing "Maybe I do?" He questioned, smiling a bit as you tilted your head "You know..I don't..sleep with other artists right?..That was a rumor-" Seung Hyun was quick to cut your nervous tone off "No! Aein, I just want to make sure you're alright!" He smiled, watching as you tilted your head even more before slowly sitting back on the couch "That's my manager, Chris, he's a good guy, just a man" You huffed before turning to look at the K-pop Idol that sat in front of you "No offense, I just mean, he fits that stereotypical, womanizer, asshole" You explained watching as he giggled and nodded at your cautiousness, whatever training agency you went through must've trained you for PR well especially if you were cautious around other celebrities in private. "He's got me in those outfits, dancing like I was, and everybody will see everything and It's going on tv so it will always be out there" You huffed, resting your head in your hands as you tried your best not to cry, you weren't really ever this emotional, but you felt trapped, like you had no options.

"Hey, hey, it's okay" Seung Hyun replied, moving quickly to sit next to you, rubbing your back gently as you tried your best to not cry. "I don't know what to do, and I'm crying to a man I just met" You huffed, laughing at yourself softly, glancing up to your vanity mirror huffing loudly "I look so fucking stupid" You whispered, trying to wipe the tears and makeup off of your face, that's whenever Seung Hyun first noticed that whenever you were on stage, it was all for show, while you might've been confident, you didn't seem as confident as you were. "You don't, I think you're just, stressed right now" He whispered, growing frustrated as he tried to think of the words to explain that you were alright and all idols get like that, but his mind was blanking, only thinking of them in his own language. You took a deep breath, giving Seung Hyun a soft smile "That's sweet, but there's nothing shaking my opinion, anyways, what're you doing in here?" You asked, realizing as your emotions started to calm, Seung Hyun never really stated why he was there "Well, at first I was just checking on you, but now, after hearing your outfit situation, I think I have an idea" He smirked playfully, standing up as he grabbed your drink off of your vanity walking over to your outfits before raising his eyebrows “ready?” He asked, trying to hide his smile as you giggled evilly, knowing this was going to piss your manager off “do ittt!” You shouted watching as he pretended to trip in order to spill your drink on your performing outfits “oh nooo! You can’t wear them anymore!” He said sarcastically, laughing, watching as you giggled loudly standing up “I guess I’ll just have to wear my spare then" You laughed playfully, getting your spare outfit, laying it over the back of the couch, smiling as Seung Hyun set the cup back down turning to face you.

"That was really sweet" You smiled softly, nudging his arm gently as you nodded towards the speaker that sat installed in the ceiling as it chimed in to let you know they were calling someone on stage for rehearsals "BigBang members, please make your way to the stage" The speaker said, before repeating the phrase one more time, Seung Hyun smiling sadly at you "See you later?" He asked softly, you giggled a bit, acting like you were thinking hard "I don't know...I don't normally let fans in my dressing rooms" You giggled softly, Seung Hyun gasped looking at you in shock "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Yes, You'll see me later" You giggled softly, holding onto the door as you watched Seung Hyun take a slight step out before looking at you "Got it..and Y/n?...No matter what you wear?..I think you're yeppeo" He whispered softly, smiling softly as you gave him the same confused expression as before "I'm..awesome?" You giggled playfully, watching as he chuckled softly, a blush rising to his cheeks "It means...pretty or beautiful" He replied, doing his best to translate for you, giggling softly you covered your face "See you later, Seung Hyun" You whispered, watching as he waved goodbye, before walking towards stage with his friends.

As you sat on the couch, in your dressing room, you wondered why you were so suddenly drawn to the K-pop star, he was tall, and very attractive, but there was just something else about him. Maybe it was the fact, that everybody in the world was sure that you were full of yourself and had an ego bigger than the universe, but Seung Hyun seemed to see straight through that, seeing you for who you really were. A stuck, insecure, sweet, shy 24 year old, that just wanted to do best for your fans, not worrying about anything other than that. As you tilted your head slightly, you decided to try your best to learn some common lines in Korean, wanting to be able to communicate better with the boys while you're here, especially Seung Hyun. As Seung Hyun finally entered your dressing room again, he laughed, noticing your state, that was the exact same as last time, except your glare was set on your laptop. "Aein? I can't pour a drink on that" He joked playfully, you just let yourself fall back "Well, I'm trying to learn this, but I can't seem to fucking pronounce that" You huffed loudly, handing your laptop over to the taller man, Seung Hyun couldn't contain his blush as he noticed the phrase you had typed out in English, Korean, and the pronunciations for each word. 'You guys did amazing, best rapper I've ever met'

You both ended up sitting there for the rest of the three hours you had before the show started, Seung Hyun helping you learn different phrases in Korean, even some of their songs, so you could follow along with them as they performed. You would all be rushed from the red carpet, straight to performing, you knew you were the last to perform, before you and the boys announced the winners, you both being the biggest names there. As you watched the boys perform, your eyes were trained on Seung Hyun, watching in awe as he moved around the stage, his deep voice echoing through the microphone as he rapped quickly, his eyes catching yours for a moment as he passed. He could feel his heart flutter whenever he caught your gaze, seeing how amazed you looked, while only looking at him. As you swapped places, and did your set, you smiled at Seung Hyun, looking at him, any chance you got as your manager was silently raging from the side of the stage at your outfit change. As your performance ended, and you all wrapped up the awards show, you smiled at Seung Hyun "Going back home, Aein?" You smiled, proud of yourself for properly pronouncing the nickname, Seung Hyun gave you a similar proud smile "That was perfect! And yea...we are" He whispered softly, grabbing your hands gently, moving to bid you a farewell before you were quick to wrap your arms around him in a hug. "Thank you for helping me tonight, Seung Hyun, You're a good person, and I hope I get the chance to see you again" You whispered, squeezing him slightly as he hugged you back "Anytime, Aein, Seriously, I'm sure I can spill a lot more drinks, especially if it means more of the Y/n, I saw tonight. You seemed so happy, about everything" He smiled playfully, rubbing your back before pulling away, you smiled a bit rocking on your feet, never had you ever had someone read you so well, so quickly, yet here Seung Hyun was, reading you like every secret and insecurity was exposed for him to see, without you ever saying a word.

"I'm always happy to perform.. I just, Don't want to show off my body in order to feel loved and accepted" You shrugged softly before sighing "But, that's show-biz, is it not?" You joked, watching as Seung Hyun sighed softly "There are people who love and accept you for exactly who you are, Y/n, you've just got to hold out and wait" He whispered, cupping your cheek gently before giving you a soft smile "I had my manager contact your manager, so you should be getting my number soon" He smiled softly, bidding you one last goodbye before his manager pulled him away so they could make their flight back home. Seung Hyun could feel his heart drop, and his chest feel heavier as he walked away, he wanted to stay with you longer, just a few hours, wasn't enough for him, he wanted to hear you talk forever, learn everything about you. As he went to get into the car they had to take them to the airport, you stopped him for one last hug "Be safe.. Okay?" You whispered, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away "I will, Aein, just for you" He whispered, smiling as he watched you covered your blush quickly with your hands, giggling softly, you swatted at his arm gently "Are you flirting with me?" You giggled as he climbed into the car "Only if you want me too" Seung Hyun joked playfully, you just giggled loudly, shaking your head playfully as you sighed "You're too cute, Seung Hyun, message me whenever you land, please?" You whispered, standing back so the other boys could file into the car "I will, Aein, get inside before you freeze" He replied sweetly, his tone slightly demanding as you shivered from the chilly fall breeze. Nodding as you laughed softly, moving back towards the doors, waving the boys goodbye as the car pulled away.

"You like him!~" Your assistant sang out, approaching from behind, you just blushed brightly as you turned around "He's so charming! It's like he knows me without knowing me! He even invited me to an art show in a few months!" You squealed excitedly, your assistant squealing with you, happy to see you this excited again, especially since your off year started. "Ooo~ Y/n L/n and K-Pop Idol, T.O.P, I like it" Your manager cheered as he approached "Noo! Keep your grimy little PR fingers away from him! Private life things!" You groaned, watching as he laughed as your actions "Honey nothing is a private life in the Music industry" He replied, causing your assistant and you both to roll your eyes, your assistant quick to step forward "Christopher, So help me, if you interfere with this, or ruin it for our girl, I will kill you, sound good?" She threatened lowly, you nodded your head as he glanced at you, sighing as he sent over a forwarded message of Seung Hyun's number "There, if anything I helped her" He sassed, you just giggled excitedly, pulling your phone out, knowing exactly what he meant as you immediately started to message your new friend, and growing crush.

'Hey! <3 It's Y/n, It's going to be about 10k for those outfits :)'

'10K!? What were they made out of?'

'I'm kidding! <33 Miss you already, bestie, hanging out isn't fun whenever you're not here'

'Aww Aein, you're too kind <3'

You giggled reading his message, carrying your phone close to your chest as you made your way out to the car, your driver taking you back home as you patiently waited for a message from Seung Hyun saying he landed. Excited to hear from again, even if it was just through text messages, he still managed to make you feel more seen than everybody ever has.

--

What do you think lovelies? <333 I'm definitely doing a part two because this is just too cute! <3 Excited to hear from you!!

--

Taglist!!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

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@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

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@isssaaaa2111

@goodnight-n-go-home

@skzdreamz

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@sunhyeswife

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@live-laugh-lovef1

@c1delight

[onceinablueberrymoon]

special report | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

next: (cheers) to the future (slight nsfw) | scavenger hunt | intermission (mild nsfw) scenario: ever wonder how the VIPs watch the games before they arrive on the island? reporter!reader delivers the highlights of each game to viewers around the world. and a certain someone is their biggest fan.  setting: in seoul between the second game (dalgona) and the special game during season 1 warnings: reader can be any gender, but this was originally written with fem!reader in mind; reader also works for the games; they're both just not nice people lol (but we love them anyways!); no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 629 notes: someone in a reddit thread had a theory that the VIPs would watch highlight reels of the first few games and this story popped in my head. salesman is called recruiter here since that's his official title. i love this guy sm (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“And that concludes our coverage for Day 2 of the Games. Please stay tuned for the Special Game, which will take place in two hours.”

You bowed to the camera, only straightening your back upon hearing the director yell “Cut!”. You shuffled the papers on the desk in front of you, then checked your phone. 

Three missed calls. 

You snorted, a small smile forming on your lips. You pressed on one of the missed calls, the number redialing on your screen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the recruiter to pick up. It didn’t even ring once before his smooth voice came through the speaker.

“Finally.”

You sighed, leaning forward to prop an elbow on the desk. “You know I’m at work. You of all people should know that.”

You could picture his cocky smirk.

“Care for a bite to eat? My treat,” he offered, which you accepted. There was still an hour and a half before you had to return to prepare for the Special Game.

You met at the tiny kimbap shop down the street. While you both could afford a fancier restaurant, a cheap, filling meal was all you needed right now.

“So,” you started, pouring hot barley tea into your teacups, “Did you catch any of the last game?” 

He nodded, resting his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table. “Very entertaining, as always. You never cease to impress me,” he praised.

Taking a big sip of tea, you scoffed, “Oh please. I’m the least interesting part of the show.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

Shooting him an unimpressed look, you spoke, “Did you not see the same footage I did? The utter fear when they had to carve out the dalgona?” You laughed, “And when that guy got shot and slid down the slide… You just can’t make this stuff up!"

Pouring some more tea into your cup, you continued, "Seriously though, watching those players carve out the umbrella shapes was priceless. They were so scared!” With a shake of your head, you sighed, “I can’t believe some of them actually passed.” 

The recruiter chuckled, leaning closer to you. “While that was amusing, I found your performance to be far more enticing.”  

A blush crossed your cheeks, but you quickly shook it off, clearing your throat.

“I try my best. By the way,” you motioned towards him, “You’ve outdone yourself with the players this time. A perfect mix of competent and woefully tragic players. I’m not sure which I like more.” You shot him a smile, which he returned.

“Oh, and the group with the Host? Hilarious,” you grinned. “I can’t believe that 218 and 456 were childhood friends.” You tapped your fingers against your teacup. “But I guess, at the end of the day, trash is still trash.”

The lady running the shop arrived with your food, and the two of you ate in comfortable silence. However, you couldn’t help but notice the recruiter’s intense gaze lingering on you.

Once the recruiter paid, the two of you left the restaurant, and he walked you back to the office. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked, briefcase in hand.

You hummed, “Tomorrow is Tug of War, and there’s still lots to prepare before the final games.” You took a step towards him, a teasing smile on your face, “Why, miss me already?”

He huffed, “I can watch you any time.” Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispered, “But I prefer being near you instead.”

You tilted his head to look at you and kissed him on the cheek. Turning to enter your office, you looked back and called to him.

“Until next time, my dear recruiter!”

He flashed his signature smirk.

“Take care, my lovely reporter.”

[lizardsfromspace]

There was lots of concern about AI and deepfakes spreading misinformation this election cycle, so let's check in on that!

A lot of right-wing accounts are trying to prove that Kamala Harris' crowds are fake - that all the photos of them are generated with AI. We'll get to that, but let's look at the most...amusing example first.

There's lots of people pointing at an image of a crowd that's obviously been generated with AI, due to extra arms and gibberish writing.

So obviously someone generated this image with AI. Who was it and why? Well, we can actually find the origin pretty easily. It was...

A right-wing satire account. Who put "unexcited Kamala Harris crowd" into a AI image generator to make a "wow, crowds are electric!" joke.

An image their own side generated as satire is now being spread by the right as something Harris/Walz created as proof they're doing the thing they're doing. Incredible. Just a masterclass

Now let's look at the dark stuff.

By and large, AI isn't being used for hoaxes. AI is being used as a excuse: people aren't being tricked by AI images, they're being tricked by accusations real images are AI.

So this hoax went around recently...

This image is old. It spread in 2017, it spread in 2020, and now it's spread in 2024. The Harris/Walz rally wasn't even in the Phoenix Convention Center, or in Phoenix. But it's now a core part of the "no one's attending their rallies!" campaign going on now

This may seem strange if you experience the news by non-conservative media, where you can't escape stories of Kamala Harris filling up massive stadiums & of Trump rallies full of empty seats. All evidence in reality points to Kamala Harris being extremely popular and to Trump's campaign faltering.

But in MAGA land, Kamala Harris' crowds were generated with AI.

Their claims: the crowd isn't in the reflection, and uh, the arms look weird. But also that there "aren't any other images".

But? There are? There was a livestream of that very plane landing (starting at 25)!

They're subjecting what they think is The Only Image of this rally in long Youtube videos and on Twitter and TikTok, and just...don't realize there's full, uncut, commentary-free video of it that was broadcast live. So why don't they realize that?

Well, I did a search for this rally on Fox News' website and guess what? They reported it exactly twice: once a interview with her while leaving that slammed her for "not taking press questions" enough, and a few clips of the Palestinian protestors at it, but not many, bc if you don't follow the far right they're trying to frame Kamala Harris as, like, a radical pro-Palestinian (or, as they say, "pro-Hamas") activist who wants to destroy Israel which, uhhhhhhhh

But another thread I found debunking this, by a former Trump-voting evangelical conservative turned critic of the same, gets at the heart of it

People who said AI and deepfakes would be used to mislead the right were missing how misinformation actually works. Fox News et al don't suppress information by confusing the audience with misinformation; they suppress information by never letting them see it in the first place. They know that they have a captive audience who doesn't watch non-right-wing news (unlike the left, who are constantly aware of what's going on over at Fox).

They can just never mention or show Kamala Harris' rallies, or do so only in close-up, and they can frame Trump to only show shots where a crowd has gathered & make it seem like that's the norm, and their audience just has no chance to find out the truth. They're so propagandized that they just accept that there are no other images of that Kamala Harris rally, because, well, they were told there weren't, and would the news personalities they trust really lie to them?

And if any stray bits of reality float into the bubble, well, it was just AI. You know, how they have AI these days? AI's most important role in all this isn't as a vector for misinformation, it's as a rhetorical device for claiming real images and video are misinformation. You don't have to make images full of people with weird hands if you can get people circling real people's hands in red and pointing at it to prove reality was made in a computer.

These people don't know how popular Kamala Harris is. They don't know she's polling eight points higher than Trump. They don't know Harris is leading in right-wing biased polls. They're being told she's hiring actors at rallies, that her crowd photos are generated by AI, that Trump rallies are popular and hers are desolate.

This only likely to increase as we near the election because, well, Trump '24 is a shitshow. His campaign started out less popular than '16 or even '20, he picked maybe the worst VP pick in history, and he hasn't made a single effective attack on Harris/Walz. They were banking on facing Biden, and then on a chaotic open convention, but instead everyone closed ranks around Harris, and she instantly became the most popular Democratic candidate since 2008. We are cruising towards Trump/Vance not only losing, but losing in the closest thing to a landslide that's possible in our current system.

They're already laying the groundwork for, in the likely case of defeat, playing the "she stole the election!" card. Last time it was ad-hoc, because Trump thought he'd win. This time, they're already making "all her rallies are fake, all of her supporters are AI, they've already rigged it against Trump" a key strategy, and, I have to assume, their primary strategy as it gets closer to election day and the polls get worse. They've always lived in a bubble, but now it's a bubble designed explicitly to cause another January 6th. By claiming real photos have weird hands, and must totally be AI

[soon-palestine]

hat day was December 19, 2023 when Israeli ground troops entered the Anan family’s apartment building in Gaza City. According to survivors, by the end of the day, at least 11 civilians had been killed.

When he recovered, Yahya said, “I don’t think there is a human being who could forget anything like this.”

Working with journalists in Gaza, Al Jazeera English investigated a number of Israeli military attacks as part of The Night Won’t End, a documentary we reported and produced for the show Fault Lines and which was released last Friday. While we reported on incidents ranging from a massive air strike to attacks on safe zones to the killing of 6-year-old Hind Rajab, we also sought to focus on an issue that has received more limited media coverage: allegations of arbitrary executions of civilians by Israeli ground forces.

This is the story of one of those alleged incidents. We verified the details of the attack using the testimony of six survivors, satellite imagery, phone messages, and video footage.

By December of last year, Israeli ground troops had a solid hold of north Gaza. Attacks and sieges on hospitals like Kamal Adwan and Al Awda were in full force. Air strikes had already decimated significant portions of the north and were continuing in tandem with ground attacks.

Some of the dozens of people sheltering in the Anan apartment building told Fault Lines that in the days leading up to December 19, Israeli ground troops laid siege to the building, shelling it and trapping people inside.

One resident who spoke to our team and wanted to remain anonymous out of fear for her safety said that the ground troops had to know that there were no armed fighters in the building because no one fought back at any point. “If there was anything that frightened or harmed them, or anyone resisting or fighting them, it would have been obvious in those five days,” the survivor said. “They knew this house had civilians inside.”

The Salem family was also sheltering in the building. They had already been displaced twice during the war. Just a week prior, they had survived a massive air strike that killed over 100 members of their extended family.

“We took refuge there to be safe,” Hiba Salem told our team with a heavy sigh. And then she laughed, as though the idea of safety was ridiculous.

“The tanks and bulldozers trapped us at the door of the house,” she said. “For an entire week, shells were landing on our building. We were trapped and they shot at us from the quadcopter 24 hours a day. We were living under very difficult circumstances. We had no water. Life was impossible for us.”

Satellite imagery from Planet Labs from the morning of December 19 shows Israeli tanks about one block from the Anan apartment building. A few hours later, survivors testified that soldiers entered the building.

“They came from that door—they blew up the door and went in—we were shocked,” said Ahmed Anan, Yahya’s father. “We just sat and we thought, what do they want from us? The soldiers were in front of us. They told us to raise our hands up, we raised our hands up. ‘Take off your clothes’—we took off our clothes.” He was downstairs with his daughter and young grandson. Eventually, he said, they forced all of them to leave the building while the rest of the family remained inside.

“I knew my kids and the rest of my family were upstairs,” he said. “What were they going to do to them?”

Yahya was upstairs with most of his family. He said that as soon as soldiers entered their apartment, he and the others shouted that they were civilians, over and over. “They came in firing randomly,” he said, walking through the remnants of the apartment. As he talked, he pointed to some of the bloodstains.

“The first one killed [was] Abu Hamdi Al-Ghalayini, my sister’s husband. This is his abaya and here is blood. They shot a bullet in his head and the other one in his heart.”

Yahya said he heard the soldiers speaking Hebrew as well as English. “But there were no questions. No ‘What’s your name?’ or ‘What’s your ID number?’ Nothing.”

Hiba Salem was sheltering in a different apartment in the building when soldiers came in. She was with her husband Ayman and their eight children, including their oldest son, Oday.

“They went to each apartment,” Oday said, “shooting and firing shells so they could search and see who was inside. Of course, it was all civilians here.”

According to Hiba, the soldiers who came into their apartment asked if there were any fighters. “We told them we have no resistance fighters. We are all civilians. I have children. They took my son, a young man, to the kitchen and hit him in his stomach and head.” Ayman was beaten and thrown down the stairs, according to both Hiba and Oday. “They broke my husband’s jaw. They broke this part of his face,” Hiba said, gesturing to the side of her own face. “He began bleeding. They tortured him by beating his arms with their rifles until they bled.”

After this, survivors said that they were grouped with other residents of the building, and the women and men were separated from each other. “They hit our heads with a big baton, and they fired their weapons right over our heads which made our ears ring and hurt so much,” Hiba recalled. “They took us women, three at a time, to an interior room. They stripped us of our clothes and searched us, while mocking and laughing at us, using dirty words.”

The women had been separated from the men, but both Hiba and another woman who was there said that they could see the men from where they were. “They put us in a room and the men were in front of us,” the other woman, who wished to remain anonymous, said. According to the survivors, the men were stripped to their underwear and then forced to kneel on the ground.

“I was right there,” Yahya said, gesturing to a spot in the apartment corridor. “I don’t know if these marks are from the shots that were aimed at me or not. I was lying face down on the ground.” As he looked around, he gestured to where his uncle and cousin were in front of him and to the spot in front of him where his brother Amin was.

It was after this that survivors said that the soldiers then began shooting at all the men.

“They started to carry out executions in front of our eyes,” Hiba recalled. “They didn’t spare anyone. They created a bloodbath, I swear to God.”

At least 11 men were killed, including Hiba’s husband, Ayman. The rest of the men were from the Anan family and their in-laws from the Ghalayini and Al-Ashi families. Yahya Anan and Oday Salem were also shot, but they survived.

“I was hit here with two bullets,” Yahya said, pointing to his arm. “I lost consciousness. Between one moment and the next, I was near death.”

After this, soldiers left the building but remained outside. The women were still together, including Hiba and her three daughters. Then a few minutes later, survivors said that soldiers began firing on the building from the outside.

Rula Salem, Hiba’s oldest daughter, said that she was huddled in a corner, holding her 4-year-old sister Nada in her lap. “The shelling stopped when the quadcopter began shooting,” Rula, who is 19, said. She continued holding onto Nada through the attack. Her sister was crying and asking for water. “I told her, ‘Wait honey. When it’s finished, I will get you water.’ I didn’t know that at that point her soul was leaving.” It was after the attack stopped that she realized her sister had been killed.

According to Hiba and Rula, Nada was killed by shrapnel during the attack. “Shrapnel came in her eyes while they were open,” Hiba said. “My daughter was killed while she was looking.”

After the soldiers left, the survivors tried to get help. One of Yahya’s sisters who survived the attack messaged a group chat that included relatives, telling them what happened. Fault Lines reviewed text messages she sent at around 10:15 pm local time. In the messages, she says that her family “were all martyred. And we are now trapped in the house with injuries.”

One of the people who received those messages was Shadi Anan, Yahya’s brother who lives in Algeria. He struggled to process the news that so many of his relatives had been killed. “I heard the news, but my brain started working after 15 minutes,” he recalled of hearing what had happened from his sister. “They executed her husband and three kids in front of her.”

After learning what happened, Shadi began trying to find a way to get help for his family. He sent voice notes to others in Gaza, trying to find a way to reach the Palestine Red Crescent Society or anyone in the area that could help, but no one was able to. In one of the voice notes, his voice is audibly distraught as he asks for anyone to go to them. “The area was besieged, and extremely dangerous. But we tried to send an appeal because of the injured, so we could try to save some of them.”

During this time, Yahya finally woke up. “It wasn’t until after I woke up from the sounds of the shelling at the building, that I realized I’m lying down between the martyred,” he said.

Looking around the scene during his interview, he wondered if the blood still visible was from his uncle or his brother or both. After he woke up, Yahya also realized that he had been shot in the arm. “I got up with extreme difficulty and crawled to the women. So they checked me, I am not sure who checked me because it was dark. She wrapped a scarf around my arm, so the bleeding stopped.”

He tried to walk, but it was too difficult to go far in the building. “I slipped three times on the martyrs, from the blood.”

The survivors stayed in the building into the next day, trying to determine if it was safe to leave. “I carried my little sister on my shoulders,” Oday said, recalling when they decided they could evacuate the building. “I helped my other sister to lean on me. And my mom was injured on her face.”

Yahya was still in the building after the others left, unable to leave due to his injury and blood loss. But eventually civilians entered the building, he said. The men who entered the building took a video as they walked through. Fault Lines reviewed the video, which shows the bodies of several undressed men. Nada Salem’s body is also seen briefly. As the men walk through the apartments, navigating through bodies and pools of blood, eventually they come to a room where Yahya can be seen lying on a bed. “They pulled me on the bedsheet and they took me out of the building.”

After this, he was taken to Al-Shifa hospital, where the other survivors had arrived as well. An Al Jazeera news crew was there and filmed the survivors as they recounted what had taken place the day before.

Yahya can be seen lying down as he speaks to the camera. “The first person they struck was my sister’s husband, Abu Hamdi,” he said in the news report.” They shot him as he was saying, ‘Civilians.’”

Hiba was filmed as well. Her face is visibly injured as medical staff treat her and her children. “There’s a bullet in my hand. There’s a bullet in my daughter’s head,” she said in the video. “My son can’t see. My young daughter was killed, and my husband, they executed him.” In a video taken shortly before her husband Ayman was buried, the injuries on his face from the attack are visible.

The Israeli Defense Forces did not respond to a request for comment on the allegations of the attack.

“My husband made me feel safe. I spent my whole life with him, in all its details, all its meaning,” Hiba told our crew in Gaza. Like all the families we spoke with for our documentary, those that survived this attack remain haunted by what they experienced, and what was taken from them: beloved family and friends, homes full of memories, and dreams for their children’s future and what might have been.

“I couldn’t wait for her to grow up,” Hiba said of her daughter Nada. “Her one wish, she’d tell me, was to get her a backpack and take her to school. She would always say that to me. Whenever I think of them, my heart shatters.”

As Yahya walked through the apartment building, the deep and lingering impact of the attack was visible in his eyes. “They have all the weapons and you’re a defenseless civilian. You have nothing and have done nothing. And in a moment most of your family is executed.” His brother Amin was one of the 11 men who were killed. “I want time to go back in time,” he said, looking around the ruins of his family’s former home where so many of his loved ones were killed.

“I didn’t imagine that one day, that in one moment, they would destroy everything.”

[sirfrogsworth]

Understanding the Inverse Square Law

(Without Math)

When I was first getting deep into photography, I kept running into lessons about the inverse square law. They would always tell you the effects and the math but they never explained the cause. Why does the light do this?

It's like when the doctor gives you a pill to fix something. You swallow it, wait a bit, and eventually you feel better. But you rarely know what the pill is actually doing.

So when it comes to lighting, you have to decide if you want to be the doctor who understands the why or the patient who just swallows the pill and gets the desired effect.

Every tutorial will say if you double the distance of a light from a subject, the intensity will drop by 1/4. They will give you a formula so you can do exposure calculations.

Sometimes they will refer to somewhat helpful diagrams with clues on what is happening.

But most just teach the easy version.

If you move the light closer, you will get quicker falloff into shadow and the background will be darker.

If you move it farther back, everything will be more evenly lit, but the background will be lighter.

The teacher will shoot some examples and show you something like this.

By the end of this post, I want everyone who reads it to *truly* understand what is happening.

Because if you understand it on that level, it will change how you think about light and photography. It will have the added bonus of explaining magnets and WiFi and even the sound coming out of your speakers.

If I am an effective teacher, this is something you will think about in your everyday life, even if you don't care about photography.

In a previous post, I talked about how light was a bit like a shotgun blast. The closer you are, the more concentrated the pellets. If you are farther away, the shot disperses.

But this wasn't the analogy I wanted to use. It was just the easiest to find visual examples of.

My preferred analogy was spray paint. And I'm hoping with some janky home-made visuals, I can do a better job of explaining the concept.

Let's start by explaining the humble photon. It's the fundamental particle (or wave) of light. Think of them like individual tiny globs of paint in a spray can. A photon is emitted when something loses energy. And unmodified light sources typically shoot out photon globs in all directions.

A point light source is a theoretical concept where a single point in space shoots light evenly in every direction. For our purposes we're just going to imagine a basic light bulb as the point source.

But our eyes and cameras have a limited field of view, so from here on out we are going to think of the light emitting from the bulb as having a cone shape. We are just concerned with what a camera can actually see.

Well, well, well... what does that cone of light look like?

I'm sure we have all used spray paint before. So let's imagine we are spraying a white ball against a gray wall. We spray for 1 second and hold the can at different distances.

In each scenario we are spraying for the same length of time and the exact same number of photon paint globs are emitted from the nozzle.

Let's think about what each scenario would look like from the camera's point of view.

Here is our unpainted ball and wall.

Here is the spray can held at Distance 1.

Note how the red paint is very concentrated and appears bold and saturated.

Distance 2.

Now the same amount of paint is dispersed over a wider area. The bold red spot in the center is more muted. And some of the paint is spilling onto the background.

Distance 3.

Everything appears to have a light red tint. The background and the white ball appear to have similar intensities of red. The coverage is very even. The same number of photon paint globs are being asked to cover a larger area so they are spreading out and diluting the color.

Okay, now let's exchange tiny photon paint globs for real photons.

I'm bringing back my baseball and showing these same 3 distances.

The nice thing about eyeballs and cameras... they can compensate for different light intensities. Our eyes have night vision and cameras have long shutter speeds, large lens apertures, and ISO amplification.

And if we compensate for the dimming caused by the dispersed light...

Photography teachers will tell you that if you move the light farther away, the background will get brighter. In reality, everything is the same level of dim and the camera exposure is brightened.

What if we wanted to spray the same area from far away without losing as much of the red saturation? We could add a super nozzle to our spray can that emits a bunch more photon globs in the same span of time.

This would be like turning up the power of the light. You have to emit a bunch more photons in that same time scale to compensate. Then you don't have to adjust your camera settings when you move the light farther away.

Let's look at a practical example of when you might think about the inverse square law to help solve a problem.

You have two subjects in a scene, and you put the light just out of view of the camera. You might be thinking that a larger light source is softer, so you want it as close as possible.

Unfortunately only one person is lit in the scene. She is getting the concentrated photons before they can disperse.

So if we want both people to have similar lighting, we can move the light farther away. You will have to comprimise a little softness. And you will have to change your camera settings or increase the power of the light.

Note that the intensity of light in the area they are standing in is very similar now.

By using a large light modifier, the photographer was able to move the light back and keep its general softness, but also evenly light both subjects.

And now I need to talk about one aspect of my spray paint analogy that does not work with the inverse square law. And it has to do with the specular highlight on the baseball.

Spray paint does not reflect paint. It just sticks to things. And reflection throws a tiny wrench into my explanation. Because parallel light rays do not obey the inverse square law. When you light something, the most central photons from the subject's perspective are going to be traveling in parallel. They have a direct path from the light to the camera lens or your eyeball.

Now if the reflection material is perfectly matte, the light will disperse and act as the inverse square law suggests. But if the surface is even a little glossy, the most concentrated parallel rays are going to bounce directly into your eye as a bright white spot.

And if you study this diagram a little closer, you might figure out why specular highlights are usually white.

If you look at the specular highlight on the baseball, even though the rest of the image gets dimmer as the light gets farther away, that spot stays bright.

Though the spot seems to disappear at Distance 1. Curious, eh?

It's still there. It's still reflecting directly into your eyeball. But the light around it is so concentrated and bright, the specular highlight blends in.

Which means if you have some nasty highlights on your photo subject, moving your light closer might make them go away. If someone has a shiny forehead, this can equalize the overall exposure and hide the shiny.

This guy has a bright spot on his nose. It is there in both photos.

But his face is so much brighter in the left photo that the spot blends in. It's a bit of a mind bender because the camera exposure is adjusted so the finished photos appear the same amount of bright.

You have to remember if you only move the light farther away and don't increase its power or increase the camera's exposure level, the photos would look more like this.

So if you make the rest of the face as bright as the highlight, it blends in.

Neat!

So, was I successful?

Does the inverse square law make more sense?

This is why WiFi gets weaker at a distance. This is why magnets lose their attraction when you pull them apart. This is why speakers get quieter when you move away from them.

I can't tell you how much knowing the why has affected my thinking about lighting. I see so many video and photo people talking about lighting setups who are just following memorized placements.

"Put a light above the subject at a 45 degree angle to get Rembrandt lighting."

But the second they encounter light doing something unexpected, things fall apart. They resort to trial and error and brute force the solution.

Knowing how the pill works can prevent that frustrating process.

I no longer care about the math. I can just visualize the cone of influence and predict what will happen. Understanding the behavior of light and not just the end effects has made everything more intuitive. I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to understand this. But, hopefully, this post has shortened that journey for you.

[cloudyluun]

Until You Stay | famous!harry

Summary: Beth Monroe is a sharp-tongued journalist looking for her big break. Harry Styles is a cocky, untouchable rockstar who doesn’t take well to being challenged. What starts as a battle of wills—sharp words and razor-edged tension—spirals into something darker, filthier, and impossible to walk away from. But when feelings get involved, when the masks slip, will they still be able to pretend it doesn’t mean anything?

A/N: This is a commissioned work of fiction based on Harry as a famous singer, I make no claims of knowing him personally in any way. But someone trusted me to bring their filthy, angsty dreams to life, and I may have gone just a little feral in the process. So enjoy the chaos, the tension, and, of course, Harry being an insufferable asshole.

Word Count: 7,7k

Warnings: 

Explicit Smut (very detailed & filthy)

Rough Sex, Degradation, and Dom/Sub Dynamics

Jealous/Possessive Harry

Toxic Dynamics & Power Struggles

Strong Language & Dirty Talk

Angst & Emotional Turmoil

Paparazzi & Media Manipulation

Mentions of Alcohol & Self-Destructive Behavior

A Hard-Won Happy Ending

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Beth Monroe had always known she was meant for more than this.

Twenty-seven years old and already jaded, she was the kind of journalist who wanted to chase real stories—the ones that peeled back the glossy surface of the world and exposed what lay underneath. The truth. Not the watered-down, PR-approved version of it, but the raw, unfiltered mess of reality. That’s why she had spent years clawing her way through the ranks of journalism, determined to escape the suffocating confines of celebrity gossip and meaningless soundbites.

But the industry had other plans for her.

She had started with ambition, fresh out of college, ready to write the stories that mattered. But the jobs that paid? The ones that kept the rent covered and the lights on? Those were the ones that required clickbait headlines and shallow coverage of people who barely seemed real.

And so, Beth had become another faceless name in the sea of entertainment journalists, forced to write about scandals, red carpet outfits, and who's dating who. She’d learned how to craft engaging pieces that held just enough bite to make them feel substantial, but in the end, it was all just noise. A constant cycle of disposable stories about people whose lives would never be touched by the words she wrote.

That’s why this assignment felt like her last shot.

Her boss had made it clear—this was either going to be her big break or her last chance before she was permanently relegated to covering B-list divorces and influencer drama.

"We need something real, Beth," her editor, Jonathan Pierce, had told her, fingers tapping against his desk as he leveled her with that too-patient look. "Not just another shallow puff piece. Styles is at the peak of his career right now. People want to know who he is, not the version we see on stage, but the man underneath it all."

Beth had bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

Harry Styles.

Of course.

If there was one name that could guarantee headlines and clicks, it was his. He was a global phenomenon, a walking enigma, an untouchable icon. At thirty, he had long since outgrown his boyband past, solidifying himself as one of the most powerful and respected musicians in the industry. His concerts sold out within minutes. His albums dominated the charts. His face was plastered across billboards, magazines, and social media feeds worldwide.

And yet—he was also infamously private.

Beth had done her research. He gave interviews, sure, but they were carefully controlled, filled with charming deflections and rehearsed soundbites. The media loved him, but no one actually knew him.

Her job? To change that.

She had been granted exclusive access to his European tour, shadowing him across multiple countries, given rare, behind-the-scenes insight into the life of Harry Styles, the person.

Beth knew how this would go.

She would show up, ask the hard-hitting questions, and be met with infuriatingly smooth non-answers. He’d probably flash that boyish smirk, tilt his head just right, and make it impossible for anyone to push too hard. The public adored him for that.

But Beth?

She wasn’t here to adore him. She was here to unravel him.

Still, she wasn’t expecting her first glimpse of him to hit her like a gut punch.

The moment she stepped into that room, she knew.

He was going to be a problem.

The private event was held at an intimate venue in Paris; a low-lit, exclusive affair where only VIPs, industry elites, and carefully selected press members were allowed inside. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, leather seating, and the faint musk of whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

Beth walked in, blending into the sea of journalists and label executives, scanning the room for the man she had spent weeks researching.

And then she saw him.

Harry Styles did not belong to the real world.

There was something about the way he existed in a space, the way people naturally gravitated toward him—an effortless pull, an undeniable gravity.

He stood near the back of the room, dressed in an all-black ensemble that should have looked simple but instead made him look infuriatingly expensive. The tailored slacks. The silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at tattoos inked across golden skin. The loose, effortless curls.

But it wasn’t just his looks.

It was the way he carried himself like he was untouchable.

Beth watched as he laughed at something someone said, flashing that devastating grin that made cameras worship him. But it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention—sharp, assessing, distant, even as he smiled.

And then, as if sensing her stare, he turned.

Their gazes met.

A slow flicker of recognition crossed his face, though they had never met before. His green eyes scanned her, quick and unreadable.

And then, just as fast, he looked away.

Dismissive.

Beth felt heat rise to her throat.

Oh.

Oh, he was going to be a problem.

And he had no idea what was coming for him.

Beth didn’t look away first.

She wasn’t the type to shrink under scrutiny, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. But Harry? He barely spared her a full second before shifting his attention elsewhere, like she wasn’t worth a second glance.

The disinterest was strategic, she realized almost immediately. A controlled dismissal. The kind that kept people chasing, trying harder, falling over themselves for just an ounce of acknowledgment. She’d seen it before—men in power using silence as their weapon, turning the simple act of ignoring someone into an exercise of dominance.

It didn’t work on her.

So when she was finally ushered forward—her name murmured alongside a polite introduction—she didn’t bother offering her hand or plastering on a media-friendly smile. She met him with the same level of apathy he had thrown her way.

“Beth Monroe,” the event coordinator introduced. “She’s covering the European tour for Pulse magazine.”

Harry, who had just been charming some record executive’s wife with an easy smile and effortless conversation, didn’t even pretend to be interested. He gave the barest nod, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before lifting it to his lips.

“Journalist,” he mused, voice low, almost amused—but not in a way that invited conversation. More like he was tasting the word and finding it unappetizing.

Beth crossed her arms. "Is that a problem?"

That made him look at her properly.

Up close, she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the sharp contrast between deliberate nonchalance and razor-sharp awareness. She knew the game well—he was observing, measuring, deciding exactly how much space she was allowed to take up.

And then, in the most unbothered, condescending way possible, he simply muttered, "No. Just predictable."

Beth’s lips parted, caught between shock and incredulous amusement.

"Predictable?" she echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "That’s a bit rich coming from a man whose entire brand is built on being the world’s most palatable rockstar."

There it was.

The shift.

The flicker of something in his gaze like she had managed to surprise him. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting her to push back.

It lasted half a second before he schooled his features, tipping his glass back and dismissing her completely.

Beth could feel the eyes on them. The silent tension in the room as the moment stretched between them. But Harry? He wasn’t interested. At least, not enough to entertain her further.

His voice was maddeningly even as he murmured, "Enjoy the party, Miss Monroe."

And just like that, he turned his back on her.

Beth spent the rest of the night watching. Not because she was enthralled—fuck no—but because she needed to understand him. If she was going to do this job right, she needed to know what made him tick, needed to peel back the carefully constructed layers he used to keep the world at arm’s length.

What she noticed was infuriating.

Harry was charming with everyone else. Effortlessly engaged, magnetic in a way that made people lean in, hang on his every word. He gave them just enough of himself—never too much, never too little. His persona was crafted with surgical precision.

But with her?

Nothing.

He ignored her. Not obviously, not rudely, but in a way that felt intentional. Every time she tried to break into a conversation, he sidestepped her. When she asked a question, he answered in vague, detached sentences.

And when she finally managed to pull him into a one-on-one exchange again, it ended just as quickly as the first.

“I’ve noticed you never really answer questions,” she said, arms crossed as she studied him from across the dimly lit bar area.

Harry didn’t look up from where he was stirring his drink with a lazy wrist. “And I’ve noticed journalists never stop asking them.”

Beth exhaled sharply through her nose. “Right. Because heaven forbid anyone learns something real about Harry Styles.”

That got his attention.

He set his glass down, leaning against the counter as his gaze slid over her slowly.

“You lot aren’t interested in ‘real.’” His voice was quiet, but firm. “You’re interested in a headline.”

Beth bristled. “And you’re interested in a narrative.”

Something shifted.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the weight of the conversation settling between them.

Then Harry smirked.

“Good luck with your story, Miss Monroe.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Beth clenched her jaw.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

Beth had dealt with difficult men before. Politicians who thought they were too powerful to be held accountable, executives who assumed her presence in a room meant she was someone’s assistant rather than the journalist they’d have to answer to. She had sharpened herself against condescension and arrogance, made a career out of standing her ground in rooms filled with people who wanted to dismiss her.

But Harry Styles?

He was a different breed of difficult.

For the next several weeks, Beth followed him across Europe, shadowing his tour with increasing frustration. She sat through press conferences where he charmed reporters into asking safe, meaningless questions—the kind that allowed him to give those clever, detached answers that never actually revealed anything.

She watched him interact with fans, saw the way he flipped the switch so effortlessly—one moment the distant, untouchable rockstar, the next, someone who could make a stadium of people feel like they mattered.

And yet, with her?

He remained a wall.

He made it a point to avoid her questions, brushing past them with an easy smirk and a raised eyebrow, like he found her attempts amusing.

“Beth, darling, you’re thinking too hard,” he had murmured once, lounging backstage after a show, still glistening with sweat from the stage lights. “Why don’t you just write the same piece everyone else does? You know, the whole ‘Harry Styles is mysterious but also terribly charming’ bit. Sells every time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t write fanfiction.”

He grinned. “Shame.”

And then there were the games.

Beth would show up for scheduled interview slots, only to be told that Harry was "unavailable." Sometimes it was because he was in a mood. Sometimes it was because he was “too busy” relaxing in his dressing room, scrolling through his phone, while she sat outside with her recorder untouched on her lap.

When she finally called him out on it, he didn’t even pretend to feel bad.

“Beth, love,” he drawled, voice dripping in mock sympathy, “you’re in my world now. Things don’t always run on schedule.”

Her patience cracked. “So you’re just wasting my time for fun?”

Harry leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. “Not for fun.” Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Though it is fun watching you get all worked up.”

She wanted to throw something at him.

The breaking point came after a particularly brutal argument.

It had been a long day—one of those rare occasions when Beth had actually gotten a few uninterrupted moments to ask real questions. She had pushed harder than usual, refusing to let him slide through with half-answers and smirks.

“Why do you do that?” she had asked, arms crossed as she watched him peel the rings off his fingers after soundcheck.

Harry flicked a glance up. “Do what?”

“Pretend you’re giving people something real when all you’re actually doing is controlling the narrative.”

The look he gave her was sharp, guarded. “That’s rich, coming from someone whose job is to spin a story.”

Beth exhaled through her nose. “You think this is easy for me? That I just write whatever sells? I’m not here to make you look good, Harry. I’m here to write the truth.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

And then, before she even saw him move, he was in front of her.

Too close.

Her breath caught.

She wasn’t sure if he had stepped forward or if she had unconsciously leaned in, but suddenly, there was no space between them. The air thickened, buzzing with something hot and electric.

His jaw flexed.

His hands curled into loose fists at his sides, as if he was holding something back.

Beth lifted her chin, refusing to shrink away.

The corner of his mouth twitched—not in amusement, not quite. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and slow, a quiet challenge.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

Beth swallowed, throat tight. “I think you hate that you can’t intimidate me.”

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating pause.

For a second—just a second—she swore his gaze dropped to her mouth.

But neither of them moved.

Neither of them acted on it.

And later that night, when Beth was alone in her hotel room, staring at the ceiling—she realized she was still thinking about it.

She wondered if he was, too.

Beth liked to believe that she had control over herself—over her emotions, over the way her body reacted, over the frustrating, infuriating pull she felt every time Harry Styles so much as looked at her.

But control was hard to maintain when someone was constantly poking, prodding, pushing just to see where her breaking point was.

And Harry?

Harry was pushing.

Hard.

It happened in Milan.

The afterparty was in full swing—music thumping, bodies swaying, conversations weaving in and out of the dim, golden-lit space. Beth wasn’t drinking, but the atmosphere was intoxicating in itself, everyone high off the post-show adrenaline.

Harry had been watching her all night.

Not obviously, not in a way anyone else would notice, but she felt it. The flicker of his gaze when she moved through the crowd, the way his attention snagged whenever she threw her head back in laughter.

She ignored it.

She refused to let him get in her head.

Which was why, when another musician—Nate, a guitarist from one of the opening acts—struck up a conversation with her, Beth didn’t hesitate to let herself enjoy it.

He was easy to talk to, charming in a way that didn’t feel like a performance. And when he leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh—a real, unguarded laugh—she barely had time to register the shift in the air before Harry was there.

He didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t say anything.

He just stood there, nursing a drink, his stare cutting through the noise like a blade.

Beth felt it before she saw it—the shift in Nate’s posture, the way his fingers curled around the bottle in his hand.

“I’ll catch you later,” Nate murmured, voice a little too careful.

Beth blinked. “Wait, what?”

But he was already slipping away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

And that was when she felt him.

The warmth of his presence behind her, the slow exhale against the shell of her ear.

“You like playing games, love?”

Beth closed her eyes.

Of course. Of course he had to do this.

She turned slowly, deliberately, only to find him watching her with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“Excuse me?” she said, tone light, though she could feel her pulse thrumming against her skin.

Harry tilted his head, mocking. “That was cute. The whole giggle and lean-in routine. Did you rehearse that?”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to have a conversation without your approval?”

His jaw flexed. “Didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, exactly?”

He took a step closer.

Then another.

Beth refused to step back.

His voice dropped lower, dangerously smooth.

“I’m saying… you’ve been running your mouth for weeks. Acting like you don’t give a shit about me. But then—” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “—then you go and pull that?”

She scoffed. “Pull what?”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t nice.

“You wanted me to see that.”

Beth’s stomach flipped.

She should have laughed in his face. Should have rolled her eyes, brushed past him, walked away.

But she didn’t.

Because there was something about the way he was looking at her.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself not to touch her.

Beth’s breath shook.

The music downstairs faded into a dull throb, the laughter and chatter dissolving into nothing. The party might as well have been on the other side of the world.

It was just them now.

Beth barely registered how it happened—one moment, she was in the thick of the afterparty, heat and voices pressing in on all sides. The next, the door clicked shut behind her. A soft, decisive sound.

She turned just in time to see Harry’s hand linger on the lock, fingers curling around the metal, twisting until it slid into place. A quiet snick.

Her pulse skittered.

Slowly, he turned back to her, gaze dark and unreadable.

Somehow, between one breath and the next, Beth’s back was already against the wall, cool brick pressing through the thin fabric of her dress. She could still feel the phantom warmth of Nate’s touch—light, fleeting—but it didn’t matter. Not when Harry was in front of her now. Not when his body was taut with something sharp, something dark. His eyes, usually lidded with lazy arrogance, were harder now. Narrowed. Burning.

His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was trying to control himself.

Then, low, rough, "You like playing games, love?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

She forced herself to lift her chin. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

His jaw twitched.

Slow. Measured. He reached out, running two fingers up her arm, featherlight but searing. Beth refused to react, refused to show him that he got under her skin.

His lips curled. "Laughing. Touching. Batting your lashes at him like you wanted him to take you right there in front of everyone."

That made her scoff. "Oh, fuck off—"

She barely got the words out before he was on her.

No warning. No hesitation.

One hand shot to her throat—not squeezing, just holding, firm enough to make her gasp as his body pressed flush against hers. His other hand planted itself beside her head, caging her in completely.

His mouth hovered just above hers, breath warm, uneven.

"You wanna push me, is that it?" he murmured, voice like gravel. "You wanna see what happens when I lose my patience?"

Her breath hitched.

It wasn’t fear curling in her stomach. It was something much worse.

She wanted this.

Needed it.

So she pushed him again, knowing it was reckless. "Maybe I do."

That was all it took.

Harry didn’t waste another second.

His grip tightened, and then he was kissing her—if it could even be called that. There was nothing soft about it. No buildup, no hesitation. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, a war between them.

His hand left her throat, moving down, down, over the thin fabric of her dress, gripping her waist so tightly it ached.

Beth’s nails raked down his arms, her own frustration spilling over. She wanted to hurt him. Make him feel this the way she did.

"Fuck—"

The word was ripped from her throat as he yanked her leg up, hitching it over his hip. The dress rode up instantly, baring her thigh, and then his hand was there, fingers digging into her skin, making her burn.

Desperate.

That was what this was.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t romance.

It was hunger.

It was starving.

His teeth scraped along her jaw, down her neck. He bit—not enough to leave marks, but enough to make her feel it.

“Look at you,” he rasped, dragging his mouth down her jaw. “Needy. Desperate. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair. "Fuck you."

He laughed, breathless, dark.

"Say it," he pressed. "Say you want it."

Beth clenched her teeth. She hated him.

And yet.

And yet.

"Say it."

She swallowed hard, nails still biting into his shoulders. "I want it."

He hummed in approval, pushing her harder against the wall. "Good girl."

Then he wrecked her.

There was no teasing. No gentle touch. He dragged her panties down and shoved her dress up with no regard, making her gasp as the cool air kissed her exposed skin. His fingers slid between her thighs, finding her soaked, and he smirked.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, lips brushing her ear. "You act like you don’t want this, but look at you."

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

It didn’t last.

His fingers slipped inside her, rough, unrelenting, and the cry broke from her throat before she could stop it.

"That’s it," he murmured, pumping them hard and deep. "Don’t hold back now."

Her head tipped back against the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing, teasing, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with every sharp movement.

"Thinkin’ about him now?" Harry taunted, voice low. "Bet you’re not."

She wasn’t.

She hated it, but she wasn’t.

All she could think about was Harry.

His fingers. His voice. The way he was taking what he wanted without a second thought.

Her whole body tensed, pleasure winding tight in her stomach.

And then he pulled away.

A whimper slipped out before she could stop it.

He grinned. "Not yet."

He undid his belt in a swift motion, shoved his jeans down just enough, and then he was lifting her completely, pressing her against the wall, spreading her open for him.

She barely had time to take a breath before he slammed into her.

"Fuck—"

She choked on a gasp, nails raking down his back as he filled her, stretched her in a way that made her legs shake.

There was no time to adjust.

No time to breathe.

He just fucked her.

Hard.

Desperate.

The wall scraped against her back with every sharp thrust, and she loved it.

His fingers bit into her thighs, holding her in place, making her take every inch, every punishing roll of his hips.

"You take me so fuckin’ well," he murmured, voice strained, lips dragging over her neck. "Like you need this."

She did.

God help her, she did.

She was close—so fucking close, and she knew he could feel it in the way she clenched around him, in the way her nails dug deeper, in the way her body arched.

"Say it," he ordered. "Say you’re mine."

Her breath stuttered.

He thrust harder. "Say it, Beth."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her body screaming for release.

And then she broke.

"I’m yours."

He groaned, deep and guttural, and that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed through her, leaving her shaking, wrecked, gasping as he kept going, drawing it out until she had nothing left to give.

Moments later, he followed, hips jerking, a rough growl spilling from his throat as he came deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Their breathing was heavy, erratic, mingling in the thick air between them.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

Harry pulled away, adjusted himself, ran a hand through his hair like nothing had happened.

Beth watched, still breathless, still reeling.

He met her eyes, his own dark, unreadable.

Then, with a smirk that made her stomach flip, he stepped back.

"See you around, love."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her wrecked, ruined, and still fucking wanting.

But worst of all?

She still wanted him.

She hated herself for it.

She hated him more.

Beth barely remembered leaving the party, barely registered the way the city lights blurred together in the back of her cab, the hum of Milan’s nightlife drowning out the noise in her head. Her body still felt him—his hands, his breath, the rough edge of his voice scraping against her skin.

It should have been enough.

It should have burned her out, smothered whatever slow, insidious pull had been building between them.

But it didn’t.

Because when she saw him again the next day, sitting in the green room of the arena, lounging like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t ruined her the night before—Beth realized something awful.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

--

Harry was different now.

Not in the way Beth had expected—not in the way most men got after a night like that.

There was no smugness, no knowing smirk, no self-satisfied arrogance that she could take a swing at.

Instead, he was… colder.

Distant. Detached. Like she was nothing more than a mild inconvenience, an insignificant blip on his radar.

He barely looked at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her when she walked into a room, didn’t spare her even a glance during soundcheck or press briefings.

And that should have been fine.

She should have been fine.

But the second she started talking to someone else—the second she so much as smiled in another man’s direction—Harry’s jaw would lock.

His shoulders would tense.

His fingers would curl around his drink, around his microphone, around anything to keep from doing something reckless.

Beth noticed.

And she made sure he knew it.

She leaned in closer when someone else made her laugh. Let her fingers linger just a little longer when she touched an arm. Tilted her head just right when she listened, knowing Harry was in the room, knowing he was watching even if he refused to look at her directly.

She wanted to prove a point.

If she was just a fuck, if she was nothing, then he shouldn’t care.

So why did he?

--

It happened in Paris.

Beth had been talking to a photographer, a harmless conversation, nothing she wasn’t allowed to do.

Harry had been across the room, pretending he didn’t give a shit.

Then suddenly, he wasn’t.

Suddenly, he was right there.

His hand closed around her wrist, fingers tight, his voice just low enough for only her to hear.

“Outside. Now.”

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “Excuse me?”

His grip didn’t loosen. “You heard me.”

For a second, she considered telling him to go to hell.

But she didn’t.

Because she wanted this too.

The door barely shut behind them before he was on her.

Teeth at her jaw, hands rough on her hips, shoving her against the brick wall of some dark alley behind the venue.

Beth gasped, but it wasn’t from shock.

She should have expected this.

She had wanted this.

“You’re a fucking brat,” Harry muttered against her skin, his voice thick with frustration, with heat, with something else she couldn’t name. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Beth grinned, sharp and mean. “What am I doing, Harry?”

His fingers tightened.

“You think you can get a reaction out of me?” His teeth scraped her jaw. “Think you can make me jealous?”

Her breath hitched.

“So you admit it?” she whispered. “You were jealous?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because the way he touched her—rougher, filthier than before—told her everything she needed to know.

The first time had been about control. About proving a point.

This time?

This time, it was a need.

Desperate. Dirty. Addictive.

And neither of them could stop.

Every time they tried, they failed.

The silence never lasted. The distance never held.

Because the second they were in the same room again, the second their eyes locked across crowded spaces, it was already too late.

They had pulled each other under too many times to pretend they knew how to breathe without drowning.

Beth knew it was toxic.

Knew it in the way her hands trembled when she buttoned up her shirt in the dark, his warmth still clinging to her skin.

Knew it in the way Harry’s fingers curled into fists when he watched her leave, like he wanted to reach for her but refused to let himself.

Knew it in the way they never talked about it.

Because talking would make it real. Talking would force them to admit that it wasn’t just physical, wasn’t just convenience, wasn’t just a mistake they kept making over and over again.

But they didn’t stop.

Not when they should have.

Not even when the headlines started.

Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown rumors, twisting what they had into something uglier, something Beth couldn’t control.

She was losing pieces of herself to this, to him.

And Harry—Harry wasn’t losing anything.

Not his reputation. Not his career. Not his control.

She should have left before it reached this point—before it ripped through them like a wildfire, scorching everything in its path, leaving nothing but wreckage and ruin in its wake.

Before it bled into everything else.

Before it turned into this.

--

It happened in London, outside a sleek, high-end restaurant that reeked of old money and exclusivity—the kind of place Harry fit into effortlessly, where his name alone held weight, where he belonged.

Beth never had any interest in it. The glint of polished silverware, the hushed conversations over expensive wine, the way the air itself seemed thicker inside—like money had a scent, and it didn’t belong to people like her.

She hadn’t even wanted to come. Had told herself, promised herself, that she was done. That she wouldn’t let him do this to her again.

And yet, here she was.

The air outside was thick, muggy, summer pressing against her skin like a second layer, suffocating, clinging. A neon sign from across the street flickered, buzzing intermittently, painting the pavement in broken splashes of red light.

Harry stood a few steps away, pacing, hands raking through his already-messy curls. His jaw was locked, shoulders drawn tight, his frustration visible in the tense way he moved. He looked untouchable—towering, sharp, devastating in his black suit, the collar of his shirt slightly open like even it couldn’t handle the heat of the moment.

His eyes found hers—dark, searing, burning like embers about to catch.

“Are you seriously fucking mad at me for this?” His voice was low, taut, a thread stretched too thin, on the verge of snapping.

Beth folded her arms tightly across her chest, holding herself together. She could feel the anger, coiling hot in her stomach, winding through her like a slow, controlled burn. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

His lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “Enlighten me.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. He didn’t care. He never fucking cared.

“Your team,” she spat, voice shaking despite her best efforts, “just made me look like some desperate, attention-seeking—”

“—that’s not what happened.”

“Really?” She stepped closer, chin tilting up defiantly, her eyes searching his face for something—anything. A flicker of regret. Understanding. A crack in the cold, calculated exterior he was so good at wearing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like they threw me under the fucking bus to save your ass.”

The photos had hit the tabloids that morning.

Beth Monroe, clinging to Harry Styles. Beth Monroe, picking a fight in public. Beth Monroe, the problem.

Headlines twisting the truth, reshaping the narrative, turning her into something she wasn’t. His PR team had done what they always did—spun the story, cleaned up the mess, protected the asset.

Beth had been collateral damage.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flicking away as if he couldn’t be bothered to deal with this. “Jesus, Beth, why do you care so much what people think?”

Her stomach twisted—not just at the words, but at how he said them.

Like it was nothing. Like she was nothing.

Like all of this—all the nights, all the touches, all the ways they’d clawed at each other, desperate and reckless—had meant absolutely fucking nothing to him.

And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe she had been fooling herself this entire time.

Something inside her snapped—something raw and fragile and past the point of saving.

“You know what?” She took a breath, forcing her voice to stay steady, forcing herself to hold his gaze even though it hurt. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

And before she could change her mind—before she could let him pull her back in—she turned around.

And for the first time, she didn’t look back.

It should have been a relief.

Should have felt like he had won.

But it didn’t.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass as he set it down with more force than necessary.

The neon lights of the club flickered above him, casting shadows along the crowded space. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, a heartbeat that wasn’t his. People surrounded him—laughter, touches, whispers—but none of it registered.

His third drink.

Or maybe his fourth.

He wasn’t keeping track. Didn’t need to.

Because Beth was gone.

And he should feel lighter. Should feel fucking free.

But instead, there was just this—this hollow, gnawing feeling in his chest, a slow rot that no amount of whiskey could burn away.

He had told himself it was just sex. That it was just a game.

A messy, reckless game they both played, fully aware of the rules.

So why the fuck was he still thinking about her?

Why did he still hear her voice—sharp and furious, echoing in his ears like an accusation he couldn’t shake?

I don’t. Not anymore.

Why did he still see her face when he closed his eyes—not the smirking, defiant expression she always wore when they fought, but the way she had looked at him that night—raw, open, hurt.

Why the fuck did that bother him?

Harry scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, reaching for another drink.

Fuck that.

She’d be back.

She always came back.

Wouldn’t she?

The weeks passed.

She didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t show up at any more venues.

And no matter how many women he took home—no matter how many soft lips and unfamiliar hands he let touch him—it was never the same.

Because none of them were her.

None of them made him feel alive the way she did when she pushed him, when she fought him, when she stood her ground and refused to give in.

And for the first time, Harry realized—

He had fucked up.

Not just in the way he always did—careless, reckless, breaking things without thinking about the consequences.

No, this was different.

This was real.

This was Beth.

And he had let her slip through his fingers like she was nothing.

Like she hadn’t changed him.

Like she hadn’t fucking ruined him.

It took him weeks. Too many weeks.

Weeks of sleepless nights, of bitter drinks that burned as they went down, of meaningless encounters with women who weren’t her.

Weeks of ignoring the pit in his stomach whenever he reached for his phone and saw her name missing from his notifications.

Weeks of denying—lying to himself—until he couldn’t anymore.

Until it became impossible to pretend that this wasn’t more.

That she wasn’t everything.

So, he found her.

No cameras. No PR team carefully crafting the narrative. No staged apology meant to keep his image intact.

Just him.

Beth stood in the doorway of her apartment, eyes wary, lips pressed together like she wasn’t sure if she should slam the door in his face or let him inside just to yell at him.

She was in sweats, hair tied back, looking so soft and real and heartbreakingly beautiful that Harry had to clench his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching for her.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You really have no concept of boundaries, do you?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Would it help if I said I knocked first?”

Beth lifted a single, unimpressed brow.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She sighed, exhaling heavily, fingers gripping the doorframe. “What do you want, Harry?”

Her voice was flat, tired—so fucking tired—and it hit him in the chest like a punch.

He did that.

He made her sound like that.

And maybe if she had been yelling, maybe if she had been angry, it would have been easier.

But this?

This quiet disappointment, this absence of fire, of fight—this was worse.

Because it meant she had already decided to let him go.

And he couldn’t have that.

He wouldn’t.

Harry swallowed, licking his lips, feeling the words crawl up his throat, unfamiliar and foreign and terrifying.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, voice rough, uneven. “You got too close.”

Beth’s gaze flickered, but she didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop him either.

“I didn’t—I don’t—” He let out a slow breath, shifting his weight. “You were supposed to be temporary, Beth.” His voice cracked on her name. “And I don’t want temporary anymore.”

Her eyes softened. Just a little.

But she didn’t let him off the hook.

Not yet.

She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head. “So what? You came all this way just to tell me that?”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“And now you expect me to just—what? Forget everything? Pretend like you didn’t throw me to the wolves the second things got hard?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t expect that.”

Beth exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at him again, and fuck, he felt stripped bare under her gaze.

“I was falling for you,” she whispered, the words barely audible but lethal. “And you made me feel like I was nothing.”

His stomach dropped.

“I know,” he rasped. “And I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, Beth.”

She didn’t speak, but her fingers trembled where they curled around her sleeve.

Harry took a step closer.

Then another.

Until she was right there, close enough to touch, but he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he just let himself be seen—raw, vulnerable, desperate in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice low, uneven. “But I want to try. I want you.”

Beth swallowed hard, blinking quickly, like she was trying to hold something back.

“Say it again.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

Harry took a breath, steady and sure.

“I want you.”

Beth let out a shaky exhale, something breaking, fracturing between them—but this time, it wasn’t falling apart.

It was falling into place.

She didn’t answer.

Not with words.

But when she finally reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him down, letting him in—

He knew.

She wanted him too.

-

This isn’t like before.

It’s not fueled by resentment, not tangled in frustration or sharp-edged words.

It’s not an attempt to silence their own thoughts or to claim victory in an unwinnable battle.

This time, it’s different.

Because this time, they’re choosing each other.

And neither of them wants to pretend anymore.

It’s quiet.

Not the uneasy, tension-laced silence they used to share, but something softer. He’s brought her here—to his real place, not some impersonal hotel room or a shadowy corner where they could disappear without consequence.

It’s his space.

Dim lighting from the city outside filters through half-drawn blinds, painting warm, golden stripes across the floor. The air is thick, heavy with something unspoken, the echoes of every past moment clinging to the walls.

No noise from the outside world.

Just them.

And for the first time, that’s all they need.

They stand close but don’t touch—not yet.

It’s strange, this carefulness between them, this slow, deliberate restraint. For so long, everything between them has been about force, about taking, about dominance wrapped in lust.

But now—

His fingers reach for her, hesitant but certain, trailing the line of her jaw with an aching kind of reverence.

No roughness. No bruising grip.

Just a slow, featherlight touch, like he’s memorizing her, like he’s afraid to move too fast.

Beth’s breath stutters. She tilts her face into his touch, just barely, just enough to tell him that she wants this too.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already watching her.

Already waiting.

Already sure.

When he kisses her, it’s nothing like before.

Not an attempt to overpower, not a silent demand for control.

It’s soft.

Tentative, at first—like he’s rediscovering her, learning the shape of her lips, savoring her warmth. A slow slide of mouths, the quiet exhale of breath mingling between them.

And then—

The restraint fractures.

A low, desperate groan rumbles in his chest, and his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, molding her against him. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, but it’s not about possession anymore.

It’s need.

It’s want.

It’s everything they’ve never allowed themselves to feel.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him down into her, and he lets her. Lets her take as much as she wants.

He doesn’t rush.

Doesn’t tear at her clothes like before, doesn’t drag fabric over her skin like it’s just another obstacle to get through.

He takes his time.

Fingers skimming her shoulders, down the length of her arms, over her ribs. He lingers, watching her, drinking her in like he’s seeing her for the first time.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough with something raw, something that sounds like awe.

Her breath catches.

She should feel exposed. Vulnerable.

But the heat in his gaze doesn’t make her feel bare.

It makes her feel wanted.

She reaches for him then, pulling at his shirt, sliding her hands over warm, firm skin, feeling the steady, grounding beat of his heart beneath her palms.

He lets her undress him too.

No rush. No urgency.

Just this.

Just them.

He takes his time.

Worships her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, exploring every inch like he’s memorizing her, like he never wants to forget the way she feels beneath him.

His fingers trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her inner thigh.

He doesn’t hurry.

Doesn’t just take.

He gives.

She fists the sheets when he drags his mouth lower, when he pauses to watch her reaction, when he smirks against her skin at the way she shifts, needy, impatient.

She doesn’t want to beg. Not this time.

But when his mouth finally touches her, warm and devastatingly slow—

She does.

He doesn’t rush her to the edge.

He builds it.

His mouth works her over with precision, savoring every shudder, every gasp, every quiet, breathless plea.

His hands hold her open, steadying her, grounding her, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

He watches her the entire time.

Doesn’t look away.

Not when she trembles.

Not when she cries out his name.

Not when she finally, finally falls apart beneath him.

He just holds her gaze, dark and unwavering, like he’s making damn sure she knows—

This means something.

When he finally slides into her, it’s different.

No rough, frantic pace. No bruising hands.

Just this.

Just the slow, deliberate push of his hips, deep and measured, drawing a gasp from her lips.

He stills for a moment, presses his forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding himself in the feel of her.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly over his skin.

Not clawing.

Not marking.

Just holding.

He moves then.

Not just fucking—making love.

Every slow thrust feels like a confession.

Every whispered “mine” against her lips feels like a promise.

And this time—

She doesn’t fight it.

She lets him have her.

And takes him in return.

No rush to leave.

No scramble for clothes.

No silence.

Just this.

Just them, tangled in sheets that smell like them, his arms heavy around her, his fingers tracing slow, mindless patterns against her back.

For the first time, he stays.

For the first time, she lets him.

There’s a pause. A deep, quiet moment where neither of them speaks.

Then—

“You’re mine now, aren’t you?”

His voice is quiet. Certain.

Beth doesn’t hesitate.

She shifts closer, presses her lips against his jaw, and breathes him in.

“Yeah, Harry.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips.

She watches it spread, watches the tension leave his body, watches the way he finally lets himself believe it.

“I am.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

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