paint it black [h.s]

paint it black [h.s]

bocaxstyles
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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing58m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Nov 25, 2017
arianablackdaddydarkdirection
"What do you mean?" I ask in a shaky voice. His once scintillating green eyes, turn from emerald to stone cold green. A kind of green that is a beautiful shade, but gives off a deadly vibe. "We can't be with each other." I shake my head. His voice gives out an evil chuckle. I watch him. "Oh, sweetheart, do you think I want to be with a prude like you?" My face drains of color. But then, I remember. I remember a few weeks ago. That one night there was a gun. And I was right there. The images came all over again. I looked at his devilish smirk. "Do you think I want to be with a murderer like you?" His face fell and he shut up. © 2015-2016 | bocaxstyles
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Deceptive {H.S}

"Why do you care?" he asks. But it's not soft. It's sharp, defensive, like he's already bracing for the answer. I want to tell him the truth. Because you saved me. Because you're the only one who makes me feel real. Because if you fall apart, I don't know what happens to the rest of us. Instead, I just say, "Maybe I want to understand." He scoffs, no humor in it. "You don't. Trust me." Silence stretches between us. Then he steps forward, close enough that I can see the way his hands won't stop shaking. "You already know too much," he says, voice low. "More than you ever should've." I don't look away. "Then tell me the rest." He shakes his head. "It's not your place. You don't get to ask." "But I am asking." He exhales sharply. "Jesus, Lily. This isn't a story with a clean ending. I'm not a mystery. I'm a goddamn warning sign. I'm dangerous." I flinch, but I don't move. And that pisses him off more. He takes a step back like he's going to leave, then pauses. His eyes flick to my jacket. In one quick motion, he reaches in and pulls out the burner phone. "I think this belongs to me," he says, tone sharp but quiet. No accusation. Just fact. I don't respond. Just watch as he slips it into his pocket, like closing a door I wasn't supposed to open. He looks at me for one long second, jaw clenched. "Go home," he says again, this time like a warning. And this time, I believe him. He crushes the cigarette under his boot, turns his back, and walks down the alley, leaving me standing in the dark. - Lily didn't ask to be assigned to him. Harry Styles is a name whispered like a warning, famous for his ink, infamous for everything else. Brooding. Untouchable. But Lily has a habit of looking too closely. And when she finds something she shouldn't, the line between curiosity and consequence begins to blur. He told her to stay away. She should've listened. - TW: emotional abuse, manipulation, drugs, sex, violence, trauma.

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