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seresinhangmanjake · 1 month ago

Note

Hey! I saw you were accepting Feyd requests and I got so excited! Could you do something where Feyd and reader have been married for a little while, have been pretty stand-offish and just keeping up appearances. They get into a fight over something stupid, saying hurtful things because reader still believes Feyd is incapable of feelings. Turns out he’s really protective though and gets seriously injured saving her during an attack? Reader panics trying to help him and the feels super guilty, meanwhile Feyd is enjoying the attention.

Staining

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Notes/Warnings: It's slightly different, but I hope you like it anyway. Mentions of blood and death. Smut so 18+. I'm sure there's typos. I think that's it.

Words: 4100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“You’re heartless”—that’s what you spit at him after watching him rip apart another family right before your eyes.

He slaughtered a man for a petty crime, and then you had to watch what would become of the wife and children.

He gave them options, of course. He presents all of them with a choice: to be servants for his House or to fight for survival in the slums of Giedi Prime. For the mother, it likely means you’ll have a new handmaid. For the boys, they will be trained so they can one day face off in the arena. Either way, it's no life.

As he announced the options for their future, you couldn’t look away from her: the woman whose husband lay at her feet, the blood drained from his body as she attempted to shield her two young sons behind her small frame. You watched her kind eyes go permanently wide out of shock. She needed to answer your husband’s question, give a response to his merciful offer, but she couldn’t. Nothing on her moved save for the grip she had on her boys, which only tightened the longer she stared at her dead lover.

You knew what would happen to them. Your husband found her silence and inability to snap out of her trace irritating. She would make a poor handmaid if she could not listen. The boys, however, could still make fine warriors—guaranteed entertainment a few years down the line.

So he separated them. Allowed the guards to pry them away from their mother’s fingers—who left her state of shock behind only when she felt them being ripped from her hands—before dragging them to cells with tears streaming down their round cheeks.

Their mother collapsed to the floor by her dead husband. His blood soaked her skirts. You didn’t know how a man could do this to his own people for something as simple as the theft of some food, but he does, and often. Then he had her thrown out, back to the slums where she came from.

She’ll never see her boys again. If you know your husband, he will likely one day force the two to face off with each other in the arena. After all, that’s where his uncle finds entertainment, and your husband will do anything to please the old man.

Long after his guards have departed with the woman, you’re still staring at the body on the floor. The red around him is congealing. If you run your finger through it, the digit will return sticky and thickly coated. He’ll stain your skin. He’ll stain through your skin onto your insides. He’ll never come off.

He’s like your husband, you think. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stained you, and impressively, he didn’t even have to touch you to achieve that. Simply being in his presence was enough to leave his mark, and you’re in his presence plenty, just not how you imagined you would be when you married him. You imagined being in his bed. You imagined kisses and loving caresses and sweet words—that kind of staining. But you were a naive girl when your parents dropped you off on this planet, and you quickly learned how to be a woman; a woman whose husband only uses her for formality’s sake.

You don’t know why you have to be by his side for this, though, but he always ensures that you are. The two of you…a solidified front to the world, as if you agree with the choices he makes and the punishment he doles out to those who don’t deserve it.

So that’s why you say it. Because you’re tired of this, tired of being silent, hating the idea that your silence might lead him to think the two of you are on the same page; that you’re a team.

“You’re heartless.”

His head whips to you. “Heartless…” His voice around the word is vile; thick and rich like the blood on the floor. With a few steps in your direction he is in your space and you clasp your hands in front of you, fingers squeezing tightly to keep yourself from running off. He stares down at you, a luminous blue that you found so stunningly gorgeous when you first met him now a pair of frozen icicles stabbing into your skull. “I’m heartless?”

Your swallow is rough. Dry and scratchy.

“I’m not the one who steals from his neighbors. I’m not the one who risks leaving his wife alone for the rest of her life,” he says. “They know the laws. They know the consequences.”

“And the woman? She deserves to be alone, rotting away in poor living conditions because of his choice? Her children deserve to die for your entertainment?”

“You take issue with how I handle things?”

“Yes.”

Feyd’s back teeth clench. His jaw sets in a sharp line. “Another reason for you to hate me then,” he grits out.

You blink. Your lips part. Another reason? You don’t have multiple reasons, and there’s certainly nothing you’ve done to indicate that you do. You used to hate that he didn’t, and doesn’t, care about you, but you’ve never said a word about it. You’ve never bothered him about sleeping in separate rooms or asked him to give you anything of himself. This—his treatment of his people in situations like this one—isn’t another reason. It’s the reason.

“You could deal with these matters differently,” you say.

His fingers form balls at his sides. His mouth opens. It closes. He shakes his head and walks past you but pauses before he is completely out of your peripherals. “This is how things are done here,” he says. “You’ve been my wife for five months now. You need to get used to it.”

—

You don’t get used to it. You don’t get used to it because he doesn’t demand you be by his side at his executions anymore. Not after that day.

You’d never spoken up before that moment, and it cost you what little interaction you had with your husband, which you despise to say was precious. You may not love him, and at times hate him, but he is the only thing you have on this planet. Little as you spoke to one another before, you held onto it because no one else gives a damn about you. Not that he does either, but at least he would give you a word or two. His brother and the Baron don’t bother, leaving you to Feyd to decide what to do with and when to do it.

However, you imagine they didn’t expect that he would never touch you, and based on the way they watch you and Feyd when you’re forced to join the Harkonnen’s for dinner, you imagine they’re now aware that whatever was between you—minute as it was—is gone. He doesn’t even call on you for formal events. He no longer cares about showing a unified front to the other Great Houses. But you do.

You know what reputation means to the Harkonnens, and regardless of how you feel about the history of Feyd’s choices, you’re not willing to present your life on Giedi Prime as a failure. The two of you are too young for whispers to spread among influential families of a tainted marriage, a crack in the system. You don’t need questions floating about in regards to a unification that will not result in an heir. The end of the Harkonnen line, they’ll say, as Rabban, much older than your husband, has yet to choose a wife. How unfortunate, they’ll slyly mutter around the rims of their champagne glasses. And you’re not ready for that.

So, with the exception of executions, you attend the events your husband does not invite you to anymore. You make sure your face is seen, especially when most vital. At his meetings, at his fights in the arena, and at Harkonnen parties such as this one.

People enjoy themselves here. Shockingly, a few strong drinks eases the tension between Houses, and Giedi Prime has the strongest drinks of them all. It’s a tactic. A genius one, if you’re honest. The Baron invites his guests and gets them in a good mood and strikes deals one cannot go back on. Brilliant. Something you might have thought of yourself if your husband let you share your thoughts; thoughts you have plenty of. But no one cares how you would rule this planet if you had a say in its future.

You watch the Houses mingle about. You watch them laugh and dance. You watch them watch your husband. You watch them watch you. You watch the wheels turn in their alcohol-addled brains. You roll your eyes at what he doesn’t see.

Ungluing yourself from your designated spot, you step up the staircase that leads to the Harkonnen men, your husband and his brother flanking the throne the Baron sits upon. You don’t think to speak to any of them; you didn’t break away from your assigned location for words. Instead, for all to see, you reach up to cup Feyd’s cheek and turn his head toward you for the first kiss since the day of your wedding. A gentle brush of lips. A buzz more engulfing than any drink could offer.

He freezes, and when you pull back his lips are still parted. His eyes open slowly and he stares down at you in awed confusion. How he doesn’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done is just short of bewildering, but it doesn’t seem to click.

“You–”

“I’m going to retire for the night,” you tell him. You’ve been at this party long enough, and the guests have now seen what they needed to see. Not to mention, their tipsy state means they’ll soon forget any thoughts they have about you until morning. They’ll stop searching for your presence.

You don’t wait for your husband’s nod of approval. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t care where you are at any given time anyway, so you descend the staircase and exit the grand room into the hall that leads to your bedroom.

The echo of footsteps follows and you’re bold enough to believe it could be Feyd before a blade is pressed against your throat from behind. For a moment, you think it still might be your husband—retaliation for the kiss that re-sparked a feeling you’ve been trying to ignore since you married him—but the voice in your ear is feminine.

“He killed my husband, my Lady,” the voice says, and you instantly remember her. It’s been two months but nothing could make you forget the look in her eyes. “I want my sons.”

You swallow hard. The blade nicks your throat from the additional force. A droplet trickles down your neck. “I can’t return your sons to you,” you tell her, at the same time questioning how she infiltrated such a secure place. But you suppose with the number of guests, slipping in would not have been the most difficult of challenges.

You wince at the deepening cut. Your heartbeat quickens, doing little to aid in stopping the blood seeping from your wound. “You’re the na-Baronness.”

“I have little power here.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts, her words bouncing off the walls. “I want my boys,” and you think now she’s crying. Her tone alters. Something catches in her throat. “What’s happened to them?”

You don't wish to tell her, but you’re in no position to deny her requests. “They’re alive and well,” you say, which isn’t a complete lie. The Baron prefers strong, well-fed fighters—the duels last longer that way.

“I want them back!”

“As much as I would like to, I cannot give them back to you. It’s not my decision.”

“Then I’ll take you from him,” she spits. “The way he took mine.”

You must’ve put on a grander show than you expected with that kiss because she seems to fully believe that your death would matter to him. But you know he won’t blink an eye. He might even thank her. Reward her by reuniting her with her sons, though unlikely.

“He won’t care,” you tell her.

“I have seen him, my Lady. He will care,” she says, and you don’t know how she could possibly come to that conclusion or why. It’s not as if the people of Giedi Prime sense a kind capability from the Harkonnens. “He will–”

She chokes. The blade trembles then drops from your neck. You quickly glance down to find Feyd’s knife deep in her side.

Many things are a mystery to you in that moment. Why he bothered to leave the party; why he came down this hall of all halls, especially when his room resides in another; and why he pierced her side rather than go for the neck, which would have instantly ended her. His mistake. An uncharacteristic mistake.

The woman whips around, freeing you, and you stumble out of reach. They’re a blur of battling bodies as you get your footing, but then it catches up with you—the pain. Your hand goes to your neck and you make a little noise at the sting of your fresh wound. Your mistake.

Feyd looks away from her in search of you for a single second. Not even. A half-second. But the woman is smaller, quicker, and the distraction is enough. Her blade slides into his abdomen. He grunts. You gasp.

He regains his focus and, by her hair, he rips her head back to expose her throat and shoves the blade through her neck. Blood spurts across his chest as he removes the weapon, and she collapses to her knees before the rest of her body flops to the floor.

Feyd takes a shaky step back, staring down at the blade in his torso. He drops his knife and his hand goes to the hilt of the other.

“No, don’t!” you yell, but you’re too late. He jerks the blade out and it clatters on the ground. His palm does nothing to stop the flow of crimson.

Rushing to him, you fall to the floor as he does. You press your hands on top of his to keep the pressure but it’s useless. “Don’t you know anything?” you mutter. “You should’ve kept the damn thing in.”

He chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles. Then his other hand raises and lands on top of yours. You think he’s trying to add more pressure, but his touch is gentle. His thumb runs over your knuckles.

“It’s alright,” he says, and you’ve never heard his voice so devoid of depth and strength.

“No, it’s not,” you retort, irritated.

“You still hate me?”

“Shut up!” you snap. “Help!” Yanking the black chiffon sleeve off your gown, it tears free and you ball the material to shove it against his wound. “Help!”

Guards burst through the doors and run to you. You sigh with relief, but when you look down, your husband is paler than you’ve ever seen him.

“Feyd…”

You’re shoved out of the way in a second, flung to the side like a flicked-away ant, and then he’s taken from you. You watch them until he’s out of view. When you glance down at your hands, they’re stained with him.

—

They bandaged your neck in mere minutes and you find it aggrivating that they couldn’t work as efficiently on him. You’ve been dead silent for hours now, expecting to hear screams of pain as they stitch him back together, but then you remember he’s a glutton for pain. He’s probably enjoying it, the sick bastard. But you’re not enjoying it—the waiting, the limbo. It’s torturous.

You’ve never seen him hurt before. You’ve witnessed his skills in the arena, and not once in your seven months of marriage has someone gotten a decent slash on him.

Guilt hits you hard as you recall that it’s your fault. That woman was skilled as well—you suppose she would be if she was raised to live where she did—but if you hadn’t made that noise, if you hadn’t distracted him, she would’ve been dead before she could do her damage. This wouldn’t have happened.

Just then, a knock comes at your door. You speak for them to enter and a guard peeks into your room. “My Lady…” he says, and you pray you’re not about to be told your husband didn’t survive a single stab wound. “You can come with me.”

You don’t wait around for more. You hop to your feet and quickly follow through hall after hall until you’re at his room.

“What will I see when I walk in there?” you ask.

“He’s fine, my Lady,” he says, bowing his head to dismiss himself before returning to his post.

Turning the knob, you edge the door open and step inside. The bed is in immediate view, but he’s not in it. He’s not in it and he should be. Not even the covers are pulled back. Maybe the guard misled you. If he were fine, surely he would be resting.

You make your way in further.

“You’re here.”

Your head snaps to your right where he’s leaning against the lone table in his room, a lit orb on the wooden surface illuminating him from behind in a white glow. He’s less pale than he was; what little rosiness he once had returned to his skin.

Clearing your throat, you say, “I was told to come.”

“Because I told them to bring you,” he says.

Your heart pounds at the bareness of his torso, the thickness of his arms as they cross in front of his chest. It pounds in a different way, an off-kilter way, when you notice the dressings wrapped around his waist and the patch of blood that is seeping through three layers of it.

He must see your distraction because he says, “It’s fine.” Your eyes flick back to his. A beat of silence passes between you. You’re unsure how to continue now that he’s seen the concern you have for him. “I suppose you’re disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you repeat. “What for?”

“I’m alive.”

Your jaw drops ever so slightly. You recover as best you can before you say, “Feyd, I don’t want you to—I’ve never wanted you to–”

He holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I’m going to listen to you.”

Your brow pinches. Why did he silence you, then? “Listen to me about what?”

He takes a deep breath, an action that lifts his shoulders and has them falling heavily back down. His eyes penetrate you as they’ve always done, but the iciness is gone. “I don’t care if the people I hurt want to kill me,” he starts. “But she didn’t come to kill me; she came to hurt me by killing you. So I will listen to your thoughts when it comes to dealing with matters like that one.” He pauses, expecting a response, but you don’t quite know what to give him, so he continues. “Your voice will make fewer enemies.”

“You care about making enemies?” Since when would a Harkonnen ever care about such a thing? Especially when they are known for doing that thing so well.

“I care when they come after my wife,” he says. Pushing off the table, he leisurely steps toward you. You’re stuck to your spot. “The men of my House do not have a history of caring about their wives. They’ve never cared if their actions bring them harm, and yet, people have used our wives as pawns for revenge for centuries. Many have died to prove a point. I’m not going to let you be one of them.”

He stops only to not collide with your body. You have to look up to maintain eye contact, and when you do, his breath brushes over your lips. “Why didn’t you kill her when you could have? You stabbed her in the side. You avoided vital organs.”

“Because you wouldn’t have wanted me to kill her if I didn’t have to,” he says. “So I didn’t kill her…until I had to.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t know he was capable of such restraint. You didn’t know he had enough fragments of a heart to glue together to keep him from doing exactly as he pleases.

His hand lands on your hip and his thumb begins to rub up and down over the curve of it. He hasn’t touched you…ever. In fact, he’s seemed over the months to deliberately avoid it. Like your skin would burn him even through the fabric of your gowns. Anytime it looked like he would try, he’d pull back before flesh grazed flesh.

“You hadn’t kissed me since we married,” he says, so gentle in that low voice that it’s practically a whisper. It doesn’t make the heat of his breath any less intense against your skin.

“People were watching too intensely,” you inform him. “They were thinking something was wrong between us, I could tell, and I didn’t want to give them that power over you.”

“So that was it, then?” he asks. “That’s the only reason you did it?”

“That’s–” you swallow, debating whether or not to say it, to give him more.

“What?”

“That’s the reason I did it,” you decide to tell him, and his face shifts; his features alter in a manner you’ve never seen. He looks down to his feet. He nods and his touch disappears, and now you feel cold and you hate it. “But that’s not the only reason I wanted to do it.”

He freezes as he did before. For a moment, his chest stops rising and falling with expected breaths. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he raises his head.

You can’t stop staring, even though your brain is telling you to get ahold of yourself. His mouth is so plush. You’ve always known it. It’s always done something to you. And whatever that something is, it’s more potent now that he’s so close and you can see his lips glistening in the low light.

“Will you do it again?” he asks.

Again? You didn’t imagine he wanted you to do it the first time, or the second. The first was an obligation. The second was not exactly mutually agreed upon. But as he stands in front of you, asking, you can’t bring yourself to say no. You don’t want to say no. So you say yes, and you inch up on your toes until your lips meet his.

Immediately, he’s yanking your body flush against his. His hand goes into your hair, and he parts his lips so they can better lock with yours. He’s good at this, and you don’t want to think about why, can’t think about why without a knot of jealousy settling in your gut that only dissipates when those hands travel down your body to the back of your thighs. You’re in the air, your legs wrapped around his waist, your lips still sealed for one second more before your back hits the mattress and he’s on top of you with his leg shoving between yours, nudging your thighs open for him.

You don’t know the exact moment it happens, but your skirts are up to your waist and he’s inside of you, moving in and out, kissing your neck and pulling gasps from your throat, and it feels right, good, like pieces falling together. A bit of you feels guilty for that. That you can know what he’s done to people and still want to feel the pleasure of every inch that he’s giving you. You’re selfish, maybe that’s it. Maybe you’ve always been and you didn’t know it. You can’t bring yourself to care as he makes those deep noises in your ear and stains your insides.

After you’re sated, you lay there for a while with him in your arms and his arms wrapped around your waist. His head rests on your chest. You think about the things you’ve done to each other in the course of an hour and it brings a blush to your cheeks. You think about how you can’t go back and that you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this from the beginning, despite what he’s done. You expected it when you married him only to be sorely disappointed at his lack, or what appeared as a lack, of interest. You’re definitely selfish, at least when it comes to him. But you refuse to be when it comes to other matters.

“I want something from you,” you say. He hums, content. “I want us to take in that woman's boys.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #austin butler #dune 2

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lunaritex · 2 months ago

Text

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ PRETEND HEARTS 𖤐. — nishimura riki

↺ CONTENT: non idol+university+fake dating au, reader is female, riki and reader are roommates, heeseung and sunghoon are partners in crime, riki is kinda a loser+lover boy here, slight angst, hurt with comfort, faint mentions of insecurities, kissing scene.

↺ FROM HYE: i wanted to try writing fake dating with heeseung but uh, i ended up choosing riki instead... this has NO business being this long though... @kazuhaiku and @riekiss (thanks for proofreading bff mwah)

The moment your ears picked up the dreadful familiar footsteps approaching you was enough to set off the alarm bells in your mind. You did not bother turning around, choosing to busy yourself by scrolling through your phone as you waited for your friends to be dismissed from their class. You did not raise your head even when his shoes appeared in your sight. If anything, you desperately wished for a hole to appear and swallow you whole so you could avoid your current dilemma.

“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked, and you turned a deaf ear to his question. However, it seems like your ignorance only pissed him off.

To your mixture of annoyance and disgust, Yeonjun had the audacity to reach out and grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. Goosebumps form on your skin and your hair shoots up at the skin contact. You boldly met his gaze, arching an eyebrow as you cocked your head to the side. Your seemingly scandalous position earns curious whispers from the students walking past the two of you and thankfully, some have not pulled out their phones yet.

“Oh hello Yeonjun, I didn’t see you there?” You flashed him a smile, a smile that was anything but sweet and friendly.

He scoffed, leaning in slightly but you did not budge, not wanting to show him you were intimidated by him. “Stop playing hard to get, (Name). Or are you doing this because this is the first time someone gives you this much attention?”

You barked out a humorless laugh, eyes flickering to the side before back to him. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of attention and I don’t need it from the likes of you.”

“You’re such a-”

Cough cough.

Yeonjun and you looked over his shoulder to see your roommate; Riki and his friends standing behind him. Riki’s eyes flickered between your faces and furrowed his eyebrows. He was not oblivious to how Yeonjun had been persistent to get you to date him, having witnessed the daily scenes of the boy chasing after you like a desperate dog.

“I believe you were saying something?” Riki asked, taunting him to finish his sentence.

Yeonjun clicked his tongue, moving away from you. “Never mind.”

“I didn’t know your mother raised a coward!” Riki calls out to Yeonjun who was leaving, earning a round of sniggers from his friends. Once he disappeared from your sight, Riki turned to you, doing a quick scan and was relieved to find no physical signs of injuries.

“You alright?” He asked, voice softening and you nodded, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“I’m fine, thanks for stepping in, though I had that handled,” you replied.

Riki shrugged his shoulders, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You squawked, slapping his hand away and patted down your now messy hair. “Sure, (Name). Come on, we should get going to the cafeteria before it’s too late.”

“You know, if he keeps bothering you, how about you do something to stop him from doing that?” Heeseung asked, once everyone had grabbed their food and settled down by their usual table.

Riki plopped down on your right while Jake sat on your left, already reaching his hand out to steal a few of your fries. But you were quick to pull it away from his reach, eliciting a groan of protest from him. You hummed, shoving a mouthful of food into your mouth as you chewed while pondering over what he had just said.

“And what do you have in mind?” You questioned, pointing your fork at him, not catching the secret glimpse shared between him and Sunghoon.

“Well, for starters, you can date Riki,” Sunghoon proposed.

The moment you heard that, you choked on your food and burst into a coughing fit. You thumped your chest while Riki sympathetically rubbed your back, in hopes of calming you down. The others however, burst out laughing at your reaction. You managed to down your water and glared at the culprits seated opposite of you.

“Damn, I didn’t know that you dislike me that much,” your roommate teased, earning a light shove from you.

“To put it specifically, I mean fake dating. All the two of you have to do is to pretend you’re in a romantic relationship and maybe once Yeonjun sees how lovey-dovey you two are, he might leave you alone,” Sunghoon briefly explained.

You purse your lips, risking a glance in Riki’s direction, only to find that he was already looking at you with an expectant look on his face. “Well… when you put it that way, it does make sense but why him?”

“I’m sorry, but is there something wrong about me?” Riki retorted, pointing at himself.

“Yes, especially the part where you refuse to do the dishes,” you retorted and Heeseung stepped in, acting as the meditator before the two of you started squabbling amongst yourselves.

“Both of you are roommates and you’re close with one another. If it were any of us, Yeonjun might not buy it and no offense, but you’re not my type,” Heeseung teased, only to yelp when you kicked him in the knees under the table.

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual. I won’t want to date someone who’s horrible at League,” you cheekily replied, earning an offended gasp from Heeseung and a snort from Riki.

“You take that back!” He demanded.

“Well, she’s speaking the truth,” Sunghoon chips in, giving you a high-five when you wordlessly raise your hand.

“I can’t believe everyone has turned against me…”

The day of back-to-back lectures finally came to an end and you face-planted onto the couch the moment you retreated to the safety of your dorm, not bothering to remove your shoes and bag. Riki on the other hand, sighed as he closed the doors, dumping the keys in the bowl nearby and walked to your direction.

“(Name), at least remove your shoes and bag,” he gently reprimanded you, getting to his knees to help you do it instead.

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt your shoes being removed, making you look over your shoulder before you pushed yourself up to remove your bag. “I can do it myself, you know. I’m not a princess or anything.”

“Well, the way you act is different from what you said,” he replied, earning a huff from you as you leaned back into the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling.

Riki moved to sit beside you, stretching his long limbs and placed his feet on the coffee table placed before the couch. You scrunch your nose, shooting him a disgusted look and he rolled his eyes, making himself comfortable and pulled out his phone.

“And pray tell, how do I act differently then?” You asked, already regretting asking after the words slipped out of your mouth.

Your roommate smirked, shooting you a mischievous smile. “You act like a gangster- Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me!”

Poor Riki could barely finish his sentence when you wasted no time in jumping on him, grabbing the nearest pillow and repeatedly whacking him with it. The previously quiet living room was now filled with your laughter. He shielded his face with his hands, phone slipping down from his chest to the couch but none of you paid it any mind. Riki then wasted no time in switching your position with ease. You squeaked when you landed on your back with him pinning you down against the couch.

The last warning you received was the way his eyes twinkled with mischief before he ruthlessly tickled your sides. Your entire body was trembling as you swayed side to side, pushing Riki away but it was obvious that his strength overpowers yours, like it was nothing. Tears were already formed in the corners of your eyes and your stomach was starting to ache, due to how hard and long you were laughing to your heart’s content.

“N-No, enough! Pft, Riki, I-I swear- hahaha!” You barely managed to choke out words when your roommate was persistent with his tickling attack.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He snickered, amused with your current state but he decided to take pity and ceased his attack; much to your relief.

You remained laying on the couch with your legs now dangling off the edge, panting as you catch your breath. Riki sat cross-legged near the edge, with a cushion resting on his lap. You were fully aware of how his eyes remained on your figure.

“I can tell you’re thinking about something. What is it?” You asked, breaking the brief silence that had engulfed you.

Riki averted his eyes, fiddling with the rings adorned on his fingers. The cold metal surfaces proved to be useful in grounding him to reality. “...I was thinking about what you’re planning to do about Yeonjun.”

Humming, you ran a hand through your hair, hissing when your fingers got tangled in a few strands but you slowly untangled them from your hand. “I might actually listen to Sunghoon and Heeseung’s advice.”

“You will?” Riki’s face lit up but he cleared his throat, calming himself. You chuckled at his reaction, finding him adorable.

“At this point I’m desperate to get him off my back and if you think about it, between choosing to be in a fake relationship with you compared to dating him, I’ll rather take the first option,” you replied, oblivious to how your words made Riki feel like he was floating.

“So, is that a yes then? Yes to being my girlfriend and having a relationship with me?” He asked, praying that you will not be able to hear how his heart was practically pounding against his chest.

“Fake girlfriend and fake relationship. And that’s a yes from me, So I hope you’ll take good care of me, Riki,” you pushed yourself up, flashing him a grin.

“Likewise,” he returned your grin, mentally doing somersaults in his mind.

Everyone’s eyes were on you the moment you stepped onto campus. To be more specific, they were looking at you and Riki’s intertwined hands. Due to Riki being a popular student, it was safe to say that his fanclub had discovered something so devastating that you could hear their hearts shattering into tiny pieces. You tried your best to ignore the chorus of whispers and murmurs heading your way, involuntarily tensing your shoulders and even looking down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Riki gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, making you look at him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I got you,” he reassures you.

And for a moment, you wondered if he was a magician for his words seemed to have an immediate cooling effect. His words allow you to straighten your back and you face them head-on, unaware of how a certain student was observing the scene from the sidelines, fists tightly clenched with jealousy gnawing away at his heart and mind. Riki walked you to your class, showing no signs of releasing his hand. He did not care if there were students already taking videos of him. A part of you wonders if he has gotten used to people constantly staring and fawning over him.

Eventually, you arrived at your lecture room and you mentally heaved a sigh of relief when Riki was the one to move away. You were about to enter when he stopped you, hand shooting out to grab your wrist. His action made you look at him, bemused.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” He smirked.

“What am I forgetting?” You owlishly blinked your eyes.

“You’re forgetting this,” he laughed, tugging you towards him.

You stumbled over your feet, taken aback by the sudden force used. You would have crashed into his chest if Riki did not steadied you in the nick of time. Due to the height difference, you have to tilt your head up towards him. You hated how your heart fluttered when you saw the way he was looking at you. With nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes.

“What on earth are you do-!?”

Your voice dies in your throat when Riki leans down, gingerly brushing your bangs back with such tenderness that one might mistook it as love. You swore you stopped breathing for a moment when you felt him kiss your forehead. Perhaps you were overthinking, for you swore his lips lingered against your forehead longer than five seconds. He moved away, unable to hold back the laughter at the sight of your flushed ears and cheeks.

“You’re so cute,” he teased, affectionately poking your cheeks with his index finger.

“R-Riki, stop!” You hissed, your ears turning a darker shade of red when you noticed how some students were looking at the both of you.

To them, they might view you as a regular couple who could not keep their hands off one another. But that was not the case. What they did not know was that everything you do was nothing more than an act, a show with you and Riki being the main lead of the performance. Riki sniggered, dropping his hand and pointed at the closed doors behind you.

“You should get going now. Wouldn’t want the best student to be late for her first lecture, do we?” He said.

“And I wonder whose fault is it,” you rolled your eyes, bidding him farewell and entered the lecture room, immediately locating Heeseung and Jake seated at the back.

The two boys were waving their hands in the air, gesturing for you to sit with them and you obliged, plopping down in the empty seat between them. You already knew what they were going to ask the moment you sat down, placing your bag on your lap.

“So, did you actually listen to Heeseung and Sunghoon’s advice?” Jake whispered, although it was barely a whisper considering how the people nearby were able to hear him loud and clear.

You shot him a warning glare and he instinctively lowered his voice. “Yes, I did. Why are the both of you so surprised anyways?”

They shared a glance and this time, Heeseung was the one who replied, adjusting his position when the lecturer had entered the room. “To be honest, none of us thought you would actually do it.”

“What? Did you think I would continue letting Yeonjun follow me around like a lost puppy?” You asked, disbelief written all over your face.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jake chipped in.

“Putting that aside, we saw the both of you outside. That was hella cringe,” Heeseung teased, playfully nudging his elbow against yours.

Your face turned as red as a tomato when you heard that, already knowing what he was referring to. Instead of responding, you choose to busy yourself by pulling out your laptop when you see the lecturer entering the room.

“Shut up, you and I both know that was merely an act and he doesn’t see me that way,” you replied, unaware of the knowing look Heeseung and Jake shares.

“Sure (Name), whatever makes you happy.”

The next few days passed with you and Riki maintaining the couple's facade. The more you continued, the more things you learnt about your roommate. A prime example would be finding out he has a talent for dancing. It happened when you were heading to campus after making a quick stop at a nearby cafe, only for you to feel your phone vigorously vibrating about in the left pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out and answered it, without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey (Name), where are you now?”

You moved to the left when a cyclist rode past you, granting them enough space on the pathwalk for them to move past you with ease. ‘I’m heading to campus now. Why?”

You could pick up faint music coming from the other line.

“Uh, I was wondering if you could head back to the dorms to grab my bag? I’ve forgotten to take it before leaving this morning,” Riki sheepishly answered.

“What? And you’re only telling me this now? I’m going to be late for class,” you groaned.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

You were thankful that Riki was not physically there, for he would not be able see the smile you had on your face, amused with how desperate he was. “Fine, but please don’t say that ever again. You sound like a child.”

“I’m going to let that slide since you’re doing me a huge favor. I’ll text you where to find me, thanks (Name)!”

And just like that, he hung up. Sighing, you make a slight detour back to where the dorm is located. You entered, closing the door behind you and headed to his room without removing your shoes. You pushed the door open and it was at that moment that you were reminded of how you have never been into his room before. The first thing that piqued your interest was the Nintendo Switch resting on his table, followed by the expensive-looking PC setup sitting on his desk.

You stepped closer to the desk, smiling when you saw three framed photographs placed on the left. One of it was with his family, taken when he managed to return home during the school break. Another was with your shared group of friends, when everyone impulsively went for an overseas trip together. The final picture however, took you by surprise. It was a picture of you when everyone was having a picnic together, celebrating the end of their final examinations last year.

You were not sure how he had taken the picture without you knowing but you did not want to waste anymore time, not when Riki was awaiting your arrival. Eventually, you found the item you were looking for: a black bag that had his clothes. Sparing his room one final glance, you closed the door and sped walked back to campus, making a mental note to give him a good scolding once you met up with him.

As always, there were people staring at you when you arrived. You knew they were curious to know about the identity of the bag you were carrying but you paid them no mind. True to his words, Riki had already texted you where to find him. It did not take you long to reach your destination. As you got closer, you could pick up muffled music from the other side of the closed doors. Unsure if they could hear your knocking, you were about to pull out your phone to give Riki a call when the door was opened from inside.

“Oh, (Name)? What are you doing here?” Sunghoon asked, surprised to see you standing there.

“Riki called and asked me to bring him his stuff,” you grudgingly replied, raising the bag.

He laughed, pushing the door wider and gestured for you to enter. You obliged, thanking him and heaved a sigh of relief when a strong and cold gust of air kissed your face. You remained where you were, watching as four figures were moving effortlessly across the floor of the dance studio. Despite how their backs were facing you, you were able to identify your roommate, considering how he was the tallest as compared to everyone else.

Somehow, seeing the way Riki moves with plenty of experience combined with the focused look on his face leaves you in awe. As far as you were aware, you had never seen Riki this focused, until today that is.

“Careful there, one might think you’re actually in love with Riki,” Jake teased, entering the dancing studio after going off for a quick break.

“What are you talking about? I told you we’re only doing this because-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. And I heard you loud and clear,” Jake interrupted, already regretting opening his mouth in the first place.

“(Name), you’re here!”

Jake took this chance to slip away as Riki jogged over, his hair flopping up and down reminds you of a puppy. You raised the bag, to which he gratefully accepted it. He unzips it slightly, checking the content and a satisfied smile appears on his face. He walked to the table located on the left, placing his bag down and returned to you, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“What?”

Riki laughed. “I saw you looking at us when we were dancing earlier. You weren’t being slick at all.”

Huffing your cheeks, you crossed your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, I should get going. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Oh.” Riki’s expression drops for a moment but before you could point it out, he was back to his usual self.

“I’ll see you during lunch, good luck with your class,” he grins and before you could react, he leaned in to press a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Ew, get a room!” Heeseung called out.

Riki turned, flipping him off and the older man gasped, dramatically resting a hand on his chest. Their interaction made everyone except you burst out laughing. You quietly made your exit, fanning your face once you were out. You leaned against the wall, eyes looking out the window before you and sighed, running a hand through your hair.

What’s happening to me?

“Well well well, look who it is. Today must be my lucky day.”

Groaning, you looked to your right to see Yeonjun approaching you, with his signature infuriating smirk on his face. You made a show of rolling your eyes, ready to walk off but he was faster. Yeonjun reached out his hand, grabbing your wrist and pinned you against the wall. A pained hiss left your lips when your back hits the wall with an audible ‘thud’. Raising your free hand, you wanted to push him off but he beat you to it, also grabbing your wrist and roughly slammed it against the wall. Your face burned in pure humiliation at the scandalous position you found yourself in.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, venom evident in your voice as you glared at him, trying to hide your pounding heart.

He chuckled. “Drop the act, princess. I know you and Riki aren’t a thing.”

Your heart dropped when you heard his response. Your first mistake was to stare at him, disbelief written all over your face. Your second mistake was to remain silent, rendered speechless. Seeing this, Yeonjun smirked and that was when he knew you were in hot soup. He leans in to whisper into your left ear. All you could do was to press yourself further against the wall, hoping you could be swallowed up whole.

“Anyone with eyes can tell Riki isn’t interested in you. I think you should stop acting all high and mighty just because you got the popular kid dating you. Out of everyone, he has to pick you and I pity him for that.”

“What are you saying?” You bit back.

Yeonjun pulled away, allowing you to see the chilling smirk on his face. “I’m saying that he only does this because he pity you.”

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?”

Both of you turned to see Riki standing outside of the dancing room. The air around him thickened with an unspoken fury. He clenched his jaw, taking in the scene— the way Yeonjun’s posture loomed over you, and how your body language screamed for space. His voice cut through the air, sharper than he intended and he marched forward, gaze locked onto Yeonjun.

“Back off,” he demanded, the command hanging heavily in the air.

Riki easily stepped in between the two of you, roughly shoving Yeonjun back with one hand as he protectively positioned himself in front of you, his taller figure nearly shielding you from his sight. You internally heaved a sigh of relief, lowering your wrists as you rubbed at your left wrist that were feeling slightly sore as compared to your right wrist.

Yeonjun stumbled back, caught off-guard with the sudden force but managed to steady himself. Surprise flickered in his eyes but the cocky grin did not fade. “What’s the problem, Riki? We’re just having a little fun.”

Riki’s fists tightened at his sides, a storm brewing within him. “That’s not fun for her. You need to get it through your head and I’ll say this once again.”

He paused, stepping forward until he was invading Yeonjun’s personal space. The air crackled with tension with every step he took. Riki’s eyes narrowed, and the warmth that usually defined his demeanor had transformed into an icy glare.

“Stop disturbing my girlfriend,” he said, voice low and steady, but laced with a barely contained threat. “I mean it. Or else…”

Yeonjun’s confident smirk faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. “Or else what?” he challenged, though there was a tremor in his voice now, a hint that he might be second-guessing his bravado.

Riki leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a fierce whisper that only Yeonjun could hear. “Or else you’re going to find out exactly how far I’m willing to go to protect her.”

There was a weight in his words, a promise of consequences that hung heavy in the air. The atmosphere shifted palpably, and Riki’s intensity forced Yeonjun to step back slightly, his confidence wavering.

“What, you think this is a joke? You’re making a mistake if you think she’s just another game to play,” he pressed, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow tauntingly.

Yeonjun glanced between Riki and you before scoffing. “Whatever man, have it your way.”

He made sure to roughly shoved his shoulder against Riki’s before leaving, muttering a wonderful string of curses under his breath. None of you said a thing until he made a turn and his figure was completely out of your sight. Only then did your shoulders sagged with complete relief, leaning against the wall as you closed your eyes for a few seconds. Riki turned to you, silently approaching you and stopped, maintaining a respectful distance between the two of you.

“...Are you alright?” He murmurs, looking hesitant on whether he should grab your hands or not.

His eyes trailed down your figure, pausing when he saw how you were rubbing your wrists and the look darkened slightly. You followed where his eyes were looking and when you realized where he was looking, you quickly hid them behind your back. But Riki shook his head, closing the remaining distance and gingerly grabbed your wrists, treating you as if you were a piece of fragile glass.

“Don’t hide from me, please,” he softly pleaded, eyes softening.

You remained silent, allowing him to examine your slightly red wrists. You pointedly ignored looking at him but from the corner of your eyes, you saw how he furrowed his eyebrows and how his lips were pressed in a line. You were tempted to just kiss him right there and then but you stopped yourself, feeling stupid for having such a thought. After all, there is no way your dear roommate will have romantic feelings for you, right?

“... Do you want to head to the nurse’s office to have it checked out? I can accompany you,” he proposed, but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, this isn’t that big of a deal.”

Riki blinked, still holding onto your wrists. “But it is that big of a deal to me. I can’t stand the thought of you being injured.”

The pure sincerity of his voice combined with the words made your breath hitched in your throat. You wanted to savor the moment but the words Yeonjun told you had already planted itself in the depths of your mind. You wordlessly nodded your head, unable to find the will in you to speak. Riki took your silence as agreement and brought you to the nurse’s office. None of you said another word during the walk to the nurse’s office. When she was done, you mumbled a quick excuse and left, ignoring Riki’s piercing gaze on your retreating figure.

The next two to three weeks passed with you trying your best to avoid Riki as much as possible. It was already a difficult task, considering how you are practically living under the same roof as him. You had to take a drastic approach: leaving the dorm earlier than usual, taking a longer and more inconvenient way to campus and back to the dorm, taking a shower before or after him and even eating in your room. Everytime Riki opened his mouth, you were already retreating to the safety of your room, closing the door shut behind you.

You knew your action was hurting him, judging from the pained look on his face but you could not bring yourself to look at him, not when you were already like this. Currently, you are lying on your bed with a pillow tightly hugged against your chest, your back facing the door as you absentmindedly stare at a random spot on the wall.

Knock knock.

“(Name), I know you’re in there. Would you please come out?” Riki’s muffled voice echoed from the other side of the door.

Silence.

Riki kicked the door open with a loud thud, the sudden impact echoing through the room like a heavy slam. The forceful sound sent a sharp jolt through the air, startling you and you shot up from your bed, heart racing as the door rattled slightly in its frame from the force. You stared at him, rendered speechless with what he had done to your door and you were relieved to see it was not ripped from the hinges. The relief was then replaced with anger and disbelief, shooting him an incredulous look.

“What the fuck was that for!? You would have broken my door!” You exclaimed.

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I can pay for it, but that’s not the point. I’m worried about you. And it’s not just me, the others are too. Now will you be willing to tell me what’s been happening to you?”

You gulped at the seriousness in Riki’s voice, gripping onto the pillow as if it was your final lifeline. “I’ve told you before; it’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. You hated how such a simple action made him more attractive than he already is. “(Name), stop lying to yourself. And why wouldn’t I worry about you? You’re my roommate and friend. Of course I’ll be worried about you.”

You bitterly chuckled; the noise gaining his attention. “Is that it? Am I really just a roommate and friend to you?”

Riki paused, looking remorseful at what he had said. “Wait, I-”

Your frustration boiled over, your voice escalating with every word. “I don’t know what to think anymore! This whole fake dating thing was supposed to be simple: just to get Yeonjun off my back. But now, it’s a mess, and I’m a mess! Because the more time we spend together, the more I realize I’m actually falling for you!”

Your hands flew to your hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. “At first, it was easy. Pretend dates, fake smiles; it was all supposed to be an act. Like, when you kissed my forehead, when you kissed my cheek and when you protected me from Yeonjun, it felt real and it’s messing with me. And then Yeonjun—”

Your voice wavered as you recalled the conversation, a knot forming in your throat. “He said you’re only doing this because you pity me, and it's just—”

You faltered, wrapping your arms around yourself as insecurity crept into your tone. “I feel so stupid for thinking there might be more. Like maybe you actually—”

Before you could finish, Riki closed the distance between you in five long strides. His hands cupped your face, silencing you with a sudden, firm kiss. Your breath hitched, the warmth of his lips erasing your words and leaving your mind blank. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were bright with amusement, and he laughed softly, shaking his head.

“You’re so stupid,” he said, still smiling, his thumb brushing over your cheeks to wipe the tears away.

“W-What?” You stuttered.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He murmured, eyes locked with yours, sincere and unguarded. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. This whole fake dating thing? I didn’t do it because I pitied you, I did it because it was you.”

He continued before you had the chance to speak.

“It’s you— your strong personality, the way you never back down. You’re always so real with me. You’re caring and gentle. You’re yourself, and you don’t care about impressing anyone, least of all me. And I fell for you because of that.”

His hand moved to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze softening even further. “I fell for your cheerfulness, the way you light up a room without even trying. But more than anything, I fell for the way you’re just you around me. No games, no pretending. Just you. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Riki let out a breath, as if releasing something he’d held onto for too long. “So stop thinking this was ever about pity, because it’s not. It’s always been about you.”

You stood frozen, Riki’s words sinking in like waves crashing over you, overwhelming and impossible to ignore. You had spent so long convincing herself that this was all just an act, that he couldn’t possibly feel the same way. Yet here he was, laying it all bare in front of you.

“But... why didn’t you say anything before?” You finally whispered, your voice shaky. “Why go along with this whole fake dating thing?”

Riki let out a small sigh, his hand trailing down your arm, gently taking your hand. “Because I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way,” he admitted, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

“I figured if I could be close to you, even if it wasn’t real, it was better than nothing. I thought I could handle it, just pretending. But being with you, even in this fake setup… it made me fall even harder.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, almost absentmindedly, as if seeking comfort in the touch.

“And then you started feeling things too,” he continued, his gaze locking with yours again. “I saw it—the way you’d look at me, like you were afraid it was becoming too real. And I realized I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I didn’t want to.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart pounding. “But Yeonjun—what he said… it made me doubt everything,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Riki’s expression hardened for a moment, his grip on your hand tightening protectively. “Yeonjun doesn’t know a damn thing about how I feel. I don’t care what he told you. He can say whatever he wants, but that’s not the truth. I’m here because I want to be, because I love you. Not out of pity, not out of obligation. Just because it’s you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice cracked something open inside you. The room felt smaller, quieter, like it was only the two of you.

Riki smiled softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek again, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this, you know?” His voice was soft but firm. “And I don’t want to fake it anymore.”

The silence hung between them for a moment, charged and heavy with unspoken feelings. Then, with your heart in your throat, you leaned into him, closing the space between you once more.

“I don’t want to fake it anymore either,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

Riki’s breath hitched, and then he kissed you—soft, but full of all the unspoken emotions that had been bottled up for so long. It was real, and it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

#ꨄ writings #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #nishimura niki #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki x you #niki x y/n #nishimura riki #riki x reader #riki x you #riki x y/n #riki imagines #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki x reader

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everyonewooeverywhere · 8 months ago

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MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ caring bf!yunho x gn!reader

synopsis ✭ yunho absolutely loves it when you play with his hoodie strings. even though you rarely notice you’re doing it.

content/genre ✭ fluff, established relationship

word count ✭ 1.2k

notes ✭ this was a request from @justsomedreaming :)

thank you loves for the requests! they are still open. if you want to leave a request, just read my guidelines first! i'd love to hear from you.

also! i love love love hearing feedback about all of my work, and i also just love hearing from ya'll. so if you want to come say hi, my dms and inbox are always open!! 💗💗

✭✭✭✭

“Baby, where do you keep the popcorn bowl again?” Yunho yelled from your kitchen.

“It should be in the cabinet to the right of the microwave.”

You heard him rustle through the cabinet before he shouted again, “Oh! I found it!”

“Yun my apartment isn’t that big. You don’t have to yell,” you laughed softly at him from your spot on the couch.

He gave a soft “sorry” before going back to his search.

You had offered to help him make the popcorn several times, but he’d insisted that you let him do something nice for you. The amount of nice things he did for you were nearly countless, but you didn’t mind letting him have this gesture too even if you were a little worried that your apartment might smell of burnt popcorn for the next three days.

Nevertheless, you let him have his moment. He loved taking care of you, so who were you to take that away from him? Especially when it meant you could stay cuddled up on the couch with your hot chocolate, scrolling through streaming services to find a suitable movie for your date night.

When you finally settle on a movie, you peer over to your boyfriend in the kitchen. He’s dumped the bag of popcorn into a bowl and is digging around in your cabinets for more snacks to go with the popcorn.

He’s so focused. You love how serious he is about things like this. He cares so much about even the little things, and he never fails to make you feel so special.

It took him a couple of minutes, but, when he plopped himself on the couch beside you, he came armed with plenty of snacks. Not just the popcorn, but he also had a variety of chips and chocolates, too.

“Wow, you really spoil me,” you said, reaching for the popcorn bowl. When you placed the bowl in your lap, he immediately stuck his hand into it and grabbed a fistful of popcorn. “Ok, now you’re just being greedy.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead before shoving the food into his mouth rather ungracefully. As gross as you may have found it, you did love the fact that he felt so comfortable around you. Even if it meant being a victim to some of his obnoxious behaviors.

“What movie did you choose?” He asked, pulling your legs over his thighs so that you were basically in his lap.

“Barbie Princess Charm School,” you said, gesturing to the TV with the remote.

“Seriously?” he smiled down at you, eyebrows raised. He was making fun of you, but you were standing your ground.

“Yep! It is a vital part of my childhood, and it’s a crime you have never seen it.” You poked him in the chest, “And it is my turn to pick the movie, remember?”

He loved how passionate you were about this. The only reason he teased you over it was because he loved to see you so adamantly fight for why the movie was worth watching.

When you pressed play on the movie, Yunho leaned back into the couch, pulling you with him.

“How was your day?” he muttered, running a hair over your hair.

You looked up at him and hummed, running your hand over his chest and playing with the fabric of his hoodie, “It was alright. We’re still pretty short-staffed staffed so things have been hectic, but tips have been good. So I guess that makes up for it.”

He gently grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, “I’m sure you’ll find more people soon.”

You sighed, “I hope.”

“Baby, if you need a break, take one, okay? I know you don’t like financial help, but I’m always here for you,” he lowered your hand back to his chest and kissed your forehead again, “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He looked down at you. It was obvious from the bags under your eyes and the tone of your voice when talking about work that you were stressed. The biggest sign of your anxiety was that you were fidgeting with your hands quite a bit. That’s why he’d made a point to kiss your knuckles, he wanted you to understand with every part of you, both conscious and subconscious, that he was going to take care of you.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to get your mind off work, “Didn’t you get lunch with that high school friend of yours?”

“Oh yeah! I meant to tell you about that.”

“How’d that go?” He encouraged.

He watched you very adamantly as you spoke of the little lunch date you’d had with an old friend. It had gone well from the looks of things. From the remembering smile on your face to the levity of your tone, he could tell that this meal had brought some sort of solace to your rather hectic life.

It wasn’t long into your story though, that Yunho noticed you had started playing with the strings of his hoodie. He smiled fondly. He was pretty sure you never really noticed it. It felt more like a habit.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed watching you fiddle with the strings. Tying them into bows and knots as you talked. It gave you something to do with your hands, and that fact alone made Yunho incredibly happy. He was able to give you something, even if it was a minute gesture, to calm your nerves.

The both of you forgot about the movie completely. Though you both never fully watched the movies you put on anyway. It always ended this way. One of you talking about your life while the other listened. Peacefully eating snacks and occasionally watching the movie in its final moments.

“But, yeah, it was really good to see them again,” you smiled softly at him.

“I’m glad you had fun, baby,” he leaned down toward your face again, this time kissing you on the lips. He was so gentle in moments like these.

It was a simple gesture of his love for you, but you loved how he could make soft, quiet moments even more beautiful with a small kiss.

You did, however, pull on the strings of his hoodie, trying to pull him closer to you. He grinned against your lips, laughing just a bit.

Pulling back you looked at him, slightly confused, “What?”

“What do you mean?”

You were really confused now, “You laughed at me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his smile only grew.

“Yunho,” you hit him in the chest, though, not very hard.

“I’m just teasing you, baby,” he pecked your lips again.

You scoffed playfully, poking his cheek, “Well stop teasing me.”

“Okay, no more teasing,” he grabbed the hand you had by his face and pressed it to his chest. He brought his lips to yours one more time for good measure. This time letting it last a few more seconds before pulling back a couple of inches from your face, “I love you.” He whispered.

It was your turn to smile stupidly at him, “I love you, too.”

You pulled him back down and kissed him. He couldn’t help but grin again at the fact that you had pulled him to you with your hands tangled in his hoodie strings.

✭✭✭✭

notes ✭ thank you for reading!! as always, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. i absolutely love hearing from you guys, so don't be afraid to come say hi 💗

#ateez x reader #ateez #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho fluff #yunho oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez yunho #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dj's work #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yunho #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

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just-aake · 6 days ago

Text

A Feline Connection Part 7

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has to face the harsh reality that she can’t help everyone.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 3790

“Whitney Frost, daughter of Byron Frost—a typical Wall Street tycoon,” Tony’s voice echoes through the phone as he reads out the details FRIDAY managed to dig up.

On Natasha’s screen, she can see multiple files and articles pulled up on Tony’s monitors, the holographic images casting a blue glow on his face as he continues.

“There are plenty of articles about her earlier years. Standard socialite magazine garbage—life of a spoiled rich kid, extravagant parties, lavish vacations. You get the idea.”

Natasha lets out a dry scoff at the irony, her lips curling slightly.

“Coming from the playboy billionaire who once blew up half of his mansion?”

Tony gasps theatrically, placing a hand over his chest in a wounded gesture.

“Watch it, Romanoff. I’m helping you here.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha nods. “My bad. Please, continue.”

Tony huffs, turning his attention back to his screens.

“After her father’s death, she goes dark for a couple of years. No public appearances, no sightings—nothing. Coincidentally, around the same time, reports start cropping up about a new leader rising within one of the East Coast’s major crime families. Descriptions of the leader consistently include one distinct detail: a golden mask, giving them the title–”

“Madame Masque,” Natasha finishes for him, her tone flat.

“Bingo,” Tony confirms. “Over the years, she’s pulled off some pretty big moves. Arms deals, arson, major heists—she’s dangerous, Nat.”

There’s a shuffle of papers in the background, and Peter’s voice chimes in.

“I don’t get it, Mr. Stark. If she was already rich, why turn to crime?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“It’s not always about money,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just about power and control.”

A brief silence follows, the weight of her words sinking in.

Tony’s expression darkens slightly, and even Peter doesn’t offer a rebuttal. They all know Natasha is right.

People like Whitney thrive on domination, bending others to their will.

Natasha’s frown deepens, her thoughts drifting back to the night before—the memory of you leaving with Whitney still fresh and raw. She exhales slowly, the sting of hurt in her chest flaring again, though she pushes it down.

Suddenly, Tony’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Okay, I can’t ignore this anymore. What are you doing?”

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion as she glances at the screen. “What do you mean?”

Tony leans closer to the camera, pointing a finger at her with exaggerated disbelief.

“Why are you bottle-feeding that cat like it’s a baby?”

Natasha pulls Widow closer, cradling the tiny feline protectively against her chest. In her free hand, she holds a small baby bottle filled with water, offering it near the cat’s mouth.

“She still won’t eat complete meals,” Natasha explains defensively. “At least this way, she’s staying hydrated.”

Widow lets out a faint, sad meow, turning away from the bottle and burrowing deeper into Natasha’s arm.

Natasha sighs softly, her expression tinged with disappointment as she looks down at the cat.

Peter’s voice pipes up from off-screen.

“Miss Romanoff, I could go pick up some different kinds of cat food if you’d like?”

Before Natasha can respond, Tony waves him off.

“Great idea, kid. Take my card and have at it.”

“Awesome,” Peter replies, his excitement evident as he disappears from view.

As soon as Peter is gone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at Tony.

“Was that really a good idea?”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, it’ll be fine.”

“So, what is it?” Natasha asks knowingly. She can tell Tony got rid of Peter so that he would not hear whatever it is Tony was holding back.

“Some tough love,” he says bluntly, his relaxed demeanor shifting into something more serious. He leans forward, fixing her with a pointed look. “Look, Nat, if your friend is running with people like Whitney Frost, you might need to face the facts.”

“Which are?” Natasha’s tone grows colder, her jaw tightening.

“She’s a criminal,” Tony states flatly, the words landing like a stone.

Natasha’s frown deepens, the label grating against her as she reflexively clutches Widow a little tighter. “And?”

Tony sighs, shaking his head as if she’s missing the obvious.

“You need to start treating her like one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow.

“Did you forget I used to be an assassin?” she counters, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“And now you’re an Avenger,” Tony fires back without missing a beat. “Not everyone’s like you, Nat. Not everyone wants to change.”

The silence stretches between them, tension simmering as Natasha processes his words.

Seeing her still hesitant to accept the fact, he adds softly, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t even want it.”

Natasha frowns, her eyes drifting down to the little cat in her arms. She strokes her fur delicately, and Widow returns a faint purr in response, though she still refuses to move much more than that.

“Send me everything you have on Whitney and Madame Masque,” Natasha says, her determination resolving.

She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

Tony studies her for a moment, his expression knowing before he sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Already done.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A deep sigh escapes Natasha as she rubs her tired eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The hours have stretched into the late night, a glance at the window and then at the clock on her tablet confirming just how much time has passed.

Beside her on the couch, Widow is curled into a small ball, her tiny body seeming to shrink further with every passing moment.

The meal Natasha had prepared for her earlier sits barely touched—a few nibbles at best.

Though, in her tired mind, Natasha can’t help but let a stray thought creep in: maybe her cooking is bad enough to deter a cat.

The self-deprecating humor makes her sigh again, a sure sign of just how drained she feels.

Setting the tablet on the table, Natasha leans back against the armrest of the couch, her head tilting to rest against the cushion. She raises an arm to cover her eyes, allowing herself just a brief reprieve, not planning to sleep but needing the darkness to ease the strain from hours of research.

For a while, the silence wraps around her like a blanket.

Natasha focuses on her breathing, the steady rise and fall helping her ground herself.

Eventually, she debates whether she has it in her to dive back into her work for the night when a sudden movement shifts at her side.

Tiny paws pad up her torso, and then a soft weight settles against her stomach.

A familiar, distinct meow breaks the quiet—a chirping, happy sound Natasha hasn’t heard from Widow in days.

She freezes, her body going rigid as suspicion blooms in her chest. Breathing slowly, Natasha tries to maintain her sleeping position so as not to give herself away.

Widow’s sudden shift in mood—it could only mean one thing.

“I know you’re awake,” your voice cuts through the stillness, warm and teasing from just above her.

Realizing she’s caught, Natasha exhales softly with a mix of both relief at your presence but also mild frustration at the fact that you were able to sneak up on her again.

She removes her arm from her eyes, blinking up to meet your gaze.

You’re leaning casually against the back of the couch, your head tilted and resting atop the cushion, a small smirk on your lips.

“It’s way too early for you to have fallen asleep,” you tease lightly, your voice carrying that familiar playful lilt.

Your attention shifts to Widow, who’s now eagerly leaning against the cushion to lick at your outstretched hand.

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” you coo, your tone softening as you address the little cat.

Widow chirps again, louder this time, in agreement and nuzzles against your hand with obvious affection.

Natasha can’t help but scoff lightly, shaking her head at the way the two of you seem to operate as a perfect team.

Carefully, she sits up, trying not to disturb Widow perched atop her.

However, the movement brings her face unintentionally close to yours. She stills as she realizes the proximity, her lips parting slightly as the quip she intended to deliver gets caught in her throat.

Instead, all that escapes is a soft exhale.

Your smirk falters, replaced by a small, almost sad smile. Your eyes search hers, lingering as if you can see something more beyond her carefully maintained exterior.

The intensity of the moment steals Natasha’s breath, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

Breaking the tension, you lift a hand into view, holding up a bag of takeout containers.

“I brought dinner,” you say softly, the warmth in your tone cutting through the charged silence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits cross-legged on the couch, a takeout box resting limply on her lap as her attention drifts away from the half-eaten meal inside.

Instead, her gaze falls on the two of you.

You’re seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, also cross-legged, with Widow nestled comfortably in your lap.

The little cat looks more content than she has in days, her tiny paws resting on the edge of the table as she eagerly eats the torn-up pieces of meat you prepared for her.

A wave of relief washes over Natasha at the sight of Widow eating normally again, her movements lively and natural. It eases the knot of worry that’s been sitting in her chest, but as always, her focus inevitably drifts to you.

It’s a pull she can’t resist, her gaze lingering on the subtle details in your expression, the quiet ease with which you handle the moment.

Natasha absently stirs the noodles in her box, her mind turning over the question she’s been holding back since you arrived. It gnaws at her, but finding the right way to ask feels like navigating a minefield.

“How…” she begins, her voice hesitant, but the words falter.

Natasha bites her lip, uncertain whether she has the right to pry into your life any deeper.

You glance up at her, catching on to the unfinished question. Setting your takeout container on the table, you tilt your head slightly, offering her an easy opening.

“How am I here?” you ask knowingly, your voice gentle.

Wordlessly, Natasha nods, grateful but wary of the answer.

“You didn’t look at the USB?” you ask, a touch of curiosity in your tone.

Natasha shakes her head.

“I was busy worrying about more pressing matters,” she says, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Widow, who’s still munching happily in your lap. “And anyway, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to have it in the first place.”

You huff lightly at her words, and with an amused shake of your head, you turn Widow to face you, your fingers gently scratching behind her ears.

“You were supposed to give it to her,” you chide playfully.

Widow lets out a small, sassy meow, as if to argue her point, and then wiggles free from your grasp.

Natasha watches with mild curiosity as the little cat pads over to the side table, where the USB has sat untouched for days. Widow grabs the small device in her mouth and trots back toward Natasha.

Stopping at her side, Widow drops the USB onto Natasha’s lap with a decisive plop before looking up at her with a smug little chirp, her tail swishing behind her.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile as she picks up the USB.

“Thank you,” she remarks dryly, her tone soft but teasing.

Widow lets out a pleased meow, circling once before hopping back into your lap, her little body nestling comfortably against you.

Natasha’s gaze shifts to the USB, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully, before lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“So,” she says, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity, “what exactly am I going to find on here?”

You glance down at Widow, stroking her head absently as you answer, your voice steady but carrying an undertone of something more.

“Whitney had a scheduled meeting out of state with some buyers tonight.”

At the mention of the other woman, Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines.

“So this is…?”

“Everything you need to finish your original mission,” you reply evenly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “The buyers’ identities, their locations, the details of each weapons deal. Enough to track them down and stop the weapons from being used in the wrong hands.”

Natasha studies you closely, her sharp instinct catching on to the underlying reason for your sudden assistance in her original mission.

“To shift my attention from Whitney.”

Your silence at her pointed remark is telling.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, the unspoken truth hanging between you. She tilts her head, her voice firmer now.

“Why are you protecting her?”

You flinch slightly at the accusation, your hand pausing mid-stroke on Widow’s fur. After a moment, you let out a sigh, your gaze drifting downward.

“You know, it wasn’t always like this between us,” you say quietly.

Natasha stays silent, letting you continue.

“Her dad—her real dad—was the original leader of the organization,” you explain, your voice tinged with something softer, almost nostalgic. “I met her when she was training to take over his position. Or, rather, she found me. I was just a simple thief back then. But not to her.”

You pause, your hand resuming its slow strokes over Widow’s fur as you collect your thoughts.

“She made me an offer—something I never expected. Another opportunity for my life. To join her. She saw something in me. Something…more.”

The words hang in the air, and Natasha feels a pang of understanding, recalling her own experience from the past.

“It felt good,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having someone look at you like that, like you’re worth something. Like you could be more than you ever thought of yourself.”

You let out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“She’s always been good at that. Making you feel special. Like you’re the only one who matters.”

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly, her arms folding across her chest as she listens. She doesn’t interrupt, sensing the weight behind your words.

“No matter what she did—how far she went—I always found a way to forgive her,” you continue, your tone darkening. “Until I couldn’t anymore.”

There’s a long pause, the quiet broken only by the faint sounds of Widow’s contented purring. Finally, you lift your gaze to Natasha’s, the vulnerability in your eyes stark, unguarded, and disarming.

“And then I met you,” you say softly, your voice carrying a bittersweet edge. “And for a while, I felt that same thing again. That feeling from the beginning—when it was just lighthearted, fun, and flirty, intoxicating even.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her chest tightening at the quiet admission. The honesty in your words cuts through the usual banter and teasing, leaving her unsure how to respond.

“But I already know how this ends,” you add, your voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’ve seen it before. And I can’t…” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, the words left unfinished.

Natasha watches you closely, her sharp gaze softening despite the weight of your rejection. She leans forward, her voice low but steady in understanding.

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

Her tone shifts, gaining a quiet intensity and insistence.

“But you don’t need to stay with her either. We can figure out a way to disengage the bomb without you returning to her. A way to keep you both safe.”

Your gaze lowers, regret flickering in your expression. When you finally speak, your voice is heavy with sorrow.

“I have to go back.”

Natasha’s lips part in protest, her brows knitting together in frustration, but before she can speak, you cut her off, your tone firmer now.

“Not because of the bomb,” you clarify. “But because of what I did to her.”

You rise slowly, retrieving the tablet from the table, its screen still displaying the research Tony sent on Whitney. Sensing the shift, Widow hops into Natasha’s lap, purring softly as Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself.

Sitting down beside her, you scroll through the files until you find what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you turn the screen toward her.

Natasha scans the report, her frown deepening with each line.

It details a failed raid on a Stark Industries facility, ending in a catastrophic explosion. Operatives were killed or gravely injured. Their leader, however, was not discovered among those found.

“I abandoned her that night,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “None of that would have happened if I had stayed.”

“You don’t know that,” Natasha counters firmly, her gaze snapping to yours, her hand reaching out instinctively to rest atop yours.

A faint, sad smile tugs at your lips at her touch, and you shake your head slightly.

“I appreciate the thought,” you reply, your voice tinged with bittersweet humor, “but we both know that’s not true—especially considering how I’ve managed to sneak past Stark’s defenses twice now without any problems.”

The smirk you add at the end is small, almost fleeting, but it carries a sting of truth that Natasha can’t ignore.

You’re exceptionally skilled. She can’t deny that.

Your fingers brush hers lightly, tracing the bandages covering her knuckles. A contemplative sadness crosses your face.

Then slowly, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft, almost apologetic kiss against her skin before lowering it back onto Widow’s fur.

“I’m not innocent here, Natasha,” you continue resolutely, your voice low, as if the words are for you as much as for her. “I never was.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens at your words, but she doesn’t interrupt as you continue.

“I owe her a lot,” you admit, your voice heavy with the weight of your past. “She gave me a chance when no one else did. She saw something in me that I couldn’t. And yet…” Your voice falters slightly, but you press on.

“I still betrayed her in the end.”

Your gaze shifts to Natasha, your eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that makes her chest ache.

“You deserve more than to wait for me to eventually do the same to you,” you say softly. “More than I already have.”

Natasha’s chest tightens, the quiet ache spreading as she watches you, her gaze taking in every flicker of pain and regret etched across your features.

But this time, it’s not sadness that rises within her—it’s anger. Not at you, but at everything else.

At Whitney, for manipulating you. At the circumstances that have pushed you to this breaking point. And most of all, at the invisible chains of guilt that hold you hostage, preventing you from seeing a way out.

Her hands twitch, the urge to reach for you almost overwhelming. She wants to close the distance between you, to grasp your shoulders and shake you free from the weight of your past, to tell you that this isn’t your only option.

But she hesitates, her fingers curling into fists as she forces herself to stop.

Forcing you to accept her help, no matter how badly she wants to, would make her no different from Whitney. It would just be another form of control, another pressure you don’t deserve.

And Natasha refuses to become that.

Instead, after a long pause, she speaks with quiet determination.

“What will happen to Widow?”

You look down at the small cat, curled up peacefully in Natasha’s lap, and sigh.

“I can’t bring her back with me,” you admit, your voice thick with regret. “But I’ll stay with her as long as I can tonight. Make sure she’s okay, and I’ll explain it to her—let her think it’s like last time, when she stayed with you while I was away.”

You glance at Natasha, searching for her response.

“If…you’re still willing to take care of her?”

Natasha straightens slightly, her expression softening as a small smirk forms on her lips.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Your lips twitch into a faint smile at her answer, gratitude flickering in your eyes.

But Natasha isn’t done. She leans forward, her tone resolute as her gaze locks onto yours.

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself,” she says, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “If you feel guilty about what you’ve done, you can always make it right for yourself. You still have that choice.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, an unspoken plea woven into her steady tone.

Natasha’s expression holds no judgment, only quiet insistence and something deeper—hope.

The silence that follows feels fragile, as if it could shatter at the wrong move.

Widow shifts slightly in her lap, her tiny body curling closer as her soft purring fills the space between you.

It’s a faint sound, but comforting nonetheless, grounding you in a moment that feels far too heavy for words.

For a fleeting second, Natasha sees something in your eyes—an almost imperceptible flicker, as if her words might be reaching you.

But then your gaze drops, breaking the connection, and the moment slips away.

Without a word, you gently lift Widow from her lap, cradling her with the same care Natasha has come to associate with you, and rise to your feet.

Natasha sits up a little straighter, her sharp eyes following your movements as you step toward the hallway, your figure outlined by the dim glow of the room.

“Try to get some rest, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone steady but carrying a subtle finality that roots her in place. You pause just before disappearing from sight, your head turning slightly as if debating whether to say more.

“You, out of everyone, deserve it.”

The words linger in the air long after you’ve gone into your bedroom, wrapping around Natasha like a quiet echo.

She stays where she is, her fingers drifting absentmindedly over the fabric of the couch where you’d been sitting just moments ago, as if tracing the memory of you.

The warmth of your presence is gone, replaced by an emptiness that spreads through the room, making it feel colder, quieter.

Natasha exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch and staring at the space where you had disappeared from her view.

She knows you meant those words for her, but the ache in her chest tells her they’re something you’ve denied yourself for far too long.

“So do you,” she whispers into the empty room, her voice barely audible but filled with a longing that she knows you’ll never let yourself hear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Fair warning, I believe there’s only a couple parts left in this series. But don’t quote me on this cause we all know I’ve never been good at predicting the number of chapters left. Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat, @escapereality4music, @caspianalexander007, @henkermen, @xxnaiaxx, @alyssa-bessse, @alianovnasposts

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mokulule · 11 months ago

Text

Take Out for Dummies - Part 3

Aka Danny has been hired to take out Red Hood, there may or may not have been a misunderstanding.

First | Masterpost

Jason had carefully checked their surrounding for cameras, but they ended up doing as Danny had suggested, sitting back to back each with their own collection of various meats and vegetables on sticks.

Danny groaned and leaned his weight back against Jason. “What is it about food on a stick that makes it so delicious?”

Jason chuckled, “I don’t know.”

It was simple fare, charred just the right amount from the grill and spicy in a way that warmed.

There was a moment of silence.

“You have a very nice voice, you know? Like I get the voice modulation is meant to be scary and all and it makes sense. Just… you have a nice voice.”Jason swallowed. He wasn’t sure why his throat felt so tight all of a sudden.

“Thanks.” He didn’t know what else to say.

They finished eating and Danny jumped up with renewed restless energy, still turned away from Jason.

“Tell me when you’re decent.”

Jason snorted as he pulled the helmet back on and it came online. “I’ll show you indecent.”

Danny squeaked. Jason turned around to find him hiding his face in his hands in embarrassment. At least Jason wasn’t the only one with the dirty thoughts.

“Alright-“ Jason peeled one of Danny’s hands away to hold it, “show the way. Are we breaking in?”

“Uh-“ Danny looked from Jason to the hand, his cheeks were dusted a very becoming pink - turnabout really was fair play. Finally he seemed to come back online as he shook his head.

“No, I have a key.”

Jason grabbed the trash bag in his other hand as Danny was still carting around his unicorn.

“Why do you have a key to the ice rink?”

“I do maintenance here sometimes, so I asked to borrow the rink for tonight.”

“Are there anyone in Gotham you don’t know at this point?”

“I’m sure there are plenty still,” Danny answered the rhetorical question as he opened the roof access door. Why that was the door he had a key to was another question entirely. Though they may of course just all use the same key.

They went down a stairwell and out into the cold hall with the frozen rink as centerpiece. Jason eyed Danny’s thin button down shirt, if he’d planned this why hadn’t he brought a jacket?

“There’s skates over there,” Danny pointed to the skate renting counter on the left side of the room. “will you grab me a pair of size seven skates, while I turn on some music and lights?”

Jason did as asked jumping the counter. There was a convenient trash can behind the counter where he could dump the bag.

When he returned to the main hall with skates in hand his eyes widened. When Danny had said turn on the lights he hadn’t expected them to be from those multicolored disco balls, nor for the music to put them back to the 70’s with an upbeat disco track.

“What do you think?” Danny yelled from where he ducked out from an operator room.

“It’s something alright,” Jason yelled back as he sat down on one of the benches and started pulling his boots off. He snorted as he realized something: if this was still an elaborate hit, Danny would be the type to love the double pun of taking out Red Hood by putting him on ice.

Jason didn’t actually think this was a hit. Hadn’t thought so in quite a while. He’d let his guard down.

Danny walked over with that small smile on his face that made Jason wonder if this was just his base state; just happy, enjoying himself, doing his little odd jobs, helping kids out for pebbles because he could, taking Red Hood out on a date.

Jason still didn’t know what to think about that. Like even if he genuinely thought whoever asked him to take out Red Hood meant on a date, there was still that logic break where Danny had decided, yeah sure sounds like a fun time, let’s just corner the former crime lord current vigilante on a rooftop in the middle of the night to ask his date preferences.

Danny was definitely not normal in any sense of the word, but Jason found that he couldn’t help but like that. Some good kind of crazy in this city for once.

“Never been to a skating disco before?” Danny asked when he within easy speaking range.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Well not that there’s really any expectations here since it’s just the two of us, so we can do whatever.” Danny grinned, sat down next Jason and pulled his shoes off. He was in his skates and jumping to his feet in no time at all. He wobbled, and windmilled his arms so as not to fall and Jason had to grab him and steady him.

“Are you sure you have tried this before?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a great skater.” Danny sniffed, brushing Jason off, as he started awkwardly walking towards the rink in his skates.

“Just not at walking in them.”

Danny sent him a bewildered look. “Nobody is good at walking in skates.”

Jason rolled his eyes and tightened and tied off the last lace. He didn’t jump up carelessly like Danny, instead he rose and took careful steps. While it was indeed neither comfortable or normal to walk on the bladed edge of the skates, he did make it seem a great deal more natural than Danny had.

Danny stuck out his tongue at him for that and Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Join me on the ice and we’ll see who’s laughing.” With that he stepped onto the ice in a languid, confident glide, that immediately made it clear, that Danny did indeed know how to skate.

But Jason was no slouch either. He could skate even if it’s been a while and he never said no to a challenge. It took a moment for Jason to get used to the ice below his feet, but he quickly gained both speed and confidence.

Danny caught his eyes then with a wink, turned, and built up speed in a few quick glides and then he was jumping off the ice, spinning in the air and at what seemed like last moment he landed on just one leg, the other leg stretched out behind him as he leaned forward in something almost like a bow.

Okay so it turns out Danny couldn’t just skate he could skate. As in he could do not just spins but flips - Jason could do flips fine on the ground; he was not quite Dick enough to try it on ice. Of course Danny was also being a little shit about it.

There was something about that smile he was sporting that made Jason just want to reach out and grab him - and do what? He wasn’t sure. But there was an invite to try and catch him in the way he glided around Jason, responding to Jason’s movements by darting away like a fish only to come back, but never close enough to reach.

Jason smiled. Okay, he would bite.

When next Danny passed, he lunged. Danny shot forward with a delighted laugh. Jason wasn’t far behind him, but Danny’s turns were needle point sharp as he lead Jason on a merry chase across the ice. He was slippery as a fucking eel, the way he kept himself just shy of Jason’s fingertips every time he reached for him.

He was doing it on purpose too, Jason realized. He was letting Jason get close only to twist and turn and escape with a laugh and leave Jason to regain the balance he lost by lunging. Jason didn’t immediately pick up the chase this time.

“What’s the matter Hood? Can’t keep up?”Jason huffed. No, he couldn’t. That much was clear at this point. But that didn’t mean the game was over. It only meant Jason had to work smarter not harder. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and started on a leisured circuit of the rink.

“Did you skate a lot as a kid?”

Danny came into Jason’s field of view, skating backwards effortlessly. There was a slight pout on his face at the interrupted game, but he answered Jason’s question, “Not really.”

“Huh, how did you learn to skate then?” Jason asked surprised.

That wiped away Danny’s pout and Jason felt a twinge of anticipation for what surely boded another fun story, but nothing could have prepared him for what actually came out of Danny’s mouth.

“I was taught by a yeti named Frostbite, he’s like my mentor in everything ice.”

“A yeti?” Jason spluttered.

Danny grinned in a way that showed he knew exactly how outrageous it sounded, but still kept his voice perfectly even when he said, “yes, it’s their national sport.”

Jason laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Uh huh, and where did you meet this yeti?”

“A place called the Far Frozen, not many people have heard of it. They tend to be rather reclusive.”

Danny didn’t falter one moment in his explanation. He either had a selection of stories he told or he was extremely good at improvising. He was also suddenly within reach, guard down as he thought Red Hood had given up on the game.

Jason lunged. Danny’s eyes widened comically as he realized his mistake and tried to backpedal, but it was too late. Jason had him wrapped in his arms. They both went down overbalanced from Danny’s struggle. Jason twisted them so he took the brunt of the fall. Danny didn’t deserve to be caught beneath 225 pounds of vigilante even if he’d been asking for it.

They laid there on the ice catching their breaths.

“Bastard, you caught me.” Danny finally spoke giggling like he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have-“ Jason stopped, finally noticing how cold Danny was. “You’re freezing!”

“No really it’s fine-“ Danny protested as Jason pulled him back up, but Jason wouldn’t have it.

“Who forgets to wear a jacket when going skating,” Jason grumbled pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around Danny shoulders. It looked comically large hanging off Danny’s small frame, but Jason only gave himself a small moment to appreciate it before drawing Danny close again.

It took a moment but then Danny relaxed into the hold.

“How’s this? Better?” Jason asked after a while.

Danny looked up his eyes wide and blue and maybe a little overwhelmed. “Y-yeah.”

Jason frowned looking around to locate the bench where their shoes were. “We should probably get out of this cold.”

“No,” Danny said immediately pressing close, then flinched, before saying quietly, “can we just stay like this for a bit?”

Jason blinked in confusion. It didn’t make sense to stay in the cold, but he found himself agreeing quietly.

The music at this point had turned to quieter songs. Jason was starting to feel the cold himself by staying still, and he started to sway to the music, moving just a little across the ice. Danny looked up. He wiggled around and it took only a moment for him to actually find the sleeves and push his arms through. Jason let go to let him and soon found his hands captured in still cold but no longer freezing hands.

“Dance with me?” Danny asked.

Jason couldn’t say no to that, but “I’ve never danced on ice before.”

Danny grinned and glided back in close, getting them positioned for a waltz. “It doesn’t have to be right, but you lead and I’ll follow and make sure we don’t fall on our asses.”

Jason scoffed as he lead them into a glide that had Danny moving along mostly backwards on the ice.

“You don’t trust me to follow.”

“No,” Danny grinned, “But I do trust you to catch me.”

Jason rolled his eyes fondly behind the helmet. Then dipped Danny suddenly to make him prove it. There wasn’t a hint of struggle, he stayed relaxed in his hold as if they’d danced together like this a million times. Jason didn’t know what to do with that, and pulled him back up.

Jason didn’t know how long they danced. Danny had started talking quietly after a while admitting he hadn’t gone on a date since he went to high school, and got Jason to admit he liked reading. but he did know his feet were starting to hurt. Still he was reluctant for it to be over.

It was only when Danny failed in hiding a yawn they left the rink.

Jason rolled the bike to a smooth stop putting one foot down to keep balance. He let go of the handlebars and straightened up to allow Danny to get off.

However instead of getting off Danny took off the helmet, hung it on a handlebar and twisted around bringing his legs up until he faced Jason and could wrap them lightly around Jason’s waist. Jason’s mind went blank at the way it brought them closer, the only thing keeping the position somewhat decent for the public was the unicorn now squished between them. If Jason now wished he’d never won the thing, that was a secret he was taking to his second grave.

“So,” Danny said conversationally, wrapping his arms loosely around Jason’s neck, leaning his forearms on his shoulders almost thoughtfully, “I had fun.” He smiled. “I hope you also had fun, that was the whole purpose after all.”

He paused - maybe waiting for a response, but Jason didn’t even know what to say. He certainly wasn’t going to admit he had fun. That was- Red Hood wouldn’t do that. He’d already behaved way too much like himself tonight.

There was a momentary frown on Danny’s face before it smoothed out replaced by a soft smile, that Jason had no idea what to do with. “This is the point where a successful date is usually rewarded with a kiss - you can say no?”

Jason stiffened.

Surely he wasn’t going to?!

Danny leaned in, his smile turned wicked for a moment as his hands splayed out on either side of the helmet. Jason needed to stop him, but instead his traitorous hands landed on Danny’s waist.

He needed to push him away; he didn’t.

Danny’s hands tightened on the helmet, pulling-

Except he didn’t pull the helmet off, he just pulled Jason closer and tilted his head backwards and then pressed his lips to the helmet, right were his mouth would have been. It was chaste, but not just a quick peck. No, it was a slow and languid press in a way that made Jason all too aware that there was little more than an inch between their lips, but it might as well have been miles for the barrier between them. Slow in a way that made Jason’s breath catch in his throat and his treacherous brain wish Danny had removed the fucking helmet.

Danny drew back, his blue eyes practically sparkling in mischief and he lightly bonked his forehead against the helmet before twisting around again and jumping off, Jason letting him reluctantly.

“See you around, Hood.” Danny waved once before he started walking down the road, unicorn plushie under one arm, utterly unafraid to walk the most crime ridden streets of Gotham in the early hours of the morning. Presumably he was going home to his mystery residence.

Jason should follow him. It was the perfect time to find out more about the mystery that was Odd-Job Danny. It was why he’d agreed to the date in the first place. Right?

Instead his brain was going around in circles, wondering if he had pulled up his helmet when Danny first mentioned the kiss, not pulled it off of course, just up to his nose or so, would Danny have gone through with it? Would he have actually kissed him? Or did he only do it because he knew the helmet was there in between them?

Did Jason want him to kiss him?

Fuck. He did.

Danny was gone now, nowhere to be seen. Whatever chance he’d had of figuring out more was gone. And yet that seemed the least of Jason’s problems.

So that's the end of the date, though of course not the end of the story. Consider commenting or writing something in the tags if you liked it, things irl are gonna be very busy for the next year so I could use all the motivation for writing I can scrape together. You can subscribe at the masterpost for future updates. Next

#take out for dummies #dead on main #dp x dc

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takumiraine · 11 days ago

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So I’ve fallen into the DPxDC thing. Not sure how, and I only have fandom characterizations and wiki knowledge but. I have a thing.

<next>

Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair darker than night and eyes bluer than the summer sky. Once upon a time, there was a budding scientist with a caring sister and two lovably scattered scientist parents. Once upon a time, there was a terrible accident. Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair whiter than snow, skin paler than death, eyes greener than toxic waste. Once upon a time, the boy needed help as more and more potentially world ending events descended on his town. Once upon a time, nobody but the government came. Once upon a time, the boy, his sister, and his friends escaped.

This is what happened next.

When they split up, Danny had drawn Gotham. Gotham with its so called “vigilante family”. Gotham whose so called “protectors” had been asked multiple times through the so called “Justice League” for help. But just like true justice, they were blind to his requests. His pleas. Both he and Amity Park were left to rot. It had been five years now but Danny was still mad. When he and his friends escaped the three of them each went to a different League infested city. They weren’t strong enough to do more than gather intel but…. Intel would lead to openings.

It took a bit of Tucker’s help in re-establishing his identity and giving him a realistic transcript for what his trajectory would have been if he wasn’t constantly fighting ghosts (mid to high Cs with a couple Bs instead of mid to low Ds with a couple Cs). But he managed a halfway decent scholarship to Gotham U. It covered tuition, books, and just enough for some food.

Sure Danny was technically homeless, but he’s lived through worse. Besides, the shitty parts of town had plenty of empty apartments. Careful use of his ghost powers made acquisition of an apartment a breeze. By the time the semester started, Danny had found himself a place. Tucker had slipped into the network and made sure the landlord wouldn’t be renting it - a coincidental shift of the management had been really helpful, Danny wouldn’t lie - as it looked as if it had been permanently bought. Danny did some within-wall plumbing to get himself water access, then rewired the electrical box outside to grant him access to the grid. Though it was all illegal and would crumble if people talked to each other about it, he counted his blessings for the moment. Illegal meant fewer ways to be tracked after all.

Ridiculous that a nineteen year old had to think about avoiding being tracked, but here he was. Every time he saw the bat signal in the distance his core writhed, and the nearby ghosts scattered. Crime Alley had its own masked vigilante, who didn’t seem to be always on good terms with the Bats, which was fine by him. The less chance of running into them the less chance he had of blowing his “Normal Human Dan Nightingale” life to pieces. Danny hadn’t seen this Red Hood person face to face yet, but he had heard stories.

Gotham had enough ambient ecto to sustain him without his ghost form and trips to the Realms, which was good because the more he used his powers, the more likely he was to get picked up by the Government’s sensors. The GIW had been sent by The League after all. They were trouble enough on their own. He didn’t want them to have backup while his own was spread across the country. He missed flying and seeing the stars, but Danny had to admit that he was a huge fan of the not getting hunted for sport thing.

It made times like these difficult though. Currently Danny was being mugged. Or… the guy was attempting to mug him. “For the fifth time dude, I live in this part of town. I don’t have any money.” Danny was trying to explain to the guy holding a knife to his midsection.

In another life he would have kicked the guy’s ass. Instead he had his hands up as he was pressed back to the crumbling brick and boarded up window of what used to be a shop front.

“Don’t play games with me kid! You’re going to college. You have money.” The guy pressed the knife point harder into his stomach, the knife tip barely a pound of pressure away from puncturing his skin. As it was he’d have to mend his shirt.

“Yeah, on a shitty scholarship. I can’t even afford dinner every night.” Thank god for ambient ecto. “Here I’m going to reach into my pocket and get my wallet.” Slowly Danny lowered one of his hands and slid two fingers into his pocket, coming back out with a thin, worn leather wallet. He raised it back up and unfolded it “no credit cards.” He slid his fingers into where he kept the two dollars he had left this month and turned them invisible. Then he tilted it so the would be mugger could see. “See? Nothing. Can I go home now? I’ve got the rest of an essay to write before the library opens tomorrow. I don’t even have a computer to type it on myself.”

“You’re lying! You’ve gotta have something!” The guy was getting more and more frantic. Probably jonesing for a fix of whatever drug flooded this place.

“If I had it I would have given it to you.” Danny explained patiently, “I have more sense than to get stabbed over some cash. But I don’t have it.”

“Liar!” The man yelled, jabbing the knife into him. Danny grunted in pain, not a shout, pain didn’t make him shout anymore, as the heavy thud of boots hit the ground. The guy was suddenly removed from in front of him. Danny swore loudly, careful to press his hands around the knife as his core demanded he do something. Instead all he did was breathe. When he got enough of a handle on the pain-fight response to know his eyes weren’t changing, Danny looked up.

The first thing he noticed was a red bat logo on the man’s chest. “Oh no not you.” He groaned half to himself.

The man slammed his mugger into the wall with a sick crack, and let him slump to the ground beside where Danny was bent over. “Excuse me?” The man asked, voice modulator seeming to glitch slightly, coming out more robotic. That was probably Danny’s fault. He needed a tighter control of his aura. But he didn’t have it right now.

“I don’t need your help.” He ground out through grit teeth.

“You’ve been stabbed.” The man explained, as if Danny was someone in shock. Which, fair. He might be.

“You’re one of those Bat fucks. I don’t need help from a Bat.” He grit out in reply, voice barely held together under his growl.

“I am not with the Bats.” Danny snorted, then groaned as that was the absolute wrong choice. Instead he just reached up with one bloody hand, which he couldn’t keep the slight tremor out of, and swiped his blood across the red bat symbol on his “hero’s” chest. “Oh. That. We…. Had a falling out.”

“Right. Well. I’ll leave you to it. Next time, let me get mugged.” Danny took another fortifying breath, trying to settle his core. It screamed pain-revenge-fight at him, but now was not the time. He needed to get back to his apartment and get this knife out of him. Then check in with Sam and Tucker. Maybe Jazz. Though she was at one of the Ivy League schools and he really should leave her be. Let someone have a future.

The man with the red bat logo said something after him as Danny shouldered past and shuffled down the street, but Danny ignored it.

Fucking Bats. Fucking Gotham. Just…. Fuck.

#writing #fanfiction #dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #red hood #jason todd

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specialagentlokitty · 5 months ago

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Present Mic x teen!reader - care for you

Hi! Could I request a Present Mic x platonic kid/child reader with these prompts from your 2024 part 2 prompt list?😊 “Adopt me.” “What? Why?” “Because nobody has ever been as nice to me as you have…” “Is stealing bread a crime?” “Please stop.”Of course you don't have to write this if you don't want to.Hope you're having a good day!❣️- Anon💜

“Adopt me.” “What? Why?” “Because nobody has ever been as nice to me as you have…”

“Is stealing bread a crime?” “Please stop.”

You had been in the care of UA for a while now, having found you when they first encountered the league of villains, it was decided you would be placed in UA to be under constant watch.

Though you weren’t a villain, they couldn’t be too sure about you, and wanted to try change the direction of your life before you came one.

Some teachers were less than impressed about the choice, but others, like Present Mic, absolutely adored having you around.

If he wasn’t teaching, or helping with training, he was usually with you, and that’s where he was right now, sitting in the cafeteria with you as you ate your lunch.

Present mic wore an amused grin on his face as he watched you taking the fruit from your fruit bowl that you didn’t like, and set them aside.

He could see the cogs in your head turning as you thought long and hard about your next move, and the moment when you went to pick one up and throw it he placed his hand over yours to stop you.

“Now, now, you should know better than to throw food at your age (Y/N).” He chuckled.

With a laugh, and a grin, you stop attempting to throw the unwanted fruit around, and instead turn your attention to him as you eat the fruit you did like.

“Is stealing bread a crime?”

Present Mic looks at you a little confused, and watches as you take some bread out of your pocket to eat it.

“Please stop.” He sighs.

Though he knew you didn’t mean any harm by it, and he knew you had paid for the bread since he was the one that paid for your lunch, as a pro hero and a teacher, sometimes he couldn’t condone your behaviour.

“But is it?”

“Yes, it is, you know that.” He explained gently.

“I don’t think it should be, food should be free.”

Present mic hums a little bit.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it’s dumb people have to pay for food.”

He nods in agreement, pulling your fruit bowl away from you when you finished with it and giving you your plate of pancakes to eat instead.

“Unfortunately that’s how it goes kiddo.”

As you eat, Present Mic keeps a watchful eye on you while he ate his own lunch, making sure you drank your water, and had plenty of food.

He smiles as he watches you struggle to get the syrup out for your pancakes, and he takes the bottle so he could help you.

The pancakes were quickly devoured and now you guys were just wondering around the empty halls of UA while everybody else was still in classes.

While you practically bounced around the hallways as a bundle of chaotic energy Present mic just trailed after you with a smile on his face.

As the day went on, you bounced from teacher to teacher, whoever was free at the time to watch over you and make sure that you were behaving and not getting into any trouble.

Evening rolled by again, and while you were sat in your room at the teachers dorms, Present Mic waltzed in holding two plates.

“Your favourite!” He grinned.

Immediately your eyes light up as he sets the plate down on the floor in front of you, and he sits down with his own dinner, different from yours.

“Woah! You made this for me?!”

He chuckles, ruffling your hair a little bit.

“Of course I did kiddo, we’ve got to make sure you stay fed and healthy.”

With a grin, you immediately start eating your food, setting your game controller aside as you wolfed down your food.

Hizashi reached over, gently placing his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“Woah kiddo, slow down, the food isn’t going anywhere you know? It’s not going to grow legs and walk away.”

Looking at him, you grin a little bit.

“But what if it did? I’ve gotta eat it all before it does.”

Hizashi offers you a small chuckle, reaching up he ruffled your hair and let you carry on eating.

He did keep a close eye on you, reminding you a few more times to eat slower but he understood why you ate so quickly.

He knew you wouldn’t talk about your time with the league, and if he had to guess, he was pretty sure you didn’t actually want to be there.

And he knew you wouldn’t have been treated right while you were there, so he was doing everything in his power to treat you like every other teenager at UA.

And you could see that, it’s why he was your favourite.

After eating, and drinking your glass of water you decided to go back to gaming, and Hizahsi just sat there happily next to you watching as you gamed.

He had no clue what game you were playing it, or how to even play it, but it was something you were interested in, so he was interested in it too.

After a while, you eventually fall asleep against him while watching YouTube, and he carried on patting your back.

Once he was sure you were asleep, Present Mic got up and carefully picked you, laying you down on your bed, covering you up with your covers before he begun to tidy your room for you.

The movements of being moved onto your bed woke up up slightly, and you watch him half asleep before speaking.

“Adopt me…” you mumble.

Present Mic gave a small startled yell and turned around to look at you, slowly processing your words. His face went from surprised to slight confusion.

“What? Why?”

You yawned a little bit before relying.

“Because nobody has ever been as nice to me as you have…” you mumbled.

Present Mic smiled a little sadly, and he walked over, crouching next to your bed, placing his hand on your head.

“Go to sleep kiddo… we’ll talk in the morning okay…?”

You offered a tired nod and closed your eyes, drifting back to sleep pretty quickly and he smiled, covering back up with the covers before getting up again.

He left your room with some dishes, heading back to the teachers dorms communal kitchen to wash them, still thinking over your words.

He had been debating adopting you for a while, then he’d be able to properly care for you, and show you the love and affection you deserved, but hearing that you wanted him to adopt you, even if you were half asleep made his heart fill with joy

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #my hero academia imagine #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha imagine #present mic #present mic x reader #present mic x you #present mic imagine

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frvnkcastles · 4 months ago

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A MAN WITH A BLACK HEART OF GOLD ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When there’s a death in the neighborhood, you call Frank for comfort and protection.

Warnings: Mentions of death, anxiety, fluff mostly!

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s note: Taking a quick break from requests for this little thing I whipped up after experiencing this very thing myself. A dead body was found in my neighborhood and it freaked me out, but thankfully it was updated on the news that a crime wasn’t involved. Still, I wouldn’t mind if I had Frank next to me tonight!

The last thing you expected coming home from getting the groceries for next week was a bunch of police cars and an ambulance on your street. The sight instantly made you nervous, your grip on the bag of food tightening as you walked through the crowd to get to your door. The police were swarmed by the building across the street, giving you access to your own home, but before you made your way inside, your neighbor caught your eye.

”What’s going on?” you queried with both curiosity and dread. You knew there was plenty of crime in the city — if not through reading the news, then through knowing Frank. You had befriended the Punisher himself a few weeks back, and he had already taught you a lot about staying safe and protected, but even with everything he had shared with you, you felt uneasy that something had happened so close to your doorstep. You were used to hearing about what went down at night from him, but right now, it was barely evening and whatever had happened, it was right across the street from you.

”Apparently they found a dead body in one of the apartments”, your neighbor whispered, and with shock punching you in the gut, you swallowed. ”They won’t say what happened, though. Maybe it was natural causes”, she continued, and weakly, you nodded. Maybe she was right. But you had heard enough from Frank to know that there was some seriously fucked up stuff happening in your city, and it made you sick to think something like that had happened in your neighborhood.

You headed inside, working completely on autopilot as you got in your apartment and started unloading the groceries. You enjoyed every second you spent with Frank, in fact, you had gotten quite attached to him, but right now, you regretted ever listening to his haunting tales of criminals and crooks. All it did was make you overthink, your brain going in evil loops as you wondered if there was a murderer on the loose — maybe a serial killer, even? Maybe he was targeting people in your area. Maybe you were next.

You spent the evening refreshing the website of the local news, waiting for something to pop up. When it finally did, all the article said was that a corpse had been discovered and the police was still investigating whether or not it had been a crime. You gnawed on your nails anxiously. How hard could it be to tell if someone had murdered them? Even you knew there would have to be signs of a break-in or a struggle or something. Or maybe you had just watched too much TV.

Either way, it was driving you mad. And you knew what could make you feel better — calling Frank. You just didn’t know if you were in the stage of your relationship where it would be okay to do. Your encounters tended to be initiated by him, as he would either show up on your doorstep or behind your window unannounced, or you’d run into him at a coffee shop or a diner in a way that you suspected wasn’t random. You knew he was a busy man, and the last thing you wanted was to scare him off by being clingy, or worst case scenario, to endanger his life by calling him at the wrong time.

But it was Frank. Frank, who was always so good to you, Frank, who was way more talented at giving support and comfort than he gave himself credit for, Frank, who never judged or laughed at you if it wasn’t meant to be laughed at. God, it was no wonder you were already falling for him, when he was such a perfect gentleman every time you saw him.

A little embarrassed but hopeful that he’d be understanding, you decided to call him. You paced back and forth in your apartment while the phone rang, your nail between your teeth and your feet shuffling anxiously. It felt kind of awkward, too trivial to actually be worth Frank’s time, but the fear of what had happened beat the shame in you. You were growing more terrified by the minute, and you knew it was something only he could alleviate.

”Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Frank’s voice hit you through the phone, and gulping at the thickness of his voice, you shook yourself out of the daze you had fallen into while waiting for him to pick up.

”Hi, Frank. This is kinda embarrassing, but, uh… if you have the time—I understand if you don’t, would you maybe mind visiting? And… maybe even spending the night? The police found a dead body across the street and I’m just a little freaked out”, you rambled, your nerves getting the best of you, but Frank listened patiently instead of interrupting you.

For a beat, he was silent, and it was enough time for you to start wondering if you had made a mistake calling him. But finally, he spoke up. ”Yeah, darlin’, I’ll be there. Hang on f’me, yeah?” he answered, and with a weight rolling off of your chest, you sighed.

”Thank you, Frank.” You hung up the phone and threw yourself onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as you groaned. This was very much not what you had expected from your night, but maybe, it was a blessing in disguise. After all, you were officially signed up for some more time in Frank’s company, and the mere thought got you to smile to yourself. He had stolen your heart so effortlessly, it was ridiculous.

You didn’t know when to expect him, as you obviously couldn’t make him drop everything just for you, but when it started to get dark, you grew anxious again. He was taking his sweet time and being alone in the apartment made you uncomfortable, with every sound from outside your little bubble making you alert.

Finally, though, there was a knock on your door, and you jumped with your hand on your chest. You tiptoed to the front door and stole a glimpse through the peephole just to be safe, feeling calmer when you saw Frank standing there with his head hung low and his hands folded in front of him. You opened the door, and despite the worry inside your soul, the sight of him brought a smile on your face. He looked too good to be true, his sleeves rolled up and his dark hair covered in rain droplets.

”Sorry it took me a while. I made a pitstop”, he announced, gesturing at the bag in his hands. He walked inside, gently kicking the door shut behind him, and leaning down to briefly kiss your cheek before making his way to the kitchen. The casual gesture made your face hot and your heart skip a beat, but you followed him to the kitchen without commenting on it.

”What’s all this?” you asked as he began taking things out of the bag — chips, food containers, a bottle of beer for him and your favorite soda for you.

”Figured you ain’t gonna be able to sleep, anyway. We might as well make a night out of it. Watch a movie or somethin’, whatever you want”, he shrugged like it was the most normal thing ever for him to show up with everything thought of. You felt giddy, unable to believe he would do all this for you, and you did the only thing you could think of and stepped in to hug him.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, looking down at your face, painted with all kinds of heavy emotions. ”You must have been real scared, huh?” he muttered, and shyly, you nodded. ”It’s aight. ’M here now and I’mma make sure you’re safe”, Frank reassured you, just his words enough to console you. All it took was his presence to make you feel protected, and you appreciated it deeply.

”If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t heard of anythin’ goin’ down over here and I’m always on top of these things. I’m sure it was just a one-time thing”, he went on, and nodding, you pulled back from him and grabbed the soda can from the counter.

”I hope so. I kind of just wanna think about something else, so… how about that movie?” you suggested, drawing a sip from your drink.

Frank agreed quickly, and you two huddled up on your couch with the food and the snacks. Time passed in a blink of an eye, with midnight rolling around by the time you were finished with the first movie, but as Frank had suspected, you weren’t exactly eager to go to sleep. Sleeping made you vulnerable, and it scared you — so, you watched another movie.

You ended up migrating from your end of the couch to Frank’s arms. Totally platonic, you told yourself. He was sweet with you, surprisingly affectionate too, but you weren’t sure he felt the same way that you did. At least, you didn’t think he was ready to. He hadn’t told you everything, but you had read the news enough to know what he had gone through and what he had lost, so you doubted he was looking for a relationship. It stung, you had to admit that much, but you found a small consolation in the fact that it wasn’t anything personal.

A yawn slipped from you, and Frank noticed, perceptive as always. ”You should get some rest, sweetheart”, he pointed out, and begrudgingly, you supposed he was right.

”I don’t mean to push but… will you stay in the bed with me?” you asked carefully, hoping you weren’t crossing a boundary, but he didn’t seem to have any hesitation regarding the matter.

”Sure thing.”

With that, he helped you up from the couch, and you went ahead with your nightly routine of washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your PJs. When you stepped into the bedroom, Frank was already lying on your bed, his arms behind his head as he waited for you. Seeing him like that, it made your chest tighten and your stomach do a backflip. You had imagined this exact situation countless times, though you suspected your daydreams ended very differently than what reality had in store for you.

You settled under the covers, sighing deeply as you rubbed your tired eyes and felt the stress of the day weigh you down. Frank observed you closely, a small smile on his lips, and it made you chuckle nervously.

”What?” you questioned, earning a shrug from him.

”You just look real pretty, ’s all”, he revealed, and with your eyes widening, you stared at him, trying to find any hint of joke on his face. There was none.

”Thanks, Frankie”, you replied sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear. ”And thanks for the food and for staying with me. I really appreciate it”, you added, and with a soft nod, he dropped his hands to his lap and shifted deeper into the mattress.

”I know it ain’t a permanent solution, but I want ya to know I’mma keep an eye on this place. I’ll make sure nothin’ happens to you”, he promised, and surprised, you lifted yourself up to rest on your elbow, your gaze meeting his.

”You’d do that?” you spoke in disbelief, and with a completely serious look, he nodded once again.

”Course, I would, sweetheart. I never wanna see you in harm’s way. I know this is still pretty new, but I, uh, I like you”, he confessed, his voice almost nervous. You couldn’t imagine him ever being nervous, but as you both sat in his admission, the air growing hot between you, that was exactly how he felt.

Feeling impulsive, you closed the space between you and kissed him. He melted into it immediately, his big hand reaching up to cradle your face, his lips moving against yours in a way that was thrilling and enchanting. He took your breath away, kissing you with passion but sweetness, and it was even better than you had imagined.

Breathless, you broke the kiss, and he dropped his forehead to yours. ”I like you, too”, you returned the favor, and breaking into a grin, Frank kissed you again, shorter this time but equally delicious.

In hindsight, you were beyond glad you had called him, and he felt the same way. And for you, he was going to get to the bottom of what had happened.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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ebullientheart · 1 year ago

Text

dogs. aaron hotchner x reader

content — dogs🤍. fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. brief mention of case. one swear. sorta sunshine!reader.

5 times you try to convince hotch to get a dog with you +1 time it works.

1. the scent dogs

a frazzled officer had handed you the leads of two sniffer dogs, running away on the insistence his captain was going to ‘kill me for letting them piss on his van again’. you had snorted sympathetically, meaning to tell him you’d love to help out but your unit chief would be expecting you; he was already running away.

you laughed and accepted your fate, wrapping the leads tightly around your knuckles and sitting cross-legged with them. they were eager for your affection and silly voices, even though they were squashing you in their best attempt at hugging. two large german shepherds, but probably the friendliest police dogs you’d ever seen.

“how do these things always happen to you, agent?”

hotch saw the way your shoulders stiffened, and regretted scaring you. the dogs seemed to pick up on this too, turning to the man with low growls at his interruption. you stifled your mirth at their reaction and twisted on the spot to look up at your slightly formidable, but currently intimidated by the dogs, boss.

you chanced a shrug, careful not to dislodge the canine leaning on your shoulder, “one of many mysteries, sir. wanna say hi?”

the look he gave you then was priceless; it was pure disgust. but at your giddy grin, he did crack the smallest of smiles on the hard stone of his face.

i wish i could make him smile all the time. no, shut up.

your mind was not on your side as you tried not to flush, instead burying yourself in between the dogs and letting them yip happily at the attention.

“don’t you just want one of them forever? or maybe both. look how cute they are!” you put your face between theirs.

hotch risked a muffled laugh and extended a hand, wondering how you were an adult. instead of putting your palm in his own, though you were severely tempted, you handed him the leads for the dogs.

“careful, there’s an angry captain on the prowl with a piss stained van. okay paperwork, bye!”

like the officer before you, you were gone before he could open his mouth to reprimand you. not that he was planning on reprimanding you. he was planning on asking if you wanted to get a drink post-case, but for now he had two other problems in the form of two disgruntled german shepherds.

2. the stray

the neighbourhood you were canvassing was not exactly upmarket. it had a high concentration of crime and poverty, and with that, plenty of malnourished animals that likely carried many diseases. no matter how much you loved them, and you did still love them, you were not planning to kneel down with them and touch. you weren’t carrying hand sanitizer.

“the unsub should be familiar to almost all of these people, he’s prominent in this community, so if- erm, shoo?”

seeing hotch startle back and weakly attempt to ‘shoo’ a stray dog was probably the highlight of your day. she was a small thing, possibly some kind of terrier, but too underfed to tell for sure. she sniffed at his ankles as though he’d have any food kept there, but besides that, made no threatening move. you took pity, unwrapping the sandwich you’d got from the hotel cafeteria to eat for lunch, and ripped it up into pieces to make it easier for her to chew. she wolfed it down and skittered off.

hotch frowned, “why would you give your lunch away?”

“she clearly needed it more than me. i hate people who abandon their pets….” you lamented, watching the assortment of strays on the outskirts of each alley. the dogs formed small packs, while the cats hunted alone, equipped with the ability to catch birds and mice.

the two of you kept walking, knocking on doors, when the idea struck you on the way back to the local precinct. you were only teasing, lacking even an ounce of sincerity.

“you should adopt one! i’m sure jack would be thrilled, and i don’t mind holding it on the plane home.”

he just deadpanned you and walked away at a pace you struggled to catch up with. eventually, he took pity as you had on the dog, and slowed down for you to fall in step next to him once more.

3. movie night

it had taken him quite a while, but hotch did eventually ask you out for that post-case drink, which turned into a few dinners, which turned into regular dates, until the two of you had a designated saturday night. this time, you were at his apartment watching a film he’d picked out from his limited stack of dvd’s.

“oh my god!”

hotch had left you alone for two minutes to get you a glass of water.

he raced back into the room, causing his hair to become disarrayed for probably the first time in his life, only to see you pausing the movie to point out… a dog.

he huffed, “are you kidding? my knees can’t cope with that, woman.”

you laughed, beckoning him over, “i didn’t mean to scare you, but look how cute he is.”

“i can see just fine from here.”

“suit yourself.”

but he caved, and crossed the distance between you. not to stare enthusiastically at the dog, but to kiss you on the cheek and press play on the remote while you were distracted by his affection.

you hummed, “i think i’m gonna get a dog.”

he raised a brow, “it’s never moving in here.”

now both completely ignoring the film playing behind his back, you smiled, “and i am?”

at the risk of sounding too forward and scaring you off, despite you being one of the most intense people he knew (and he knew garcia), hotch merely offered you a shrug and another quick peck before returning to the kitchen. you could hardly contain the glee on your face as you burrowed into the cushion you were clutching and tried not to let your thoughts get ahead of themselves.

4. jack’s plea

“i made a mistake.” hotch murmured to himself, watching you and jack bond.

as he once predicted, you were going to be the death of him. albeit a happy, glittery death.

your activity of choice to bond with the child you’d only officially met once so far, was to take him to a park. a dog park, where you volunteered in your free time. some people took their dogs there, others dropped them off with a volunteer for the workday. jack was jovially bonding with your daily pups, a young golden retriever, and an elderly pomeranian.

he tried to stack them, but you quickly intervened.

“mistake? the only mistake was not letting me get matching boots for him and the dogs.”

hotch just looked at you blankly, lacking the heat of a glare, but clearly unamused with your antics. externally, at least, because on the inside he was definitely smiling fondly at you. you took that from his eyes.

jack, at that moment, rushed to you with the enthusiastic dogs on his heels. you didn’t miss the fact hotch didn’t flinch as they jumped at him, whereas a few months ago he definitely would of. you decided that was progress, kissed him on the cheek, and knelt down to speak to jack.

he whispered conspiratorially, though loud enough for his father to hear, “i want to take one home.”

hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, while you looked between the two gleeful you, “well, little man, these lovely guys belong to some other lovely people who would miss them very much.”

you weren’t going to promise him on of his own. it wasn’t your place, and you were not in the business of making empty promises; you’d all but accepted that aaron’s reluctance translated to ‘never gonna happen’. it was just fun to tease.

jack nodded, “that’s true. i like the big ones, anyway.”

that was not what his dad wanted to hear, but you were elated.

“finally,” you laughed, entwining your arms behind aaron’s neck when jack went back to play, “a hotchner after my own heart.”

he only laughed back, spinning you around so you both had eyes on the adventurous kid, and keeping his arm firmly around your waist. eventually, he responded, “we work too much for a dog.”

the fact he’d even got that far in thinking about it? you considered it a win.

5. clooney

morgan didn’t ask the team for favours all that often, but occasionally he asked one of you to dogsit, if he knew nobody else could check in, feed, walk, and so on. reid never took that bait.

one extended, long weekend, on which he planned to travel to a nice resort on his time off, he handed responsibility to you. at first, you’d been delighted, but not even a day into bonding with your new pal, you’d fallen with the flu. fallen being an accurate term for your dramatics. luckily for you, you’d recently moved in with aaron.

luckily for him too, because you made much better pancakes than he did.

so while you were ill and uncharacteristically miserable, he was playing tug of war with the dog, and cursing himself for thoroughly enjoying it. jack rolled around laughing, and he was struggling to fend off the invasive thoughts that were result of your persistence. he had once promised to dedicating the parts of his life that weren’t reserved for profiling to making you happy, and while that was usually an easy task, a dog would…

but he cut the thoughts off when clooney peed on his kitchen floor.

yeah, fuck no.

later on in the day, he ventured into your shared room to check on you. pitifully, you curled into his side of the bed and offered a morose sniff in reply to his gentle greeting.

“how’re you feeling, honey?”

you sighed, unfolding the covers from where they were tucked into your chin, “you know how you felt when jack accidentally hit you in the skull with his metal lunchbox? worse.”

despite your detailed description, aaron took your verbose approach to his question as a sign you were on the mend. he brought you another glass of water, and let jack give you a get well soon card, while holding your breath to risk contaminating him. on the front, a rough sketch of clooney, holding a flower.

“this is the best card i’ve ever seen, jack.” you assured him, propping it on your nightstand.

“if we had a dog, i could put him on the card!”

you nodded, “that is true.” aaron rolled his eyes.

he was saved by your chest racking cough, ushering jack out the room to let you rest. jack was happy to run back down to clooney.

aaron gave you ‘the look’; it meant calm down and go to sleep. he gave it to the team a lot.

you had to giggle as he went downstairs to jack’s onslaught of ‘can we get a dog? when?’. you were proud of your little ally as you laid back down.

having to work a case on your birthday was unfortunate but unavoidable. the team bought you a cake, which you really appreciated, and until the strangulations, there was a celebratory air to the unit. on the plane home two days later, spencer even offered to let you win at chess. you flipped him off for that.

in the car, you yawned dramatically. amused, aaron asked, “tired?”

you mumbled back, “jus’ wanna go home and see jack.”

he couldn’t ignore the way his heart tightened at that admission. glancing over to your sleepy face, he didn’t think he’d yet been this in love with you. if he regretted the decision he’d made on a phone call to jessica while in california, he would remember this moment. by the time he pulled into the driveway, you’d long since closed your eyes.

“honey, wake up. we’re home.”

you all but slugged your way to the front door, aaron’s hand between your shoulder blades, urging you onward. he carried both your bags, and tomorrow you’d apologise for not helping. today, you just wanted to check your stepson was tucked in for the night, then crawl into your own bed and collapse.

to your confusion, the tv was still playing. which wouldn’t be strange, jessica did put it on sometimes, but it was playing cartoons. you frowned, off to investigate. if you’d turned and seen aaron’s smile, you would’ve been more confused.

“hey, little man, what are you still doing up?” you opened your arms and he ran to them, while you gave his aunt a quizzical look. she gestured for you to turn around, jack giggling.

behind you, aaron held a gorgeous puppy, looking at you with round, brown eyes, inset in a face of smooth fur. his tail whipped back and forth excitedly as you reached out to hold him. aaron deposited him carefully in your arms, overcome with second hand joy at the expression on your face.

tearfully, from your exhausted state and fear of his answer, you asked, “are you kidding?”

he shook his head, while jack drew your attention again. he wanted to pet the puppy.

you lightly put him to the floor, where he ambled around with little grace, absorbing all the attention you had to offer him. at some point, aaron had to intervene and put jack to bed, but you stayed with the dog for hours on.

almost nervously, aaron asked, “do you like him?”

you gaped at the ridiculous question, “i love him. and i love you.”

there was a quiet moment, where he admired the happiness before him, and you hugged your new friend some more.

“can he sleep in with us, aaron?”

“absolutely not.”

#🤍ebullientheart #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #humour #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x reader #hotch fluff #dog #cute dogs #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #sunshine!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #bau!reader #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x sunshine!reader #grumpy x sunshine

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maislovebot · 11 months ago

Note

GOOD MORNINGGGG

how do you think the rest of the DOA members would be like vampies? :3

- 🌀

GOOD MORNING!! Sorry that this is so late, my professor assigned some super hard assignments smh🙏 I honestly find it very interesting to think about the bsd characters in some vampire au so ty for this ask:3

I don’t normally write for Fukuchi but because this is just a small blurb I figured why not! Bram is also different from the others, as his doesn’t take place in an au and instead takes place in canon. Everyone else’s takes place in an au where their vampirism has a completely different set of rules from Bram’s!! You won’t become mindless if they bite you ty

I feel like Fukuchi has the most control out of any of them? He doesn’t really bite you often because he feels like it’s immoral. He’s already committing enough immoral crimes that completely go against everything him and his image stand for. He’s a war hero after all, why would he want to hurt more people than he already has to, especially when hurting you isn’t even going to save anyone. The only real exception would be if he was quite literally starving, and if you’re in poor health? Forget it. He’s never biting you. He would never bite you recreationally, it would only be if he was hiding from another organization and hadn’t eaten in multiple days.

If he were to bite you though, it wouldn’t be very different. He is a man with a lot of willpower and control. He’s able to control himself better than anyone else on this list, in all honesty. He’ll drink the amount he needs to be sustained, then he’s finished. No more no less.

He would enjoy eating nice meals, like perfectly cooked steak, or other things similar. He wouldn’t be very fond of roadkill, because he has the funds to eat at 5 star restaurants pretty much every day. Why eat things he sees on the side of the road?

Bram is similar in the sense that he has self control. He’s aware of the fact that if he were to bite you, you’d be subjected to becoming nothing more than a mindless, blood sucking creature. That isn’t what he wants from you. He wants to be with you for the rest of his days, even if he knows it isn’t realistic because you’re merely human. He’ll try to simply come to terms with the fact he won’t have you for very long, but it’ll only take him maybe 4 months after he’s gotten his body back for him to go on the hunt for something that can make him human, or safely turn you into a vampire. He’s aware of the page because of Fukuchi, and it’s his number one goal to get a hold of it now. He’d prefer to get it by teaming up with whoever is in possession of it, but if that doesn’t work out, he isn’t afraid to take a more villainous approach. Anything to keep you.

In terms of biting you, he never has because he knows what will happen. But oh god has he fantasized about it. It’s all he thinks about. You’d look so pretty with his fangs in your neck.

He didn’t really eat much before he got his body, only being fed whenever Fukuchi had someone he wanted turned, but that didn’t happen much until the vampirism outbreak. Now that he’s gotten his body back, he doesn’t bite people as one, he would feel unfaithful to you, even if nothing became of it and it was purely for feeding. He also wants to make a conscious effort to be good for Aya’s sake. He eats food you make for him. He doesn’t really like going out in public often, so he allows you to cook for him. You’ve made plenty of meals with blood in them, like animals, but you’ve also introduced him to other types of food, and even if they serve him no nutritional value, he finds them delicious.

Fyodor would love to bite you. If you’re just another pawn on his comically large chess board, then he’ll drink your blood with no real intent of giving you anything in return. Sure, he’ll toss you a rag, but you have to clean yourself off! He’s so horrible. If he cares about you, however, he is strangely tender. He has a sense of self control, but sometimes he gets so desperate for your blood he can’t help himself! He’ll hold you down and nibble into your shoulder. He likes biting your shoulder a strange amount. He can’t explain it, it’s just a nice, convenient spot to bite. This is why he loves it when you wear tops with thin or no straps. Makes for east access! Also let’s not forget that this man is anemic. He’d like to bite you to help get his iron levels up, so at least him constantly asking for you to let him bite you has some practical use? If you say no to him biting you, he’ll respect it. He cares about you, he wouldn’t do anything against your will. You’re the light of his life, after all. You’re perfection, therefore, what you say goes.

Whenever Fyodor does bite you, he’s quite literally on top of you, straddling you. He likes the power it gives him, even if in your opinion, he looks rather pathetic biting you while literally straddling you and trembling from how good you taste. He also likes to bite you from the back sometimes. He’ll walk up behind you, hugging you and swaying from side to side before grazing his fangs over your shoulder, awaiting your permission. He is capable of pacing himself, but if he begins ti notice you're getting dizzy more frequently, or you're getting woozy while he's biting you, he'll stop and clean up your bite, wordlessly cleaning you up and cuddling you.

He also likes to eat fine dining. Nothing can quite compare to the taste of your blood, but there are some fair substitutes. He will drink your blood whenever the opportunity presents itself, but he'll also take the two of you out to a nice restaurant and let you order whatevee you please, while he'll order something simple and bloody.

Nikolai is certainly the most strange when it comes to his behaviors. When he bites you he’ll take the blood left over and wipe it on your cheek or something weird like that😭 he also likes biting you in weird places because he finds it funny?? Like he’ll nibble on your fingertips and shit just for funzies?? Similarly to Fyodor, he would bite you whenever given permission. He doesn’t try to limit himself, if you give him permission, why stop? He’d treat you like fine dining. You’re sweet and yummy and Nikolai can’t get enough of it! If you were to tell him no, say that you don’t want him to bite you, he’d roll his eyes playfully but agree. He obviously wouldn’t want you to leave him because he bit you without asking! Then he wouldn’t be able to drink your yummy blood anymore. He also does care about what you have to say, even if he doesn’t admit it because he feels like it makes him seem less free.

As I said earlier, he likes biting weird obscure places, like your fingertips. He’ll lean down like a gentleman and kiss the top of your hand, slowly trailing down and kissing your knuckles, then your fingertips, before finally nibbling your finger tips. As he kisses you he places him hands on your stomach to press you down onto the nearest couch or bed, so you’ll be sitting up comfortably while he leans ahead of you. He also likes biting places like your collarbones, arms, etc. as much as he likes biting in weird obscure places, the neck is nice too. It’s simple, but affective.

He pretty much only drinks your blood..he’ll go a few days without eating (luckily vampires can last sufficiently longer without food that normal humans can), so once you’ve rebuilt your energy he can drink your blood again. Rinse and repeat that process over and over again, and you’ve got Nikolai’s eating habits. He’s also a messy eater..there will be blood pretty much dripping from wherever he bit you when he’s done so he can wipe it on your face or body.

We’ve already talked about Sigma a fair amount, but I’m down to cover the basics. He loves to bite you, in fact nothing can quite compare. He’ll bite you and once he’s done he has this appreciative look on his face. He loves that you’re willing to let him bite you, but he also feels bad. He tends to space out when he bites you, and he prefers biting you in places that have more fat so it hurts less. He’s already a thigh guy but he especially loves biting you there.. your neck is also a good spot to bite though. It’s a little more painful for you, though, so he tends to not bite you there often.

When he’s finished biting you he’ll just lick up the blood, and get a towel. If you’re too tired he’ll just set you down and take a bath with you, bandaging up wherever he bit you. If you’re not, he’ll treat you real good to make up for it. He may love biting you, but somehow, seeing how you’re attached to him at the hip, clinging onto him for the rest of the day is even more satisfying. He finds it cute.

He loves eating stuff you make for him and stuff from nice restaurants, and despite the fact nothing can quite compare to you, he knows he can’t realistically drink your blood every day. You’d get sick, and not to mention it would cause a lot of swelling and bruising. He’d rather space it out.

I was tempted to make this sufficiently more nsfw, but I decided to refrain from anything sexual outside of biting as I didn’t wanna deviate from the original prompt too much..

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months ago

Text

With Teeth

(Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

CW: Talk of drug use; vaguely smuttish (kissing, groping, biting), but nothing explicit. 18+ only just to be safe.

Word Count: 3062

AN: This was originally requested from a prompt list ("i won’t bite. unless you’re into that sort of thing") by @outlawedmando!

Major Crimes isn’t the only division of the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department to host illicit parties. Many of the divisions have their own deals with their own vibes that fit the unique character of the division in question.

Major Crimes, lorded over by Big Nick, is almost a cliché with the booze, women, and drugs.

The Gang Squad is led by a man much like Big Nick, so it’s no surprise that they do it up similarly, only bigger, with more women and harder drugs.

Cold Case Division’s modus operandi is to go out to the desert with big guns and lots of beer and blow shit up.

No one really knows what Parking Enforcement and Services does, but there are jokes about it. Some say lean into the relative lameness, say they unwind with a knitting circle, or scrapbooking evenings when they listen to New Age music. Others say they go fully feral, that they have a fight club in an abandoned warehouse where they beat each to near-death.

In terms of the group with the panache, though, the honor belongs to the Fugitive Apprehension Team. Maybe it’s the nature of their role—always hunting, always on edge and in the front lines of dangerous work. Something makes their unwinding efforts an ultra-chill affair, a complete decompression and sloughing-off of the stress.

The Fugitive Squad is a tight-knit group—arguably tighter than Major Crimes, though the two often overlap. Major Crimes cracks a case, needs someone hauled in? Big Nick drops a call, and it’s like setting a pack of well-trained wolves on the busy streets and dusty roads of Los Angeles County.

On big cases, sometimes the Fugitive Squad invites Major Crimes to their parties and vice versa. Usually Major Crimes attends the Fugitive events, since the Fugitive folks don’t quite care for Big Nick groping hired girls while the fug of cigar smoke hangs over some hotel room.

-----

What does a Fugitive party entail?

Borracho is never clear on who exactly plans them. If it’s a situation where the team takes turns, or if there’s one mastermind behind the events. It’s always at the same place: a low, sprawling mid-century place in the Pacific Palisades, owned by one of the members of the squad who came from old family money.

There’s a pool and beyond it, the ocean. There’s low, cool lighting that swaths everyone in blue shadows. There’s ambient music—a low, steady pulsing beat that seems to sync everyone’s heart rate to the same rhythm. The food is always elegant, an elaborate sushi bar one night, tapas another time. There’s alcohol, plenty of it, but no one ever seems to overdo it to a sloppy degree because everything is so damned chill.

Drugs? Big Nick is partial to coke and often brings enough to the Major Crimes events to get loaded, but the Fugitive parties are purely for the psychedelic shit. Weed, obviously. Mushrooms. Molly. Nothing that will get people worked up: only stuff to calm and maybe take the user to another galaxy while they celebrate another night on the right side of the dirt.

Honestly, Borracho kinda prefers the thing the Fugitive folks have going on. A big joint case has just wrapped up, and he finds himself with an invite along with the rest of his team.

Which means he gets to see you in a more social setting.

At work, you’re all business. Mostly silent, the way Borracho is mostly silent. You let your commanding officer do all the talking the way Big Nick does all the talking, and like Borracho, you stand nearby and look and listen.

Early on, you caught Borracho studying you. It had made your mouth twist in a small smile, and you had winked at him, but it was a lone instance of your personality shining through during work hours.

Off-duty? Fuck, you drive him insane.

It’s not entirely the sort of insanity that comes from flirting and sexual tension. At these parties, you’re someone else completely. Totally at ease, which means you feel comfortable enough to be yourself, to untether your mouth from your brain, and Borracho never knows what the fuck you’ll say to him. If you’ll drop something banal about the Dodgers’ pitching depth, or if you’ll stare at him, unblinking, and ask if he thinks life as he knows it is just a simulation. Because both has happened in the past at these parties, and both were before you even touched a drug.

Tonight, though, he’s late to show up. The party is in full swing, the low bass audible from the street when he parks his truck. He makes his way inside, sees the crush of people dancing in the living room, sees the cluster of people in the dining room where the food and drinks and drugs are laid out. Borracho sees Henderson, tips a nod in his direction, but he keeps walking through the place.

He always seeks you out at these things. He always swears he’ll play it cool, but his resolve always melts away the moment he hits the door.

Borracho finds you in the den—a separate space that usually has a movie projected on the far wall while people sprawl out and trip and sometimes get cozy in the dark room while some old black-and-white movie plays out in the background.

Tonight, you’re settled on the deep leather couch at one end. Another guy is at the other end of the couch, his wide eyes fixed on where “The Third Man” plays against the far wall. There’s a couple curled up on a separate easy chair, murmuring together, making out, and it charges the room with an undercurrent of sexual energy that feels…promising.

It takes you a beat to notice him leaning in the doorway. You’re watching the movie too, and it’s only in a scene break that you glance over and see him.

“Borracho!” you call out. “Finally made it!”

“Never like to arrive too early.”

“Smart, smart. Gives you an air of mystery.”

You smile and continue. “C’mon in. Take a seat, settle in. We’re following Joseph Cotton here around post-war Vienna.” You lift a hand and gesture at the wall.

Borracho tilts his head at the couch where you sit. “No room.”

You turn and look at the guy on the other end of the couch. When Borracho looks closer, he sees it’s one of your coworkers in the Fugitive Squad. He watches as you reach over and swat at him, tell him to move over and make some room. When he does, you turn back to Borracho and pat the middle cushion invitingly.

“C’mon, handsome. I won’t bite.” He cocks an eyebrow at the handsome moniker, but you add, “unless you’re into that sort of thing,” and he realizes that you’re throwing him for a loop like you always do—only this time, you’re flirting with him, not interrogating him about what reality really is.

You drive him fucking insane.

It’s not entirely the sort of insanity that comes from flirting and sexual tension, but it’s a big part of it. At work, it’s the way you move around, the economical way you move when you’re on the hunt. If the Fugitive Squad is a pack of wolves, you’re their panther: more of a big cat padding on quiet paws, ears pitched forward, slinking after prey.

At parties, it’s this: always keeping him guessing, keeping him back on his heels, making him feel like a teenaged boy again straining for just a moment with you. The anticipation of it, the frustration when it never materializes, the eagerness for the next invite to the next party.

He makes his way into the room and sits down beside you. You reach over to the little table beside the couch and snag a small tray with party favors on it. You present it to Borracho with a flourish.

“Want to partake?” you ask.

He squints at the offerings. There’s edibles, a cigarette case of pre-rolls, and some unidentified pills with tiny smiley faces printed on them. He points at them.

“What are those?”

“Designer shit,” you reply. “Boss has a buddy in Twentynine Palms who makes these small-batch, artisanal drugs.”

Borracho snorts. “Hipster shit.”

“Like a macaron shop in a swiftly gentrifying neighborhood.”

“What’s it do?”

You click your tongue as you think. “Little bit of everything, I’d say. Relaxes you like pot, but kinda gives you the euphoria of molly. Also offers the barest bit of trippiness, in case you want to peer behind the veil between realities.”

“Haven’t peered behind the veil lately.”

“Treat yourself, Borracho.”

He plucks one pill from the tray and considers it. “You take one already?”

You answer by taking another pill from the tray, then setting the tray aside. You turn to face him, stick out your tongue, and lay the pill on it. The whole time you hold his gaze, and he holds yours.

A second later, you close your mouth and swallow. “Yes,” you tell him with a smile. “I’ve taken one already.”

You drive him fucking insane. How could he not want you?

-----

Whatever this designer pill is, it’s the sort to creep up slowly on a user.

Borracho relaxes by degrees. Feels himself melting into the couch by degrees, like his bones are softening, his muscles are lengthening. The light from the projector takes on an ethereal glow, and at some point, he blinks and realizes, shit, I’m feeling it now.

He turns his head, heavy against the back of the couch, and sees you. You sense his gaze on you, and you turn your head to face him too.

“How you feeling?” you ask.

“Good.” It comes out rough, a dry-throated croak, and you laugh at him, which makes him smile.

“Good.”

“You?”

“Good.”

“That’s…good,” he replies, and it makes you laugh again, makes him laugh too, and he realizes how much he’s feeling it after all. How effortless it feels to sit beside you right now. He glances up at the movie and sees that it has changed entirely – to some grimy-looking ‘80’s crime drama with a synth soundtrack. The couple who had been making out in the chair have disappeared, and when Borracho turns his head to the other side of him, he sees the third wheel has left too.

How long have the two of you been alone?

Time seems to stretch and distort. He watches the movie, a car chase scene, then blinks and it’s rolling credits. Another blink and it’s another movie, a low budget sci-fi with lots of lasers. He sits on the couch, his legs sprawled wide, and his knee presses against yours.

Blink, and his leg nearest you now is pressed against yours, thigh to thigh, and the heat he can feel coming from you seems to have a shimmering quality when he looks down at where you touch.

Blink, and he’s watching the movie again. There’s an alien in bad makeup, more lasers, a jazzy stream of music that seems to come from somewhere else.

“I am,” he blurts out. He rolls his head again, peers over at you, waits for you to turn and look at him. When you do, you look confused.

“Huh?”

“I am. From earlier.”

You snort, then laugh. “I am so lost right now.”

Blink, and he feels the smile that creeps across his face. “What you said earlier. You asked if I was into it. I am.”

“Into what?”

Blink, and he swallows. Feels the heat of your thigh pressed against his. “You said you wouldn’t bite—”

“—Unless you’re into that.” You pick up the thread and remember. The smile you offer has a feral edge, unless he’s imagining it, which is very likely. Maybe none of this is happening at all: maybe he’s passed out and drooling on the couch while you’re sober and elsewhere, cornering people and trying to discuss string theory.

“You like biting, Borracho?” you ask, and your voice is low, a near whisper. Like you’re sharing secrets, so he whispers back.

“Depends on who’s doing the biting.”

“Hmmm.”

Blink, and you’re moving towards him, that same cat-like fluidity you have at work. He never takes his eyes from you, never blinks, and you don’t either. He watches as you straddle him, settle on his lap. His hands find your waist, then slides them down and back to grasp your ass. Your hands reach up and cup his face, low on his jaw, and you smile down at him.

You’re backlit by the projected wall of the movie. He opens his mouth to say something nice, to tell you how fucking gorgeous you look, but you lean down as you tilt his head and…he thinks you’re going to kiss him, but you brush your lips over his cheekbone until your mouth is right by his ear.

“You want me to bite you?” you whisper, and your warm breath fanning over him makes him shudder, a delicious frisson of trembling through the core of him. He wants to say something slick in return, but he only manages to grunt an affirmative.

Blink, and you lean against him. He can feel your tits pressed against him, can feel the flex of your body as you bend your head. Another blink, and he feels your mouth on him, your soft lips, then your tongue as you taste him—the spot right where his neck meets his shoulder.

Then he feels your teeth on him, a slow and steady sink of your teeth in his skin, and you take him right to the edge of pain and maybe a half step beyond, but no further. His hands grip your ass harder, spasm against the soft curve of you, and he jerks you closer to him because he’s growing hard underneath you—faster than he usually does, and maybe part of it is the drug, but part of it is definitely you.

Your mouth on him, the heady weight of you on him, your hands gripping his face and holding him steady.

You draw your teeth out of him, and you soothe where you’ve marked him with your tongue. You run the tip of your tongue over his dimpled flesh, then kiss him there.

Blink, though, and Borracho finds you climbing off him, and he pushes a disappointed exhale through his pursed lips. You didn’t even kiss his mouth, and he turns to where you settle back on the couch. You catch his pout and offer him an apologetic smile.

“You know we can’t do more,” you offer as explanation.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his jeans too tight. “I think we could.”

Another smile that turns into a laugh. You reach out a hand and lay it on his arm, jostle him playfully. “We could. But we shouldn’t. We’re both pretty fucked up.”

“You’ve never fooled around while stoned?” His voice has a whining edge to it that he doesn’t like, but you keep your hand on him, keep grinning at him, and that’s something, he guesses.

“I have,” you admit. “But within boundaries established whilst sober. I might get sloppy at these parties, but I keep my sloppiness contained within certain limits.”

He can’t help but smile back at you despite the twinge of disappointment in his gut. “You need a lesson from Big Nick.”

At that, you release his arm, fling your head back against the couch and blow out a heavy breath. “God, that asshole.”

“He kinda is, right?”

“He has a sort of all-encompassing sloppiness that I can’t support, Borracho.” You turn your head, smile again. “Tempting though you may be.”

He sighs but smiles back at you. “You know you drive me fucking crazy, right?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widen—you look genuinely surprised.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be shitty with me now?”

He shakes his head. He’s never been the type of man to get a bug up his ass about a woman not putting out. He’s never gotten angry at dates that led to nothing, or dates who changed their mind. That’s life, and he’s always thought of men who got shitty about women not putting out as childish assholes.

Besides, he’s gotten plenty. He knows what it feels like to have you on top of him, how it feels to have your tits pressed against him. He knows what your mouth feels like and will bear the mark of your teeth for at least a week until the bruise fades. He knows that your ass feels amazing under his big hands.

“If you ever want to establish boundaries while sober…” he starts, then trails off, and it makes you laugh again. It’s probably the drugs, but he’s made you smile more, laugh more in this one evening than he has in all the time since he’s known you.

“Don’t open that door if you don’t want me walking through it, Borracho,” you warn.

Maybe he’s sobering up a bit, because he manages to both think of a slick line and deliver it.

“You’re Fugitive Squad, baby. You can kick down my door anytime you want.”

It’s the coup de grace of the moment: you throw your head back and laugh, deep belly laughs that come from deep inside you. You throw out a hand and brace yourself against his shoulder, and he chuckles along with you.

“Duly noted,” you finally manage to say once you calm. “I’ll hit you up sometime.”

Borracho nods. “You should.”

Then, because he’s still loose from the drugs, still feeling pretty damned good, still wanting to show that he’s not going to be shitty about you clambering off him, he lifts his arm in invitation.

“C’mon,” he says. “At least curl up with me here. I need someone to ground me so I don’t drift off to Saturn.”

You don’t even hesitate to move closer and tuck yourself under his arm and against his side, and that’s how you both fall asleep within the hour, and how you both wake up just before dawn—both dry-mouthed and cranky, but not so cranky that you don’t sheepishly exchange numbers.

And Borracho might think you’re just being nice, but you call him that evening, stone-sober, eager to kick in his door at his earliest convenience.

#kinktober2024 #clear the inbox 2024 #tropes #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon imagine #benny magalon x reader #borracho magalon imagine #borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon #den of thieves

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elizabethemerald · 2 months ago

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Inside the Mystery Machine

I was inspired by @emmakubert 's art on the gang on the way to another mystery. I particularly liked the conspiracy board on the wall. I hope you enjoy this!

Interviewer: Max Stevenson: I’m here interviewing Mystery Inc, the group of young adults who managed to solve the Mystery of the Blair’s Haunted Mansion. So tell me, what inspires a group such as yourselves to solve crimes like this?

The group is gathered around the open back doors of their vehicle, dubbed the Mystery Machine.

Fred Jones: Well we don’t usually go out of our way to solve crimes, we want to solve mysteries.

Daphne Blake: Yeah, it just turns out, a lot of the ghosts and creepy things are just creepy guys in masks.

Velma Dinkley: Through the use of complex technologies, smoke and mirrors, and more than a little gullibility from the locals, they can pass themselves off as something truly haunted.

Shaggy Rogers: Like, I’d prefer we not solve crimes or mysteries at all, but these things just happen to us.

Scooby-doo: Ruh-huh. Real rary ruff. [Uh-huh. Real scary stuff.]

I am momentarily blown away by their dog, Scooby-doo responding to my question.

Me: You have a talking dog?!?

The group seem immediately dismissive, even the dog rolls his eyes.

FJ: Oh we’ve done a dozen interviews about Scooby already. Yeah, he can talk. Some things are just like that.

The group seems ready to leave, Blake and Dinkley already beginning to pack their belongings into the van while Rogers has gathered what looks like the entire pantry from the Blair Manor. Jones keeps his attention on me, but clearly looks like he is finished speaking on the matter. However, I am still interested in speaking with them. Looking around quickly I settle on the van they are packing.

Me: Before you leave, I’m curious about your van, you travel around in it, correct?

FJ: Oh yeah! She’s my baby! We’ve all worked together to fix her up, and keep her functioning.

I can practically see the excitement from Jones to discuss the van in depth. The others are also more interested.

Me: Why don’t you tell me all about her? With the four of you living in the van, do things ever get crowded?

Blake and Dinkley open the back doors wider, while Rogers continues packing away the food into a cabinet built into the side of the van’s wall.

DB: Not really, we keep the back pretty open so when we stop for the night we have plenty of space for an inflatable mattress.

FJ: And if we need a little more space we have the front two seats as well.

Blake laughs and Dinkley giggles.

VD: Freddy usually sleeps up there, he likes to keep watch to make sure nothing sneaks up on us.

FJ: It’s come in handy a few times!

SR: It sure has Freddy, though Scoob here will wake us if anything bad happens.

Me: It looks like the interior is pretty heavily modified, you even have a kitchen back here?

They do indeed have what appears to be a mini kitchen built into the wall. There is a single burner stove top, a mini fridge, and several cabinets.

DB: Well Shaggy, this is your area, why don’t you explain?

SR: You know man, eating properly on the road is hard, so we gotta do what we can. The fridge and the rest of the lights inside run off solar panels that Velma installed. I usually try to prep a couple of meals whenever we stop in a new area so we have stuff as we travel.

VD: The biggest problem is keeping this glutton and Scooby from eating it all!

The others laugh and Rogers smiles. Doo laughs and has a quite tall sandwich in his paws which he then eats in one gulp. The rest laugh like this is expected.

FJ: Next up we have the armory! Daphne and I put this together so we would have all the trap things we could need to catch a crook or a spook. We’ve got ropes, nets, some projectors of our own, a jar of soap to make things slippery.

Me: Freddy, you don’t actually have any weapons in your armory?

FJ: Please call me Fred. Freddy is for if we’re dating.

Me: O…k…?

DB: We have one weapon! I have a bat I keep in the front just in case someone tries to mess with us.

FJ: The thing is, we’re not monster hunters, or even like crime fighters or anything like that. We’re mystery solvers.

VD: We could carry silver weapons, or salt, or holy water, or whatever the local rumors might say will banish or harm the ghoul of the hour. But again, most of what we face are rich weirdos in masks. All of that would be a waste, and we would already have to replace the holy water whenever it expires.

SR: Holy water expires? Does it lose its holiness or does it like go stale?

VD: Uh, it stays as holy as it was before, but it loses potency. But again, would be useless against like 67.3% of those we face.

Me: Wow you sure know a lot about holy water.

DB: That brings us neatly to the next section of the van!

FJ: Yeah Velms! Show em the library.

Jones has come to lean on Blake’s shoulders while Dinkely blushes.

VD: Yes I suppose our library is my brain child.

She climbs into the back of the van to show a modest library opposite the rack of ropes and trap equipment. Several of the books look to be older than all of us combined.

VD: These are books that I have gathered during our adventures.

FJ: snickers You mean stolen!

VD: Borrowed! I borrowed them!

DB: Babe, i think borrowed means you plan on returning them at some point.

VD: Anyways! While most of the mysteries we solve end up being caused by some land owner annoyed that he has to pay property taxes, or that he can’t legally exhort even more money from the local underprivileged persons-

DB: Your inner Marxist is showing again.

SR: I’m mean, she is right.

VD: As I was saying before these hooligans interrupted me, there is a small portion of the mysteries we encounter that are truly paranormal in nature, and having literature on their nature is invaluable, hence our collection of supernatural tomes. Of course, my actual library is here on my tablet in e-reader format.

DB: And if you had a choice the whole van would be filled with books and we would have to sleep on the roof.

SD: Rit’s not so rad. [It's not so bad.]

VD: And if you had your way, we would all sleep in one big bed at the Ritz!

FJ: Last up for the van tour is our map!

Jones points to what can only be described as a combination conspiracy board and map of the country. There are red strings going every which way, newspaper clippings, and thumb tacks all over the place.

DB: All of us work on this together. We don’t want to drive from one end of the country to the other chasing mysteries without a plan.

VD: Daphne and I work together to track and verify rumors and stories that might be related to mysteries that might need our investigations.

DB: Freddy then adds in the places we need to go to maintain the van, gas stations, pit stops, shops and stuff.

FJ: My dad gave me a big atlas in case I ever ran into car trouble.

VD: Then Shaggy adds the spots to maintain us, like food stops.

SR: And like, not haunted spots. We gotta relax sometimes, man.

SD: Rot that rit ralways rorks. [Not that it always works.]

SR: That’s true, sometimes mysteries just happen around us even when we aren’t searching for them.

VD: Then I put it all into an algorithm to chart the most efficient path. This way we can get to as many mysteries as possible without having to put unnecessary miles on the van or stress on us.

Me: Wow you really are a news worth bunch. So, Daphne, Velma, do you ever feel like you don’t have any privacy while traveling with the boys?

The two women look at each other, confused.

DB: Why would we need privacy?

FJ: Hey gang, if we want to make our next stop by sundown, we should head out soon.

Rogers finishes settling the food in the kitchenette and Blake and Dinkley clamber into the back. Doo runs around to the front of the van to sit in the passenger seat while Jones takes the drivers.

SR: Like, thanks for the questions, man. See ya!

Truly the members of Mystery Inc are an intrepid lot, and there are a few mysteries about the members themselves that still remain to be solved. Max Stevenson, signing off.

#mystery inc #daphne blake #velma dinkley #fred jones #shaggy rogers #the scooby gang #scooby doo #writing emerald

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dystopyx-blog · 6 months ago

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scratch

You have an itch.

A terrible, gnawing, festering itch.

It eats away at you, daily, nightly.

It’s just there, at the back of your every thought.

And you can’t for the life of you find a way to scratch it.

And so it remains, constant, nagging, unbearable.

Until you’re finally able to scratch it.

And when you do, it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced.

Then it’s all over. The itch that had been plaguing you for what might’ve been months is gone, and you can live your life in peace!

You’ll never have to worry about that damned itch again.

Or at least, that’s what you think.

But eventually, when you least expect it, it returns.

It itches.

You think it might even be worse than before.

It’s begging, begging for you to scratch it!

And so you do.

You realize this itch of yours isn’t something you can be rid of, at least not permanently. But that’s okay, because you know how to deal with it.

With time, it becomes predictable. You form a routine. You set up a system so that the next time it comes, you’re ready to scratch it. And all of a sudden, it’s no longer an aggravating rash that burdens your every day life. It’s more of an everyday irritant, one you can take care of with the right steps and procedures.

Except this “itch” of yours couldn’t be further from an everyday irritant; because to scratch your itch

somebody needs to die.

You live in a world divided by two; the darlings and the yanderes.

Darlings are the “normal” people. Everyday, run of the mill citizens. Each one is unique in their own way. Each has their own aspirations, dreams, flaws, fears, past, quirks, and so on.

Yanderes are the same way in that sense. Except there’s one key trait separating them from the rest of the world, the “darlings”; a sickness that darlings are incapable of having, but runs rampant in every yandere.

Love sickness.

Yanderes are obsessed bastards by their very nature, and once they find the object of their obsession, it’s game over for everyone else.

Yanderes are willing to commit any sort of heinous crime to ensure their “love” remains with them.

And for years, the rest of the world was forced to accept this as simply the way that it is.

Until the creation of “Yancity”.

Technically its real name is San Valentín, but nobody calls it that. From its inception everyone called it “Yandere City”, which was eventually shortened to “Yancity.”

Your government tracked down every last yandere it could (how so was beyond you) and shipped them off to some city in Alaska.

And to keep them there, they filled the city with darlings, too.

Living in the city was free, aside from food and accoutrements. There were plenty of apartments, rent was nonexistent, and jobs were easy to find and get. Life is easy in Yandere City; so long as you ignore the fact that you’re a sheep in a city of wolves.

So the poor, homeless, and otherwise down on their luck offer themselves to the gates of hell.

You are one of many willing victims, though you are no sheep.

You are a snake who slithered its way into the wolf den so you can safely shed your skin.

You’ve found the perfect place to scratch that itch.

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii this is the prologue chapter for my yandere x reader story “Scratch.”

if it interests you, you can read it on quotev :)

#tw yandere #yanderes #yandere #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #original fiction #yandere fiction #yandere fic #female yandere #yandere male #yandere harem #nonbinary yandere

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thebigbadbatswife · 1 year ago

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Date Night

Pairing - Oliver Queen x F!Reader

Summary - “Dinner’s going to get cold,” he said between pants, but made no actual effort to stop you. “Then we’ll eat it cold,” you muttered, pressing kisses down his muscular chest. Only stopping briefly to bite and suck at his skin, leaving lovebites all over his torso..." You and Oliver have a date night, but end up skipping straight to dessert.

Warnings - 18+ content, Smut, Oral Sex (male and female receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Sex, Fluff

Word Count - 2.2k

You gripped the railing of the fire escape, swinging over the edge and landing on one of the lower levels. Your heart was still hammering against your chest, blood rushing through your veins. The adrenaline from tonight had yet to wear off. While plenty of criminals had been taken off of the streets tonight, thanks to you, you had cut your usual patrol short for it was finally date night. Something that you were very excited for.

Between your watch over Star City and Oliver saving the world with his Justice League friends, neither of you had had much time for each other. It was frustrating at times. Barely having time to say good morning, good night or even share a quick kiss before one of you was off again. Though, it had allowed you to discover what they say is true. Absence certainly did make the heart grow fonder.

Sitting on the fire escape, outside of the window of your shared apartment, was a big black cat. His face was scarred up from the many fights he had gotten from living on the streets for the majority of his life. You still thought he was a completely handsome cat though.

“Hey, big boy,” you greeted him as he got up and started to rub his body around your legs, tail held high and already purring like a truck. You reached down and scratched the top of his head. “Did your dad not hear you and left you out here all cold and hungry?” you coed as you scooped him up into your arms. “How about we get you something to eat, hmmm?”

The window was opened just enough that you could slid the fingers of your free hand into the gap and open it. As you climbed into the apartment, you were greeted with the delicious smell of food cooking. It had your mouth watering and your stomach grumbling. You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were. Of course, nothing worked up an appetite quite like crime fighting and no one cooked like your Ollie did.

“What are you cooking?” you called out. “It smells amazing!” Now that you were inside your cat leapt from your arms and took off toward the kitchen.

“My world’s famous chilli!” Oliver replied. Your stomach grumbled at the thought of it. It sounded divine.

As you rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, your jaw dropped at the sight of Oliver. He was wearing nothing, but a pair of grey sweats that were riding rather low on his hips. All of a sudden, you were hungry for something else entirely.

“You’re drooling,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder. Green eyes sparkling with amusement. You were positive he had done it on purpose to get this sort of reaction out of you. You immediately shut your mouth and rolled your eyes at him.

“You’re such a dick.”

You walked passed him, returning your focus on getting your cat some dinner. You could always jump Oliver afterwards.

“How long till dinner’s ready?” you asked, reentering the kitchen after you had set down a bowl of wet food on the cat tree. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder and letting your eyes close for a moment.

“A couple more minutes,” he replied. You hummed in response.

You loved this. This almost domestic bliss that the two of you were currently living. To think that there was a time where you believed that you would never find a love like this. Your eyes snapped opened when a spoon was suddenly pushed into your mouth. You groaned at the taste. “Damn, that’s good. Though I would add some more spice next time.”

You heard Oliver scoff. “More spice? It’s damn perfect the way it is!” He feined hurt over your comment.

“Is it though?” you teased, laughing softly as he scowled at you. You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

With the stove now off and the apartment not in danger of burning down, you pushed him up against the kitchen counter and kissed him deeply. Oliver moaned into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you, holding you closer. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths as your hand appreciated his muscular body, sliding down to where you could already feel him starting to press against you.

“Dinner’s going to get cold,” he said between pants, but made no actual effort to stop you.

“Then we’ll eat it cold,” you muttered, pressing kisses down his muscular chest. Only stopping briefly to bite and suck at his skin, leaving lovebites all of his torso.

You dropped down onto your knees, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pulled them down, freeing his half hard cock. With your hand wrapped around him, stroking him, it didn’t take him long to become fully hard. You licked him from base to tip before pressing a kiss to the tip, drawing a shudder from him.

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, meeting and holding his gaze, you took the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head before starting to suck on it, your hand stroking what wasn’t inside of your mouth. He moaned deeply, resisting the urge to thrust deeper in your mouth. Slowly, inch by inch, you started to take more of him, stopping when he was about halfway in. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock as you pulled him out and flicked the tip with your tongue.

Oliver moaned deeply as you repeated your motions, taking him deeper and deeper each time until he hit the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, using your throat muscles to massage his cock. His breathing stuttered as he shivered.

“Fuck, beautiful,” he panted, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white. Your mouth wrapped around his cock felt amazing. Especially after it had been so long. It was impossible for him to be mad that dinner was going to be cold by the time the two of you sat down to ate.

You hollowed your cheeks as you started to bob up and down his cock. Your hand came up to cup his balls and massage them, thoroughly enjoying the deep, guttural moan that left him. While your other hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against yourself through your suit, to ease the ache there.

Oliver groaned and occasionally muttered little curses and words of praise as you bobbed up and down his cock. You loved how loud he got during a blow job. Not only was there nothing sexier than hearing a man moan, but it made you feel good. And the fact that you could reduce him into a moaning, whimpering mess with just your mouth made you feel powerful.

“Oh, God,” he gasped your name. His head falling backwards, eyes closing. “Don’t stop.”

His breathing was fast and ragged, the muscles in his stomach tensing. Cock growing harder and balls tightening. He was getting close. So you doubled up on your efforts. You wanted to feel him coming down your throat. It didn’t take much longer before he was moaning your name as he came down your throat. You did your best to swallow every last drop, swirling your tongue around the slit before finally letting him go.

Oliver was panting hard, body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. You removed your hand from between your thighs and climbed back up onto your feet. The ache there was becoming unbearable. You desperately wanted, needed, his mouth on your pussy. You pressed your body up against his, capturing his lips with yours. He groaned at the taste of himself still lingering on your tongue.

His hands were greedy, as they roamed and grabbed at your breasts and ass. You grabbed the hand that was currently groping your ass and directed him to your pussy. He immediately applied pressure there, rubbing you through your suit. You moaned, hips bucking. It wasn’t enough. He caught on quickly and removed his hand. Deft fingers made quick work of the various buckles and straps of your suit and boots. Discarding the pieces to the side, along with your underwear and sports bra, before he lifted you up onto the counter.

You spread your legs for him, letting him get a clear view of just how wet you were. Slick dripped from you and onto the counter. The green of his eyes were almost completely swallowed by his pupils as he drank in the sight of you, swallowing thickly. He didn’t waste another second as he dove between your legs. He lapped up your arousal before sweeping his tongue through your lower lips and latching his lips around your engorged clitoris.

Relief was the first thing you felt. Your pussy finally getting the attention from the man you had been agonisingly waiting for to relieve that ache that your hands and toys just couldn’t. The relief didn’t last long as it was replaced by an intense wave of pleasure.

“Ollie!” you mewled, your fingers buried in his hair, keeping his head there. His hands were keeping your legs spread so you couldn’t wrap them around his head. You already knew that you weren’t going to last very long. You were too wound up for that.

He released your clit and before you could complain or whine, he pushed his tongue inside of you. You murmured and moaned his name as he made love to you with his mouth. As he fucked you with his tongue, he nuzzled your clit with his nose.

Your orgasm came quickly and you gushed into his mouth as you came with a cry. Your hips bucked and you grinded against his face as you rode the waves of your climax. Much like you earlier, he did his best to lap up every last drop.

As you came down from your high, Oliver pulled away, chuckling deeply. He kissed up your body before kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself on his own lips and tongue.

“Well that was certainly good for my ego,” he said, grinning.

You rolled your eyes for the second time that night and playfully hit at him. “Fuck you,” you replied.

“I’d much rather fuck you, beautiful.” He kissed you again. This time harder and more demanding. You could feel his cock, already rock hard again, rubbing up against the inside of your thigh. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

He entered you in a single thrust, immediately bottoming out. The sudden intrusion had you gasping against his lips. You loved the feeling of Oliver inside of you. In both length and girth he was the perfect fit. Like the two of you were made for each other.

Your walls fluttered and squeezed around his cock as he started to thrust. He dragged his cock out of you, making sure you could feel every inch and vein as he pulled out until only the head was left inside before roughly thrusting back inside of you. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you moaned wantonly, the noise complaints be damned.

Your first orgasm had left you extremely sensitive, a fact that Oliver was quick to pick up on. He smirked against the skin of your neck, where he had been kissing and gently biting you. He trailed his lips up to your ear and nibbled on your earlobe.

“Let’s see how quickly I can make you cum this time,” he whispered in your ear. His breath sent goosebumps across your skin.

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was thrusting into you harder than before, stealing the air out of your lungs with each one. He pressed his thumb against your clitoris and started rubbing. The amount of pleasure you were feeling made you felt like you were going to go insane from it. You were really digging your nails into his shoulders now, likely hard enough to end up drawing blood. Not that he seemed to notice or care.

When you came, you came hard, gushing around his cock. You swore you saw stars as you voiced turned hoarse crying his name. The squeezing of your cunt around Oliver’s cock was too much and he quickly followed you over the edge, burying himself to the hilt as he emptied himself deep inside of you.

Slowly, the two of you came down from your delirious highs. You hissed as he pulled out of you, your overly sensitive cunt protesting at the movement. He grabbed a dish towel, using it to clean the both of you up.

“Welcome home sex is definitely at the top of the list,” he said after kissing you.

“Definitely,” you agreed. You hopped off of the counter and his hands immediately found their way to your waist, steadying you when you stumbled slightly. “We should probably shower, put on some clean clothes and have dinner.”

He hummed. “Or we could just eat dinner naked. After all what’s the point of getting clean and wearing more clothes when I’m going to want desert straight afterwards?”

You had a very long night ahead of you and you could not wait.

#oliver queen x reader #green arrow x reader #oliver queen x fem!reader #green arrow x fem!reader #oliver queen smut #green arrow smut #my writing

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gurugirl · 2 years ago

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The Con Artist | Part 5*

Summary: You and Harry admit how much you like one another but a traumatic event confuses everything and leaves you feeling unsafe and terrified. Harry thinks he's doing the right thing by keeping his distance.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This is part of a short series. This part might have some triggering content. Read warnings before continuing.

The Con Artist Masterlist

12.4k words

Warning: Smut, angst, a kidnapping attempt, use of guns & drugs, some violence, a quick hospital scene

◈ ◈ ◈

You told Harry everything. All about your methods of getting a man to take you to his home or hotel room. That you had a dealer who supplied you with the pills (and weed for yourself), who also bought the jewelry off of you. You told him how much money you’d been able to save and told him that most of it was still stashed in your apartment, hidden away, and that you never kept any of the items you stole for fear of being searched one day and found with evidence. The cash could be explained. A Rolex with a serial number that matched a stolen one was much more difficult to talk your way out of.

You were nervous telling him, though. He was still a cop and you were still a suspect in a case. But you trusted him. You knew it was safe to tell him and if you wanted to really give it a go with him for whatever it was you two were doing, then you needed to be honest with him like he’d been with you.

And Harry learned that you weren’t some super devious criminal mind who knew the law and how to work the system. You just learned things as you went and you’d been lucky until you stole from the wrong men. Men that had some sort of influence and who had security cameras and lots of money.

But he was impressed with how much money you’d made over the years. You were a little bit scrappy and very brave. And you had more money than he did. A lot more in fact.

“Think I got into the wrong line of business. Bet I could get rich women to take me back to their home and make a fortune,” Harry laughed.

“You totally could. But women are harder than men. Women are smart and think about outcomes and the big picture. Men tend to narrow their ideas a little and think of the immediate idea but not much past that. Especially when they think they’re about to get lucky. So it’s easy to get a man to take you back to their place. A woman would take more time to work. Except you are quite attractive,” you reasoned.

It was freeing to tell Harry everything. He had plenty of questions for you and seemed to be more intrigued than put off. You’d never told a man you slept with about what you did honestly. But Harry was… well he was Harry.

You two didn’t wind up getting as much sleep as you intended that night. You ate the rest of the convenience store junk food for dinner and tried to sit through watching some crime drama program on TV but when you two got into a heated debate about which television show was better, Killing Eve or The Mentalist (there is no competition, Killing Eve is far superior), Harry told you he knew more about the law than you and then he Harry dragged you over his lap, pulled your shorts down, and spanked you, which led to him fucking you so hard against the headboard that the wall behind it was punctured. You both laughed about it but the headboard hid the damage well enough.

And then you woke before the sun rose and Harry had you in his arms next to him and you couldn’t help yourself when you kissed over his chest and nuzzled into his pecs a little, kissing over his nipples and Harry woke up when he felt your mouth on him.

“What’re you doing?” He spoke in a groggy voice.

You tilted your head back to peer up at him, “Your chest is so nice, Harry. Your muscles and little nipples. I’ve never felt the need to kiss on a man’s pecs before I met you,” you grinned at him. And it was true. Harry’s body was insane but his chest was so nice and he always smelled so good anyway, so it was hard to control yourself when it was right there in your face.

Harry adjusted his hold on you and moved himself down to your breasts, “I feel the same about your pecs…” he laughed as he licked over your left nipple but you weren’t laughing. His warm mouth on your tit, the way his back was flexing, the messy head of brown curls at your chest, his naked body…

You pushed him down and climbed on top and rode him hard. It was a delicious pre-dawn orgasm for you both before going back to sleep for a few more hours, only to wake up and do it all again.

Harry had you on your back as he hovered over you, fucking you slowly as you both gradually woke up and worked yourselves toward release. Sleeping naked together also didn’t help. You both insisted that was the best way to sleep, and it truly is, but when you’re naked and in bed with a man that looks like Harry, and talks like Harry, with a cock like Harry’s, well, you learned you cannot resist and when he was just as down as you the result was a lot of sex.

And plus you just really liked him and he really liked you. Even if you were debating about crime dramas or arguing about UK politics (which you really knew very little about, but you wouldn’t admit that to him and let him win) it was all like foreplay to you. And he liked your attitude and how combative you tended to be even if he said you were a brat for it.

By the time you’d packed up your things and gotten a ride from Bob to the shop to get Harry’s car, you were so satisfied from all the orgasms you had, you felt like you could resist Harry sufficiently for a while. And Harry was probably in the best mood you’d ever seen him in. Of course, he was, he’d been having sex for almost two days straight and getting his prick sucked. All those feel-good hormones would put anyone in a good mood.

The bumper didn’t match the rest of the car but Harry didn’t want to wait any longer to get it painted to match. He’d worry about that later. It was road-ready and it was time to head back North to Cottonwood.

You and Harry decided to head back to your mom’s to get your car, stay the night in Cottonwood, and then figure out what to do next. Before you got back on the road Harry had made the decision to call Rebecca and tell her what was going on (well, a version of what was going on).

The call didn’t last as long as you thought it would. Harry was leaned against the driver’s side door while you fiddled with your phone inside the car. You could hear most of what was said.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry,” he lied that he’d left his phone in his car after the small accident and it took longer to get the car worked on than he anticipated.

He said he was still trailing you but that he was having doubts that you were guilty anymore which had your ears perk up.

“I haven’t seen anything from her that suggests she’s the one. I thought I had a good lead but I was wrong, Volanti… I understand… I know,” he sighed as he spoke.

When he got into the car he rubbed his hands over his face and then looked over at you, “She wants me to stay on you for one more week just in case, and then they’re going to start moving the case to a cold file of sorts if there aren’t any more reports of the crime. She said you’re probably on to me which is why you haven’t made a move,” Harry laughed, “and I guess technically that’s true.”

You smiled and nodded, “I’m definitely on to you Detective Styles,” you laughed, “but does that mean I won’t be a suspect anymore once the file is moved?”

Harry started the car up and looked in his rearview mirror as he backed up, “You’ll still be a suspect, but as long as you don’t do anything it should be okay. I think they’ll put less focus on it, that’s what happens with cold files. The case still gets worked, just not as aggressively.”

That all sounded like very good news to you. It was a relief to know it was Harry that was the one who was working the case and not another cop. If had been anyone else you might already be in jail at that very moment.

The drive back to Cottonwood was smooth going. Your mom was surprised you were coming back so soon, and that you were bringing Harry.

“So…” Harry said with a sigh, “I was thinking I’d just get a room and that motel. I don’t want you to get all bent out of shape over it. I just think out of respect for your mom we shouldn’t be sleeping in your room together.”

You frowned but you knew he was probably right. It wouldn’t be smart to have him in your bedroom with your mom right next door. There’s no way you’d be able to stop yourself from doing something to provoke him and then getting dicked down even with your mom so close.

“Well, what if you just slept on the couch?” You looked over at him as he stopped at the stop sign before accelerating. You were only a few minutes from your mother’s house.

“Y/n,” Harry glanced over at you before placing his site back on the road, “I still think that’s a bad idea. From what I gather about you over these last few days,” he smiled keeping his eyes ahead, “is that you’d probably try and seduce me anyway. Just knowing I’m in the same house as you would be trouble. You can’t resist this,” he gestured his hand over himself.

You scoffed and shoved his arm, “Shut up. You’re the one that would be begging me to let you in my bedroom. If anyone’s weak here it’s you. Just consider how we met and that’s all I need to say for you to know I’m right,” you crossed your hands over your chest with a grin as you looked out the window.

Harry laughed, “Oh please. You were so dickmatized by me that you didn’t even see it when a cop was inviting you to his room. And the way you begged me this morning…” Harry pulled up in front of your mom’s house and parked, “you’re obsessed with me and my cock and you can’t deny it.”

You squinted your eyes in fake annoyance as you looked at the man who was grinning at you. You realized it was a bad idea to have him stay at your mom's. Of course, it was. You were both unable to resist and that was the truth.

Harry grabbed your suitcase and pulled it from his trunk, rolling it up to your mom’s front door behind you.

Your mom had left for work already, she told you to make yourself at home. You led Harry to your bedroom and he looked around at everything in your room when he sat your luggage by the door. You watched him closely as he leaned in and looked at pictures and the little trinkets you had from when you were younger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you said to Harry. He stood upright and turned back to you and nodded.

When you got back to your room, Harry was sitting on the edge of your bed with a shoe box in hand and that damn dimpled grin. Your eyes widened when you realized what shoebox it was. You had a variety of shoeboxes where you kept little things for yourself. Small mementos, notes from friends and exes, pictures, and in the specific box he was holding, a small dildo, plastic cuffs with pink fur, and a half-used box of condoms. It was from your quick stint in college. You’d upgraded to a nicer dildo and vibrator when you moved to LA and so you didn’t need the beginner one in that box. Your mother knew you had it in there, she was the one who encouraged you to buy one in the first place. Not in a creepy way, but in a it’s healthy and normal to explore your body kind of way.

The condoms were for when you were fucking your ex, the guy who took your virginity. They were probably expired. And the cuffs, well they were mostly just a joke. They’d actually never been used before.

You walked to Harry and grabbed the box but he put his hands over yours and pulled you down onto the bed next to him, his grin widening, “What’s wrong, dear?” He laughed as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s rude to go through someone’s personal shit, Harry. That’s from a long time ago anyway,” you tried taking the box from him but he lifted it up and out of your reach as he shook his head.

“Is it? Isn’t that what you do for a living? Going through people’s personal shit? Just thought this little thing looked quite well used is all. How many times did you make yourself come using it?” Harry was leaning in toward you as he kept the box just out of your reach.

“What is wrong with you?” You pushed at him but you couldn’t stop the smile that started to crawl over your face so you turned away from him.

Harry reached around and put his fingers at your chin and pulled your face back in his view. He’d placed the box down behind him and he brought his mouth over yours as his other hand took your wrists in his hand so you couldn’t grab the box like he knew you’d try for.

You laughed into his mouth but then Harry softly licked your top lip and moved his lips gently to the edge of your mouth and down to your jaw and spoke into the curve of where your neck and jaw met, “When does your mom get home?”

You would have rolled your eyes at him but his lips were brushing down your neck and your brain didn’t seem to work very well around Harry. You sighed and closed your eyes, “A couple of hours,” you spoke softly.

Harry let go of your wrists and stood from the bed, removing the lid from the box and dumping its contents out. He lifted the little dildo and raised his brows at you, “Good. Then you have time to show me how you use this on yourself,” he walked to stand over you where you sat and you tilted your head back to look up at him.

“Harry… come on. Seriously…” you said as you started to shake your head.

Harry tilted his head to the side and looked at the dildo and then down at you before getting to his knees on the floor and crawling between your legs, moving them apart to fit himself in, and placing the dildo down by your thigh, “What if I beg you?” He put his arms on either side of your lap and gave you, what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes, “Say yes, please. I want to see it. Please?”

How were you supposed to say no to him when he rounded his eyes like he did and spoke so sweetly, using, please?

You closed your eyes and shook your head with a smile, “Harry, you’re insane,” you laughed before opening your eyes to look back at the man between your legs. He moved his hands up to the tops of your thighs and kept his eyes soft on you, “Please, Y/n?”

You huffed a breath through your nose and brought a hand up to his jaw, “Okay. Then you’ll need to do something for me next time I ask. No matter what it is.”

Harry nodded and hoisted himself up to crawl over you, making your back hit the mattress and he pressed his mouth onto your neck. You felt him pluck at the front of your shorts to unbutton them and then he swiftly moved them down your legs before pushing you further into your bed as he stayed over you.

He sat up and ran both hands on the insides of your thighs and pushed your legs further apart. You were still wearing your panties when Harry began to thumb over the spot where your clit was hidden under the cotton of your underwear.

“Gonna get you all wet first,” he looked from where his thumb was up to your face, “which shouldn’t be hard since you love my fingers on you. Don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and looked down to where his hand was, “You’re so full of yourself.”

Harry let out a loud laugh and removed his hand. He stopped for a moment as he looked down at you before tearing your panties down your legs and behind him into the floor. Harry scooted himself so he was latched on to your pussy with his mouth and that effectively shut you up.

Harry’s mouth was good. He was good, there just wasn’t any other way to put it really. He knew what he was doing when it came to cunnilingus and you loved being on the receiving end. And it was obvious Harry loved giving head too.

The moment you were drenching his chin he backed away with a gasp and looked over your pussy, “All wet. Now it’s time to show me what you do with this little thing,” he said as he lifted the dildo up and pressed it over your clit.

You bucked up toward it and Harry smiled, “Oh? Do you want me to use it on you?” He smiled down at you as he lowered the silicone tip to your entrance, “I’ll do it for a little bit but then I want to watch how you do it.”

Harry pushed the toy inside of your cunt and you closed your eyes. You’d never had a man use a toy on you before so it felt so vulnerable to be lying on your childhood bed letting a cop fuck you with your old dildo.

“Not as big as me, but this works nicely for you I bet. Look how wet you are, Y/n…” Harry slid the dildo out and lifted it up and you opened your eyes to see. Yes, it was shiny, clearly, your arousal had covered the thing in its entirety and you nodded.

Harry dipped the toy back in and then pulled it out, then pressed it back in slowly, the sound of your wet pussy being parted with the silicone toy was actually pretty hot. You moaned and pushed your t-shirt up and squeezed your breasts. In all honesty, you were sure that you were feeling so good because Harry was doing it to you. Harry was so fucking gorgeous, and his deep, raspy voice egging you on was so hot.

After he pumped it into you a few more times Harry stopped, leaving the toy inside of you and pulled one of your hands down to grasp the dildo, “Okay. Now you do it. I want to know how you masturbate with this. Looks so pretty already, Y/n.”

Harry sat back and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock from the front of his briefs. That got you going even more. The view of his cock in his hand while you pressed the skinny dildo in and pulled it out a little.

After some pushing and pulling into and out of yourself with the dildo, you decided it was time to add your fingers to your clit. So, with one hand you rubbed your little button and with your other you fucked yourself. Harry’s cock was so hard and long in his hand and the sight of it was yummy. You watched him stroke himself as he watched you with the toy in your pussy.

You went faster, really getting the toy as deep as it could go, making it nearly disappear on each inward thrust and Harry’s breaths got deeper as he spit over his tip and smoothed his saliva down his shaft, “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking pretty. You gonna come on that little dildo for me?”

You needed to concentrate, because as good as it felt with Harry’s eyes on you and the dildo inside, you could only imagine Harry inside of you at that moment. His cock really filled you up and pressed into parts that the dildo couldn’t reach. You closed your eyes and panted as you quickened the pace of your fingers on your clit and continued pumping the dildo.

Harry’s own little noises were sending you too. You were spread out before him and Harry knew he could come easily like this, but he could see you were struggling.

You felt the bed shift and you opened your eyes to see Harry on his knees, pushing his jeans down further, and then his hand was covering yours, pulling the dildo out, “I think you need something a little bigger in there right now. What do you think?”

Harry put the dildo down on the bed and scooted himself between your legs and the whine you let out was pathetic as you nodded, “Yes. Fuck me please.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was dipping his large cock inside of you, stretching your muscle and fucking you like you needed.

Harry lifted your legs and put them on his shoulder as he continued rolling into you. Everything was loud and fast. The bed was nearly bouncing off the floor with the way he was pounding into you and your pussy was so happy a real cock was inside of you. And once again, you realized Harry was inside of you with no condom. You guys were asking for trouble. You were okay as far as birth control was considered, but you hadn’t discussed anything further. Harry could be diseased for all you knew but your brain only worked at half capacity when his cock was in view. Or inside of you. And all you knew, despite your better judgment, was that having him without a condom was like having full-fat, real-sugar ice cream with all the toppings as opposed to sugar-free vanilla with only one or two toppings. The condom really did make a difference in the way it felt and it still felt really good with Harry but without one, you felt all his ridges, and his warmth and the sound of his dick pushing into your wetness was even better. He also somehow felt harder and thicker without the condom, if that were possible.

“That’s what you needed, isn’t it? Needed this cock,” Harry panted his words between breaths.

You moaned and grabbed for the back of his thighs to keep hold of something.

“Tell me you needed my cock, Y/n…” Harry slowed his hips and looked down at you.

You weren’t in a state to answer him like he wanted. Your thighs were shaking, your heart was pounding, and your head was mush. The way he was sinking into you made your gut tighten.

But when Harry stopped altogether he lowered your legs, your feet hitting the mattress and Harry leaned over you, “Tell me,” he grasped your chin in his hand as he rutted upward into you causing you to gasp for breath at the harsh thrust, “that you need this cock, Y/n.”

Harry just wanted to hear it. He wanted the pleasure of you telling him you needed his cock. That would have made his whole week. He loved it when he was wanted and needed. And he also wanted to hear you say it because he wanted to tell you he needed your pussy. It was the closest he could allow himself to get to saying (or thinking) that he needed you or hoping that you needed him. So, the next best thing was if you needed his cock.

You looked at the man above you and realized he meant it. He wanted you to say it and so you nodded and breathed your words out, “I need your cock, Harry.”

The smallest quirk of a smile broke out on his face when he responded, “Fuck that’s good,” as he began to rock into you slowly, “Because I need your pussy, Y/n.”

And when Harry dipped down and kissed you as he continued thrusting into you, it became clear to you why he wanted you to say it. You understood what he really wanted with the kiss he gave you. The soft brush of his lips on yours, the way his tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and how both of his hands moved up to your face, holding you in place as he continued peppering deep kisses to your mouth, slipping his tongue past your lips.

You were in heaven every time Harry kissed you. It wasn’t something you could explain. Your feelings were hard to identify, especially because you hadn’t known Harry that long. You’d watched and read plenty of romances. You knew about the fabled existence of falling hard for someone too fast. You’d just never experienced it in real life and didn’t think it was something that would happen to you. So you wanted to be very careful. You trusted Harry but did he even know what he was doing to you? Did he see it happening to himself?

If you were to select a type to fall for quickly, you’d easily answer it was Harry’s type. Sweet and spicy and stubborn. Handsome, obviously. And it’s not like you were really looking for anyone. Your plan was to continue doing your thing for a few more years and then you’d retire and let life happen to you from there. You never saw yourself settling down with anyone. You figured you wouldn’t really find anyone that you could stand for too long. And who would be able to stand you and your smart mouth either? It would be easier to just have the occasional thing with someone here and there. You wouldn’t rule out meeting someone who could be a partner for you, but you doubted anyone would want to stick around for too long.

And you still felt that way. You felt like Harry would grow weary of your attitude. He deserved a nice woman with a regular job, who was honest and thoughtful. You weren’t any of that and any man you might fall for would deserve a little more than you could give certainly.

You felt the blissful unfolding of your orgasm spread over your middle as Harry’s lips stayed on yours and his cock turned your insides to molten lava. You gasped at how deep he was. His hips were pressed into yours and it gave you what you needed inside and out, rubbing into your clit perfectly.

“You want my come inside of you again, Y/n? Yeah?” Harry moved his mouth away from yours and looked down at you as he ravaged your inner walls with his thick length.

You kept your mouth parted as you nodded and whimpered his name. He could feel your pussy clamping down on him just as you were about to come so he thrust into you harder, deeper, his groin pressing over your clit in synch with his thrust and you cried out, holding onto his back for dear life, your fingers pressing into the muscles on his lats and he groaned when he felt your spasming orgasm around him, squeezing and pulsing.

Harry kept driving into you, the bed below you squeaked and for a moment you thought it could break from the movement but then you heard Harry’s groan and he said your name as he moved his mouth over yours and spurted his come into you before you were even done coming. You tried returning the kiss but your lips wouldn’t close as you trembled and moaned.

Harry rutted up into you a few more times, pumping his come inside of you before pressing up and burying himself into you, stopping his movements as he let himself feel you around him as he came down from yet another orgasm for the day.

Harry laid over you and kissed your cheek softly as you both caught your breaths, your heart rate slowly normalizing. It was quiet and gentle. You put your hand into his hair and ran your fingers through his curls with your eyes closed.

But then you heard something outside of your bedroom and both your and Harry’s eyes widened as you quickly looked at one another.

“Fuck,” you whispered as Harry pulled out and jumped off your bed. He tossed you your shorts and he quickly slid his jeans up his legs. Both of you still had your t-shirts on luckily so you were partially dressed. You pulled your shorts up your legs and winced as Harry’s come dripped down your thigh. The shorts would need to be changed out for something else to wear after you investigated the noise that had come from inside the house.

You heard it again, the sound of someone moving things, setting things down.

You quickly opened your door and Harry grabbed your wrist and spoke quietly, “Behind me,” he said as he pulled you to his back and slid out of the room in front of you, sneakily walking into the hallway and then quietly moving into the living room. You followed close behind, Harry’s large frame covering you from seeing much beyond his back.

“What the fuck?!” You heard a familiar voice shriek and Harry’s tense stance loosened as he laughed and turned to you, moving out of your way so you could see who the intruder was.

But you knew who it was the moment you heard her voice. Raechel. You told her you were headed back to your mom's and that you wanted her to drop by. You forgot all about that, though, as soon as Harry started playing around with you. You slapped your hand to your forehead.

Raechel stood with her mouth dropped open as she looked from you to Harry and then back to you. She sort of looked like she was about to leave with her purse on her shoulder and the way she was standing close to the front door.

“Uh… this is Harry,” you gestured toward the man next to you and then pointed at Raechel, “Harry, this is Raechel.”

Harry nodded at Raechel, “Nice to meet you, Raechel,” he moved forward and stuck his hand out to shake but she only looked down at his hand and then back to you before responding to Harry, “Did you at least wash your hands? I heard you guys, so…” she trailed off and the look on her face was still surprise and confusion.

You laughed and shook your head, “Well, we sort of didn’t have time when we heard you in here. Thought it was my mom for a second.”

After you and Harry cleaned up a bit and you changed your shorts for a skirt, the three of you sat in your mom’s living room and tried to forget about the awkward greeting you’d just had.

Raechel kept looking Harry over and you could tell she was a little uncomfortable. Which was understandable given that she heard him fucking you before she ever even met him.

“Y/n, um… can I talk to you in private for a sec?” She looked at Harry with a smile.

You nodded, “Sure.”

You went into the backyard and sat on the porch swing together. She wanted to know who he was and where you met him and all the details about him right away. Some man you’d never once told her about that you were now bringing to your mom’s house. A man whom she heard fucking you the moment she walked into the house.

But it wasn’t easy to explain. Not when you weren’t sure what to say just yet. Was it okay to tell her he was a cop? That he had been trailing you? That you were considered a suspect for the crimes you’d committed? She knew what you did for a living already so it might not be much of a surprise to her but it wasn’t as easy as just a nice little story like we met at a volunteer outing and the rest is history!

So you told her bits and pieces but left out big details because you needed to know what Harry was okay with you saying. She wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“So, you’re not going to tell me much then? Is he in cahoots with you? Like, you know… stealing and stuff?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, it’s not like that. I’ll tell you soon. I promise. But it’s a long story and we’ll want to sit down and discuss it in detail when the time comes. But right now is probably not the best time to do that.”

She smiled and nodded toward the house and turned back to you with her eyebrows raised, “But he’s good in bed?” She chuckled. She heard enough to surmise that you were getting it good when she walked in.

You coughed out a laugh and looked toward the house and back at Raechel, “The best.”

Your mom came home not long after your “talk” with Raechel and the four of you decided to go out for Mexican food. There weren’t many restaurants in Cottonwood but Macias restaurant was pretty good for small-town California. Your favorite was the cheese enchiladas with salsa verde.

You all cozied up into a booth and ordered your meal and margaritas. The sun was going down and the restaurant was playing some classic banda-style music. You and Harry sat next to each other while Raechel and your mom sat across from you. You noticed the way your mom was eyeing you and she was being nice not to scare Harry away with a million questions. But you were pretty sure that at that point any questions Harry was asked wouldn’t scare him away given the little secret between you two.

“So, Harry, are you going to stay over tonight? There’s only one motel here in Cottonwood and I wouldn’t recommend it to my enemies,” your mom said as she sipped her salty margarita (Macias usually put a bit too much salt on the rim of the glass that wound up melting into the drink).

Harry tapped his fingers on the table and looked down at you before answering your mother, “I figured I’d just get a room at the motel tonight. I don’t want to be a bother to you in your home.”

Your mom snorted a laugh and nudged at Raechel’s side, “Doesn’t want to be a bother yet takes my daughter away with him to god knows where after I haven’t seen her in so long…”

You tapped the table and raised your brows, “Mom…” you warned her.

She put her hands up, “Sorry… it’s just that I don’t think having Harry stay over is going to put me out in any way more than… well, it’s just that I think I’d like to have you stay for a week like you said but then a handsome, mysterious man shows up and you leave with him and it’s all so secretive and strange…” she paused and laughed, “I’m thinking this second margarita is making me forget my manners, but come on… you have to admit this is all very suspicious,” she waved toward you and Harry.

Raechel kept her eyes on you and nodded with a humph in agreement with your mom.

You smiled and sighed, “Can you blame me?” You batted your lashes with a grin and looked up at Harry, pinching his arm a little. You were trying to deflect from your mom’s scrutiny. She had every right to be suspicious, though.

“But you’re right mom,” you looked at your mom with a smile, “I promise to stay here with you for a week. Soon. And I’ll tell you everything. Maybe I’ll even be coming around more.”

You figured now that you had the police on you, you couldn’t do any more jobs or you’d surely get caught. It was probably time to lay low from now on. You could be happy with the amount of money you’d saved over the years. Your brokerage account was nice with a healthy amount of dividends already coming in every month. You’d continue to slowly deposit the cash you still had stashed around your apartment and then move that over to your brokerage account. You could live out your days with the money you currently had. There was no real reason to continue doing what you’d been doing until you turned 30.

Your mom had convinced Harry to stay over. She would make him a spot to sleep on the couch and he was secretly relieved he didn’t have to sleep in one of those awful beds at the Travelers Motel again. But he was a little bit concerned about doing something inappropriate in your mom’s home.

After Raechel left you, your mom, and Harry watched a few shows on television but you were exhausted. Harry stretched his body out on the couch and fell asleep rather quickly and when your head hit the pillow on your bed you were in dreamland in no time.

So when you woke up in your dark room and felt a large hand cover your mouth you blinked your eyes open and your heart jumped in your chest and you were foggy and confused. You tried to make the figure out above you but it was too dark and your brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders quite yet.

The large frame over you pulled you up and violently yanked you into their arms and that’s when you saw another large figure standing by your door. Your eyes widened to take in as much light as possible so you could see but then you felt something pinch your arm and you gasped into the palm over your mouth. You kicked your leg and felt your toe hit your nightstand which hurt like a motherfucker but it knocked your cell phone off the edge and onto the floor.

Heavy breaths, grabby hands, muffled words, a soft and comforting buzz throughout your body, and then shouting. A light above. A struggle.

You felt the floor under your back and you closed your eyes and knew Harry’s voice in the chaos. You heard the commotion but you were slowly being lulled into dreamland once again.

Harry heard the noise from your room and he was up in less than a second to check on you but that’s when he saw the man at your bedroom door, his back to the hallway. Big mistake. Because the man didn’t see Harry and Harry could see that there was another man in your room. Harry knew they’d leave from the front door when he turned back to the living room and realized they’d come in through the front door because it had been left ajar. Harry soundlessly made his way to his duffle bag and pulled out his gun, slipping the magazine into the grip handle and getting it ready to use if necessary. He looked out the window to make sure there weren’t more men and realized it was just the two idiots.

He silently walked back to your bedroom and stuck the gun to the neck of the guy who should have been on the lookout and spoke calmly, “Let her go.”

The man who had you in his arms dropped the needle he’d poked into the skin of your arm and you fell to the floor with a thud. Harry turned the light on and saw that the two men in your room both had ski masks and the one that was closest to you pulled his own gun out and aimed it at you, “Drop your gun or I’ll shoot her,” his fabric stifled words barked.

Harry pressed the gun harder into the lookout’s neck and shook his head, “You won’t shoot her. You need her for whoever hired you. Now put your gun down. Now!” Harry moved the man he was holding into the room further and he heard your mother behind him suddenly.

“Go back into your room! Call 911! Tell them we have two armed intruders,” Harry shouted at your mother, not turning to look back at her but keeping his eyes on the man with the gun aimed at your thigh.

“That’s a big mistake. This girl is wanted by the cops. If you call them she’s going to prison. We’ll get a slap on the wrist,” the man with the gun tried to reason.

“Wrong. I’m a cop and you’ve threatened me and my safety. That will land you in prison,” Harry scoffed and moved in closer to the man with the gun.

“A fucking cop? What?”

Harry kept the gun at the neck of the man in front of him while he patted him down with his other hand to check for a weapon. He found a gun tucked in the back of his pants and pulled it out, still keeping his eyes on the man with the gun and keeping his own gun tucked into the lookout’s neck. Harry shoved the man down to the floor and put his foot onto the middle of his back and now had the gun aimed at the man who was standing over you.

Both of Harry’s hands were now on his gun, raised in a stance to shoot, aimed right at the other man’s head, “Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot you.”

The man with the gun raised his hands in surrender and slowly knelt down, putting the gun on the ground.

Harry stepped harder into the middle of the back of the man who was under him, keeping his gun aimed at the man next to you, “Kick the gun away from yourself.”

The man complied. He knew he was fucked. Harry was trained and they didn’t realize they were breaking into a house where there was a cop inside.

When Harry had both men on the ground, face down, hands zip-tied behind their backs he knelt between them and lifted your arm to check your pulse. You’d be okay.

“What did you give her?” Harry looked at the needle on the ground and back to the man who seemed like the brains of the operation.

The man told him what was in the needle and then Harry asked who sent them. He wanted an answer. Who hired them and what did they want?

Neither man wanted to talk. But when Harry twisted the wrist of the lookout and pressed his knee into his back he spoke lowly into his ear, “Tell me what you want with her.”

“She stole something important! We were just going to get it back is all!” The man whined as Harry put his weight into where his knee was digging in and twisted his arm harder.

“Give me a name,” Harry growled at the man just as he heard the sirens of police approaching.

Harry didn’t get a name but as he suspected, they were hired to kidnap you and hold you for ransom or get the important item back for whoever had hired them.

The paramedics looked you over as the two men were put into handcuffs and placed in separate cop cruisers. Harry showed his badge and told them who he was and that he’d been on a case that was a dead end. He came clean about some of the details but not all. This would get back to his boss for sure. He lied and said he was on a stakeout in his car when the men entered.

Your mother was beside herself but Harry kept her calm and told her she’d done well. With his arms around your mom, as you were loaded into the back of an ambulance, he helped her into his car to follow it to the hospital, “You did exactly what you should have. You even had them bring an ambulance. Y/n is going to be just fine.”

And Harry told your mom everything on the short trip to the hospital. She saw his badge and how he had a gun and told the other police who he was. But he reassured her that you weren’t going to be going to jail, “I don’t have any evidence and even if there was, I wouldn’t be taking her to jail.”

You woke up with a headache and a sour stomach. It felt a lot like when you woke up after Oregano had given you something. Painful and grating.

Your mom was in your view the moment your eyes popped open, “Y/n! Honey! Look, Harry!”

And then you saw Harry over you, his messy curls hanging in his face.

After a series of questions, filing a report, and one last check-in with the doctor you were free to go.

You learned about what had happened from both Harry and your mom. You always knew what you did was putting you at risk for something like that, you just never thought it would happen to you. Attempted kidnapping? Someone had hired these men to come after you. Would it be possible there were others out there too?

And for the first time, you were scared of what was going to happen next, rather than looking forward to what the day held. You’d always thrived on not knowing and the thrill of throwing caution to the wind. But now you were terrified. You weren’t safe anymore.

You stayed in your room with your mom bringing you water and speaking softly to you. Harry popped in to tell you it was okay and that he wasn’t going anywhere. But you just needed a minute to wrap your head around it all. What if Harry hadn’t been there? And you couldn’t remember most of what had even happened to you and that was terrifying. Whatever they’d been looking for was long gone. You never kept anything you stole (except a few purses and nice coats). What would happen if they found out? Would they just then kill you? God, you couldn’t stop your mind from racing about the what-ifs.

When the sun began to set Raechel came over and you finally decided to move into the living room with everyone. Your mom had ordered pizza from the Eagle’s Nest and Raechel picked it up on her way over.

You listened as Harry explained everything to Raechel and you learned that he’d already told your mom everything. You ate your slice of pizza slowly and everything just felt so far away and strange to you. You didn’t have much to say. Not yet anyway.

Harry wasn’t sure if you wanted his comfort or not. Everything was still so new for him too and what had just happened to you was traumatizing. So he decided to give you space as he sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the couch from where you were sitting.

Raechel stayed for a couple of hours but you were clearly tired and not thriving with company. Your mom cleaned up and Harry helped while you stayed on the couch like a zombie looking at the television. You heard them talking and didn’t care to know what they were saying. But you did note how scared you were feeling and how you didn’t want to be left alone in a room by yourself anymore. So you stood from your spot and walked into the kitchen to be near your mom and Harry.

They both turned to look at you and your mom pulled a chair out for you and helped you sit. You scoffed, “I can sit down on my own mom.” But you were thankful for her kindness and care. It did make you feel good.

Harry just watched from where he stood and then leaned against the cabinet as your mom sat next to you, “I know, honey. I just want to help. You’re okay physically but I’m still your mom…” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled at her and glanced over at Harry who hadn’t made his way over to you yet. Which suddenly stung a bit. Was he going to start being cold toward you again? You needed to feel safe and you wanted him as close as possible but he wasn’t budging from his spot as he looked at you with pity.

“Thanks, mom. I know. I appreciate it,” you gave her a weak smile and your heart felt heavy. You had the sudden urge to cry. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because of what had happened to you. It made you feel so violated. The men who came to get you both had guns and masks and drugged you. And now everything in your life would be different from then on. You’d probably have to move from your apartment and go into hiding if there were others after you. And now, the man with whom you felt so safe and comforted was standing as far away from you as possible, making no move to show you the kindness and care you needed.

The first tear that drizzled down your face when your lip began to quiver your mom saw, “Oh sweetie… it’s okay to cry, honey…” she rubbed your back and took one of your hands in hers.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone but you couldn’t help it. More tears ran down your cheek and the longer Harry was silent and remained standing across the room away from you the more you cried. Finally, you were pissed and you stood up, looking down at your mom, “Thank you, mom. I’m going to go into my room now.”

You slammed the door behind you and lay on your bed and cried. It felt so ridiculous to cry but your emotions were everywhere. You had no control over the way you felt at that moment. You reasoned that it was because of what had happened to you, and you understood the way it made you feel was confusing, but you really couldn’t get over the way Harry didn’t even try to comfort you. It hurt because you’d started feeling things for him and you just knew that if he wrapped you in his arms and you could bury your face into his chest and inhale his scent you’d feel so much better. But you were too stubborn to ask for that. He should just know that’s what you wanted. Obviously.

You wound up falling asleep, exhausted from the day, exhausted from your tears and your confusion. Exhausted from thinking about Harry.

Your mom went to bed, leaving her door wide open in case you needed her. Harry checked on you and saw you asleep on top of your covers, still dressed in your clothes. He wanted to help you into something more comfortable and pull you into his arms on your bed and listen to you breathe while you slept but he didn’t know if you wanted that. He figured it was better to wait until you told him you wanted him near.

Early the next morning Harry woke from his phone ringing. It was Rebecca.

He stood up from the couch and answered, “Hold on one minute…” he spoke into the phone. He didn’t want to wake anyone but he wanted to check on you first.

He saw you snuggled under your blankets on your bed and you looked like you were still asleep.

He turned and walked out the front door to speak to his boss.

“Hi, Volanti,” he said with a sigh.

She found out about the attempted kidnapping and told Harry he’d done good to follow the men into your mom’s house and stop them from taking you. She informed him that now that he’d been made, he’d be off the case. Harry listened to her tell him all the things he already knew.

He was to come back to LA and get his reassignment and in the meantime, she’d keep the case open but it would be a low priority since there wasn’t tangible evidence, “But, Styles, I have a feeling she is our girl. I know you said you don’t think so, and she’ll probably be laying low now that this has happened, but I have a gut feeling about it. The good news is, if there is any in this situation, is that this may scare her from doing it again in the future. And now that we know where she lives, where her mother is, and everything you’ve found out for us, we can keep an eye on her if she does slip up.”

It wasn’t the worst news but now Harry was expected back in LA. But he didn’t want to leave your side. What if more men were after you? He felt like you needed protection.

“I’m hesitant to leave so fast. If I wasn’t here she’d have been kidnapped. What do you think the chances are that others are after her?”

When you woke up the house was silent and your thoughts immediately swung to Harry. You sat up and looked at your cell phone. It was still relatively early. You moved your feet off your bed and stood up, stretching your arms overhead with a yawn.

In the living room, there was no Harry to be seen, but you could see he’d been on the couch with crumpled blankets bunched in the center. He wasn’t in the kitchen but you did see his duffle bag. You peeked out the front window and you saw him pacing, talking to someone on his phone. He looked stressed. Upset. Your heart dropped.

You went back to your room and closed the door. You had no reason to feel the way you were. To be so unsure of yourself and long for Harry the way you did. You two barely knew one another. Why would he feel the same way for you? Why did you feel anything at all? It made your head hurt trying to work out your thoughts and your emotions.

You heard him walk back in and your ears perked up. He wasn’t on the phone anymore, that much was obvious. You could hear shuffling and then you heard the bathroom door close.

You needed to get it together. To confront him and find out what was going on. To find out if he meant what he said when he asked you to stay with him.

So you went into the living room after running your fingers through your hair and trying to make yourself look at least a little cute. You sat on the couch and waited for him to come out. The moment he saw you his eyes widened, “Hey. How are you feeling?”

He walked in front of the coffee table and sat in the armchair. Away from you. And that had you feeling that squeeze in your chest again. The searing one that made you feel like he definitely didn’t feel the same way about you. How could he not see it?

“I’m better. But what’s going on, Harry?” You sat with your back into the cushions of the couch and kept your eyes on him.

Harry squished his brows together and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“Like… I don’t know. Are you staying? Do you still…” you really didn’t want to finish what you were going to say, do you still want me around?

Harry crooked his head to the side and kept his eyes on you, “I have to leave. Back to LA. I’m being reassigned. So, I can’t stay for much longer. I told my boss I thought you should have protection for a bit longer but the local police are making the rounds. And your mom is here…” Harry trailed off when he saw the look on your face.

You tried to calm yourself. You couldn’t understand why you were so worked up about a man that you’d just met. No man was worth it. This you’d learned from your mom a long time ago. And now Harry was getting out as soon as he had the chance.

“Fine. Your job is done here. You can get your shit and go.”

Harry sat up straight and a look of confusion tore over his face, “What?”

You stood up from the couch and pointed at his bag, “Get your shit and go back to LA. You’re done, aren’t you? No need to stick around me anymore.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to feel hurt by you because he knew you were reacting to what he’d just said. But it did hurt. That was it? You wanted him gone?

Harry stood up and ran a hand through his hair and laughed, “So, that’s it for you? You just want me out of here?”

You nodded, “Yep.”

Harry shook his head and blew a breath out from his mouth and looked up at the ceiling and back to you. He wanted to be level-headed but you made him crazy. He looked back down at you with your arms crossed over your chest and he couldn’t help himself when he said it, “Good. You’re more trouble than it’s worth.”

He scowled at you, knowing his words were hurtful but you hurt him. He stepped toward his bag and knelt down to stuff something inside and then zipped it up. He stood up with his bag in his hand and pointed at you, “I’m disappointed in myself that I believed all the lies you told me. You really had me going, Y/n. I thought you liked me. At least a little,” and then he turned and headed toward the door, opening it and pausing for a moment. He hoped you’d say something. He hoped you’d stop him and tell him you didn’t mean it. But instead, he heard your sniff and a small gasp of breath so he turned and looked at you. You had tears on your cheeks and your hands were by your sides, balled into fists.

Harry frowned when he saw the state you were in but then you were charging toward him, your face red, “You asshole!” you said louder than you meant to, knowing your mother was still asleep. But you were angry and you couldn’t control the volume of your voice, “Don’t say that to me! You have been distant from me and I can tell you’re happy to be leaving finally. And you said it yourself, I’m not worth the trouble so you can fuck off,” you pushed at his chest and couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It was embarrassing. You were making a scene and crying in front of Harry while he was stoic and unbothered by you at all.

“You’re fucking mad, Y/n. You know that? I was trying to give you space! You had a traumatic thing happen to you and I didn’t want to crowd you. But you’re obviously ready for me to get out of your hair so I’ll make it easy for you.”

You grasped the front of his t-shirt, “You’re a coward! You put all this on me! I didn’t know what to do with myself and I thought you’d at least try and comfort me or something! Fuck!” You balled the material into your hands tightly, “But you’re ready to get out of here the moment Rebecca tells you it’s the time!”

Harry scoffed and dropped his bag to the floor, putting his hands over yours to pry them off of his shirt, “If you want me gone I’m gone, Y/n. Let go!”

Suddenly your mom was behind you, “What’s going on here?” She saw you grasping Harry’s shirt and the tears on your face. She heard the emotion in Harry’s voice and the look on his face.

It was that moment that your mom saw everything for what it was. You were both being stubborn and blamed the other for hurt feelings when the reality was so clear to anyone who could see you two.

“I was just leaving, ma’am,” Harry started to speak but your mom started laughing.

“Oh? And clearly, you want to leave and Y/n here is just shoving you out the door huh? You two are ridiculous. Look at yourselves,” she gestured toward the both of you standing close, Harry’s hands clutched over yours. “Do you not see it? For fuck’s sake you’re both acting like children.”

Harry loosened his grip on your hands and you let go of his shirt as you both turned to face your mom. You pointed at Harry, “He was going to just leave. After everything. He got the call to go back and so he was out as quick as he could be.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah? And you told me to get my shit and leave. Didn’t even give me chance to talk to you or anything,” He looked down at you.

Your mom shook her head, “Since I’m clearly the only adult in the room right now, I’m sending you both to Y/n’s room,” she raised her brows and pointed at Harry, “you’re not going anywhere until you two have spoken first. And Y/n,” she looked at you with a look of warning, “you better not fuck this up. You need to calm down and listen to the man instead of getting all bent out of shape like I know you do. Tell him the truth. Be honest with each other.”

Harry let out a breath and shook his, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I think she wants me gone and I’m not in the mood…”

Your mom stood in front of Harry and looked up at him, her finger pointed toward the hallway, “You aren’t leaving until you two have spoken. If after you two hash it out and find you don’t want to stick around and she wants you gone, well then, you’re free to go.”

“Mom, please…” you spoke but she shook her head and she picked up Harry’s bag, holding it close to her body, “Shut up and do what I said. You’re both acting like idiots. Go and talk now. You get this back when I’ve decided it’s time, Harry,” she jutted her chin toward the hallway.

Harry looked down at you and then back to your mom and you huffed in frustration as you stomped toward your bedroom, Harry following behind. You passed through into your bedroom and Harry stopped at the doorway, still wanting to make sure you even wanted him to follow you but your mom was right behind him, “Get in there. And you both better be honest with each other,” she looked from Harry to you, “because if you’re honest, I think you’ll find that you both feel the same way about each other. So stop being dumb.” She pushed Harry and closed the door behind him.

You sat on the edge of your unmade bed and looked down at your feet. You knew you were an overreactor when your feelings were hurt. You were either cold and detached, or overreacting and emotional. In this case, you were being very emotional and definitely overreacting. But that’s because the truth was that you really liked Harry and all you wanted was for him to return your feelings.

“You didn’t let me even try and tell you what I wanted,” Harry spoke first as he paced the room.

You looked up at him, “Well here’s your chance.”

Harry stopped pacing and turned to you, “I told you that I was being reassigned. That my boss wants me back in LA. And then I guess… I just wanted to know what your reaction would be to that but I didn’t expect you to blow up and tell me to leave. I hoped you’d want to come with me or ask me to stay or… I just didn’t expect you to tell me to leave like that.”

You watched him start to pace again as you responded, “And you didn’t even want to be next to me Harry. Last night or this morning. I needed some comfort. I wanted your care but you stayed as far away from me as possible, so yeah, I assumed that was it and that you were ready to go.”

Harry stitched his brows together and looked out your window, “I didn’t know if you wanted me close, Y/n. Everyone responds to trauma differently and I didn’t want to push it. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to comfort you. I just wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

You breathed out a laugh through your nose and shook your head, “And it felt like you made it clear that you didn’t want to be around. Telling me you were leaving and that I had local police here and my mom… so, if that’s what you want…”

Harry interrupted, “No. Stop. Let’s not assume anything about each other for a minute. I think we’ve got it wrong and we’ve both had our feelings hurt and we’re acting based on hurt emotions,” he spoke calmly and walked toward the bed, sitting next to you, “I don’t want to go, Y/n,” he looked from the floor over to you, “Or, at least if I do, I kind of hoped you’d want to come with me.”

You’d heard him say it twice now. That he hoped you’d go with him. You considered his words for a moment and sighed, “I do want that. I wanted you to tell me to come with you or something. To hold me and make me feel safe and tell me everything was going to be okay. Last night that’s what I needed but you kept your distance and it made me feel sick. Made me feel like I imagined everything you told me. And I know we don’t know one another that well,” you kept your eyes on his, “but… I don’t know. I just… figured it could have all been in my head that you felt about me the way I feel about you. Especially after telling me I’m more trouble than it’s worth. That really hurt, Harry.”

If your mother had heard you at that moment she’d have been proud of you for your honesty and total vulnerability. But you were very much still in your head and guarding yourself in case of any pushback from Harry.

Harry dropped his gaze down over your t-shirt and then back up to your face and pulled you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. Just like you wanted last night. Just like you wanted this morning.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, he just kept his arms tight around your body and smoothed a hand up and down your back. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and relaxed in his arms, placing your own arms around his middle and inhaling his scent. Comfort. Safety.

“I wasn’t lying. You didn’t imagine it. We both said it and I think we both should be better about saying what we want to each other instead of trying to act so tough,” Harry pressed his lips onto your forehead, “I am so sorry for saying you aren’t worth it. God that was dumb,” he kissed your forehead again, “And it’s not true at all. I think you’re incredible actually. I want you to come with me. I want to keep you around. Is that what you want?”

You smiled into his t-shirt and nodded, “Yeah. And this,” you said as you squeezed him harder and so he squeezed back until you were both laughing and Harry loosened his grip and brought a hand to the back of your neck and dropped his lips to yours.

You don’t know how long it was that you and Harry were making out like teenagers on your bed, but your mother knocked on the door, interrupting the moment before it could get too steamy, “Okay, I heard you guys laughing and now I’m concerned that you’re both naked. Please don’t have sex in my house. I’m still a mom. Come out when you’re decent.”

You laughed and Harry smiled down at you, his hand still at the back of your neck. He pushed his lips over yours once more and then parted from you, nudging his nose to the side of yours, “I like you.”

You held onto his biceps and smiled with your nose still pressed into his, “I like you too, Harry.”

Your mom was happy to hear you’d worked it out. And that you were staying for another day. You would leave with Harry the following morning to head back to LA with him.

“You better keep an eye on my daughter. She’s all I’ve got in this world. If you hurt her I’ll kill you. I don’t care if you are a cop,” your mom pointed at Harry as she made coffee. She was mostly joking. Mostly.

Harry glanced at you with a smile. He was glad you had your mom. She was tough and smart and she raised you to be the same. But he was even happier that you were going back to LA with him. He wanted to keep you with him so he could make sure you were safe. He knew that you were probably out of danger, that there probably weren’t others out looking to kidnap you, but he couldn’t know that for sure and he knew he’d feel better to have you close. But also for his own sake. So he could see you and touch you and… he tried not to let his mind wander further. Not in the kitchen with your mom standing fifteen feet from him.

And you were finally getting what you needed from Harry because now he knew what that was. To stay near you. To hold your hand and brush his warm pads against your arm occasionally. To play around with you and not feel like he was going to hurt a delicate flower.

“You’re fucking up the recipe! Get out of the way!” Harry scolded you with a smile on his face as he bumped your hip from your spot so he could take over adding the ingredients to the bowl.

“Harry, it’s shepherd’s pie. There’s no way to fuck up the recipe,” you scoffed as you leaned over to watch him.

Harry stopped his hands mid-air and turned to you with a look of shock, “And that’s how I know you shouldn’t touch this sacred recipe. It’s not shepherd’s pie because this is made with beef. It’s cottage pie. Shepherd’s pie is made with lamb you absolute dolt. Get out of my kitchen!” He pointed toward the living room and went back to his work.

You laughed and your mom stood in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room watching you and Harry. She wasn’t sure yet about Harry but she liked his spice and his temperament. She liked how he handled you and after talking about what had gone wrong and why you’d been upset she understood why he kept his distance from you. She liked him. But she hoped he wouldn’t hurt you because who could know what the future held?

“Well, it’s not even pie if we’re being picky about semantics here. You British assholes act like you have a method but it’s the same shit and it’s just potato on top,” you pointed at the bowl and Harry ignored you as he opened up the refrigerator. You hopped up onto the counter and sat, watching Harry move about.

Harry took the bowl and added another ingredient and then he looked at you sitting on the counter. He didn’t know how he was going to keep it in his pants for another whole day. You two were at your mom’s and the next morning, super early, you’d both head out and the drive was long. You couldn’t really have at each other until you got to his house in Long Beach.

He put his hand over your knee and squeezed it and your heart did a little flip at his sudden sweetness. You liked how he could go from testy teasing to confection cute and then back again.

The three of you ate the cottage pie and watched a movie together. The day was relaxing and easy. A local police officer dropped by to ask some more questions and that was really the most action you’d had all day. Raechel had to work but she Facetimed you on her break and told you to take care on your way back to LA.

As you watched the movie you had your back leaned against Harry’s chest and his arm was draped over your front. It felt sweet and warm and you felt safe.

When you all decided to call it night you didn’t want to leave the comfort of Harry’s arms but you dragged yourself with a frown to your room and your mom commented about how silly you were being.

“It’s only for a night, Y/n. You’re in my house. I don’t want any funny business going on.”

But when the house was dark and quiet and you were sure your mom was asleep you crept into the living room and crawled over the top of Harry.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he lifted his blanket and opened his arms for you to climb atop.

“Yeah. I just want to sleep in your arms.”

So you settled on top of him and Harry shifted so it was more comfortable, wrapping his arms around you and finally, you fell into a deep dreamless sleep, comforted and happy and warm.

Part 6*

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